#going to try to use this tag for posts like this going forward

[dominimoonbeam]

😁 Oh, my lovely, wonderful Domini

I have a dream… of using the combined prompts,

“Well, someone’s cranky today.” and “Well, someone needs to shut the fuck up.” combined with *kissing to annoy a third party*, involving David & Darlin snarking at each other, and upon realizing Quinn is watching, choosing to kiss each other to piss him off 😈 Bonus points if they quickly forget the point of the kiss is to annoy Quinn 🤣 💋

CHAR!! I love it. Thank you so much for this ask!!

I might flesh this one out more before I post it to ao3... We'll see.

David/Darlin

tags: first kiss, idiots in love, drinking, bar fight

MY WHAT BIG TEETH YOU HAVE

David nursed his beer at the bar, making sure to take it slow because Asher was hellbent on dragging him to the dance floor when he was done with this one.

Fuck that.

Darlin leaned against the bar beside him, turned the other way to face the room, their arms pressing back to settle elbows on the surface. “At this rate we’re going to need to carry him home,” the remarked.

David turned enough to look back over his shoulder at the floor and Asher. He bit the inside of his lip to hide a smile. Ash and about half the pack were dominating the dancefloor—not pushing anyone else out but definitely a presence. It was impossible not to be. A fire elemental stepped closer to Asher and even from across the room David caught that look, the curious one asking to get even closer to Asher. He only watched long enough to see the grin on his best friend’s face before looking away again, taking a deep drink off his beer because he would not need to worry about Asher coming back to bother him tonight.

“Doesn’t look like we’ll be the ones carrying him.”

Darlin laughed and then snagged his beer.

“Get your own,” he griped but rolled his eyes when the finished it.

“We’re sharing!”

“The fuck we are!”

Darlin pouted. “Well, someone’s cranky today…”

“Well, someone needs to shut the fuck up,” he countered, but flagged the bartender for another, signaling for a second bottle for the shifter next to him.

Someone else came up to them… or rather, came up to Darlin.

David glanced over his shoulder at the vampire looking Darlin over from head to toe, lingering on their neck.

Darlin, for their part, stared back, mostly bored.

“I heard you’re into biting,” the vampire said, not having to raise their voice to have it slithering in their ears.

David swiveled to the side, more than ready to show this biter just how fast a shifter could move.

But Darlin grinned. “I am. But you can go back and tell him that his little teeth don’t do it for me anymore.”

David raised an eyebrow, not sure what they meant until the vampire hissed and bolted back into the crowd. It was fast enough that he barely clocked them until they reappeared on the other side of the club, at a cluster of couches and next to another vampire.

Quinn.

David turned forward before he could show that he even noticed him, picking up a beer and taking the first drink. He knew Darlin was staring back at their ex from across the room. He’d been a nightmare and the breakup had been violent and ugly, but that was a few years ago now. Darlin was back with the pack, safe and happy, just like he’d always hoped they would be.

David passed them the beer in his hand and they took it like that was always the plan. “Little teeth, huh?”

Darlin sipped and shrugged, turning their head to look back at him. “I know it’s petty but if he’s going to send his creeps to try to make me uncomfortable I figure it’s fair to try to piss him off…”

David shook his head. “It’s not petty.”

Darlin took another swig and then passed the bottle back to him. “He’s always thought you and me had a thing.”

David looked at them again. The idea sent a jolt through him, maybe because he’d always had a soft spot for Darlin. Maybe Quinn wasn’t quite as stupid as David always thought… “Do you want to really piss him off?”

Darlin blinked at him, trying to play it cool, but their gaze flicked to his mouth for a second and then back his eyes. “What?”

David shrugged.

Darlin smiled slowly. “Seriously?”

David shrugged again.

Darlin flashed teeth, tempted. “He might lose it…”

“He already lost it,” David reminded, waiting. And let that biter make a move. David wasn’t worried.

Darlin slid their back along the bar, into his space, and he lifted his arm from the surface to give them that real estate in front of him, his hand settling on their hip.

Darlin curled an arm around the back of his shoulders. “You drunk?” they asked, checking.

He laughed before he could catch it. The idea of them checking to make sure they weren’t taking advantage of him was too funny.

“Shut up,” Darlin laughed while scolding.

He leaned down and kissed them, soft and short first, their lips still close and their bodies practically pressed together.

Darlin blinked, stunned, and then kissed him harder, pulling themself flush against him.

David wound his arm around their back, devouring that kiss like it might be his only.

Later that morning, he’d know that he forgot the kiss was to piss off Quinn the second they slid in front of him, and so had they.

But it had still worked.

Later that morning, he’d hear from Milo how Quinn shot across the room like a missile, fangs out.

He hadn’t known then only because Quinn never made it close enough for it to matter. Asher caught him halfway across the club, shifting into a wolf and closing teeth around his ribcage before he made it.

The whole empowered club erupted into a bar fight that somehow devolved into a flashy show of powers once the vampires were tossed out. The Department arrived late enough to frown in confusion, scold the lot of them, and write citations for risking covert with indoor storms, fireworks, and earthquakes set to the beat of music.

[kitkat238984]

I Bid This Bitch Goodbye

Summary: As Tony Khan's niece and junior producer, you were placed in charge of an auction event where fans can win a date with their favourite wrestlers.

But when you spy a face that has caused you nothing but trouble, you are determined to bring this bitch to the ground.

Notes: I meant to post this yesterday but oh well. Happy late birthday, Hook.

4339 words.

There was nothing particularly special about you. You were just an ordinary woman with an ordinary life, ordinary parents, and an ordinary education. You supposed the fact that your uncle-in-law happened to be a billionaire made you a little less ordinary than some others, but you never let it get to your head. Whilst in highschool you refused to let anyone know that were in close connections to such major businessmen in the sports industry. They would have flipped. 

The friends you made were genuine and you were thankful for that… but unfortunately the enemies you made were also genuine. Right bitches they were. 

You did try to make a living for yourself at first by working in a gas station, however, you weren’t really going anywhere with minimum wage, and the offer to work with your uncle in his new wrestling company was always on the table sooooo why not? A little career push never hurt anyone. 

You were now a junior producer, learning the backstage roles that made up the AEW family that you were so warmly welcomed into with open arms. Everyone seemed to like you there and you gained many friends in your first few months, Hook being one of the wrestlers you’d grown especially close with, originally getting along because of your similar ages, and now you acted as if you’d been friends since childhood. 

Of course, like any good childhood friend, he loved to mess with you and tease you, for example whenever you’re tasked to call him to the ring he thinks it’s a funny idea to go wandering around backstage, forcing you to go on a wild goose chase trying to find him. 

—

“I need to start keeping an air tag on you”. 

“Or maybe you should start being good at your job?” 

“I’d actually be able to do my job if you weren’t constantly playing hide and go seek”. 

—

Such a child… 

Or how about the few times he snatched the clipboard straight out of your hands and held it above his head where you couldn’t reach? 

— 

“Just give it back. I need to get back to work”. 

“No one’s stopping you from working”. 

“There very clearly is someone stopping me”. 

— 

What a dick… 

But! Today, he would regret all those times where he’d taken advantage of your job and made you look like a fool. He would be at your complete mercy and like hell would you take any pity on him; you were going to have your own back on this guy and he was going to suffer and you were going to enjoy watching it. Just like any good wrestling match. 

You walked through the hall with a proud smile glued to your face, looking forward to seeing the faces of over-adoring wrestling fans, full of hope that they can outbid everyone else for a date with some of the most favourite wrestlers AEW had to offer. 

As the organiser, you were one of the first people to arrive, only a couple of other producers and stagehands present who were setting up chairs - which were most likely to be discarded once they were in such close proximity to the wrestlers. 

Oh, revenge was sweet indeed. You made this happen, Y/N. You’re an absolute genius. 

When you proposed the idea of a charity fundraiser to your good ol’ uncle Tony about auctioning off dates with the wrestlers - not only to boost good publicity, but to give something to young children who had dreams of wrestling professionally - he immediately fell in love with the idea and told you to start making plans and secure some good people for the event. 

Those wrestlers needed to be put to good use anyway. You knew they were good for something. 

“Hey, have we got enough chairs for everyone?” you asked one of your colleagues who was setting up the seating. 

“Uhh I think so. If not, only a few people will have to stand”. 

You hum in response and start setting up the microphone and speakers before your sound guy arrives to take over. You’d hoped he would arrive soon because you had no fucking clue what you were doing. You were just tired of walking around watching everyone else do stuff. 

Whilst playing with the buttons of the soundboard, a loud, ear-piercing boom echoed through the hall, accompanied by a few pained cries you’d caused people. 

Oh, the cringe. 

You practically threw the microphone down and stepped away from the area you were working on. 

Best to leave it to the professionals. 

“Good idea. Deafen us so we can’t hear the screaming superfans later”. 

You turned to the sound of Hook’s voice to see him at the very end of the hall having just walked through the door. Just your luck for him to walk in as you embarrass yourself. But your luck was about to get better. 

“Thank you”, you replied genuinely, watching his figure moving in your direction. “You’ll need it when they’re screaming in your ears all night. Probably in more ways than one knowing your record”. 

He laughed softly and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he stood only a few feet away from you. 

“Hah you got me there, huh? A manwhore? Is that what you women call ‘em?” 

You shot him a warm, patronising smile. “Only behind your back”. You quickly changed your mind. “Oh who am I kidding? I call you that to your face”. 

You brushed past him, abandoning your post at the soundboard to help finish setting up the chairs, Hook closely following behind like a loyal puppy with his owner. 

“Nah I wouldn’t do that. Not with a fan, at least”. 

“Why’s that, fuckboy?” You joked. 

“Very funny”, he responded, rolling his eyes. “I’d feel like I'm taking advantage of their love and adoration for me or something like that. Not that I’d blame them of course”. 

You immediately stopped what you were doing and sent him a raised eyebrow. Like you’d believe that story. In the time you had known him, Hook had numerous women hanging off his arm (and that was only from what you had seen on social nights out with work), and sometimes those numerous women would be on one occasion. You were grateful you didn’t share the same hotel with him. Those were sounds you most definitely did not want to hear. 

He seemed to have noticed the scepticism written on your face and spoke before you had a chance to reply. “You don’t believe me?”, he asked in subtle disbelief. “I can be a gentleman, you know?” 

“You? A gentleman? I bet you’ve never even dated a girl before. I’ve only ever seen you walk out of bars with these ‘female friends’ of yours”. Despite ultimately joking, your teasing did have some truth behind it. For the four years you’d known him, you had never known this man to go out on a single actual date like to a restaurant or the movies or something cheesy like that. 

It didn’t bother you, of course. Or at least that’s what you kept on telling yourself. You had no reason to be jealous; you didn’t even like him in that way nor had you ever thought about him romantically. That was partially true until this moment. 

Sure you appreciated him, just the same as you appreciated all your hot friends. You work in the wrestling industry full of strong, sweaty, fit guys and girls. What did you expect? 

Fine! You admitted Hook was easy on the eyes. So what? It’s not like you’d ever wondered what those perfectly sculptured muscles he so proudly displays in the ring yet modestly covers underneath his hoodie felt like. And it never once crossed your mind what was so addictive about running your hands through his tousled hair as you’d seen him among all the women do repeatedly. 

Nope. None of that. Not. At. All… 

… 

… 

… 

It couldn’t be that soft, right? 

Stop those intrusive thoughts, Y/N! It would never happen anyway. 

“You’ll see one day”, he defended, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I’m just trying to have fun whilst I’m still young. I’m not rushing life like you seem to be doing”. 

You sensed that you may have struck a nerve with the harsh tones in his voice as he looked at you expectedly, although you quickly felt awkward, a little ashamed of yourself for criticising his early life choices and perhaps taking your jokes a little too far. 

A big apology would have to wait, though, as there was so much shit to be done before the event started and it would have been unfair if you weren’t pulling your weight enough. After all, this was your chance to show your uncle that you had what it takes to progress in the company. 

Temporarily moving the problems with Hook to the back of your mind, you opened your mouth to speak a quick ‘sorry’ with the intention of making it up to him later like buying him a drink or something. However, another voice from only a few feet away echoed through the spacious hall. 

“Hey, who’s been messing with this setup?” 

Your sound guy must have come in without you noticing because you whipped your head around to see his face scrunched up with such confusion and frustration. You winced and turned away, pretending you didn’t know anything. Perhaps there was time for one long, drawn out apology. 

Never had you been more relieved to be made fun of, hearing the sound of a snicker from a certain hooded figure standing before you to which you smiled lightheartedly in response. You should have known he wouldn’t stay mad at you for long. 

What seemed like what was meant to be the end of the conversation clearly wasn’t because Hook still insisted on standing opposite you, staring and twitching his nose as if something was bothering him. 

“What do you want?” You asked, not wasting any time and getting back to setting up chairs. 

“What makes you think I want something?” 

“Oh I’m sorry. Don’t you?” Sarcasm was basically your second language. 

Hook was silent for a few seconds, allowing yourself to secretly smirk whilst your back was turned away from him. Just wait for it. 

“Okay yeah I do want something”. Bingo. You were right as always. “I need you to bid for me”. 

You scoffed into a breathy laugh. He couldn’t be serious, right? That’s like straight up asking you on a date without actually saying it and with a lot more complications than there needed to be. He continued. 

“I’d give you the money back, I swear. I just really really don’t want to date a fan who’s desperate enough to be here to win a date with me. It’ll be chaos”. 

As much as you questioned the cruel wording, you understood where his point was coming from. The entry fee in itself was five-hundred dollars and these people would have had to have been glued to their screen, waiting for the tickets to go on sale. On top of that, they wouldn’t even guarantee a date because they’d still have to bid a ridiculous amount of money in the auction. 

You’d love to help him but you already had your sweet sweet revenge all planned out. 

“Ooo it’s sooooo nice that you’re willing to give all that money to charity, and I’d hate seeing you at the mercy of some overbearing girl - or guy for that matter - buuut no. I’m not going to bid for you. It’d be wrong of me since, if you haven’t noticed, I’m running the whole thing”. 

Hook’s silence spoke volume as he now knew exactly how you felt about him being in this auction. 

“Bitch…” he muttered, turning to the side. 

Gasp! 

“What was that?” you asked sternly, finally facing him, not having stopped setting up the chairs until now. 

“I said I… need to talk to Mitch”. He pointed to one of the guys on the other side of the room and pretended to approach him. 

You sighed before calling out whilst he was still within a few feet away, “His name is Thomas”. 

“Then I need to talk to Thomas, bitch”. 

“Oh just fuck off”. The conversation ended with you indignantly laughing at his teenager-y antics. 

— 

Every single chair that you among others had placed had someone sat in it - well, they were all allocated, at least. One crazed fan that caught your eye was standing, of course, violently shaking the person next to her who you really hoped was her friend and not some stranger she was using as a human cocktail shaker. 

It was show time. Honestly, you had no other job than to make sure everything was in check, ensuring that the auction went as you had envisioned. No introduction was needed as Tony Shiavone (who was way too happy to be the announcer for a change) went straight to it, announcing the first wrestler up for grabs, and you were quite content standing off to the side where you could watch the whole show as well as watching the crowd. 

“Coming in from St. Marks Place, he’s cold-hearted, he’s definitely handsome, and the girls go crazy for him”. 

Ha ha! Although it was the first auction, this was definitely the main event in your opinion. The one you had been looking forward to the most. 

“Weighing in at 202 pounds, he currently holds the championship for the best single life. He’s Hoooooooooook!” 

If the pool of merchandise wasn’t enough to figure out exactly how big of fans these people were, the screaming made it all too obvious. You hardly heard his song playing due to a mix of the yelling and the (hopefully temporary) deafness it caused you. 

Seeing Hook walk on stage as just himself without the aloof persona he puts on was strange to say the least. It felt as though all these people got to experience a side to him that only you had the pleasure of seeing, which you knew was absolutely ludicrous because you weren’t the only person in his life. Perhaps it was the fact that these ‘people’ were the women who were about to pay a ridiculous amount of money at a chance for his heart. 

Was this what jealousy felt like? 

No, of course not. You had no reason to be jealous. You were about to relish in the suffering he was about to endure by one of these fans. 

But what if the date… went well? What if he actually started a relationship with that woman? What would that mean for the two of you? 

You desperately tried to shake your head out of those thoughts. He said he wouldn’t romantically involve himself with a fan anyway. 

…but what if-? No! Shut up, Y/N! 

Hook’s eyes immediately met yours, eyebrows raising as if to say ‘wish me luck’, to which you smirked in a reply, reminding yourself that this whole event was meant to be enjoyable for you. 

“And we’ll start the bidding at three-hundred dollars. Oh straight in with the three-hundred”. 

The bids came in so fast that you could hardly comprehend how many bidding paddles were flying up in the air until they began to slow down as the price continued to rise to those outrageous prices you were waiting to hear. 

“Two-thousand dollars to the woman in the front here. Is there a twenty-one-hundred here?” 

The higher the bids came in, the fewer women that were left standing, eventually cutting it down to just two, and then to one, and boy were they desperate. 

“That’s five-thousand dollars to the woman at the front going once”. 

Pause. You peered at the lucky lady who had won the date with Hook and what came into your view could have made your body implode from how badly your blood was boiling. 

“Going twice”. 

Pause. It couldn’t be her, could it? But that long golden blonde hair and sharp facial features were completely undeniable. 

“Aaand-” 

“Five-thousand one-hundred!” Your voice spoke out before you even had time to think, your glare not having left the woman who stood on the front row. Her disgusting victorious smile returned her natural hideous jealous scowl you’d known for years which whipped in your direction as probably many other heads, including Hook’s, did - not that you were paying any attention to anyone else now that the woman who had been harassing you for almost two years was here in front of you. 

You were lucky you hadn’t spoken to the audience yet because you feared what kind of backlash you and the company would have received if anyone knew you - an organiser - started bidding in their own event. 

“Two-hundred!” Her voice fought back to which you quickly retaliated with a hundred dollars more. Like hell was this bitch going to get what she wanted. 

You knew Petra from highschool. She was one of those who thought she and her friends were oh so much better than you because of how much makeup they wore and how trendy their new Prada outfit was. She even bragged about her grades from time to time. After all, she did a lot of grinding on hard work to achieve those. 

“Six thousand!” 

Where the hell was she getting this money from? 

You presumed she was rich all these years, but not ‘I’m gonna buy myself a famous boyfriend’ rich. 

“Seven!” You on the other hand had no reason to worry about money. One huge benefit of working in your uncle’s business was the generous pay. Uncle Tony really did not hold out when it came to paying his staff. 

You could see Hook’s perplexed look from beneath his hoodie directed at you, most likely wondering why you had such the change of heart, but you couldn’t let your focus drift away from the burden sitting on the front row. She must pay. 

After you graduated and All Elite Wrestling had taken off, word had gotten out that you were Tony Khan’s niece, so when you mistakenly decided to post on Instagram about your new job there, the number of private messages you had received from people you had hardly spoken to in the past came flooding in, asking if you could get them tickets, or arrange a meet and greet with their favourites. 

You’d decided to ignore all of them, however, there was one who was painfully persistent that you eventually had to tell them to shut the fuck up because it was never gonna happen. That person was, of course, Petra. Every week or so it was all ‘Can you set me up with Hook?’, ‘Oh my god isn’t Hook just the hottest?’, and ‘Can’t you do this for me after all you put me through in high school?’ 

Who the hell did she think she was? A princess? Not everything isn’t her fault. 

You didn’t fail to notice the slight panic in her widened eyes after you raised the price by another thousand dollars. 

Where’s daddy’s allowance now, bitch? 

She hesitantly gestured to Shiavone to up the bid another hundred, however, now you knew she was running short of money, you felt you could wrap this up pretty swiftly. 

“Eight-thousand dollars”, you said with a smirk. You were definitely going over your limit and you’d probably have to budget your shopping for a couple of months, but boy would it be worth it in the end to see that smug face wiped clean off. 

“Nine-thousand dollars!” How many sugar daddies does this girl have? She probably knows she can leave and suck someone’s dick for another 1k. 

No matter how she got the money, you knew you had more. 

“Ten–thousand dollars!” The murmurs and Petra’s silence spoke all. You saw her visibly gulp and glance around the floor in disbelief. She wasn’t going to find another two thousand dollars on the floor so you really did not know what she could have been looking around for. She lost her pride a long time ago and she sure as hell wasn’t going to find it here. 

“And the date with Hook goes to uhh… the lady over there for ten-thousand dollars!” 

You sent Tony a small, thankful smile for not telling everyone who you were, and you were quite surprised that Petra hadn’t said anything appalling yet given she too knew that you had to have had a part in this event. She’d even begged you for weeks in advance if you could rig the event for her. In hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been at all shocked to see her here. 

One of the backstage crew gestured for you to follow them to which you obliged, leaving the noise of disappointed groans behind you. One glance at Hook before you disappeared behind the curtain told you that this situation was just as awkward for him as it was now for you. 

Your mind scoured for a suitable justification as to why you might have spoken up when you did. 

You could say it was for charity? Those unfortunate kids were about to be bathed in riches and opportunities with the amount of money being thrown at them. 

Not having any faith in your poor, disingenuous excuse, and seeing Hook making his way towards you, you decided that perhaps it would be better if you simply told him the truth. It was a valid reason after all. You wanted Hook to suffer for all the teasing he had done to you in the past but you didn’t want to torture him to death. 

“Is that why you decided to work here?” 

You stared at him with a puzzled look and he continued. 

“Because you’re a secret superfan?” 

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed and whilst waiting for an actual response to come to your mind, another half laugh, half scoff filled the silence, making his claim seem like the truth. You had not joined the AEW team because you were a Hook superfan (because you weren’t), but over the years of working alongside him in the background, you had naturally become one of his biggest fans. 

“Yeah, you wish”. You regretted the poor excuse for a comeback as soon as it left your lips. 

“Sooo are you gonna tell me why you just bid for me or are you gonna stand there all awkward?” He asked after a long hesitation. 

Yep. The truth is better than an obvious lie. 

“I knew the other woman from high school and trust me when I tell you that I was doing you a favour. She’s a slut. A tart. A whore if you will. I swear in God’s name if I ever see her again I will-” 

“Alright alright I get it. You can tell me more on our date”. 

You were glad Tyler decided to interrupt you there as you hadn’t even realised your hands clawing at thin air as if choking the very woman you hadn’t been able to get out of your life since you started working here. She had caused nothing but distractions and… 

Wait, what? 

“Date?” 

Hook chuckled at your doe eyes. “You won fair and square, right?” 

“Well yeah but I didn’t realise that– I didn’t think– I thought you wouldn’t– okay, a date sounds great”. 

“Are you sure? I didn’t think you’d want to date a ‘fuckboy’ like me”. 

Ah shit. Yeah you forgot about that. Well you supposed now would be a better time than any for an apology. 

“Look I really am sorry for that. I was–” 

“It doesn’t matter. You weren’t completely wrong. But I won’t be like that with you. How about tonight?” 

You sent a warm smile of relief. Perhaps you had just been in denial all this time because you were suddenly super excited for this date with this good-looking, hilarious, kind friend of yours. 

“Sounds perfect. It’ll probably be late, though. I have to help clean up”. 

“I’ll wait, don’t worry”. 

He edged past you and left you with your heart feeling like it was about to burst out of your chest and with butterflies hitting every inch of your stomach lining. The shaky breath you let out was quickly sucked back in when two hands gripped your hips and pulled your body close to theirs. 

“I like it when you're nervous around me. Cocky didn’t suit you”, Hook muttered in your ear. Every part of you tingled now and you felt you could hardly move. 

That would’ve been awkward if it wasn’t Hook. 

You managed to turn your body, watching him make his way to the back door, looking like he was walking down a fashion runway or something. 

Before he could reach for the handle, you called out to him, not letting him get away with the comment you had just realised he made. 

“You’re still going to pay me back, though, right?” 

He turned with a smirk and without saying anything, stuck both his middle fingers up at you before leaving the building. 

Smug bastard… 

You spent the remainder of the day with a gigantic grin plastered upon your face. You hadn’t dared show yourself on stage as the organiser after your little showdown with Petra, and you had hoped that all of those people out there would never figure out who you were either. 

Perhaps she would leave you alone now after that whole ordeal, knowing that she lost and would finally be able to accept that she will never be able to get to Hook through you. You had to give her some credit, however, because without her, some other girl would have won and you would never have been given this date opportunity. 

Instead, you would probably be eating ice cream in bed in pure jealousy rather than savouring the humiliation you had originally wished upon your date. 

Your date… Ah! Exciting! This ten grand had better be worth it. 

THE END.

Bonus: A few private messages! (I had no idea what I was doing)

Message #1

Message #2

Message #3 (Blurry schmurry. It's fine)

End notes: I would like to apologise for being naive. I thought it was cool that Chris and Hook were teaming, especially since I saw Chris Jericho's band in Feb (which was great btw) and I got overexcited at their collaboration. I scold myself everyday since he pushed Taz and took the belt.

[sunlitmcgee]

on one hand I fully get why some people are so averse to qpr cbench if cclingy being Hard Coded as brothers and siblings is important to you, but also in my mind they still call each other bro and cuddle and shit quietly agree it's funny and stupid and silly. I think of them as the childhood friends who struggled to realize the nature of their attraction to eahc other for so long Because of how long they viewed one another a ssiblings, until it clicked that Oh wait . we can make a Bit out of this

[ereborne]

Song of the Day: May 6

"Everybody Loves Me" by OneRepublic

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

I haven't done anything tonight yet bc I rediscovered Guitar Hero (damn I feel old XD)

but good news is I've only got 16 things left to do! by tomorrow, I should have more things in the queue than are left to be done, which is always a good feeling

I still have a little ways to go but DAMN I should have the askbox open in about a week! I'm so freaking excited <3

[neverendingford]

.

[dangoulains-devotion]

every time I have to wade through inane ship wars where people are willfully ignorant to the depth and facets of cloud strife's character, circumstance, and story just so I can find some cool screenshots or fanart my 'cloud is ace' agenda simply grows more potent out of spite

[angelltheninth]

The Muzzle Problem

Pairing: Wriothesley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, muzzle, breeding, possessive sex, creampie, mentioned marking, doggie style, feral!Wriothesley

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: Expanding on that post I made the other day cause got damn I want him in a muzzle so bad!

He fucked you like he hated you, and maybe in this moment he did. Not because you did something wrong per se, not because he had a reason to hate you, his pretty girlfriend, but all because you wanted to see what would happen when you put a muzzle on him while he fucked you.

"Think you're safe from me when my mouth is caged up?" The cold bars of the muzzle pressed against your face when he attempted to nuzzle in closer to you, his frustration palpable in the loud smacking of his hips into yours. "Think again, there's many way that I can mark you as mine." Your pussy tightened around his cock, legs feeling weak and suddenly you found yourself grateful that you had the bed to fall back onto.

You reached behind you and felt the cold cage of the muzzle, "You know you can't leave marks on me. What if someone saw? They'd know... ah... about us... and..." Wriothesley tightened his hold on your hips and pressed your hips fully against the bed, clit grinding against the pillow under you while he fucked you hard, fast, possessive, almost feral. "Wrio! Careful! Your hands!"

"My hands, my cum, my cock, yes all of them, I can mark you with all of them. I don't really have to though, do I? Because at the end of the day you already know that you're mine." Behind closed doors you were his, but to everyone else you were his right hand woman, to be respected and feared as such too. In both cases though you were his and he was yours, secretly ready whenever you called for him.

Unlike you Wriothesley didn't have any problem teasing you during work hours, which lead to situations like these, getting fucked on his bed right after the shift ended, a puddle between your legs and a pulsing ache that grew every time his cock sunk back into your wet...

"My pussy, it's all mine, and you know what? I think this pussy could use some of my cum in it. It's been so good for me lately, so good for me. You've been amazing, I don't know what I'd..." He groaned as you hooked your fingers on the muzzle and pulled him forward, causing his cock to sink in balls deep into your drooling cunt.

"There, yes, fuck... fuck me there..." Again you tugged on his muzzle and felt the full weight of him on top of you, doing everything you could to keep your ass smacking loudly against his, "Fuck me however you want, just don't leave any marks where people can see." Those were some very dangerous terms you just agreed to.

You could feel yourself dripping with arousal as he began going faster, fucking you like he wanted to see you break on his cock. And maybe he did, as punishment for denying him the pleasure of biting and kissing you. "Breed you, I'm gonna breed you, get my cum in your wet little cunt. Let's see who owns your pussy then huh? When you're dripping, when your womb is flooded with my cum. Say it, say it, say it!" Your hips met his one final time before your mind went blank with pleasure, warmth spreading both inside and out, your orgasm making your stiff against his rock hard body.

Hot cum rushed into your spasming walls, your abused, sensitive pussy taking all of it before he collapsed next to you.

A few minutes passed in silence, the only sounds being each other's breath, slowly getting back to normal. You turned to your side, trying not to squirm as Wriothesley's cum dripped down your thighs. He looked happy, hair very messy and eyes a little hazy still but happy. When you reached behind him and undid the clasp of his muzzle he let out a long sigh before opening his mouth wide, flexing the soreness out of his poor jaw.

"Sorry." You snuggled up to his chest and kissed him on the chin, "But it's not my fault you can't keep your mouth to yourself."

"Yes it is. You're too cute for your own good." Wriothesley pressed a long kiss against your forehead, another content sigh leaving his lips. He was finally able to do what he wanted to do all day, kiss you as much as he wanted.

[prettyboykatsuki]

YOU’VE GOT THE CURE (EVERYTHING I NEED) | B. KATSUKI. 

✮ tags ; gn + afab!reader, soft dom!reader, sub!bakaugou, developing relationships, mutual pining and ambiguous relationships, anal play (m!recieving), dry orgasms, p in v, unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 6.7k

✮ a/n ; an anon comission from a beloved mutual im posting. also just dropping in to say hello

✮ synopsis ; katsuki is too fucking young to have erectile dysfunction, damn it.

“Hey.” 

“Hm?” 

The sound of your typing is especially loud in the empty office. It’s a Saturday and neither of you are supposed to be clocked in, but when duty calls - it’s up to the two of you to answer. 

“...I’m going to tell you something. If you so much as fucking laugh I will kill you.”

You don’t look up from your screen.

“Well that’s one way to start a sentence. I’ll try not to laugh.”

Katsuki slams his hand on the desk. 

“I’m being serious,” He says in a half-yell. You look up from the edge of your laptop unflinchingly with a displeased frown, shaking your head and throwing your hand up half-heartedly. 

“Fine, fine - I promise I won’t laugh. Can you stop being all ominous? You sound like Tokoyami.” 

“There’s something wrong with me,” 

“Well yes,” 

“Not like that,” He hisses, taking a deep breath. He leans forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped seriously as he covers his face. “...I think my fucking..thing..is broken.” 

There’s a loud noise like a muffled laugh but when Katsuki looks up your expression is completely blank. Your lips are pressed tight, eyes out of focus as you continue to type. Or pretend to. True to your word, you don’t laugh but Katsuki still wants to fucking kill you. 

“Oh? What uhm,” You clear your throat, lips trembling as you try to keep yourself together. “What brought you to that conclusion?” 

He nearly snaps his pen in half. 

“What do you fucking think?!” 

“Hey. Calm down. I’m doing my best not to laugh but you are not helping.” 

This is the sort of thing Katsuki would normally take to his grave. Not only is it genuinely humiliating, it is the sort of painful personal detail he wouldn’t share with anyone even if he was fucking them. It wouldn’t matter either, that his dick isn’t working - if the other ways he relieved stress were.

He’s got an average sex drive, sometimes lower but a high libido. Getting off is a physical response to a bodily need. Like eating food or taking a nap. It’s just because it’s a physical need, it is noticeable when the need doesn’t get met. He is painfully aware of it. It’s been weeks and he thinks he’s starting to lose his mind. Worse? He’s exhausted every human option trying to fix the problem himself, save for going to the dick doctor. His testosterone levels are fine, he gets check-ups more regularly than the average person. Given his reputation is at stake, he’d rather not get prescribed anything. He’s bought ginseng and shitty vitamins and medicine he had to ship from overseas. Anything and everything. 

Picking up viagra at the ripe age of twenty four would give him psychic damage he won’t recover from, this much Katsuki is sure of. So not that. But everything else, every natural remedy conceived - he’s tried. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” He says, pinching the bridge of his nose and willfully ignoring the sound of your strained huffing “I can’t fucking get….it up and I don’t know why. I’ve tried everything. Everything. I’m going crazy,” 

“You know, it really says something about our relationship that you can confide to me about these kinds of problems. Like I’m so proud of us,” 

“Shut up. I’m already miserable enough without wanting to fucking tell you - but the only other option is Shitty Hair and Izuku. I refuse to buy a single goddamn pill for it, and I know if I go to a doctor they’re gonna recommend it and—” He can’t finish the thought. It’s a little too sincere for the kind of conversation you’re having. 

You’re a tactless person, so of course - you don’t bother with going along with the mood. Instead you smile like the evil bastard you are. 

“And…?” 

“You little—” He sighs rubbing his palms over his hands “And because I can trust you to be the least horrible option.” 

“So you acknowledge my valiant efforts as your underling and assistant and know you’d be nowhere without me?” 

“Shut up.” 

“Aw, you’re sweet,” You say, promptly ignoring him “But yeah, I mean - no judgement. I would ask if you’ve had anything major happen but I unfortunately already know that’s not really the case.”

Yes. You, of all people, would know that no major changes have happened in Katsuki’s external life that would make it hard for his dick to function. You spend so much time together. Minus the time he spends working and catching villains in the world - you’re practically glued to his side. You’re in charge of all of his affairs, his schedule, all other personal things. Katsuki is naturally neurotic, but you handle all of it with grace and care. You know everything about him, which is why he is asking you about this problem. 

(Does it border on unprofessional? Of course it does. But your relationship to each other degraded that border a long time ago. You’ve already slept in his bed and met all of his friends. And kissed him, but that’s irrelevant for now) 

“I need solutions,” Katsuki offers, totally and utterly defeated by the situation at hand. “I’ve done everything. Taken every goddamn herb, done every meditation. Nothing is working. Nothing. I’m going to go fucking crazy.” 

“Do you think just sleeping with someone would help? I know you don’t want to ask any of your friends, but maybe an escort? We can do it discreetly.” 

“Fuck no. If it were that easy I would’ve done it.” 

You pause. Katsuki can see the focus on your face and doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. After an elongated period of silence, you perk up a little. You lock eyes with him and Katsuki briefly regrets bringing the whole conversation up in the first place. 

“Hate to ask,” You say, though there’s not enough embarrassment on your face to make anything of that statement. “But uh, have you tried getting off with other things. Like something that isn’t your dick.” 

He feels a flush creeping up his skin. “What the fuck are you talking about!”

“This is an important question,” You emphasize, an expression so alarmingly calm Katsuki doesn’t know if it makes him feel better or worse. “Cause if the answer is no, then that’s basically the best solution.” 

“How the fuck is that the best solution? Are you insane?” 

“Don’t be such a prude, Mr. Dynamight. You’ve bottomed before. It’s not that different. Have you ever tried it on your own?” 

“I fucking hate you.” He replies, closing his eyes and frowning. “No I haven’t. Why the hell would I do something so embarrassing.” 

“I know you’re super anal retentive - no pun intended there actually, but can you relax a little? It’s a good solution if nothing else is working. Your dick might be broken but an orgasm is an orgasm.” 

“Remind me to never ask you for shit again,” 

“I’d love that. Just keep me on payroll. Anyway,” You go back to typing. “I think that should be your first move,”

“How the—are you seriously telling me I should go fuck myself to solve my problem?” 

You giggle. “Well it sounds bad when you put it like that. But I guess yeah. I can help pick out some sex toys, maybe, do a little research. If you don’t want to do it in your apartment, there might be a love hotel,” 

A blush creeps up against the back of his neck. He covers his face with his hands. 

“I’m begging you to shut the fuck up. There’s no,” Another wave of humiliation sets in “There’s no way this is how I’m going about this. Like. Fucking none.” 

“The only other option is the good old fashioned doctors appointment, then. Which we can squeeze in over telehealth I think - since you got a check-up pretty recently. Want me to do that instead,” 

“Fuck, no. I just,” He groans, feeling the stress make his eye twitch “Fuck.” 

There’s a bit of silence and a little typing, like you’ve decided to leave him to his thoughts. Which he doesn’t blame you for, because all things fucking considered - there’s not really any more options. He’s a smart man and even he is fucking stumped. He’s going to have to give into something, eventually. He knows that, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. 

As soon as he gets close to giving up, you sit up straighter and give a deep long sigh. 

“Hey,” You scratch the side of your face awkwardly. “Do you want me to help you….?” 

He stares at you. “With what.” 

“With your dick being broken,” 

“What?!” 

“Don’t yell anymore, you’re giving me a headache,” You express, rubbing your temples. “Look. You need to get off, and you’re probably going to have to use your ass to do it. You don’t want to do it by yourself, and you don’t want to do it with a friend or escort. You’d prefer not going to the doctor's office or taking any pills. I’m offering - I’m not really your friend per se and you trust me enough to ask about it.” 

He hates more than anything that you have a point. 

“You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Hey. If you want your dick to stay broken for a while until you figure it out, do you. I’m just saying. Offering solutions is what you pay me for,” 

He pulls back a little. 

“...Are you fine with that?” 

“Oh banging you? Is that what you’re worried about?” He winces at the direct and crass way you speak. “I like you plenty and you’ve got a pretty face. I’m down if you are,” 

“I can’t believe I’m considering this.” 

“Really? I totally can,” You snicker, and he really, really considers firing you. “It’s not the first time we’ve crossed boundaries with each other. Just consider it, okay? Before you actually blow a fuse.” 

He leans back in his chair and groans. 

“Fuck. Yeah, whatever.” 

__ 

It’s another week before Katsuki takes you up on your offer. 

Miraculous it took that long, given the amount he suffered stubbornly trying to fix the problem on his own. The lengths he went too are too embarrassing to even disclose or recount but it very quickly became clear that this was not an issue that was going to magically disappear - no matter how hard he tried. 

Against his better judgment and after a long, cold shower trying to talk himself out of reality - Katsuki sent you a one line text. 

Fine. Come Saturday. 

The only thing he could say without dying of complete fucking shame. He’s grateful that’s the time you decided to have some tact. 

(Not a lot, since the text back you sent was a peach emoji and a thumbs up. But whatever, he’ll take what he can get.) 

It’s Saturday now, and he’s clean. All of him. He’s clean, and just wearing his boxers - sitting on his couch. You’ll be here very soon, and he can’t believe he’s saying this, but he’s nervous. 

You did mention you were fine with it. He believes that because there’s been long standing tension between you two for god knows how long he’s not entirely blind too. You sleep at his place sometimes and spend all day with him, and then there was that one time you two kissed (very sober) during New Years. You don’t bring it up because you know he can’t deal with it. Yet he’s comforted by the fact you at least want it (because you’ve said so), and that you’re willing to do this despite the ambiguity in your relationship. 

He knows that is inevitably going to come up today. But he really wants to fucking cum. And if it’s with you, then it’s fine. If his head was a little clearer, he would probably reject this whole thing based on his own emotional disparity. God fucking knows he is not in any place to deal with any of that. His heart barely gets by in the office and now you were going to fuck him. 

Is he stupid? 

Usually no, but because there’s a soft dick and tight balls where his brain used to be, currently yes. Everything put together, it’s a recipe for disaster. He considers telling you to fuck off and forget all this happens. 

But then he thinks about the prospect of your hands and your voice and it’s enough to at least get his heart pumping, though his dick still refuses to cooperate.

More than anything, he does trust you. Shitty, smug little fucker you can be sometimes - there’s not a single person who goes out of their way for him. More than just your job, sometimes it feels like every little thing you do is for his sake. Everything you don’t ask of him, every secret you keep. You push him where he needs to go and encourage him to take risks in his career without imposing on him. 

He blushes again, laying on his couch. He was nervous before but it’s not any better. Maybe he’s not so much of a dumbass as he is a total fucking masochistic. Is the level of overthinking the shit Izuku goes through? No wonder he’s like that all the time. 

He almost jumps out of his skin when he hears the doorbell ring. 

He answers the door shirtless and finds you on the other side. You have a cardboard box and the most nonchalant expression he’s ever seen. Normally it would annoy him, but right now he’s kind of comforted by it. You look at him with a flat smile. 

“Hey sexy,” You say with no intonation. “Can I come in?” 

He gives you a look of disdain. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again. But come in,” 

You laugh quietly as he steps aside. You don’t have much with you other than the ominous box and your bag. 

“You look like you’ve showered,” You say, taking your shoes off and putting on the house slippers he keeps for you. You don’t even look at him as you go towards his bedroom upstairs. He follows you with mild (faux) annoyance.“What a shame.” 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“I wanted to get a little romantical and help you clean up but you’ve taken that from me. I’m a little hurt.” 

“You’re such a dumbass. As if I’d let you do that,” 

“Don’t be such a spoilsport. I’m gonna be playing in your ass today anyway.” 

“Not the same thing.” 

“Tomato, to-mah-to,” You say with a wave of your hands. When you finally get upstairs, you look over your shoulder. Katsuki gets the message quickly enough, helping you with the door. You give him a little smile and let yourself in, dropping the box on the edge of his king sized mattress. 

He stands in the doorway for a short while, glancing at you before coming in. You put your bag somewhere on the floor before getting back to the box you’ve brought over. He can guess what’s in it, but he stands with you to open it anyways.

Predictably,  the thing is full of sex toys. The first question he wants to ask is how much you spent on all of it, but he bites his tongue. 

You look at him and do a little jazz hands gesture. “Tah-dah.” 

He gives you a displeased look, but you’re well used to this sort of thing from him. There isn’t actually a whole lot in the box. The theatrics of you bring it upstairs were more likely just you fucking with him for the sake of the bit.  He frowns. Typical. 

You do have some new things in the box. A few expensive look gadgets, like a pair of quirk canceling handcuffs (decorated with leopard print fur) and something that looks like it goes around his neck. The sex toys that are in there are noticeably high quality. You definitely used his dime to pay for this. 

“Handcuffs? Seriously?” 

“You’re too much of a control freak and I like not having my hands blown to bits,” You say, shaking your head. “We should establish some ground rules and stuff now.” 

“Haah? The fuck are you gonna do that we need rules.”

“I’m not just gonna jump scare you with dominating you. But that is what I’m doing.  What we’re doing.” You give him a more serious look, that makes him feel more shy than he cares to admit.  “You get what I’m saying? You have to trust me a little, okay?” 

He makes a petulant face at you. “I already trust you dipshit,” 

“This and that are different,” You say, shaking your head. He refrains from disagreeing with you a second time. They’re really not, but he has no desire to explain that. “I’m gonna touch you and be a little strict. Are you okay with that?” 

“I don’t care.” 

“That’s not an answer,” 

He grits. “I want to cum. And I…trust you or whatever. I already agreed to this. If it’s pissing me off, I’ll just kick you offa me. Anyway, ‘s fine.” 

“If you kick me I’m suing you for battery. We can have a safeword. I’m not going to duct tape your mouth and I’m gonna talk you through most of it - but just incase.” You say. He pauses, taken aback by how… delicately you’re treating him. He doesn’t know if he should be pissed about it or not. “Any word is fine. We can use the stoplight system too if you want.”

“Stoplight?” 

“Red for stop, yellow for slow, green for go.” 

“That’s fine. Easy to remember.” 

“Okay,” You nod to yourself, tucking the promise to memory before looking at him more seriously. “Are you okay with intimacy?” 

He stares at you. 

“The fuck…?” 

“Kissing and hand-holding and all that other stuff.” 

“Is it necessary?” 

“Strictly speaking, no,” You look at him knowingly this time. He’s taken aback, but you’re always like this. You look through him, not at him. “Are you okay with it?” 

The implication is there. Do you want it? is the question that goes unasked. Too direct for his tastes. He feels heat spread through his body, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Yeah…’m fine with it.” 

Your smile is more genuine this time around. He turns away from you a little. 

“Okay. That’s everything out of the way. I’m gonna cuff your arms,” You say. It all feels a little sudden. He figures you’d mean business, but still - he’s not all that prepared. He’s had a week to mentally prepared but that feels like nothing compared to now.  There’s an authority to the way you talk now he isn’t sure he’s going to get used too. “Repeat your safewords to me when you turn around.” 

He frowns but listens. He puts his hands together in front of him, waiting for you to cuff him, shyness making him hot. 

“Uh. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for go.” 

“Good boy,” You say so smoothly it almost rolls off of him. The cuffs go around his wrists, and Katsuki can feel the familiar sensation of losing his quirk. Now it’s just the both of you. “I’m expecting a little pushback, but generally - you’re to listen to me. Clear?” 

“God, fuck - yeah clear,” Katsuki says, feeling ticklish all of a sudden. “All this shitty foreplay is making me feel weird.” 

You wrap your arm around his midriff in a sudden movement, making him twitch. He can feel your cheek pressed against his chest as your hands hover over his waistband. He takes in a sharp inhale. 

“It’s good that you’re feeling anything.” You say, breath just barely above a whisper. “Gonna take this off,” 

He just nods, silently. It’s still on soft, but something is happening in his gut at least. You help him take his boxers down. You’ve probably seen him naked before, more than once. You two being attached at the hip was no joke. This time there’s this lingering anticipation that’s there, and that changes things. 

He steps out of his boxers. He’s naked and you’re clothed and his head feels like it’s spinning. Your hand guides him to the edge of the bed. He sits and watches you, but you don’t undress. 

The first kiss (second kiss) that you exchange with Katsuki is pleasant. You bend down to do it. It’s a chaste way to meet his lips, weirdly soothing while his stomach is starting to tie in knots. It’s a little surprising how..comfortable it is. Your mouth is soft, your lips taste a little like chapstick and you smell nice. You pull away to kiss the corner of his mouth, trailing down his jaw. 

Your thumbs draw over the shell of his ear, rubbing the lobe tender. You’re so different. The contrast in your normal personality is a little too much for him to reconcile with easily, but you brush over these things well enough. He looks away when you meet his eyes. 

“Do you wanna lay down or kneel?” 

His throat is tight. “...Don’t care.” 

You laugh a little to yourself, another kiss. “Lay down then. It’d probably be easier if you put your ass up but knowing you, I doubt it.” 

He blushes, annoyed that he’s so obviously predictable to you. 

The sheets are soft where he lays. You don’t join him on the bed at first. He just waits there cuffed as you shuffle around for things - lubes and toys and pillows. When you do return to him, you pat his side and slide a pillow underneath his back. He quickly regrets laying down, because god the position is fucking exposing. 

You get between his legs and settle there comfortably. A hand rests on his bare thigh, rubbing your thumb into smooth, muscled skin. His breath is hitched. You lean down and kiss his hip. Still no dice on the erection, but you don’t seem discouraged. 

You flip the lube open and let it pour onto your fingertips. It’s pink lube. This is mildly irritating, but saying anything will feed into your satisfaction so Katsuki bites his tongue. He watches it as you warm it in your hands, patting his leg with your clean hand. 

“Legs up,” You instruct. “And deep breath. Try not to tense.” 

“Just goin’ for it, huh?”

You don’t reply to that, but you do smile. 

It’s not his first rodeo. His second or third, but certainly not his first - but he’s never had it done for a reason like this. There was an exchange prior, that someone was putting something in him for their pleasure too. This isn’t for that. This is just for him, with your skilled hands and your oddly gentle tendencies that he doesn’t see any other time. That proves to be too much, makes his belly feel honeyed with lust. 

The warm, thick sensation of lubed fingers presses against the tight rim of muscle. He breathes and unclenches. Tries not to think too hard about anything. He’s desperate, too desperate. At this point, it’s hard to be prideful. Your hands are noticeably daintier than the ones he’s had in him prior. It’s…weirdly nice. Makes the process easier somehow. He’s reminded that you’re just you, and that makes him more nervous. 

“That’s it, baby,”  You hum, so soft it’s startling. The way the blood starts to rush in that familiar way nearly makes him sick. Oh, fuck. No way. “Oh?” 

No way. No fucking way. No way that’s what does him in. 

You pause. He takes in a deep breath, ready to say anything to defend himself. Humiliation spreads through his whole body. He can feel how hard he’s starting to burn, like the blood in his body is struggling to keep up with the desire and pump of his heart. His chest and face start to flush a familiar rose as he grits his teeth and closes his eyes. 

Weeks. Weeks and weeks of trying to figure this out. And it was you calling him baby, of all things, to get him at half-mast. 

He’s too afraid to open his eyes, but forces himself too. He’s expecting a smug laugh or sarcastic jab but instead you just look surprised. You stare at him, unblinking. He’s so startled he stares back. 

“Do you wanna…keep going?” 

He gets hard. Fuck. 

“S-shit,” He says, wishing he could cover his face with his hands properly. “Yeah,” 

He can’t read your expression at all. Annoying. You don’t brush over it though - but you don’t force him to acknowledge it either. Maybe you’re just focused on the fact he finally has something to work with and don’t want to ruin it by making him talk about his feelings. 

“Baby,” You say again, smooth and deliberate. There’s that twitch again, something pooling in his gut. He starts to feel nervous. You’re doing the same as before, stretching him and teasing the rim - getting him ready for something else. “You like bein’ my baby, Katsuki?” 

He opens his mouth, only to close it again. He tries to choke some word about, telling you go fuck yourself - but he always ends up looking at your face. Your lashes on your cheek. Soft touches and even softer words. He stops knowing what he wants at some point.

“Ugh,” His voice grows thicker. “Don’t ask me that,” 

(If he were more apt at honesty, he could admit to you that he just wants you. In whatever way. Sometimes you get like this, when you’re not screwing around - and you’re so good to him that it hurts. He likes your sarcasm and dryness. 

But he likes too when you’re this sweet on him too - even if that feels shameful as fuck. That feels like it’s crossing so many more lines that you’re usual self. He knows that better than anyone. It is crossing more lines than usual. 

He can’t help but think about it anyway.)

You laugh a little. His eyes go lidded as you continue to work him open. It’s a slow process. You circle his hole with your thumb each time before pushing in. You get one finger in without effort. The second one takes a little more. Another heaved breath and unclenching of his muscles. 

He hasn’t felt the sensation of something entering him in so long. He can’t remember when the last time was. He’s antsy as you pump your fingers in and out, stretching him slowly. You find the bottle with your free hand, flicking it open with your teeth and pouring lube onto him directly before you keep going. 

“That feel okay?” You mumbles

“Y-yeah. Feels fine,” He huffs, closing his eyes “Feels…good,” 

“It’ll feel better soon. Just need to,” You curve the two fingers inside of him up. They search and search and search until—

There. Shit, there. 

“Oh, shit,” He gasps, arching himself up as you rub it. You smile at him, pleased. “Fuck,” 

You whistle. Katsuki can feel his cock throb properly now, up at full attention. You don’t touch him though. Your other hand grips his thigh for support as you focus your wrist and energy on curling your fingers against his prostate. His stomach flutters, waist tightening.

He’s been fucked before, damn it, but this is different. This is controlled and concentrated. Your fingers are perfect in their motion, pinpoint pleasure making him break out into a feverishness. You’re annoyingly good at this. His whole nervous system feels like it’s being unraveled so slowly. Pulled apart like the slices of a fruit, something for you to pick off and eat.

His head feels like it’s full of cotton, tongue too big for his mouth. Thoughts clouded and inhibition lowered. Real pleasure. He hasn’t felt that in what has to be more than a month now. It’s overwhelming. He’s sensitive and muddy and acting stupidly - he’s well aware. It’s an out of body experience being so unwound in general but this after everything is overstimulating. 

God it feels good. How can anything feel this fucking good? 

His breathing is erratic, heart pumping trying to keep up with it. Euphoric little pricks start at his abdomen and shoot off through his whole body. Like the splintering ends of a falling star. 

He’s never had any orgasm that feels like it needs every muscle in his body to pump through him. It starts in his center and spreads out, melts him slowly. Usually the feeling of needing to cum is passing - just building pleasure until the orgasm hits and the high relaxes. His cock is leaking now with every little press along his insides. Little white dribbles of pre-cum sliding down his shift all the way down to his ass. He doesn’t want to think about how he looks, so he focuses on how it feels. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” His voice almost gives. “Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t slow down.”

“You can cum if you want to, Katsuki,” As if to drive the point home by massaging his inner thigh, neglecting his cock “Guess you’re pretty sensitive inside, hm? Gonna make you cum like a girl,” 

His blush deepens.. 

“Haah, fuck - fuck I’m not sensitive. It’s just, hng. Been a while,” 

“Don’t be a liar or I won’t let you cum,” You tease. 

His eyes shoot wide, brows touching his hairline.  “Fuck, d-don’t you dare. .” 

You have the nerve to laugh at him. All things considered, maybe you’ve earned. “Just teasing. I’m awful but not that awful. “ 

“You’re not awful, fuck - just really,” He throws his head back against the sheets. “Need to cum, really need to—” 

“Gonna cum without even touching your cock,” You say, half-amused. He shudders when the realization dawns on him.“You’re so sweet.” 

He’s drooling. The strength goes out in his jaw as the feeling just builds and builds and builds. It goes on like it’ll never topple. 

When it does, it doesn’t feel so much like a rope unsnapping as much as it feels like everything is being pulled from under him. Like the loss of gravity. His abdomen goes tight, the anticipation of it making it impossible to breathe. So close, so close, so close. His brain feels shut off, mindlessly humping along air to capitalize on everything. You’re encouraging only eggs him on further. He lets out a garbled little noise, choking. His voice rasps as electricity flows through him. 

And he cums, there’s an orgasm - but nothing comes out. He cums so hard but his balls still feel so tight and full. It feels good but he’s still so fucking hard. It snaps him awake as his eyes open, and you’re staring at his cock a little awestruck. 

“Oh, poor baby,” You say - not exactly mocking him but not exactly being kind either. Katsuki stares at you lost and hazy. “A dry orgasm after all of that. That’s just cruel. 

He heaves. “What the….how am I supposed to?” 

His dick aches. Fuck he almost wants to cry. 

Your hand wraps around the base of his shaft in a sudden movement, making him hiss. He almost cusses you out. Sensitive, too sensitive. You put your thumb over the tip of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from it as you. You look mesmerized as it dribbles against your thumb

A long pause. 

“Hey,” Your expression is  serious. “Do you wanna fuck me?” 

“What?” 

“I’m really turned on right now, shit. I was planning on just helping you but, you didn’t cum yet and I’m...,” You’re looking at him so directly. His heart pounds. “You can say no,” 

Of course he wants to fuck you. That’s what he wants to say. He doesn’t know where he’d find the fucking gall. 

“....’s sensitive,” He says instead, flushing with embarrassment. You brighten up. “Just… give me a minute,” 

“I will but first,” You rummage through your items and pull out a plug. His eyes widen. “It’ll feel good, I promise.” 

He grumbles, but doesn’t reject you. You have some kind of miracle in you - so he feels more inclined to just give in to whatever you say. You look eager to do it. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

It’s easy enough to put the plug in when he’s already all soft. He’s still sensitive and swollen. He hisses as the cool metal of the plug slides into softened hole, before settling. You give him a little tap on his which he glares at you for. Your only response is laughter. 

There’s nothing to talk about while Katsuki watches you undress. You don’t take it all off - just your bottoms. It’s not that he has nothing on his mind. Just that… seeing you like that isn’t making him any less hard. He just… looks at you. Dumbly. You slide your shorts off in one go and your underwear along with it, and you’re all on display. 

It’s pretty. Your pussy is really pretty. A horrifyingly embarrassing thing for him to think but it’s true. There’s a fine layer of hair on your mound that he likes. You’re dripping wet like you said you were, and that doesn’t make the situation any easier. You give him a little smug grin as you settle over his lap. He stares at you completely absent-minded, flushed. 

“Like what you see?” You tease. He’s too struck to lie to you. 

“Yeah,” He rasps. He’s out of his mind right now. He blames it on his dick. “I wish I could take these fuckin’ cuffs off.” 

You look at him a little surprised. “You don’t like being cuffed and restrained?” 

His ears feel hot, heat prickling up his skin. “Didn’t say that just,” He groans even trying to say it. “...Wanna touch you,” 

He trails off. You use your hand to turn his face back to you, cupping his jaw as you bend forward to kiss him. He stares at you wide-eyed, making a noise of surprise. This kiss is different from all the others. Deeper, with more feeling. He gets into it, lifting his head to kiss you back. 

When you pull away, you’re all fluttered lashes and adoration. 

“After I drain your dick dry,” You say with a confidence that astounds him. “I’ll take them off and let you fuck me proper. But you have to tell me you want that, first. Do you wanna fuck me, baby?” 

“Shit. Y-yeah,” He nods, feeling absolutely swept up in your pace. 

“Say it.” 

“I wanna fuck you, dammit,” He stutters through the last of his sentence. “Don’t make me beg, my dick is going to blow off if you keep torturing me.” 

You laugh good naturedly and he feels a little proud that he made you laugh. The thought that he’s beyond whipped wipes the smile off his face completely, but whatever. 

You pull back, sitting up as you examine his cock. You hold it up to you, weighing your options. 

“I’m too horny to open myself up. I’m just gonna sit on it, ‘kay? Don’t buck your hips up,” 

He opens his mouth to protest, but the words die in his mouth. The warm, wet heat of your cunt is immediately overstimulating. He groans so gutterally it startles him. Like it’s punched out of him. This is the only pressure his hard cock has gotten in months and it’s making him feel like he’s on fire. 

You don’t give him a chance to cover. You lean over him as you maneuver his cock to your entrance with all disregard for his sanity. You hiss as the tip finds the spot. Fuck you’re wet. Your insides are so soft, so sticky - but you’re still so damn tight. 

As you promised you go slowly. It doesn’t help him losing his mind. Worsened by the fact he can see you on top of him, all bated breaths and shaky moans. There must be a dull pain, but you only give him a smile as you get the first inch. 

“You’re big,” You say breathlessly. His cock twitches to life. “Feels fucking good. Shit, that’s amazing. Haha, I can feel you so deep already.” 

“Please stop talking, before I, haah,” 

“Don’t cum yet,” You demand, lowering yourself further and further until you’ve bottomed out. Katsuki feels fucking crazy. “Let me get my fill first.” 

“Ngh, easier said than fucking done,” 

You just laugh. “Try your hardest, Mr. Hero. Show off your endurance, hm?” 

He groans as you start to move. You really don’t regard him at all. You lean over him with one hand and use your other to tease and toy with your clit as you ride his cock with reckless abandon. The room is quick to fill with noise - the sound of skin slapping skin, the skin sticking where your hips meet his thighs. 

 You’re moaning in little broken waves. He’s not going to last if he listens to you anymore. 

He’s biting the inside of his cheek trying not to cum, but you don’t make it easy. You’re riding him with so much force, using him. Your pussy is so tight it’s gripping him, sucking him dry. A vice-like grip, sticky and pliant over the hard curve of his cock. Everytime you bounce and throw your ass a little harder onto him, he can feel you. Feel himself and  how deep he is. His hands tighten into fists where they’re cuffed in front of him. 

He’s never been… used like this. But he doesn’t hate it the way you disregard him to chase your own pleasure while being so generally mindful of his own. You take and take and take but you make it feel so good. 

It’s not helped by the plug in his ass, brushing against his prostate every single time you move. Makes him jolt. Every fiber and nerve in his body is wound as tight as it can possibly go. All of his strength, sanity, and focus he has left in him is trying not to cum, not to buck his hips up and rut into you like a stupid animal no matter how much he wants too. 

He can feel you start to cum before you even tell him. Your walls pulse with need and your movement starts to get slower. The grip you have holding you up weakens slightly. 

“Gonna cum. Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum,” You say with a pant. You open your eyes and look down on him “Cum with me, okay? Don’t hold it in,” 

The words alone trigger a reaction. But with everything else, it’s like Katsuki explodes. Weeks worth of tension in his body, in his muscles, in his everything  - burst at the seams. You cum and he follows you nearly in succession. The hard pulsing of your swollen cunt suck around him like a vice and he goes practically limp feeling his dick finally drain. 

He cums and he can’t stop cumming. Pumps out so much white hot seed his head starts to cloud. He fucks up into you, sloppy and dumb. Chasing his high as he pours every ounce of his load into your pussy without so much as a modicum of shame. A month of dryness overwritten by the most intense orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. He doesn't know how long he stays there, painting your walls with his spend. It just goes on forever, longer than he’s ever experienced. 

He has his eyes closed as he goes limp. Fucking hell. 

It takes him a while to go soft again. When he finally does and returns to consciousness, he’s still nestled inside you. You give him a smile when his eyes finally open, leaning forward to kiss his hairline. 

“Still all there?” 

His voice is hoarse like he’s been screaming. “I feel like I fucking died,” 

You giggle. 

“So… no?” 

“Kind of. Barely. What the fuck is up with you.” He says laying his head back, sweat dripping down his back. “Shit.” 

“Did you like it?” 

He gives you an unimpressed look as you laugh. 

“I’m glad.” You say softly. You’re warm. God he’s down bad. “We have a lot to talk about later. You should take a little break for now.” 

He nods in agreement to both things before pausing. “For now..?” 

“You thought we were done?” You say with a tilted head. He gapes. “I thought you knew I was more ruthless than that.” 

He groans. 

“You’re insane.” 

You chuckle, leaning down to kiss him. 

“You love me.” 

He lets you kiss him some more and doesn’t bother denying it. 

[gimmeurtmi]

no nut november — 2min

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader x lee minho

tags: established relationship, polyamory, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, alcohol, throuple, heavy mxm, use of “bunny”, “bubs”, "baby," clubbing, voyeurism, a no nut november bet, 2min who are little shits, reader is implied demisexual but can be read otherwise, fingering, multiple orgasms and overstimulation, lmk what i forgot <3

inspo: i mustn’t say 🤭

notes: one might ask, “lils, why tf are you posting a no nut november fic in january?” and i will simply answer “time is but a cage i cannot be locked into.”. no but seriously i had this idea in like october and well. you know. so i finished it now because i missed my 2min throuple verse! im not madly in love with this and i didn’t know how to end it but i also thought it was lowkey cute so here it is!!! mwah! <3

{ wc: 4638}

“You two are crazy,” you scoffed, before taking another sip of your brightly coloured cocktail. It was Minho’s birthday celebration, albeit two days later than the actual birthday, but it was the weekend and easier for your schedules to align for a night out. 

“Come on, bubs, we’re serious,” Seungmin said, pushing his elbows forward and inching closer to you. It was odd of the pair of them to sit together and not fight for the seat beside you on the booth, but now you’ve understood they had an ulterior motive tonight. Trying to rope you into their craziness. 

“I have no issues with not having sex,” you start, shaking your head at Minho’s brow raise, “you both know that’s not the thing I care about here.”

“Exactly,” Seungmin grinned. “You love us and not our monster di—“

“—shush!!” You quickly urged him, watching your waitress approach your table to check on your service. You order six more shots. 

“I don’t understand the game, then,” you looked between them, eyeing them suspiciously. 

“We were talking about it, and I think out of the three of us Seungminnie is least likely to make it,” Minho explained. 

“But I’m a virgo,”

“But he’s a virgo,” you both echoed. Minho rolled his eyes with a small fond smile on his face, shaking his head. 

“Yes, there’s that. And we kept going back and forth about it so we thought we should just try it and see who actually makes it a whole month.” 

“This is incredibly stupid,” you decide, quickly shutting your mouth when the waitress arrives with your shots. You take one immediately and down it. 

“You’ve done stupider things,” Seungmin said, leaning back in his chair. He’s close to admitting defeat, you can tell. And so can Minho, so he turns his full attention to you and grabs your hands. 

“It’ll be so fun, come on. Imagine how frustrated the puppy will get when he keeps trying to hump our—“

“—hey!” Seungmin slapped Minho’s shoulder, earning an endeared giggle from the older. 

“Why do you two wanna do it so bad?” You squinted at Minho, watching as he fixes his gaze on yours in determination. 

“Because I wanna be right,” he rubs his thumb against your hand. “I think he’ll crack first, and then you. And then me.” 

“I will last a whole month. Maybe even two.” 

“Bubs, this isn’t just no sex with us. This is no touching at all. Nothing,” Seungmin tries. 

“No kissing even?” You squeak. 

“Yes kissing!” Minho practically yells, squeezing your hand tightly. He looks between the pair of you, alarmed as his bunny teeth peek out of his gasp. “Definitely lots of kissing!” 

Seungmin laughs almost evilly at the pair of you, his bangs hiding his eyes slightly as he shakes his head. 

“So just no sexual stuff,” you try to clarify. “That’s too easy.”

“Then let’s do it!” Minho exclaimed, grabbing one of the two shots placed in front of him and downing it with a dramatic head swing. 

Seungmin rolls his eyes before downing one of his pair. 

“I feel like you two are up to something,” you say, tapping your fingers against Minho’s palm. Seungmin scoffs. 

“Why would we be up to something, bubs?” 

“Yeah, bunny,” Minho blinks innocently, “what would we be up to?” 

You scrutinise Minho’s ears, studying them carefully for any sign of redness—but the ambience is relaxed and luxurious around you, which for whatever reason means there’s barely enough light to tell if Minho’s ears are telling the truth or not. 

“Hey,” Seungmin grabs your arm, squeezing softly, “let’s just forget about it, then. Hyung and I thought it would be funny but if you don’t want to then there’s nothing to discuss.” 

“I’ll think about it,” you conclude. 

It’s then you remember the other round of shots you each have waiting in front of you, and gesture to your boyfriends for a cheers. You dedicate it to Minho’s birthday before clinking your glasses together. Then, after three more rounds, Minho decides he’s ready for the club. 

It’s packed full of people, Minho’s arm protectively wrapping around your stomach as he shields you from behind. Seungmin holds your hand tightly in front you, the three of you single file as he pushes through the sea of party goers. It’s just the last Saturday of October, it shouldn’t be so busy, but Minho says he wants to stay so the three of you stay. 

Seungmin pushes all the way to the very heart of the dance floor where the bass is so loud you feel it in your ribcage. You can barely see anything around you—bodies pushing you from one side to the other, but you know it’s safe since Minho is completely behind you. Like your personal shield. 

You tug Seungmin’s hand, pulling him closer to you until he stumbles, Minho’s other arm reaching for Seungmin’s spare one. 

The three of you start dancing along to whatever overplayed club tune is on, so close no one could possibly separate you. So close you feel Minho’s hardness against your ass. You couldn’t exactly classify it as dancing, at least not by any standards Minho would allow. You’re basically just grinding on each other in time with the music. It’s a very fast song. 

“Seung,” you have to yell in his ear, “he’s gonna get needy if we keep dancing like this.” 

Seungmin, always quick to solve problems—or indeed, make them worse—grabs Minho by the back of his head and kisses him as messily as he possibly can. The grip on your hip tightens, and even the music isn’t loud enough to drown out Minho’s deep moan. You aren’t actually sure if you heard it or you could feel it vibrating against you but soon Minho grabs your jaw and starts kissing around it, Seungmin attaching his lips to yours. 

The three of you aren’t the biggest participants of PDA, mainly because of the judgemental eyes that it brings with it, but the veil of alcohol and club induced horniness means you know you can get away with it here. Besides, it’s so dark and incredibly loud that no one is really paying attention to the three of you anyway. 

You feel Minho sucking onto your skin, your senses clouded by Seungmin’s tongue—but Minho’s hands are obviously inchining higher and higher, getting dangerously close to your chest. 

“Min,” you let out softly, detaching yourself from Seungmin for only a moment to let out your weak sounding warning. 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Minho grumbles, grabbing Seungmin and you by the wrist as he pushes his way outside. 

A very tense taxi ride back, and almost two hours of worshipping the birthday boy later—the three of you fall on the bed, naked and sweaty and spent. 

As the one with the most working limbs, it’s your turn to get water and snakes and warm clothes to change into. You quickly wrap yourself up in your fuzzy robe before running to the kitchen. You grab two bottles and the fruit Minho cut up before you left “just in case” as if you weren’t all aware your evening would end the way it did. 

When you returned, hands full, you saw a rare tenderness shared between your boyfriends you don’t often get to see. 

They’re too often caught up in their fake bickering and inability to show their feelings that it can be easy to forget just how much they love each other. 

You try not to make too much noise, not to disrupt their bubble as you watch Seungmin, a love sick puppy look in his eyes as he combs Minho’s sweaty hair back from his face, before he leans down to kiss him ever so softly. 

Minho barely moves, which is expected after what the pair of you did to him, and smiles softly against Seungmin’s full lips. You feel your heart bursting at the sight of them, so wrapped up with each other, and it gets harder and harder not to join them. Not to mention your full hands. 

You slowly sit down on the bed, Minho’s fingers blindly reaching for your hand and you wrap your fingers around his once you put all your items to the side. You were going to grab clothes too but Minho isn’t going to let go of your hand any time soon—so you simply admire the scene, your boyfriends exchanging soft kisses. 

“Hyungie,” Seungmin giggles after a few minutes, “you can’t fall asleep yet.” 

“But—“ he puckers his lips up, perfectly pillowy as he demands more kisses. His eyes are closed shut, a small muted whine leaving him as he’s left kissless for more than two seconds. Seungmin looks up at you with his signature shit eating grin and gestures for you to give him an apple slice, promptly shoving it into Minho’s puckered up lips. 

Minho only opens his eyes for a moment to recognise what’s been shoved into his lips, before he obediently gets to eating his fruit with his eyes still shut. 

Seungmin gestures to the water bottle, telling you in sign language he’d like to dunk all of it on the incredibly peaceful Minho below him. You laugh loudly before crossing your hands in an X. 

Minho silently demands more, and you have to sit him up this time to properly eat and hydrate, and the three of you finish all the fruit and water in relative silence. 

It’s only after you’ve washed and dressed (and Seungmin changed the sheets) that Minho speaks up. 

“That was a really good birthday,” he mumbles, incredibly tired now that most of the adrenaline wore off. 

“You’re gonna be really sore tomorrow though,” Seungmin chuckles, ignoring the pout Minho sends his way. 

You giggle, agreeing with Seungmin before you wrap your arms around his middle and promptly fall asleep. 

Seungmin makes your coffee the way you like it the next morning. Minho is still asleep and you decide you don’t want to disturb him yet. 

The pair of you listen to the news for a bit and then put on a rerun of a variety show before you speak up halfway through the episode. Seungmin quickly lowers the volume. 

“We should do it,” you say, sipping from your lukewarm coffee. 

“Do what?” 

“Your stupid no sex for a month pact,”

“Was the sex that bad last night?” He blinks at you, mouth gaped and perfectly round. 

“Maybe it was just that good that you broke my cunt and I need a month off,” you raise your eyebrows at him. 

Seungmin starts to smirk just as a grumbled voice says, “yeah, me too. Never touch me again, Kim Seungmin.” 

Minho crashes on the chair next to yours, groaning as he sits down, before nuzzling his face into your shoulder. 

“So you two agree I have a monster d—“

“Seung!” You both yell out. 

*

November 28th 

The boys have been away for weeks. 

They didn’t quite consider the pact they made was perfectly timed with their packed schedule and so there was no real way for you to break it anyway. Even if you were to resort to the classic solution of phone sex, they rarely had time. 

There was always a good night text, and a good morning selfie, and the unappealing close ups of Minho’s food for the day. Your group chat was still as active as ever with the boys exchanging stories and you sharing all your personal gossip with them. 

But there was no time to think about the bet. 

That was until they came back home two days ago.

You were doing perfectly fine before they had to be in your house every day, sharing your bed, walking around with just a towel after their morning showers. 

Both of them were incredibly irritating that way—existing next to you without instigating anything, without sharing tender kisses with you while they touched your body.

You meant what you said then, of course the sexual aspect of your relationship wasn’t a top priority but there was an intimacy you craved with your boyfriends that you always felt during sex and with them being gone for work for the better part of a month, it was the first thing you wanted when they came back. 

But you stayed strong, you wouldn’t let yourself be the one to lose. 

Last night you fell asleep before the boys even came back home, but at some point you felt hands around your shoulders and a knee against yours and so you knew they were back with you. 

And in the morning after blinking your eyes open, you were met with Minho’s beautiful face. You smiled softly to yourself, a content sigh leaving your chest as you snuggled closer to your boyfriend. The other side of the bed was empty, but you could hear a faint melody coming from the shower, so you knew Seungmin was awake and well, too. 

After spending the morning cuddling with a half sleeping Minho–Seungmin only annoying you once when he walked over and kissed your shoulder in greeting, before shaking his wet hair all over the pair of you–you had to get up to do some errands around town. 

Your boyfriends offered to come with you but you insisted they shouldn’t, after all, Minho could barely keep his eyes open for more than ten minutes and Seungmin had a vocal lesson in an hour. You didn’t want them to go out of their way for you when you needed to take care of boring adult stuff anyway. 

While you were still stuck in traffic, Seungmin sent you half a dozen pictures of Minho’s sleeping face with a text that said ‘help me hide his corpse’. 

You knew Seungmin was obviously bored but you couldn’t possibly help him from so far away, instead you challenged him to a game of one on one trivia through an app you both liked. 

At one point, when your phone said you were still thirty minutes away from home, Seungmin didn’t take his turn–so you concluded that either Minho woke up or Seungmin found something more interesting to do. 

When you got back home half an hour later, you discovered exactly what it was that Seungmin found more interesting than your trivia game. 

“I’m home!” You announced as you walked in, quickly taking your shoes off and washing your hands. It was quiet in the house otherwise, and with the door to the bedroom closed you assumed they were both napping again. They always came home tired from their schedules and the mixture of jet leg so you tried your best to make a snack as quietly as possible. 

But then you heard a moan. 

“Seungminnie,” Minho said softly through the walls, “so good.” 

You quickly snapped up from your chair, rushing towards the bedroom. 

You had no doubt about what you heard (Minho was never good at volume control) but you still wanted to confirm it fully. Slowly, quietly, you opened the door to the bedroom. And there, sure enough, were your boyfriends half naked, kissing, their hands down each others’ boxers. 

They haven’t noticed you yet, Minho's eyes were closed in pure pleasure as Seungmin switched between kissing him and moaning against his cheek. You could see both their hands moving in sync as they jerked each other off—still completely unaware you could see everything. 

At least you won their stupid bet. 

You always love being the centre of their attention, but watching them was a completely intoxicating experience. Getting to notice every little quirk of Minho’s eyebrows as the pleasure took over him, watching Seungmin’s uncaring facade disappear as he gets lost in the feeling his boyfriend provides. You could feel your wetness soaking through your clothes, you could feel the dull throb of arousal between your legs—but you didn’t want to do anything other than watch them. You should probably make your presence known, but all you wanted to do was keep watching.

You could tell Minho was getting close since he scrunched his eyes shut and started whimpering out Seungmin’s name, and you could tell Seungmin was close since he wasn’t making any noises at all, and you watched in awe as they sped up their movements. 

“Hyung, I’m close,” Seungmin whimpered out. 

“Me too,” Minho groaned. “Together baby, okay?” 

You had to stop yourself from moaning out loud at their words, from gushing at the small kiss Minho pressed against Seungmin’s lips before the pair of them groaned out together as they came. 

Seungmin is the first to open his eyes, and he reaches for some wipes to help clean them both up. He smiles, soft, as he kisses Minho’s cheek. 

“Do you feel better, baby?” He asked, barely above a whisper. 

Minho smiles, one thin line, as he nods quickly before shutting his eyes and snuggling into Seungmin’s chest. 

They still haven’t noticed you. 

“You want to sleep more?” Seungmin asks as he plants a kiss on the top of Minho’s head. 

“I wanna make dinner before Y/N gets back, she’s probably gonna be hungry when she gets here.”

You feel your heart speed up at the mention of your name, but they haven’t even looked in your direction yet. So you don’t move. 

“Okay, let’s rest for a bit first,” Seungmin concludes. Minho hums in agreement, moving closer to his chest and planting a small kiss on his heart. 

“I don’t think she’s been eating well while we were gone,” Minho mumbles, “you two are exactly the same. If I don’t cook it’s only takeout for your lazy asses.” 

“That’s rude,” you chuckle. 

They both gasp, and Minho’s eyes shoot right open as he realises what he’s heard. 

“Bubs!” Seungmin yells. “H-how long have you been home?” 

“Long enough,” you smile, as innocently as you can allow yourself, before making your way over to the bed. You sit on the edge of it trying your best to keep a serious face as the boys look at you slightly apprehensive. 

They both sit up, moving away from each other as if to prove that definitely nothing happened between them two seconds ago. 

“But how long?” Minho asks, eyes wide. 

“I should ask you two the same thing, no?” You tilt your head to the side, eyebrows high on your face. 

Seungmin chuckles nervously, looking at Minho before looking back at you. 

“Nothing happened, you know. We were just cuddling,” Minho is quick to say. 

“Right,” you nod, “of course.” 

“Seriously, bubs, it’s was just—“ 

“—you two cumming at the same time?” They both let out a sigh of defeat, realising they can’t possibly lie to you since you’ve seen it all unfold. 

Minho shakes his head softly before reaching for your wrist. He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand before sighing softly. 

“Truth is, we made the bet because we wanted to see how horny you’d get,” Minho rolls his eyes, “but it just made Kim Seungmin more unbearable than usual.”

“Lee Minho,” he says quickly, “that is not the truth.”

“He doesn’t even respect his elders,” Minho mumbled at you, a disapproving frown on his lips. You roll your eyes before turning to Seungmin with a questioning raise of your brows. 

“Hyung got horny first,” Seungmin corrects him. 

“I did not,” he retaliates. 

“You did. You dragged me to the dressing room after MuCore and you—“ Minho slaps his hand onto Seungmin’s mouth, his upper lip curling in on itself as he tried his best not to yell too much at his boyfriend. 

“It was a frustrating day,” Minho explains, trying to regain some of his pride back. 

All you can do is laugh. “So your plan to make me horny backfired on you?”

They both nod. “I was embarrassed about it so we didn’t want to tell you, we thought we’d just let the month end and not bring it up again.” 

“Hyung,” Seungmin sighs. They share a look between themselves, something you can’t understand, before Seungmin turns to you. He plants a soft kiss on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry we didn’t say anything. We had a lot of sex this month,” 

“Like, a lot,” Minho agrees with a giggle. 

“And we wanted to tell you! But we also thought it would be funnier if you cracked like Minho did.”

“I told you guys it was a stupid idea,” you grin. 

“You’re not mad we didn’t tell you?” Seungmin asks, and Minho squeezes your hand tightly. 

“No,” you shrug, “it’s not like you did anything wrong. You just proved that I’m the best out of the three of us,” you giggle—laughing harder when Seungmin’s mouth gaps. 

“So it’s all good? We’re fine?” Minho asks. 

You hum softly. “You had a lot of sex this month, right?” They nod. “And I haven’t had any at all.”

“True,” Minho starts playing with your fingers, a small smirk forming on his lips. 

“So we need to balance the scales a little, don’t you think?” 

“Oh, definitely,” Seungmin nods eagerly, jumping forward to grab your hips and plant you firmly on his lap. 

Instantly, Minho straddles Seungmin’s knees, wrapping his arms around your middle. Seungmin grabs your jaw, crashing his tongue against yours as you moan into his mouth. You didn’t realise just how much you were craving your boyfriends touch until that very second you received it and then your whole body lit on fire with the longing you had for them. 

You didn’t even need to ask for more, as before your brain could even tell your tongue to use words, Minho was taking off your shirt and bra. He cups your tits, pinching and twisting your nipples as you moan loudly. 

A month without touching yourself, days of your lovers cuddling up to you in your sleep, and then watching them cum at the same time has all caused you such extreme horny brain fog you didn’t even know what to do with yourself or how to react. All you could do was throw your head back onto Minho’s shoulder and let your hips chase the pleasure you craved against Seungmin’s lap. 

“Seungminnie,” Minho coaxed softly, “can you suck on bunny’s tits for us?” 

Seungmin eagerly nods, his hair jumping with the motion before he wraps his full lips around your nipple. Minho kisses your shoulder before he runs a hand through Seungmin’s hair with a soft, “good job.” 

Seungmin’s lips sent waves of pleasure up and down your body, an aching throb shaking against your core as you grow more and more desperate. Luckily, neither one of them is in any position to make fun of you or hold it against you. In fact, they’re both so eager to keep making you feel good. 

Minho slips his hand into your underwear, quickly finding your clit and rubbing figure eights against it in a bruising pace. 

You don’t think more than ten seconds pass before you grab Seungmin’s hair tightly, and chant out that “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” 

Minho kisses your neck as it rushes over you, while Seungmin squeezes your thighs as they start shaking. 

Your vision blurs for a moment or two before you refocus, and catch sight of a bewildered Seungmin wiping his lips. 

“Bubs that was so fucking quick,” he sighs, amazed. “How?” 

“Min, I need another one,” is all you provide for an explanation. 

Minho is quick to follow his orders and resumes his previous pace as he rubs your clit again. It takes a few seconds longer and Seungmin notices, so he quickly gets back to teasing your tits for the extra stimulation you’d need. It doesn’t take long after that, and although your walls flutter around emptiness it’s so much better than not cumming at all. You moan loudly as it hits your entire body. 

Minho plants kisses all around your face as you catch your breath, but you don’t even care about breathing. You mumble out, “more.”

“My turn this time!” Seungmin rushes out, pulling your underwear off and softly rubbing your sensitive clit. 

Minho leaves you with a firm kiss before he lays back down next to Seungmin, watching your face with laser focus. 

“You’ve been waiting for this, bunny?” He says lowly. You nod quickly as you make no effort to stop the broken moans tumbling out your chest. “Your cunt has been so eager for us, huh?” 

“M-Min, I’ll fucking cum again—“ Seungmin applies more pressure to your clit, rubbing as hard and as fast as he can before you fall forward with the impact of another orgasm. 

“Holy fuck,” you say once you catch your bearings. 

“That was fun,” Seungmin grins. “Want more, bubs?” 

“Yeah, yes,” you moan, still aching for more as your clit throbs, “want something inside me.” 

The boys exchange a look before Minho rubs your shoulder. He drags you off Seungmin’s lap, slowly, before he places you between the pair of them. 

He makes sure to spread your legs as you get comfortable on your back. 

“I’m not ready yet,” he says with a small kiss to your temple, “think my fingers will be enough?” 

“Please,” you nod. 

“I’m not ready either,” Seungmin says while lacing his fingers with yours, “but since my hand is much bigger wouldn’t you prefer my fingers?” 

“I-I-I,” is all you manage to stutter out, your brain too slow after three orgasms. You don’t even know who they’re trying to tease, you or the other, but there’s only one thing on your mind. “I just wanna cum.”

“But you already did, my pretty bunny,” Minho brushes your lips together softly, “are you gonna be so greedy that you’ll ask for both our fingers for a fourth orgasm?” 

“How many times has Seung made you cum in the past month?” You manage to accuse. 

“About fifteen? fourteen?” Minho shrugs. 

“Then you owe me twelve more,” you whine. 

Minho nods slowly, blinking a few times before he smiles. “Mine or Kim Seungmin’s?” 

“Both,” you groan, “just take turns I don’t care.” 

“Fuck that’s demanding,” Seungmin chuckles dryly. “Guess we do owe her, though.” 

“Guess we do,” Minho shrugs. 

Seungmin leans down to kiss your neck softly and you feel his hand sliding up your thigh, slowly circling your entrance before sinking inside you. The stretch feels so good it echoes to your thighs and you moan loudly as it deepens. You feel Minho’s fingers crawl up your thigh before your walks tighten as more slips inside you. You blink your eyes open to see it was in fact both of them. 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you sob out as you feel six fingers inside you, a loud and wet noise accompanying their movements as they slide their fingers in and out, perfectly synchronised with each other. 

“Minho-hyung made me cum twenty times, so we owe you thirty two all together,” Seungmin says simply. 

You clench tightly at those words, at your boyfriends’ promise, and they both smirk at each other when they feel it. 

It was a long evening after that, the boys insisting on going until you had to tap out and say you couldn’t take anymore. They kissed you softly and apologised again but you told them they were certainly forgiven. You didn’t even actually need twenty nine more orgasms from them. But they insisted that was the only way to make it up to you that they even suggested such a silly bet just to get a reaction out of you. 

Minho does eventually feed you, and Seungmin brushes your hair after your shared shower, and they promise to keep kissing you until you fall asleep.

They never break any of their promises to you, and by the second week of December their debt is cleared too.

[fixyourwritinghabits]

How to Tell If That Post of Advice Is AI Bullshit

Right, I wasn't going to write more on this, but every time I block an obvious AI-driven blog, five more clutter up the tags. So this is my current (April 2024) advice on how to spot AI posts passing themselves off as useful writing advice.

No Personality - Look up a long-running writing blog, you'll notice most people try to make their posts engaging and coming from a personal perspective. We do this because we're writers and, well, we want to convey a sense of ourselves to our readers. A lot of AI posts are straight-forward - no sense of an actual person writing them, no variation in tone or text.

No Examples - No attempts to show how pieces of advice would work in a story, or cite a work where you could see it in action. An AI post might tell you to describe a person by highlighting two or three features, and that's great, but it's hard to figure out how that works without an example.

Short, Unhelpful Definitions - A lot of what I've seen amount to two or three-sentence listicles. 'When you want to write foreshadowing, include a hint of what you want foreshadowed in an earlier chapter.' Cool beans, could've figured that out myself.

SEO/AI Prompt Language Included - I've seen way too many posts start with "this post is about..." or "now we will discuss..." or "in this post we will..." in every single blog. This language is meant to catch a search engine or is ChatGPT reframing the prompt question. It's not a natural way of writing a post for the average tumblr user.

Oddly Clinical Language - Right, I'm calling out that post that tried to give advice on writing gay characters that called us "homosexuals" the entire time. That's a generative machine trying to stay within certain parameters, not an actual person who knows that's not a word you'd use unless you were trying to be insulting or dunking on your own gay ass in the funniest way possible.

Too Perfect - Most generative AI does not make mistakes (this is how many a student gets caught trying to use it to cheat). You can find ways to make it sound more natural and have it make mistakes, but that takes time and effort, and neither of those are really a factor in these posts. They also tend to have really polished graphics and use the same format every time.

Maximized Tags (That Are Pointless) - Anyone who uses more than 10 one-word tags is a cop. Okay, fine, I'm joking, but there's a minimal amount of tags that are actually useful when promoting a post. More tags are not going to get a post noticed by the algorithm, there is no algorithm. Not everyone has to use their tags to make snarky comments, but if your tags look like a spambot, I'm gonna assume you're a spambot.

No Reblogs From The Rest of Writblr - I'm always finding new Writblr folks who have been around for awhile, but every real person I've seen reblogs posts from other people. We've all got other stuff to do, I'm writing this blog to help others and so are they, the whole point of tumblr is to pass along something you think is great.

While you'll probably see some variation in the future - as people get wise to obviously generated text, they'll try to make it look less generated - but overall, there's still going to be tells to when something is fake.

I don't have any real advice for what to do about this (other than block those blogs, which is what I do). Like most AI bullshit, I suspect most of these blogs are just another grift, attempting to build large follower counts to leverage or sell something to in the future. They may progress past these tattletale features, but I'm still going to block them when I see them. I don't see any value in writing advice compiled from the work of better writers who put the effort in when I can just go find those writers myself.

[spacebarbarianweird]

OK OK you just gotta hear me on this one,, Astarion and gn reader where reader is little spoon and Astarion can *sense* just how relaxed reader gets. Instead of their pulse racing from his touches they slow down. Muscles relaxed. Happy little sighs.

^^ he can’t handle this btw he’s absolutely fucking bewildered

A Person to Hold

Synopsis: Fluffy post-game epilogue

Tags: fluff

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

He looks at you, unable to stop smiling.

"They deserve happiness. We all do. And I will forever be grateful to have found it with you," Astarion says.

You make a step forward with open arms. Astarion hugs you, closing his eyes like a content cat. 

A mere half year ago these hugs scared him. It was weird. It was scary. What did you want? Did you want to hurt him? Did you want his body?

No.

None of that.

You taught him not to be afraid. You hug him daily and if he occasionally flinches you don’t let him go. You hold him in your arms when he has nightmares and kiss away his tears when it's just too much.

"I feel bad keeping you all to myself! After all, I get to see you every night."

"Are you sure? You won't be bored?"

You kiss his cheek and leave. In a few seconds, you look back, trying to see if he hasn’t changed his mind. 

"Darling, I can spend some time with myself. Go on, go and mingle. And I will be there, when you’re ready. I will always be here, my love."

He hasn’t. Astarion sits down beside a campfire sensing its warmth.

He doesn't feel like talking. He didn't manage to make friends with the others and now can sense hostility from them. He is a vampire. His strength isn’t suppressed by the tadpole and apparently once the vampire's master is dead, spawns become lesser vampires. Astarion doesn't feel the difference, to be honest, but he knows people feel something is off with him.

Well, it doesn't matter. What matters is that he feels good. He has never thought his head might be so clear. He can make a working ambush plan in a blink of an eye and it won't lead to a disaster because he actually can think everything through. He can walk on ceilings and walls again, he regenerates before you manage to notice he is wounded. 

He has the world to explore, places to see, things to do. He is going to make up for all these decades of misery, to bury them under the pile of happy memories.

And he has you.

Probably the weirdest thing that could happen to him.

You, who forgave his lies and manipulations, who gave him the second chance when it was the stupidest thing to do. Who made him believe the world isn’t an evil place. 

You are the first person he sees when returns from his reverie. Your breathing soothes him, so does your heartbeat.

Astarion never had anything. Everything he had a right to was stripped away from him including his own life.

But now he has you.

To hold, to kiss, to talk. 

To travel together, to hunt monsters, to be independent adventurers. You are there to save him from nightmares. And he is there to save you from death.

How could he become so happy?

“I am going to sleep, are you with me or do you want to hunt?” he feels a soft “pat” on his shoulder.

How come he has you?

You are a bit drunk and very sleepy.

“Let’s go to the tent.”

“Good, I got used to sleeping with you by my side.”

Astarion looks around as if ashamed of what he is going to do and, having made sure no one sees you, takes you in his hands bridal-style.

You are weightless to him thanks to the vampiric strength. He could walk many miles carrying you and not getting tired.

In the tent, you get to your bedroll and immediately cover yourself with a thick blanket. Then, you open it a little, inviting Astarion to join.

He takes his clothes off and crawls to your side. The night is warm, so are you. But since you have to share your body heat with him, you sleep under the thickest fur blanket. 

You are his and he is yours. If a year ago someone told him that would be his future he would bitterly laugh.

Astarion presses your back to his chest, placing the chin on your shoulder.

Your muscles relax, the pulse slows down. You are falling asleep in his arms.

"My love, thank you" he whispers in you ear, tugging you closer

“Hm?”

“Thank you for finding me."

You squeeze his hand. “You were worth it.”

He doesn’t want to meditate. He wants to hold you like that until you wake up. Astarion concentrates on your breathing and heartbeat. You are already sound asleep.

“Sleep well, darling,” he kisses your cheek. “We still have plenty of things to do together.” 

--

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96

[wonysugar]

close the door | hanni pham

synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.

genre : fluffy smut!

pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader

tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh

warnings : none :]

word count : 2.5k

a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF

anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable. 

so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.

“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.

you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.

one thing you were certain of, however, 

was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect. 

and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.

she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”

you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face. 

“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”

“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.

“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.

it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.

you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”

you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,

the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.

as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”

“there’s.. nobody home, though?”

she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”

you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.

“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.

after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again. 

“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.

she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.

eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.

her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing. 

then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??

you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.

a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.

then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.

“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.

you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”

despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”

nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”

well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.

not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.

you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her. 

so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.

your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip. 

plus, her panties were wet. 

did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!

and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!

“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down. 

“s-so okay.” she giggled.

her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.

soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger. 

it was tantalizing.

growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.

thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.

you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.

she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.

“i will.” you affirmed.

slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her. 

fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.

once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.

“i-i’m ready.”

you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.

that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.

“is this okay baby—” you asked.

“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.

when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation. 

you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.

amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment. 

you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.

then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.

“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“

that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair. 

you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.

you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.

“d-did i do okay?” 

she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?” 

you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”

“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”

“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing. 

“hey y/n?”

“hm?”

“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?” 

“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“

you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

[spicyspiders]

search and destroy

Francis Mosses x male reader smut

1.7k words

This is role reversal where the reader is a milkman and Francis is the doorman. I wouldn’t say this is as dark as the fic with him I just posted is, but it’s still pretty dark. Francis uses his position of power/authority to preform a cavity search on the reader.

“Come with me, sir,” the man says from behind the window before a metal shutter falls, making you jump at the suddenness.

A door near the window opens, giving you a full view of the man. He looks bored and tired all at once, which you can’t really blame him for. You got bored too, delivering bottles of milk all day. Speaking of, it made you roll your eyes to be interrupted from your job, you had work to do.

You follow the man to a door that matches the one you just walked through. Instead of the hallway like the previous door had opened to, this one instead opened to a medical examination room. Why the fuck was this back here, you wondered.

“Lean forward with your hands against the wall,” the man said. At your look of unease, he gestured to the empty counter, “you can set that down right there.”

“Is this necessary?” You asked as you set the carrier down. The bottles were already sweating with condensation. You didn’t have time for this.

“Yes sir. I am just trying to make sure I can properly verify you,” the man says. You feel the heat of his body behind yours first before his hands are on your body, patting you down.

You had never been pat down before, and sure as hell didn’t expect to be while on the clock. It felt invasive, while also oddly intimate at the same time.

“May I take this off?” He asks, his hands on the sides of your hat. After you give a stiff nod, he pulls the hat off with much more care than you expected of him. “I will also need you to take this off.”

You gasp when you fill his hands on your hips, “I don’t think that’s necessary,” you respond, swatting his hands away before you turn to lean on the wall. You wished it would somehow open and swallow you up and take you away from this weird fucking situation.

“Sir,” the man says, looking like he’s using everything he has to keep from rolling his tired eyes. “I’m just trying to do my job,” he says calmly. “It will only take a few moments.”

Your eyes nervously look away to keep from having to make eye contact. Francis his name tag reads. When you’ve mustered up the courage to look back into his eyes, the man still standing there patiently, you nod.

“Once you’ve taken your pants and underwear off, sir, bend over the front of the examination table.”

Your heart hammers in your chest as you slowly pull the bottom half of your clothing off, your shoes going first. You don’t make eye contact with the man again as you place your clothing into his open arms.

The only thing you can do is do what the man asks and lean over the bed, trying your best to not crinkle the loud paper. Your mouth stays shut, even after you hear what sounds like the man rifling through your pockets.

You jump when a gloved hand comes into contact with your hip. You’re too in your own head to even register the way that the man says your name like he’s trying to calm a spooked animal. “Relax,” Francis commands softly, “this will go much smoother if you’re relaxed.”

You are able to register when he speaks next, “good boy,” he says, hating how the praise makes you feel better, if only a little.

Once again, you jump when one of his gloved fingers circles your hole, “my apologies for the temperature,” Francis says. The finger pushes in slowly, and as it does, your teeth sink into your bottom lip to keep from letting out the noise that you already feel growing in your throat.

“You’d be surprised where people hide things to try and sneak them in,” Francis says, letting out a humorless chuckle.

“You’ve had to do this before?” You ask, finding your voice before he presses his finger into that spot of pleasure you’re afraid he’ll find. You already feel embarrassed enough, you didn’t want to add getting a boner to that.

“It’s what I’ve heard from others,” he says as his finger goes deeper, “I was told to use any means necessary to complete my job correctly.”

So he’s never done this before? You wanted to ask before your fear becomes a reality as his slick finger finds the bundle of nerves that has pleasure shooting straight for your soft cock. You didn’t know what Francis was thinking he would find, but it seemed he found what he was hoping to find.

Your forehead, slick with sweat from nervousness falls to the bed as you try and do whatever you can to stifle the sounds that fall from your lips. However, Francis makes them tough to hide as he focuses in on the spot.

“No need to feel embarrassed,” he says, “another thing that I’ve heard is feeling pleasure is not unheard of during a cavity search.” His finger presses into the spot before the pad rubs over it, again and again. “In fact, it’s quite normal.”

Before you can bite too hard into your lips and pierce the skin, you let up and let the moans fall free from your mouth.

“I assume it does feel good?” Francis asks, dragging his fingers of his other hand down your taint until he can run his gloved fingers down your half-hard cock, “if this is anything to go by.”

“Yes,” you whisper, lifting your head to rest it on your arm. You spread your legs further for the man, and the noise of approval he makes goes straight to your cock.

“May I add another?” Francis asks, pulling his finger free.

”Yes,” you repeat.

With two of his fingers pressing deep into your body, you’re much more vocal than when you just had the one. You whine against the burn from the stretch of his two fingers, a pain that Francis alleviates when his fingers find your prostate again.

“Better?” He asks, not sounding bored, much to your surprise. “Would you like more?”

”I don’t know,” you sob as his fingers alternate between pressing against your prostate, and spreading to scissor you open.

“C’mon,” Francis chuckles darkly, “I know you can take it.”

”Please,” you whine, your hard cock aches between your legs. You didn’t even know what you were begging for. Was it for Francis to make you cum and get rid of the ache? Was it for him to stop and let you walk out on shaky legs to finish the rest of your deliveries?

”Shh, I know exactly what you need.” He whispers into your ear after he’s leaned down. What comes after the sound of his voice is the sound of a zipper coming undone.

You go tense at the feel of the blunt head of Francis’ cock at your hole. The sound of the man slicking his cock up hits your ears before it abruptly ends and his hands are wrapping tightly around your hips. Just from the feel of the head, you didn’t think just two of his fingers would be enough, but you still waited with bated breath.

You both groaned when Francis pushed in, just as slow as he did with his first finger. He doesn’t stop until his hips come into contact with your ass and his cock has carved its place inside your body.

“You walk around in that uniform,” Francis breathes into your ear before he’s pulling his cock free until the wet, spongy head is kissing your hole, “how could I not bring you back here,” he says before thrusting back inside.

The pain of the stretch from his cock is nearly too much, but the pleasure that overtakes that feeling when his cock hits your prostate makes it all worth it. It only takes a few thrusts for the pain to be a thing of the past, the only thing you’re left to focus on is the pleasure the man behind you is giving to you.

Though, giving would probably be the wrong word. You think the word hammering would be the better word as the slap of skin-on-skin echoes throughout the space.

Francis’ balls plap against your ass as yours draw up tight as your edge approaches. The only warning you can give is a jumble of noises, but alongside those noises is the flutter of your hole around Francis’ cock, which you assume is enough to warn the man before you clamp down on his cock as your orgasm rushes through your body.

From behind you, Francis moans from the stimulation to his cock. One of his hands releases the tight grip on your hips to go down to your cock to tug at your cock to get more of your cum out.

You collapse down onto the examination table, the paper wrinkled below your body. Your hips came into contact with the mess you made from your cock, making you glad that you wouldn’t have to clean the room afterwards. It made you wonder who would, and if they would come in before or after the smell of sex was gone from the room.

The hard cock pounding in and out of your hole came to a halt moments after yours had gone soft. It gave a valiant twitch as the man behind you moaned, knowing that his cock was pumping you full. In fact, it didn’t take long after Francis pulled out for his seed to start leaking from your hole.

There’s no way you were going to be able to look at your uniform without thinking of what you’ve just done. Hell, you’re going to have to burn the one you currently have and then request another one, but even then, the sight of it will be a reminder.

You hear the sound of Francis’ zipper, and then the sound of his shoes on the floor. The sound gets closer minutes later before you feel a wet, warm cloth between your legs.

“Easy,” he murmurs at the soft sounds you let out when the cloth runs over your sensitive hole and soft cock, “I’ve got you,” he says, one of his hands going back to your hips to hold you in place as he wipes you clean.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” You ask as you raise yourself up after the man steps away again.

“Yes sir. Thank you for your cooperation, you may now get dressed.”

[evangelical04]

A Single Daffodil || 1

Summary: Getting arranged to be married to your long-time crush wasn't exactly the fairy tale romance you were hoping for. Nor is the dynamic of the marriage, with your husband treating you like you don't exist. But you're going to make this work, whether he cares about you or not. And he definitely doesn't...right?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst, romance, unrequited love, smut, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage au, businessman yoongi

Warnings: parental trauma, sibling trauma, toxic parents, unrequited love, explicit language, alcohol usage, yoongi's kind of mean, future smut

Author's Note: hello! i'm Eva and this is my first fic on tumblr ever! I've been a reader for so long and I've always wanted to write my own stories, so I figured I finally would. I know it’s kind of short but I promise the other parts will be longer. Please give me any feedback you have and let me know if you'd like there to be a tag list or anything! I hope you guys like it!! p.s. I'm totally posting this instead of doing my morphology homework that's due in 15 minutes

masterlist / next

The door to your childhood home looked artificially welcoming. There were too many flowers lining the walls encasing the looming wooden door. The grass on the lawn just was a bit too green without a blade out of place and the paved walkway was freshly powerwashed and missing even a speck of dirt. You let out the deep breath you were holding and gently took hold of the overly ornate bronze knocker adorning the painted wood of the door. Two loud thuds rang out as you knocked and the door quickly opened afterwards.

“Hello, Miss Y/N, your parents have been expecting you.”

“Yes, I know. Thank you, Mrs. Oh,” you responded quietly, nodding at the grey-haired woman. She shot you a sympathetic smile before ushering you in, taking your coat and carefully laying it over her arm. After removing your shoes, you followed her past the foyer to the living room where your parents awaited. 

You knew what was coming, you knew that this had been decided long before you were born. Yet, you still felt unprepared. You had grown comfortable, living in your simple apartment in Gangnam and your quiet work routine. Biting your lip, you reprimanded yourself internally, You should’ve brought this shit up in therapy before it happened.

“Here we are, Miss Y/N,” Mrs. Oh said, snapping you out of your self-pity session. You nodded gratefully at her, sending a small smile her way. Her eyebrows wove together in her own pity-ridden expression and she quickly whispered, “Good luck,” while exiting swiftly. You steeled your nerves and forced your chin up high, knowing that you’d most likely cower inwards as soon as you faced your parents anyway.

Stepping into the room, you noted the almost intervention-like setup your parents had arranged themselves in, with your father sitting proudly in his reclining, leather armchair, clad in a dark blue quarter zip and khaki pants. Your mother stood facing the fireplace, arms crossed, in a simple and elegant turquoise dress and hair tied up in a tight and neat bun, with her baby hairs smoothed back to prevent any imperfection. You could almost imagine her pinched mouth, forever encased in a stern and unamused expression. 

“Hello father, mother,” you started, trying to smooth the slight trembling in your voice. Your mother turned around, eyes narrowing at your form, “Sit down.”

You promptly obeyed.

“Your father and I have decided on your marriage. It’ll be to the Min family, to Min Yoongi.”

“What? To him? But,” you began protesting but your mother quickly cut you off with a steely glare. 

“It has already been decided. Your wedding will be in eight months. I’ll forward you the invitation list and you can add three people of your choosing. You’ll be having dinner with us and the Min family on Friday at six. I’ll have Yujin send you an email with further details. Don’t be late.” 

You looked to your father in a desperate plea but were only met with stony silence and a passive face. You turned back to your mother and registered the composed expression painting her face. Your fate had been decided, and it had not worked in your favor at all. Rising slowly, you set your hands by your side and bowed towards your parents, “I understand. I’ll be there.”

Your mother swiftly exited the room, evidently deciding the conversation was over. You could hear her dangling earrings tinkling against each other in what felt like a mocking melody. Your father calmly produced a cigar from the table next to him and lit up, no longer acknowledging you either. You let out another slow breath and walked out. 

Collecting your coat from Mrs. Oh, who tried to give you a comforting shoulder squeeze but it felt more like condolences than anything, and made your way to your car parked in front of the gate closing off your parents’ home. 

That’s it then.

You felt eerily calm yet stressed as you started up your car and carefully reversed out, making sure to avoid hitting the carved statues your parents had in front of the iron gate. As you drove home, your mind started racing with the information you had been relayed. 

Min Yoongi as your soon-to-be-husband? What irony.

Does he even know you exist?

Will you be able to survive this?

Hand gripping the steering wheel hard, you quickly dialed the most recent number in your contact list. She answered after only two rings.

“Y/N! Are you still alive? How’d it go?”

“Hi Joohee, not great. I’m completely and totally fucked.”

Joohee chuckled on the other end of the line, “Want to come over?”

“Yes,” you breathed, “I was hoping you’d offer.”

“I’ll get the booze.”

“Min Yoongi? Now that’s ironic,” Joohee chuckled, seemingly at your expense. You shot a glare her way which she shrugged in response to.

“How long have you been crushing on him? This is, like, practically fate. Maybe this’ll be a good thing.”

You scoffed in response, “A good thing? Joohee, be serious. The last thing I want to do is get with my long-time infatuation, not crush, by forcing him to be my husband.” You took another swig of wine. It was a cheap pink Moscato, perfect for nights like these with Joohee. 

Joohee shoved a pillow in your direction in an effort to gain more room on the couch you had stuffed yourselves onto. The trash reality dating show you had on in the background was showing a rather dramatic fight but you paid it no attention, “It’s just…I haven’t talked to him in the last, what, five years? He probably doesn’t even remember me. And you’ve heard the rumors, I don’t think he’ll be exactly thrilled at giving up his playboy lifestyle just because he has to marry me.”

“What if he doesn’t give that up?”

You stared at Joohee in slight surprise, “What do you mean?”

“Like, what if he says that he doesn’t want to stop hooking up with other people? What will you do?”

Your brows furrowed as you considered the question, “I don’t know, I guess. I mean, I can’t really stop him. I guess I’d just have to live with it.”

Joohee hummed in response before continuing on, “Well, this is happening whether you like it or not. Just try to make it amicable at the least. Maybe it’ll work out, you never know. Just look at Jin oppa.”

Kim Seokjin, Joohee’s older brother and a friend of Min Yoongi’s, was arranged by Joohee’s parents to marry Song Yeonhee, and the two had seemingly fallen in love after a rocky start to their nuptials. You had seen them recently at Yeonhee’s baby shower and she had been glowing, looking unbelievably happy. You recalled the loving gaze that Seokjin had sent her during the party and the pang of envy you felt, knowing that you would likely never get to experience that. 

“Yeah, well,” you responded, “He’s an outlier. Most of these types of marriages don’t work out. I have a feeling I’m going to be a part of that group.”

“You’re too negative, you haven’t even met him for dinner yet. Maybe he’ll surprise you. You just have to give him the chance.”

You mulled over Joohee’s words and nodded, “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I guess I’ll see how Friday goes.”

You weren’t technically late. 

While you still had about 5 minutes before the dinner officially started, you weren’t early, and that was unacceptable by your mother’s standards. A mini emergency at your job had left you scrambling to leave on time, only noticing the late hour when one of your coworkers asked if they should order take-out for the team. After profusely apologizing to your team, they encouraged you to go, practically shooing you out the door, claiming they could handle the situation for now. 

Which left you barely on time to park in the lot outside the ridiculously fancy Japanese restaurant your mother’s assistant, Yujin, had sent to your email earlier that week. You quickly stepped out, smoothing out your dress that you had kept in the backseat of your car and had hastily changed into in the parking lot of your office. Tugging down the hem, you took a moment to look at your reflection in your car window and attempt to look more presentable. Your hair was slightly frizzy but nicely combed back, and you had extremely minimal makeup on from only remembering last minute this morning, and your eyes looked tired. 

You felt tired.

Shaking off your nerves, you headed inside the restaurant giving your family name to the hostess who took you back to a private room where your mother and father were waiting. Your father spared you only a cursory glance before returning his gaze to his phone and your mother looked you up and down before uttering a curt, “Hm.” You held in an eye roll and quickly sat next to them, trying to calm your heart rate for the sure-to-be exhilarating dinner ahead. At six on the dot, you spotted the same hostess leading the Min family towards your table. Your mother stood, welcoming them and urging them to sit down. You stood as well, a little less welcoming, a lot more obligated. 

Mrs. Min looked like the epitome of a rich older woman with dark black hair combed back and glittering jewels lining her ears and neck, complementing the midnight blue gown she had on. Mr. Min was dressed quite similarly to your father, in a simple suit, the only difference being his starkly greying hair providing quite the contrast to his dark blazer. Close behind them was the person you were the most anxious about meeting, Min Yoongi. His pitch-black hair complemented his slightly tanned skin nicely and his feline eyes remained straightforward and untelling. He was dressed in a simple black suit as well with an expensive-looking watch adoring his wrist. His mouth was closed tightly and he did not smile at your mother when she greeted him, not at your father when they sat down across from your family, and certainly not at you.

Your hands nervously played with each other in your lap as you took your seat again. You listened quietly as the mothers exchanged pleasantries and the fathers gruffly greeted each other. You were trying to avoid looking at Yoongi as much as possible.

“So, Y/N,” Mrs. Min started, making you startle to attention, “How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine, ma’am.”

“Ah, so only a bit younger than Yoongi. That’s good then. How is your work?”

You felt your father stiffen next to you and prayed your discomfort didn’t show on your face, “Good. I’m in the middle of producing a new project with my team.”

“How lovely. Although I’m sure you’ll be leaving that soon after the wedding. You won’t need to work then after all,” Mrs. Min smiled at you. It was hard to read her so you couldn’t tell if she was being genuine or not, though if you had to guess, it was likely the latter. Your job was a point of contention with your family. Choosing to work in a video game production company did not go over well, and if your older brother, Kyungsoo, hadn’t been in line to inherit Seo Industries, you would’ve never been able to keep it. 

You smiled awkwardly in response to Mrs. Min and returned your gaze to the empty plate in front of you. 

As the conversation dragged on, you couldn’t help but steal a glance or two at Yoongi, who was periodically checking his phone and looking permanently bored of the conversation. Not that you could blame him. The dull talk of social circle gossip and work was beginning to get grating, and even the introduction of fancy entrees wasn’t enough to stop your stomach from feeling queasy. 

Yoongi had yet to say one word to you. To be fair, you hadn’t said anything to him either, but he had barely looked in your direction since he entered the private dining room. How exactly were you supposed to start a conversation with that? 

Soon after the desserts came out and were finished, with you politely refusing, feeling like you were going to throw up any second, Mrs. Min suddenly pushed her chair back and stood. She looked down at you and Yoongi and announced, “Well. I think we can leave them to talk on their own for a bit. Why don’t you join us for a drink at our home, Eujin-ssi?”

At the sound of her name, your mother stood, nodding, “Yes, that sounds lovely. Let’s let them get to know each other a bit more.” With that, the parents swiftly gathered their belongings and left, before you could even protest, leaving you staring open-mouthed at the exit. 

Slowly, you turned to face Yoongi and were startled, seeing his eyes already boring into yours. 

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Yoongi stated, his deep and stable voice wrapping around you for the first time that night, “This marriage means nothing to me. It shouldn’t to you either. I’ll do my thing and you do yours. Most importantly, stay out of my life except when necessary. Just because my parents are forcing my hand doesn’t mean I have to adhere to every little thing. Nothing will be changing except for our living situation and a ring on our fingers.”

A little stunned, you could only stutter a passive agreement and watch as he rose and left without sparing you another glance. 

Letting out a deep breath, you closed your eyes, trying to understand what had just transpired. Your heart raced as you quickly stacked up the dishes to be a bit easier for the busboy and quickly made your way to your car. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, you vaguely registered Min Yoongi’s cold demeanor towards you.

It seems he didn’t remember you after all.

The dress you had on was itchy, but you knew if you complained, you would only end up with a sharp stinging on your cheek and tear-filled eyes. You had escaped the boring party with grown-ups and were sitting outside on a stone bench in the garden, trying to remedy your hurt feelings at the hands of the mean, older boy, Hyunsoo. 

He had confidently poked fun at your appearance, saying the dress was a bit too small on you and that your parents should’ve sprung for a size that could fit an elephant instead. He continued on, saying your parents must’ve forgotten to vaccinate you for measles considering all the red spots on your face that were actually acne. Being a tender twelve years of age and going through the worst bits of puberty, his words hit you hard and you quickly ran from the scene into the garden. 

Unable to contain your tears, they slipped down your face in large droplets and soaked into the front of your dress. 

“Hey, you.”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy a couple of years older than you standing in front of you, black hair shining in the light from the garden lamps. His sharp eyes trailed down your tear-stained face. You quickly turned away in shame, not wanting to undergo any more embarrassment tonight. 

“Hey, snot-face.”

You shot him a glare but softened when you saw his hand extended, holding a handkerchief, his face turned slightly away, “Use this. You look ugly while you’re crying.”

You gingerly took the cloth from his hands and blew your nose, noticing him wince out of the corner of your eye. 

“Thank you,” you managed and he only rolled his eyes in response. 

“Yeah, whatever. I think Joohee’s looking for you,” he grumbled before turning on his heel and stalking off back towards the party. 

Confused, your eyes followed after him, not knowing how he knew that Joohee would be looking for you. You unfolded the handkerchief and noticed an elegant embroidering of three letters in black near the bottom, MYG. 

Oh, you realized, Min Yoongi. Joohee’s older brother was friends with him but you had never seen him before. Joohee had described him as kind of rude and quite closed off, but you disagreed. He certainly didn’t seem that bad.

masterlist / next

[proxima-writes]

title: toyin’ with them older guys

pairing: bartender!joel miller/female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

chapters: 1/1

read on ao3 | masterlist

summary:

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder.

But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation.

Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

author’s note: thank you to everyone who hyped me up to post this when i wasn’t sure how i felt about it. your comments mean the world 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), alternate universe - no cordyceps outbreak, no use of y/n, unspecified age gap, alcohol references/consumption, possessive behavior, jealousy, mild violence (in the form of Joel kicking someone out of his bar), brief reference to Sarah’s mom and divorce, tinder dates, bribery, dirty talk, begging, pet names, praise kink, unprotected p in v, oral (m receiving), spanking. let me know if i’ve missed anything!

There’s a bar near the university that you love to go to for multiple reasons.

For one, they have great drinks. For two, their loaded tater tots are the best drunk food you’ve ever had the pleasure of consuming.

But the number one reason, above all else, is the grumpy bartender and owner, Joel Miller.

The first time you saw him, he was challenging a kid with a fake ID, his arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing the strain of his flannel over his biceps. When the kid tried to take a swing at him, he grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back before marching him out of the bar and kicking him to the curb.

Your friend had to remind you to breathe.

He hosts a trivia night at the bar on Tuesday nights, the perfect excuse to see the man weekly. You sit at the bar each time, scribbling your answers on the notepad as you sip on a vodka cranberry and sneak glances at the older man while he works.

One night, you were struggling to answer a question about where the Lord of the Rings trilogy was filmed when Joel leaned across the bar, bringing his lips close to your ear to say, “New Zealand.”

You’d gotten the point, thanks to him. And from that day forward, he’d linger near your corner of the bar, watching to see if you needed help with an answer. Eventually, you started showing up earlier and earlier for trivia night, just for the chance to talk to him.

You told him about your PhD program and the research you were conducting. You wanted to be a psychologist, but for now you’re just a perpetual student. You miss winter weather in Colorado, but appreciate not having to store a giant jacket anywhere in your small apartment. Your favorite season is fall, and your favorite holiday is Halloween.

He tells you about buying the bar a few years ago, after his divorce from Sarah’s mom and ensuing custody battle had been finalized, an investment he made with his brother Tommy. They’d fixed it up themselves and made it a popular local spot. His favorite movie is Indiana Jones and he prefers whiskey over any other drink.

It’s no surprise that along the way you’d fallen in love with the man.

Too bad he’d never feel the same.

————

Joel remembers the first night he saw you. Your rosy cheeks and tipsy smile as you leaned forward to say, “Vodka cranberry, please. With lime .”

“Lime, huh?” He remembers saying. You nodded your head vigorously.

“The lime is the best part,” you insisted. He chuckled.

“Not the vodka?”

“Gross, no.”

He tossed in three lime slices and you shimmied your shoulders with glee.

You come into the bar, alone, for trivia night on Tuesdays now. You’re a fountain of random facts, but every once in a while he’ll feed you an answer to help you out because he likes the smile that you give him in return.

He has no right to be looking at you the way that he finds himself doing every week. Eyes wandering to the way your jeans hug your ass or drifting to your cleavage when you rest your elbows against the bar.

But between the conversations and the trivia and the sweet smiles, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Which is why when you come to trivia night with a man who wraps an arm around your waist, Joel loses his goddamn mind and does the stupidest thing ever.

You get up to go to the bathroom and Joel leans across the bar to address the guy, keeping his eyes on the bathroom.

“I’ll give you $100 if you leave right now,” Joel says.

“What?”

“Hundred bucks if you walk out that door and don’t talk to that girl again,” he says again. He digs his wallet from his pants and pulls a bill out, setting it on the bar top.

Without further question, the man grabs the money and stuffs it in his pocket as he heads out the door. Joel feels a flash of guilt when you return from the bathroom and look around for your missing date.

“Said he had an emergency,” Joel lies. He’s surprised when you look relieved.

“He was kind of boring, anyways,” you shrug, dragging your notepad and pen closer to you. “He probably would have just dragged us down.”

Us, Joel thinks.

He could get used to that.

________

Your friend, Marie, had convinced you to try out Tinder. She was absolutely certain you were missing out on the love of your life by not swiping mindlessly through profiles that held no interest to you.

You weren’t about to confess your unrequited love for the local bartender to get her off your case, so that’s how you ended up on a date with Michael. He was a law student and liked kayaking and hiking.

You liked neither of those things, but he had curly brown hair and you had a type, so why not give it a shot?

You didn’t have it in you to be too upset when you returned from the bathroom only to find out from Joel that Michael had left. Joel slid you another vodka cranberry with lime and your night went as it always did.

When Marie asked you the next morning how the date went and you told her he bailed, she insisted on picking your next one. She chose Scott, a financial analyst at a local bank.

You’re starting to think Marie doesn’t know you very well.

Regardless, you show up at the bar for another trivia night date. Scott is tall and lean, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he wore a suit to a bar. When you comment on it, he pulls a face and says he came straight from work.

“Not all of us are lucky enough to not have real jobs,” he says. You blink at him, surprised by the hostility.

That hostility continues when Joel approaches the two of you at the bar, lips turned down in a scowl, and Scott decides to order for you.

“She’ll take a vodka water with lemon and I’ll have Bulleit, neat.”

Joel raises his eyebrows at Scott, his eyes flicking to you briefly, before he sets a plastic cup on the bar top. He holds Michael’s gaze as he pours a shot of vodka into your cup, before using the soda gun to dispense cranberry juice. You have to bite back your smile.

“Vodka cranberry with lime,” he says, sliding you your drink. “And your whiskey will be right out.”

“That’s not what I ordered,” Scott replies.

“Yeah, but it’s what she would’ve.”

Scott sputters, face going an alarming shade of red with his indignation.

“I’ll be right back,” you mutter, taking your drink with you as you head to the bathroom.

________

“I’m not paying for that drink,” the blonde asshole says, knocking his knuckles against the bar for emphasis. Joel huffs a laugh.

“I don’t give a shit, kid. I want you out of my bar,” he says, planting both hands on the wood.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get the fuck out of my bar.”

“I’m on a date!”

“Not anymore.” Joel rounds the bar and gets up in the little weasel’s face. “Get. Out.”

The boy’s eyes go wide, like he realizes that maybe Joel isn’t playing around. He scrambles from his barstool, standing to his full height like he’s about to challenge Joel.

“You can’t kick me out, old man,” the blonde snaps.

Joel’s had enough. He fists a hand in the starched white shirt collar, driving him back towards the exit. The other patrons move out of the way, some whistling and cheering Joel on. He shoves the man out the door and looks at the doorman.

“He doesn’t come back inside,” he says. “And you? Don’t ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Joel returns to the bar as you’re walking up. For a moment, he worries that you may have seen him acting like a caveman getting rid of his competition, but you look around in confusion.

“Where’s Scott?” You ask.

“He forgot about somethin’ at work,” Joel says. Your brow furrows.

“Kinda weird that’s happened to me twice now,” you comment.

Joel just shrugs.

________

You don’t tell Joel about how you saw him throw Scott out of his bar that night.

You’d just left the bathroom when you saw Joel stomp out from behind the bar, his eyes dark and fixed on your date. You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but based on the affronted way Scott was responding, it wasn’t anything good.

You crept closer to the scene, but stayed amongst the crowd. Joel marched Scott backwards with a fist tangled in his collar, shoving him out the door.

“And you? Don’t you ever fuckin’ talk to her again.”

Your mouth went dry at his words and your mind reeled at the implications. Was he doing this from a place of friendship? Or…could he maybe feel the same way you do?

Only one way to find out.

You call up Travis, a good friend from undergrad who still lived in town.

“Trav, I need your help,” you say when he answers the phone.

“Burying a body type of help or financial type of help?” He replies easily.

“Actually, more experimental.”

“I don’t swing that way.”

“No, listen to me, I have a hypothesis,” you insist, explaining the situation to him. How you’ve been on two dates at Joel’s bar but each time, the men have left without another word. And how after what you witnessed, you’re inclined to believe that it’s not a coincidence.

You ask Travis to come with you to the next trivia night. All he needs to do is pretend to be there on a date with you. A bit of hand holding, maybe an arm around the waist. Nothing more.

“But what if he tries to threaten my life?” Travis asks.

“Well…I mean…every experiment has risks,” you reply flippantly. He sputters indignantly down the line. “I’ll buy you your drinks and get you tater tots.”

He’s silent for a moment before responding, “Fine. Extra jalapeños and I’m not getting well liquor.”

“Thank you!”

________

You come into his bar with another man. His arm is draped over your shoulders as you approach the bar and Joel has to set the glass he’s drying down before it shatters in his hands.

“Joel! This is Travis,” you say, gesturing to your date. He forces a smile, reaching a hand across the bar to shake his hand.

“What can I get started for you?” Joel asks. The man, Travis, orders an old-fashioned with top shelf whiskey, while you request your regular.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as Joel is pouring the drinks. You weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms and Joel leans in to address Travis.

“I’ll pay you $100 to leave this date,” Joel says.

Travis smirks. “Make it $200.”

“Are you serious?”

“That depends, are you?”

Joel’s eyes flick towards the back of the bar and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out four fifties, dropping them on the bar.

Travis pockets the money before adding, “You know, there’s cheaper ways to get the girl.”

“Get out,” Joel grunts. The younger man laughs his way to the door, and you appear at the bar a moment later.

“Where’d Travis go?” You ask.

“Oh, he—“

“Can I get an order of the loaded tots?” Travis asks, cutting Joel off from making up an excuse for his absence and sitting back down on the stool beside you with a shit eating grin. “She owes me.”

“Owes you?” Joel asks through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, she lost a bet. I told her I could get the number of that guy over there in less than three minutes and she doubted my charm.”

“Travis and I went to undergrad together,” you explain. “We just wanted to hang out and catch up.”

Shit.

________

Travis decides to leave after two plates of loaded tots and one too many drinks. You help him call an Uber, but you stay behind as the bar starts to clear out.

It’s just Joel behind the bar, wiping down the wood and setting bottles back to their rightful spots as you sip from a cup of water. The kitchen has closed down and the music has been shut off, leaving the two of you in loaded silence.

“So…,” you say, twirling your straw in your near empty cup. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

Joel’s shoulders go tense before he releases a deep sigh, turning to face you. The bar separates you, and it feels like miles of distance when all you want to do is get your hands on him now that your hypothesis has been proven.

Joel Miller likes you. And he’s been sabotaging your dates because of it. Perhaps you should be more upset, but all you can feel is an effervescent giddiness bubbling in your veins.

While he struggles to find the words, you decide to take matters into your own hands. You reach across the bar, hooking your fingers into the collar of his t-shirt and tugging him forward. You lean over to meet him halfway, pressing your lips to his.

You pull back and look into his eyes. The coffee colored brown of his irises seems darker, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you.

“You wanna get out of here?” He asks.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

________

Joel’s got one hand on the wheel of the truck and the other resting on your thigh. He has to keep a hand on you because he’s worried that if he doesn’t anchor himself, he’ll wake up from this dream.

You kissed him. You reached across the bar and dragged his lips to yours in a way he’d only dreamed of doing a thousand times since you’d sauntered into his life.

He can’t help the small smile that tilts his lips up at the thought.

“What’s got you smiling over there?” You ask, your voice teasing. He glances at you.

“You do, darlin’,” he says. He relishes in the pink that blooms across your cheeks at the pet name.

Joel drives to his house, parking the truck in the driveway of his little bungalow. His bachelor pad, as Tommy calls it.

Maybe not for much longer.

He circles the truck to open the door for you, helping you down from the cab. He keeps his hand on your low back as he leads you up the porch steps and through the door.

You toe off your shoes in the entryway, letting them join the pair of sneakers Joel left by the door. You’re wearing a pair of socks with tiny cats printed on them, the sight so endearing to him he can’t hold back his laugh.

“What?” You ask.

“Nothin’, just…like the look of you here. In my house,” he says.

“Yeah?” You take a step closer to him, toe to toe as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah,” he whispers, wrapping an arm around your waist, tugging your body against his. The heat of you even through the layers of your clothes sends a shiver down his spine.

You press your hands to his chest, sliding them up and over his shoulders before linking them behind his neck.

“You gonna give me a real kiss?” You whisper back. Your lips are so tantalizingly close that they ghost across his as you speak.

He closes the distance, lips dancing with yours as he kisses you senseless. The feel of you against him, moving with him, sends sparks skittering across his skin. He’s unable to hold still, hands roaming from your back to your waist to your hips as your mouths part and your tongues tangle with increased desperation.

Joel slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, crouching slightly to lift you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your core slides against his growing hardness and he groans at the sensation as you let out the neediest whimper.

He wants to hear more.

He walks you both through the empty house until he reaches his bedroom, tossing you on top of sheets still rumpled from last night’s sleep. You scramble to sit up on your knees, moving to the edge of the bed and curling your fingers into the waist of his jeans.

“Can I suck your cock, Joel?” You ask, voice all breathy as you stare up at him with your big doe eyes. “Please?”

Joel’s mouth has gone bone dry. “Yeah? You want my cock in that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart?”

You nod your head, fingers working on the buckle of his belt. His hands work in tandem with yours to get his fly open, shoving the denim down his thighs until he can step out of them. His cock tents his boxers, a wet spot already apparent on the fabric and he watches as you reach a hand out to stroke him, a groan escaping him at the feel of your warm palm against him.

“Take your clothes off and get on your knees,” Joel commands. He lifts his own shirt over his head as you unbutton and remove your pants, shimmying the tight fabric down your legs. He takes a seat on the edge of the bed as he watches you lift your shirt up and off.

His eyes rove your body hungrily. Your perfect tits and gorgeous curves, the way you flush beneath his gaze.

“Come here, baby,” he says, crooking a finger. You come to stand between his legs and he reaches around your back, unhooking your bra with deft fingers.

“You’re rather skilled at that, Mr. Miller,” you tease.

“I’m old, not dead.” He slips the straps from your shoulders, tugging the last barrier between him and your tits away. “God, baby, these all for me?”

“Mhm,” you him as he wraps his hand around the weight of one breast, thumb teasing your pert nipple.

“Tell me somethin’,” Joel asks, “why’d you bring all those boys around when you knew you needed a man?”

You lick your lips. “Didn’t know if the only man I wanted would want me back.”

Your voice is small and vulnerable as you say it, and that just won’t do. “Don’t just want you, baby. Need you.”

Your face lights up in the brightest grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby. Need you so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, digging his fingers into your hips. “S’why I had to play dirty.”

Your smile turns downright salacious. You drop to your knees, running your hands up his thighs. “Show me how much you need me, Joel.”

________

Joel shoves his boxers down, exposing his cock to your hungry gaze. It’s gorgeously thick, the head a dark red from his arousal, a pearl of precum sitting in the slit. You lean forward and dart your tongue out to gather it.

“Don’t tease, sweetheart,” Joel says through gritted teeth. You keep your eyes fixed to his as you take him in hand, swirling your tongue over the sensitive head before taking him further into your mouth.

His hand is instantly in your hair. Not pressing, but his fingers tangle in the strands and tug deliciously against your scalp. He moans as you take him as far back into your throat as you can manage.

“Fuck, your mouth is better than I ever dreamed,” he says, voice rough.

“You’ve thought about this?” You ask when you draw back for breath, hand pumping his length in place of your mouth.

“‘Course, baby. These pretty lips wrapped around me, beggin’ for me to make them all swollen and used,” he says, standing and bringing a thumb to your lips and swiping it across their spit slick surface. “Open up.”

He uses his thumb to press against your bottom lip, opening your mouth as he takes his cock in hand and feeds it slowly between your lips. The smooth, hot length of him dragging across your tongue makes you moan.

“You like that, baby?” He growls, pumping his hips in shallow thrusts. “Like me usin’ your mouth how I want?”

You try to nod, your movement restricted by the grip of his hand that’s returned to your hair. There’s spit trailing down your chin and tears gathering in the corners of your eyes from the effort of keeping your mouth open for his thick length. You know you must look like a mess but with Joel staring down at you with his lust drunk expression, you feel on top of the world.

“I gotta fuck you, baby, will you let me, huh? Let me feel that pretty little cunt strangle my cock?”

You hum around his length and he withdraws, tugging you up by your hair and pulling you into the dirtiest kiss, all tongue and teeth and blatant desire as he turns your bodies, shoving you down onto the bed.

Joel slips an arm beneath your low back, using it to pull you up the bed as he crawls on to join you. He positions himself between your legs, tearing the soaked fabric of your panties down in a frenzy.

He slides his fingers through your wetness before bringing them to his lips, sucking them into his mouth with a groan.

“Christ, I’m gonna feast on you for hours, baby, but I wanna fuck you so bad,” he says.

“Then fuck me, Joel, please,” you beg, lifting your hips so that his cock slips through your center. “Come on, wanna feel you.”

He lines himself up, pressing into you with a delicious stretch, the slight sting of it making you whine. He shushes you, not stopping until his hips press against the back of your thighs.

“Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it,” he says, leaning forward to kiss you, the shift in angle making him go impossibly deeper. “Tell me when I can move, sweetheart.”

You shift your hips restlessly beneath him. “Please move, Joel, wanna feel it.”

Joel pulls back before slamming forward, the force of it making you slide up the bed as all the air leaves your lungs in a whoosh. His grin is sharp as he does it again and again to the tune of your desperate cries.

“Joel!” You cry, clawing at his back with each thrust. “Fuck, yes, yes!”

He withdraws abruptly, the loss of him as you clench around nothing making you whine pathetically. With a bruising grip on your hips, he twists your body until you’re on your belly, ass in the air and chest pressed to the mattress.

Joel slides back inside your tight heat, a palm slapping across one cheek then the other as he resumes his powerful thrusts.

“Fuck, darlin’, you’re so goddamn tight,” he growls. A hand presses to the back of your neck for leverage, changing the angle yet again. “Can you cum for me? Can you soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, I bet you can.”

You nod, the movement restricted, but you can’t form words. All you know is the feeling of Joel pounding into your body like he owns it.

The hand on your hips moves to the front of your body, fingers finding and pinching your clit. You sob against the mattress, the sheets wet beneath you from tears and drool.

“Come on, baby, fuckin’ cum for me,” he growls. “Won’t fill ya up until you do.”

That’s the visual that does it. The thought of Joel finishing with you, inside of you, dripping out of you too much for your lust addled brain. With a shout, the thin remnant of your control snaps and you pulse around him.

“Fuck yes, that’s it, sweetheart, good fuckin’ girl,” he praises, his hand leaving your neck as he sits up, his tempo fast and sloppy as he chases his release through yours. “You want me to cum in this tight little cunt, honey.”

“Yes, please,” you manage to slur, muffled by the sheets. With three more harsh thrusts, he does as promised, spilling inside of you with a shout.

He slows before withdrawing, your body collapsing against the mattress without him there to hold you up. He chuckles as he flops beside you, dragging you into the cradle of his body.

“You done playin’ games with those boys?” He asks, smiling smugly against your neck.

“Yeah, think I might be into older guys,” you tease. He pinches your hip, making you laugh.

“See if I ever help you during trivia again.”

________

Joel’s standing in front of you, arms crossed with a scowl on his face as you stare up at him with pleading eyes.

“Come on, baby, help me out,” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes.

“Last call for an answer to our final question! What is the only song credited to all five original members of the band Fleetwood Mac?”

Joel sighs, biting back his smile. “The Chain,” he tells you. You scribble the answer, running your paper up to the emcee. When you return to the bar, you lean across the polished surface and tug him towards you, planting a kiss to his lips.

He drags you back for another kiss. And another.

“Anytime, darlin’.”

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