#i'm allowed to be annoyed by that i think. feels like they wanted the praise from gifting it without being willing to work for it

[astralpenguin]

literally on a whim this morning i decided i wanted to learn how to knit. ~£1.50 for the needles and some wool from a nearby charity shop, and a couple of youtube tutorials, later and i now have the beginnings of what could hopefully become a scarf at some point in the future

[soraphic]

this isn't proofread at allllllll i rlly couldn't be fucked i'm sorry. (babydaddy)plug!connie (with abt a paragraph of eren🙈),smut,dirty talk,connie has a breeding kink,unprotected sex,creampie.. that's it?

𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 — 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢 (𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝)

you were being practically folded in half atop the crisp,white sheets of an uncomfortably sanitised hotel room as your phone rang.

a loud groan was let out from the man above you,but he allowed you a slither of space to pick up the facetime as you argued - "what if something's happened?"

you had entrusted your son with his daddy for the long weekend as your new,although not inherently a stranger,boyfriend pampered you with a trip from philly to new york.

he had coerced you into a sex-filled getaway with the notion that,as a 'single mother',you deserved some time off and that your son would adore some quality time with his dad.

you agreed on the promise that your baby would be out of all that 'gang shit',to which connie swore on his life he would keep.

that now left you and your son in different states and a slightly uneasy feeling in your stomach for the majority of the day. however,as if connie telepathically knew when his presence would be most annoying,he decided to call you just as things were progressing with you and your new beau.

you picked up the facetime,watching connie's face light up the screen with a shit eating grin. "hey,mami."

he had the dark hood of his custom all-black clothing pulled over his head,the slight peak of a ski mask able to be seen framing his face,highlighting the small cross decorating his cheekbone,as well as your name in cursive bending just above his eyebrow.

immediately conscious of the lack of the noise on his end of the line,you asked,"where's my son at,connie?"

"relax,ma,he sleepin' right next to me." he shuffled the camera to display your baby's sleeping figure,lips pursed and long lashes touching the fat of his cheeks as he slept. so serious,just like his daddy.

the phone was then brought back to connie,his jawline sharp as he pushed his tongue into his cheek,reaching over to adjust your son's blankets with the end of a pacifier hanging out of his mouth,phone resting against his chest.

after sorting your son,he looked back toward you,readjusting in his seat against the cream-coloured couch to take in the sight of you.

your hair was strewn out all over the pillows,your dark lip liner smeared down your chin and a content expression on your face having seen your child. although he had the joys of being blissfully unaware,seeing connie beside your own state through the facetime had you slightly reconsidering. you looked nothing like how you usually did after a fuck with connie,your makeup and lashes usually cried off with smears of drool down your chin simply from the delicious feeling of him pounding you. you shook off the thought almost as quickly as it came,not allowing yourself to indulge in it until you were at least back home.

"you been feedin' my baby?" the way you said it held a warning to it,but it never really worked with connie.

"you think 'ion know how to look after my son? he been eatin' good,ma,none of that formula shit."

you hesitated to praise him,not wanting to irritate your boyfriend further with any ex-to-ex pet names.

there was a few moments of content silence,but it was short-lived as it always is with connie,"so you not out with all your lil' girlfriends tonight?"

you had almost forgotten you had told him it was a 'girls vaca' to blow off some steam,mikasa and sasha covering for you while cosied up in their own homes.

eren scoffed beside you,dropping his head to laugh into his chest. you slapped his arm,demanding him to be quiet with your eyes alone,hoping to god connie hadn't heard the deep grumble of a painfully obviously male laugh.

"yo,you got someone else in there wit' you?"

the immediate reaction probably should've been to deny,deny,deny,but instead your instinct was to clap back at him just as hard.

"'n what if i did? we not dating,connie,you just the dick that impregnated me."

"no puedo creer," he mutters with a hand to his forehead,"who the fuck is it?"

"why do you care?" you knew you were being defensive,but who was he to stop you seeing other people?

"estupida,you on some fuckin' bae-cation with this mámon?"

"leave him alone,connie!"

"oh,so he there 'n he not gon' speak?coño."

you began to formulate an argument to fire back at him,as well as eren opening his mouth to speak,but the 3 of you were cut off by the shrieking sounds of a baby crying as your shouting had awoken your son.

connie was quick to place his phone down,carefully taking your son into his arms. he then leaned down to pick you up,bouncing your son on his hip as he pointed toward the camera,"look,you want your mami? say hi to mami,chico."

your son almost immediately settled,nuzzling into his daddy as connie pressed his lips to the swell of your son's cheek,giving a few kisses before moving to place one against his forehead.

you stopped your cooing at the screen to snap at connie once your son with settled. "look at you,now you done woke him up!"

he didn't reply,just continued to rock your son,now hyper aware of the fact that there was some guy balls deep in his baby mom listening in on your conversation.

"so you not gon' answer me now?"

"watchu want me to say?"

you were almost speechless. it wasn't like connie to ever avoid an argument like this,usually by this point having severely lost his shit. did he not care anymore?

you huffed,shifting around in the bed uncomfortably,pursing your lips,"'kay,i'll call you tomorrow morning before my drive."

your bags made an awful screech across the hard wood floors of connie's home,one the two of you previously shared. it had been up to you to design the interior,and not a day went by that you didn't severely regret your choice of flooring.

you quickly rid yourself of your scarf and jacket,hanging them neatly beside an array of both yours and connie's coats. even after moving all your important shit out,there was still bits and pieces of you filling connie's home,one that he still considered to be just as much yours as it was his. you were left in the knitted two piece you travelled in,paired with the chestnut uggs connie had gotten you last year,a fact about most of your outfits eren wasn't privy to. the beige tracksuit was one connie had always appreciated you in,which maybe contributed to your decision on the outfit this morning,although you'd never admit to it. it really did look good on you,but whether you mostly believed that because of his words and inability to keep his wandering hands off you you weren't exactly sure.

you practically skipped into the sitting room,having missed your two favourite boys for 3 days. the cheesy grin you were wearing grew ten fold when you were greeted with the sight of your son cuddled up on the couch in your baby daddy's arms,both almost completely immersed in connie's phone.

his eyes flickered up to meet yours for just a second,before breaking the contact and staring back at the screen. you couldn't help but frown slightly,almost dragging your feet over to him as you bend down to pick up your son,his eyes growing when he recognised your face. connie almost felt smug when he noticed your long nails curling around your son's chubby torso,ones he had paid for with his initial tattooed into your ring finger.

"you gon' stay silent the whole time,connie?"

his gaze snapped up to your face,feeling almost caught out by the cat-like grin spread across your face as you cuddled into your son.

"nah,jus' thinkin'." he shrugged.

"about?"

"-how good you gon' look wit' another one of my babies in you."

he leaned back with one arm spread across the headrest of the couch,a shit eating grin plastered across his face as he eyed you watching him,jaw dropped and spluttering for words.

"that's! no,connie.. i told you,that's not gon' happen again."

"what's not gon' happen? you lettin' me fuck you or gettin' you pregnant?" his grin only grew,head cocked at you with narrowed eyes,taking deep pleasure in catching every bit of your reaction.

"enough,connie!"

"gon' put another baby in you,yeah?"

you shook your head desperately,hot tears wetting your fresh lashes and cascading down your red cheeks. "no,,no—" he clamped a hand down over your mouth to stop your wailing,shushing you as he leaned down to press his lips to the back of his knuckles. the fog clouding your brain and the bruising snap of his hips had you convinced you could feel his plump lips brushing against your own as he spoke.

"shh,ma,you gon' wake him up."

your heavy-lidded eyes drifted to the sleeping figure of your son,wrapped up next to the two of you in the portable bassinet you insisted connie bought to transport your son between houses when the two of you split for the third - or fourth - time. shallow breaths were leaving his full,parted lips. you couldn't help but feel shame bubble inside you at the feeling of your wetness spread embarrassingly over connie's thighs while he drilled you.

you opted to close your eyes,leaning your head back with connie's hand muffling your cries. the bastard laughed at you,leaning back to readjust the angle at which he ploughed you,now using the hand against your jaw as leverage to his thrusts.

"you wan' a lil' girl this time,ma?"

you whined in response,pushing against his hips in a feeble attempt to get him to let up on your abused pussy.

"she gon' look jus' like you.. dios mio.. all pretty n' shit.."

he started to pant,pushing his thumb against your lips. you opened your mouth to him,too fucked out to deny him any longer. he pushed the digit flat against your tongue,allowing your lips to close around him while he tipped his head back,letting a loud groan out into the room.

you hummed around his thumb,pulling him toward you with a tight hand around the bone of his hip,tits almost smacking you in the face with the force of their bouncing as he sped up.

he brought his unoccupied hand from your waist to rub at your overstimulated clit,pouting his lips at the pure horror that wash over your face,"one more so i can fill you up n' i'm done,baby."

you felt your next climax crash through you almost immediately after he came in contact with your sore nub,too overstimulated to hold out against his teasing. he spilled inside you soon after,fucking his cum into you as he kissed at the fat of your cheek,doting on you after such aggressive sex.

his eyes moved to the side of his head to quietly check on your son,still soundly sleeping,while you fought against passing out and staying the night.

though,you eventually woke up to connie's aggravating snoring right in your ear and a heavy,tattooed arm slung over your waist.

soraphic 2k23 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

[the-little-ewok]

An Unorthodox Method

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Rating : 18+/E

Word count : 7600 (ish)

Warnings : It's the one bed trope!, Lil mild angst, lots of teasing, Poe being an adorable little shit, mentions of Poe having hearing problems/being partially deaf in one ear, fluff, banter, SMUT, PIV, fingering, marking (love bites and nail marks), praise kink if you squint, illusions to cum eating, mentions of oral f- receiving, overstimulation if you blink, aftercare, very brief mention of casual sex/one night stands.

Summary : All you want is a hot shower, some clean dry clothes, and to crawl into bed. What you absolutely do not want is Poe Dameron in that bed with you.

@campingwiththecharmings thank you so much for this request! I'm so excited to finally do the one bed trope for Poe! I hope you like it.

Special thank you to @mandinlore for the beta 😘

~~~~~~~~~

The rain hammers a steady ping ping ping on the window as you and Poe stand in the doorway to the room, your clothes soaked and sticking uncomfortably to your skin, your shoes leaving puddles of water.

"You have got to be kidding me!" You groan as Poe laughs.

You had been looking forward to a hot shower, a nice warm bed, and at least a good few hours of peace and quiet. The last part had already been thwarted by the fact some error in the hotel booking meant you only had one room with no others available, and now to add insult to injury there was only one damn bed.

"Well, this is going to be fun!" The pilot chirps happily from beside you, walking in to dump his bag on the chair and leaving wet boot prints in his wake.

Climbing into bed with the resistance's best looking pilot, who you were, if you were honest, a little bit in love with, did not constitute as fun. In fact, after the day you had spent with him, it was the very last thing you wanted to do.

Poe was always, and had always, been chatty, but today he seemed to have turned all his dials up to maximum. He'd talked non stop, made unfunny jokes, inappropriate innuendos that with anyone else you suspect he wouldn't have gotten away with, and done just about anything he could to make himself the most annoying person this side of the galaxy.

For what reason, you had no idea. You had started to suspect perhaps he had realised your warm feelings towards him, and maybe this was his way of making you hate him so he didn't have to let you down, and honestly, you might think it was starting to work.

Trudging into the room, your boots squelching with each step, you place your bags down, resigned to your probably sleepless fate.

"You want the bathroom first?" The pilot offers, despite the fact he's worse off than you, having given you his jacket to hold above your head the moment the downpour started. It hadn't helped much after the first few minutes, but you had been grateful for the shelter anyway.

You don't really register his question, your thoughts lost as you finger the worn leather coat remembering the way his scent clung to it, invading your senses as you splashed through the flooded streets.

"Hey," you look up to find the pilot watching you, his brow furrowed. "You okay?"

You drop the jacket onto the dresser, giving him a smile and a nod.

"Just sick of listening to you."

Poe snorts with laughter, grabbing the hem of his shirt and peeling it up over his head. You purposely busy yourself pulling out some dry clothes from your pack , not allowing yourself to peek, although it's a difficult battle.

"There's nobody you love listening to more than me," Poe states, thankfully not seeming to notice your internal fight of keeping your eyes off him.

You sigh, somewhat thankful his annoying cockyness is a distraction from his semi-nakedness. Picking up your sleepwear and wash bag you head towards the bathroom, trying to ignore him. Poe however gives you no quarter, trailing along behind you.

"So what exactly are the sleeping arrangements going to be?" He asks.

Frowning you turn around, your eyes deciding to flicker over his bared torso before meeting his gaze. Even the smallest glance is enough to get blood rushing through your veins, and you can feel heat blossoming across your cheeks.

Ignoring the feeling you gesture to the bed with a raise of your eyebrow.

"But what if you snore?" The pilot asks, clearly not noticing your desire to leave the room until he's decided to put some clothes on.

You pull a face, not quite understanding his issue when he's half deaf from the war anyway. The explosion that had damaged most of the resistance ships had permanently damaged his eardrums, which Poe liked to use to his advantage when he decided he wasn't going to listen to someone, although you think he hears far more than he lets on.

"Poe, you can hardly hear out of one ear as it is! Just sleep on your good ear and you probably won't hear a thing out of the other one."

He folds his arms stubbornly. "I'll hear if you're right next to my head."

"Then you are more than welcome to sleep in the bathroom once I'm done," you offer, stepping into the tiny fresher.

"Nah, I'd rather sleep in the bed. But what if you steal the covers?"

"Then you can take them back."

"What if you cuddle me in your sleep?" He fires quickly.

You give him a withering look, trying not to think about pressing your body against his, keeping your eyes trained on his face.

"Oh trust me Poe, I won't." In fact you will do everything possible not to touch him, just for your own sanity.

"But you might. I'm very into consent and if I'm asleep-" he pauses mid sentence, opening his mouth and then closing it again before leaning against the door frame. "Actually scratch all of that. I absolutely give you consent to do whatever you like to me."

The pilot grins at you and you feel a familiar surge of heat through your body, collecting and coiling in your abdomen. Combined with your patience finally snapping, it's the last straw. You slam the bathroom door in his handsome smug face.

The lukewarm shower really tops off the day.

~

"I've been thinking" Poe starts the moment he exits the bathroom, after loudly complaining through the door about you using up all the hot water.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh, the hope that he would have calmed down and go straight to sleep evaporating. You are grateful however that he's at least finally put a shirt on.

"That must hurt."

"Oi!" He protests with a shocked expression, that at least brings a little smile to your lips. He grins at you, letting you know he took no offence at your words.

"As I was saying," he continues while you lay out his clothes to dry, the ones he dumped in a wet pile in the middle of the floor. "I've been thinking, and I know what's wrong with you. I want you to know it's okay."

The way his voice suddenly goes so gentle makes you look around. The pilot holds out his hand, wrapping his fingers around yours as he pulls you closer, holding your gaze steadily. You hope he doesn't notice the way your breath catches, or the heat blazing through you that makes your hands clammy.

"It's okay to be nervous," he continues, while your mouth goes dry. "I know spending the night with me is a lot, and it's going to be so difficult for you to keep your hands to yourself, but we are going to get through this together, and you'll be able to tell everyone about it when we get home."

You snatch your hand angrily out of his while the pilot bursts into laughter.

"Grow up and get in the damn bed!" You growl, climbing into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin and turning over away from him, your heart thundering in your chest. How, even when he was joking, did he manage to get so damn close to the truth?

"Why do you want me in bed so badly, huh? Thinking about late night cuddles?" You hear the pilot ask, feeling the mattress sink with his weight.

"No. When you're asleep, you're not talking," you bite out, still stinging from the embarrassment of your reaction when he was just being his usual annoying self.

Poe ignores your hostility and you feel him shrug.

"Listen, all I'm trying to do is tell you that we could eliminate some of this sexual tension. Well, if you wanted to."

Sexual tension wasn't exactly what you would say was between you, but there was always certainly something, although with Poe you imagine he had that with everyone. With you though, your feelings for the pilot ran a little deeper, not that you'd ever dare speak those aloud. The last thing you needed was the "it's not you, it's me" speech, especially if his behaviour was to drive you away. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

You run a hand down your face with an exasperated sigh. "There is absolutely no sexual tension, Poe. What there is, is murderous tension."

Poe lets out an exclamation of excitement.

"Oh my favourite kind!"

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop a smile, lest you encourage him to continue.

"Please Poe, go to damn sleep," you whine, pulling the pillow from under your head and pressing it against your ear, trying to block out his incessant rambling.

"I will if you admit it."

"Admit what?" You groan, frustrated. Why can't he just shut the hell up and let you get through this?

"That you've thought about us."

"Poe I swear-" you take a deep breath, grabbing the cushion with one hand, rolling over with the intent on smothering him into silence. You're surprised to find the pilot on his side, almost nose to nose with you in the small bed.

"You've seriously never thought about us kissing?" Poe interrupts.

"I…I…" you’re thrown by his closeness, by his long lashes and soft smile, by the damn doe eyed look he's giving you.

You know there's no shutting him up until you tell him what he wants to hear so you take a breath. It wouldn't exactly be news to him, Poe knew just about everyone had considered kissing him at some point or another. The man did come with a reputation for having a rather skillful mouth after all.

"Fine! Maybe once or twice. Now go to damn sleep!" You growl, annoyed at him, and yourself.

The shit eating grin he gives you is enough to make you turn back over, tucking the pillow under your head and shutting your eyes tightly, as though that alone might drown him out.

"I knew it," he gloats with a happy sigh, clicking off the bedside lamp.

You grip the pillow, considering the option you still have of smothering him.

Thankfully he's quiet from that point and infuriatingly asleep in less than five minutes. You can feel the mattress move with his slow steady breaths.

Glancing over your shoulder he's laid out on his back, one arm tucked under his head, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he dreams, his full lips open with a soft sigh.

Turning around again you punch the lumpy pillow, trying to get more comfortable.

You will not think about kissing him. That was a one time thing. Okay, maybe three or four. Well maybe more… a lot more. You're determined tonight for once, you will not fall asleep thinking about his mouth on yours, you will absolutely not think about his lips on your skin, or his fingers caressing your breasts…

Someone suddenly shakes you and you open your eyes groggily, the room swimming and blurred as you blink sleep from your vision.

"What the hell?" You grumble, looking up at the pilot with his sleep tousled curls, still half asleep himself, one eye still shut and the other half open, bathed in the soft moonlight glow that sneaks through the blinds.

"You said my name," he mumbles, voice still sleep gravelled. "You alright?"

Flashes of his mouth sealed over your nipple, his tongue darting out to lick a path down to your navel, your hand gripping his hair, his mouth between your thighs.

Oh no. You absolutely did not have a sex dream about him. Not now, not here. Please no!

"You must have dreamt it," you swallow, desperately trying to play it cool. If Poe heard you while he was dead asleep, then you must have been loud. You feel the heat prickling the back of your neck.

"No, I definitely heard you say Poe," he insists.

"Well even if I did I'm fine so you can go back to sleep," you insist, shifting your legs restlessly. You're too warm. Well not just warm, burning hot, sweat cooling on your skin, an uncomfortable ache between your legs that screams of unsatisfied desire.

"You sure? You sounded a bit…breathless?" The pilot asks again, genuine concern in his tone. Although you can barely see him in the dim lighting you can still see the frown pulling his brows together, both eyes now open and studying you. You really don't want him to press any further. Even his voice brings back flashes of the dream, sultry whispers in your ear, his tongue lapping at your folds, the cry of his name from your mouth.

You swallow again, pushing the thoughts away.

"Really, I'm fine. Must have been a nightmare if it involved you anyway."

"Ouch." He holds his hands over his chest, collapsing back onto the mattress as though you wounded him, giving a long drawn out dramatic death rattle.

Pulling up the covers you throw them over his head with a laugh.

"Go back to sleep, Flyboy."

Laying back you shuffle as close to the edge as you can, putting as much distance as possible between you and the pilot. You wonder if it would be better for you to stay awake, just in case your dreams come back to haunt you. You absolutely wouldn't get away with saying his name a second time.

"It's okay you know," Poe speaks suddenly into the darkness as you lay rigid beside him. "If you were dreaming about me. I wouldn't mind."

You can't help but snort with laughter at that.

"You wouldn't mind if anyone dreams about you."

"True," Poe admits. You feel him shift and even though you can't see him, your eyes staring up at the ceiling, his gaze burns you.

"Let me rephrase. I'd like it if you dreamt about me." He continues.

When you don't turn to face him or grace him with an answer, you feel the shift of the mattress again as he lays back.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, and for once it sounds genuine, not a hint of playfulness in his tone. "I thought this would cheer you up. It's been a long week and you've just seemed so… I don't know. Not yourself, like you're bottling everything up. I figured maybe if you were thinking about how annoying I was, or making you laugh and fight with me, it would give you a bit of a distraction and an outlet, but I get it, maybe I took it too far, even if it is the truth."

It had been a long week, the longest in fact. While the mission itself had been a success, you had seen a lot of the First Order's destruction in the process, and it was worse than either of you had realised. You'd felt melancholy for days, the sights you've witnessed replaying in your mind. You hadn't noticed it much at the time, too lost in your own thoughts and angry that he was so loud that it was impossible to hear yourself think, but the more you think about it, the more you realise what he's been doing — trying to make you smile, keeping you distracted, making you focus on anything but what's happened. All you've done is complain to him about it.

Guilt twists hard in your stomach.

How typical of Poe to try and be helpful in the most unconventional way.

Part of you wants to reach for him, to cuddle him tight against you and thank him, to tell him you're here for him too if he needs someone. The other part keeps you rigidly pinned to the mattress, afraid to move in case so much as a finger brushes up against him, unsure if you can hold yourself back with the lingering memory of the dream.

"You mean the truth is that you really are worried I snore?" You ask, trying to break the unbearable tension.

His answer is the most serious he's sounded all day. There isn't a trace of humour, of teasing, just a tiredness, the kind that comes from pretending to smile all day, the kind that signals a surrender.

"No, I could live with that. I mean the dreaming part. I'd like it if you dreamt about me."

"Oh." You can't find anything else to say to that, your heart hammering so loudly in your chest you're sure even through his damaged ear he can hear it.

The ongoing silence suddenly feels heavy, like a crushing weight on your chest, the truth feels like lead in your belly. Poe hasn't made a single noise in a while but you get the distinct feeling he isn't asleep. You wonder if he's laying still too, muddling through his thoughts.

You can't take back your behaviour towards him but you can at least give him something in return.

"Poe?"

The response is instant, "Yeah?"

You take a breath, swallowing hard, your fingers twisting into the sheet at the edge of the bed, nervously gripping them.

"Every day," you whisper quietly.

"Huh?"

You feel a slight shift as he must turn to look at you.

You clear your throat, staring hard enough at the ceiling that your eyes start to burn, repeating yourself louder.

"I said every day. I lied earlier. It's not once or twice. I think about kissing you every day. I have for a while," you admit.

A sudden blinding light obscures your vision, making you cry out in surprise and squeeze your eyes shut against the sudden intrusion. Coloured lights flash behind your eyelids and you have to blink a few times in order to see anything.

When the room comes back into focus Poe is sitting bolt upright in the bed, staring down at you, the bedside lamp illuminating his head like a synthetic halo.

"You were dreaming about me!"

With a groan you grab the pillow and hold it over your own face, deciding if you can't smother him you could just smother yourself instead, which seems like the better option than actually having this conversation.

You feel the pillow tug back gently, but you hold fast, refusing to give it up.

"Come on, let go and talk to me. You've said it now." A grunt of effort and a hard tug on the pillow before Poe sighs. "I'm not going away so you're either going to suffocate or talk."

"Then I'll suffocate," you mumble into the pillow, already regretting saying anything.

"You know I can't hear you right? Come on." This time he tucks his fingers under yours and peels them off the pillow cover until it falls halfway off your face.

"Better," he smiles, letting go of your hands to remove it entirely. "Why are you hiding from me?"

"I don't want to see your smug smile about how right you are," you glare, trying to hide your embarrassment that you've blurted out exactly what you've been trying to conceal from him. Once more, Poe takes your attitude in his stride.

"I've thought about kissing you too, you know? In fact I've thought about kissing you at least four times since you woke me up." He gives a shrug, like you should know that, like it's completely utterly normal for someone to think about kissing you that many times in the space of ten minutes.

You bite your lip, familiar tendrils of desire reigniting in your belly. Your body, still clearly on edge from your illicit dream, thrums with tension.

"So why haven't you done it yet?"

Poe rolls his eyes, as though the answer is obvious. "Clearly I'm building up the sexual tension for it!"

You're done letting him have the upper hand in this. In a surge of confidence, and to stop the smug look on his face, you wrap your hand around the back of the pilot's neck, before you pull his lips to yours. You feel Poe's brief smile, probably of victory, against your mouth before he kisses you back.

It's soft at first, almost sweet tender kisses, short and playful, getting to know each other. He kisses your top and bottom lip, he gives you tiny pecks of affection, he licks playfully at your bottom lip.

Effortlessly he shifts his weight over you, slotting himself between your thighs as though you were made to fit together. His tongue licks into your mouth, slick and hot, sliding against your own as he presses his body against yours, your kisses descending into something much more passionate.

Maker, the rumours weren't wrong. He is good at this, better than good actually, infuriatingly good. You can't even find any fault to tease him about.

You tangle your fingers in his curls, tugging gently and causing the pilot to moan into your mouth. You give a shiver of desire at the sound, your mind filled with thoughts of how you can draw it from him in other ways. Poe's mind seems to be on a similar track, his hips grinding against yours, pressing himself against your core and causing you to let out a gasp of surprise at the jolt of pleasure.

Perhaps there was a little sexual tension after all.

The pilot pulls away, his chest heaving, eyes dark and lips kiss swollen, his curls messy and tousled from your fingers.

"Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean to get carried away so quickly," he apologises, swallowing hard as he clearly tries to get a handle on himself, holding his body off yours, allowing a brief respite for you both to collect yourselves.

"I don't mind getting carried away," you admit, still feeling feverish with his closeness, your mind filled with the fantasy of your dreams. You raise your hips, pressing up against his clothed length, making the pilot let out a choked moan of surprise before his eyes darken.

"Well in that case," he grins, recovering all too quickly. Desire coils in your belly and before you can drag his mouth back to yours, in true Poe fashion, he continues talking. "Why don't you tell me what I was doing in this dream of yours?"

You give him a coy smile. As if he's going to get it out of you that easily.

"Fulfilling my deepest fantasy," you answer as Poe licks his lips, eagerly leaning forward to listen.

"Oh yeah? What fantasy might that be?"

"You were quiet for a whole five minutes," you sigh dreamily. It takes a second to register with him before he leans back bursting out laughing. You can't help but start to giggle yourself.

"Okay, I deserved that!" He laughs. "My methods may be unorthodox, but they work!"

He was entirely correct in that him being his usual annoying self was exactly what you had needed as a distraction, although you're sure there were less annoying ways to achieve the same means.

"I don't know. I actually considered murdering you at least a few times. Maybe I still will, when you're fast asleep and least expecting it," you warn, running a finger along your throat in a playful threat.

Poe hums, leaning back down over you, caging you to the bed with his arms.

"What exactly makes you think either of us will be going back to sleep?"

Oh.

There's another rush of heat that tingles against your skin, shooting straight down to your aching core. It's not at all helped by the fact Poe leans down to capture your lips, his tongue slipping between your teeth as he moves one hand to grip your hip, sliding it slowly up your body and under your shirt to trail his fingers across your breast.

You moan into his mouth as he rolls your peaked nipple between his fingers, grinding yourself up against him, uncaring of whatever commentary he wants to make as long as you can deal with this rapidly intensifying desire.

When he finally pulls away once more it's hard to get your breath, especially as he continues to steal little kisses from you, his fingers still resting against your skin.

Bracing himself on one arm above you, the other slides down to tiptoe over your hip.

"Do I have your consent to remove these ugly pants?" He grins teasingly, pulling at the waistband of your shorts. They had seen better days in all fairness but you hadn't really considered anyone else seeing them.

"Hey, they aren't that bad! Not like you're the pinnacle of fashion." In retaliation you poke your finger through a hole in the leg of his threadbare sleep pants, making the pilot laugh.

"These are my lucky pants."

You can't help but snort with a roll of your eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard."

Poe raises one eyebrow, a smug smile tugging at his lips.

"They got you into my bed didn't they?"

You scoff, "The hotel management got me into this bed."

"You know what, you're right. Maybe I should go thank them now," Poe muses, his grin turning into a laugh as you wrap your arms around him, preventing him from leaving.

"Will you please just stop talking?" You laugh, wondering how much of the night is even left. You swear if the sun rises and you haven't resolved this, you will combust of need, and you will take the pilot out with you.

Poe raises his eyebrows.

"Well, I would, but you still haven't answered my original question."

You stare at him, trying to figure out what exactly he's talking about before you realise.

"For the love of… Yes Poe, I give you consent to do whatever you want to me as long as you stop dragging this out like a massive tease!"

The pilot lets out a soft chuckle, leaning down to brush his nose against yours, a soft gesture in a stark contrast to what leaves his mouth, "dangerous words, sweetheart."

You almost shudder with the flash of desire that bolts through you, making sharp heat rush across your skin and your pussy clench.

"I need you to make me a promise first though," his fingers slip across your abdomen, resting just above the waistband of your pants. The feverish desire at his touch is overshadowed by annoyance that he's still talking. Maker, you swear he won't survive till sunrise.

"Po-

"I'm going to need you to be loud," he purrs in your ear, cutting you off as his hand slips under your waistband. "I don't want to miss a single noise you make."

Even if you wanted to be quiet, the pad of his finger slipping across your clit causes your body to react in a primal way, letting out an embarrassing loud moan for such a little touch.

Poe chuckles.

"Just like that." He praises, sliding his finger down further to dip into your entrance, letting out a soft groan of his own at how wet you are, before he drags it back up, spreading your slick over your aching clit and making you whine again. "Can you do that for me? Can you be loud enough?"

The best you can muster is a whimper as he slowly thrusts his finger knuckle deep into you.

"Nu-huh," Poe chides, "loud."

A second finger quickly joins the first, stretching your walls and filling you more than your own ever could. This time you arch your back off the bed, chasing the blissful feeling as a much louder groan tears itself from your throat.

"Better," Poe grins. "I heard that one."

You want to smother him, you want to kiss him, but most of all, despite his annoying little smug smile, you still desperately want to fuck him.

You decide on option two, at least for the moment, pulling his lips down to yours.

His tongue licks into your mouth as he thrusts his fingers inside you at a leisurely pace, swallowing each whine and moan you give at the pleasure skittering and coiling in you.

Poe curls his fingers, pressing up against that spot inside you, making you pull away from his kiss to throw your head back in pleasure, a loud groan of his name escaping. You're half expecting him to make some sort of cocky comment, but Poe seems as lost in this as you are. He drops his head to press open mouthed kisses across your neck, biting and sucking, marking and claiming you as his.

When he works a third finger into you, his thumb brushing against your clit, you come undone. Normally you would feel embarrassed about how loud you are, the way your body shudders and heaves, your pussy clenching hard around his fingers, but the shaky little fuck Poe groans in your ear, obliterates any notion of embarrassment.

As you come down from your high, your body still trembling from the aftershock, whining as he slips his fingers from you, you realise he's breathing almost as heavily as you are, his breath coming out in short pants as he looks you over.

"I need to fuck you," he growls, clearly struggling with his own needs.

You're already nodding before he gets halfway through his request. Whatever he needs, whatever he wants, you'll give it to him without hesitation.

He all but tears your pyjamas from you, making short work of removing them and throwing them across the room, before his join the unceremonious pile on the floor.

This time you allow yourself to look, you allow yourself to take in his broad chest, the little scars crisscrossed with a larger one, old and new, your gaze trailing down across his abdomen to the line of hair that guides your eyes down to -

"Are you done admiring?" Poe's amused tone makes your eyes snap back up to his, your face growing warm with embarrassment that you've been caught staring, although you know he has probably done exactly the same to you.

"I don't know about admiring," you shrug as though your pussy isn't pulsing at the thought of him burying his cock deep inside you. "Think the resistance needs to re-evaluate their best looking pilot status."

Poe simply grins at you, seeing through your nonchalance all too clearly.

"Good to know you like what you see. Tell me, how wet did it make you to see me earlier, all soaked and shirtless?"

"Didn't," is all you are able to punch out as he leans down, pressing his body against yours, rolling his hips just slightly so his hard cock brushes against your slick folds, holding himself at your entrance like the tease he is.

"Really?" He smirks, "Somehow I think you are lying. But alright, I'll get the truth out of you, one way or another." The threat gives you a rush of excitement, wondering exactly how he's going to do that. Not that you're going to let him know that so easily.

"Are you going to keep talking or are we going to-" your question cuts off into a gasp of pleasure as he presses himself inside you, slowly, so you can feel every vein and ridge as he stretches your walls.

"Are we going to what?" He grins.

You slap his arm in reply but there's no power behind it, you're too busy concentrating on the wet noise as he pulls out of you before slowly pressing back in, making you whimper in need. The first time your pussy clenches around him it's involuntary, the second time it's just to enjoy the little groan the action draws from the pilot.

"Stop," he warns, his head dropping to your shoulder, clearly trying to steady his breathing as you clench around him a third time, just for fun. "Taking it slow."

"You don't have to take it slow," you assure him. For a moment you think it's sweet he's considering your comfort but you're more than ready for this.

"I want to," he grits as you clench around him again. The tone of his voice lets you know he's digging his stubborn heels in and nothing will change his mind. Even so you need more than he's offering. This has gone on too long, the tension is too much, the need drumming through your veins screams to be sated.

You whine, you beg, you plead, you drag your nails along his back and arch your hips against him, but he doesn't give. He rocks into you slowly, achingly slowly, maddeningly slowly, and for all your initial protests you enjoy every second of it.

The pleasure builds just as slow, each roll of his hips winding the cord tighter and tighter until you're sure you can't take any more, and then it pulls further. You can't do anything but surrender to the bliss it offers, raising your hips to meet his in the hopes his resolve will eventually break.

"You're incredible you know?" He pants against your mouth, sweat beading at his hairline, his curls sticking to his forehead, his eyes hooded and glazed. "Not just at this, but this too."

All you can do is stare at him, somewhat dazed, wondering how he's even thinking in coherent sentences right now, let alone speaking them. Somewhere your subconscious registers his words and it accompanies a host of butterflies in your belly.

"Just you, exactly as you are. You are incredible," he repeats, only this time it comes with a much harder thrust. You arch against him, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your head drops back against the pillows.

"Poe, please," you beg, unsure if you are able to take much more. Clearly neither can he, his name on your lips undoing his patience. He wraps his fingers around your thigh, hoisting your leg up over his hip as he sinks deeper into you, picking up the pace.

His hips slam into yours, filling the room with the sound of flesh on flesh, accompanied only by his curses and praises that fall freely and loudly. For all his requests for you to be loud the pilot's own moans are enough to drown yours out.

Working a hand between your bodies you press a finger to your clit, rubbing tight circles around the hardened nub as Poe angles his hips, pressing up against the blissful spot inside you. Your whole body almost arches up off the bed with the combined pleasure catapulting through you, an almost screamed curse fighting its way out of your throat.

Poe groans low and shakily, barely holding his own climax back, his thrusts becoming messy and mistimed.

"That's it baby. Fuck wanna feel you cum, wanna hear you," he groans, completely wrecked.

That's all it takes. Your orgasm hits suddenly and brightly, your whole body writhing and stiffening as the pleasure overtakes you, coursing through your veins like lava, making your vision go white as you tremble through it. Poe had wanted to hear you, but the purely feral noise you let out, you wouldn't be surprised if the whole damn hotel heard you. You're sure Poe would probably enjoy it if they did.

It's almost too much for your oversensitive body to feel Poe thrusting into you faster and harder, chasing his own end, babbled curses and praises falling from his lips. You shake with overstimulation when his hips stutter, emptying himself deep inside you, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders as you cling desperately to him, your thighs trembling, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

Poe half collapses on you, letting your leg down slowly as he presses soft kisses to your neck, against every love bite he's given you in the heat of the moment. You suspect there may be quite a few questions when you get back to the base tomorrow. Turning your head you press a soft kiss to his cheek, making him lean up to look at you.

"Better than you dreamt?" He grins, still flushed and panting.

"I didn't dream about that," you giggle breathlessly, shaking limbs melting into the mattress, sated and tired. Poe raises his eyebrows, letting out a thoughtful hum before he suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper and immediately miss the feeling of him inside you.

Shuffling down your body he presses a soft kiss between your breasts. You frown at him, confused by his sudden movement and how he still has so much energy. How is it you're a wrecked mess and he's still acting like he can go another ten rounds? Why can't he just be still for one second?

Another kiss to your ribs, first the right side, then the left, moving slowly down, before he pauses, looking up through his lashes at you.

"You didn't dream about us making love?"

You go to make fun of his choice of language but before you have a chance he licks a hot stripe down to your naval, making your breath catch with the sudden rush of pleasure. You're starting to question if he's able to read your thoughts, if he knows the truth of your dream already. Perhaps you had said more than just his name in your sleep?

"Nope, not about us," you breathe unsteadily, trying to hold yourself back from begging anything from him again. You suspect you know what's coming next and honestly, you're not sure if your body is able to handle it, barely over your first two climaxes. Still you weren't about to give in to his questions, he'd never shut up if you admit it. "Told you, I wasn't dreaming about you."

"You are a terrible liar," Poe states, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them apart. The rush of cold air against your heated flesh makes you gasp and the pilot smirks, his eyes flickering down to your swollen cunt, leaking with your combined climax before coming back to you, a devilish grin taking over his face.

"'Whatever I want to do to you' still stand?" He asks.

All you can do is nod mutely, a fresh wave of need building despite your exhaustion.

"Good," Poe grins, pinning your thighs to the mattress, preventing you from moving. "Because I'm going to get the truth out of you my way."

He does exactly that. He drags the truth out of you to every question he wants answered and more, twice with his mouth, then again with his cock, reducing you to a babbling trembling mess, willing to tell him whatever he wanted to know, and he's infuriatingly smug about it.

~

Poe had been surprisingly tender afterwards. He'd carefully cleaned you up, brought you a glass of water, massaged your sore muscles, before he'd finally pulled you into his arms, holding you close against him.

Of course you had known Poe was kind, of course you knew he took care of the people he was close to, even those who only spent the night with him. There were enough stories around the base to give you a general idea of that, but for some reason you can't place this felt different, it felt intimate.

What surprised you more than anything was how quiet he was now. Appart from a few murmured words about how good you had been for him, and to check you were alright, he hadn't said much at all. It was almost unnerving after his behaviour all day. Really if you had known this would have shut him up you might have jumped on him hours ago. But now, the silence seems worrying.

"You okay?" You ask, your head still against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as his fingers draw mindless patterns against your back.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I was just thinking…maybe we can do this again? Sometime soon? Be in the same bed I mean." The pilot asks. He doesn't sound like the cocky confident Flyboy you're expecting. If anything he sounds a little unsure of his own question.

You won't give him the satisfaction of the enthusiastic yes that tries to escape. The last thing you want out of this night is to become some regular casual hook-up. Poe wasn't exactly known for keeping long term relationships, citing the fact it was too difficult during the middle of a war, which you suppose you could understand. He was at least always very clear about that with whoever he got involved with.

Equally you don't want to say no. You want this, him. You want the moments of passion and quiet, you want the teasing and fights, you want more in whatever way you can.

In the end you go for the middle ground, giving him an option of more, while closely guarding yourself against this being a casual fuck.

"Hmm, suppose if you buy me dinner first then I might consider it. I don't make a habit of sleeping with people without dates."

It's disarmingly sweet when he presses a soft kiss to your head, tightening his arm around you. Your chest aches all the more for moments like this.

"Alright. A date it is." You can hear the smile in his voice, sleepy and happy.

You didn't exactly expect him to agree to that so easily, and while it gives you a flutter of hope, you don't quite trust he catches your meaning.

"I said I'd consider, I didn't say I'd agree. I might have other options," you warn, trying to get him to consider what he wants you to be to him.

Poe lets out a soft chuckle.

"You say that like your pretending it wasn't the best fuck of your life, and you're desperate to do it again."

You lean up on your arm to look at him, raising an eyebrow and fixing him with an unimpressed look at his cockyness.

"Tell me I'm wrong," he challenges confidently, "because if I am, then I'm just going to have to keep trying. The aim is to make you fall hopelessly in love with me eventually."

"Through sex?" You laugh, ignoring the now familiar butterflies that tell you he might be closer to his aim than he knows.

Poe shrugs, "through whatever necessary means, as long as I get to keep you as mine."

It's almost a knee jerk reaction to open your mouth and tell him you aren't a pet or property to be owned, but as you meet his gaze you realise you are once more judging him a little too quickly and all too harshly. It's clear he means more than that, his gaze open and vulnerable.

A warm feeling of familiarity, of safety, of something bigger, spreads through your very bones, something that shows there is much more than lust and affection, perhaps for both of you.

Your response is much softer than your initial reaction might have been, had you not taken a moment.

"Take me to dinner tomorrow then?"

"I think tomorrow might be today," Poe smiles, nodding towards the window where the faint pink light of dawn is starting to peek through the drawn blinds. You groan knowing sunrise both means you really should untangle yourself from the pilot and head back to base.

"Well honestly I think I've had enough of you for one day." You tease, pushing yourself off him and sitting up, debating if you can handle another cold shower. In all honesty a cold shower is probably exactly what you need after you make the mistake of glancing down at Poe, still naked, the sheet barely covering his more private parts, his curls messy from your fingers, peering up at you with a half smile.

"We both know you can never get enough of me," Poe states, before he wraps his arms around you and drags you back down onto the bed. He throws one leg over yours, effectively trapping you next to him as he snuggles up close to you.

You don't bother fighting, too tired from the night's activity to argue your way out of his grip. Sighing you sink into the bed, allowing your eyes to flutter closed.

"I knew this would work," Poe hums happily in your ear. You mumble enough of a sound to make him realise you're asking what he means.

"Getting you in a hotel room with me would make you admit you wanted me."

You give another tired hum in acknowledgement before his words finally hit you, and you sit up to stare at him, suddenly wide awake. Poe grins back at you, knowing exactly what you are thinking.

"Tell me this was not some plan to get me into bed!"

Poe feigns a comedic shocked expression, holding one hand to his chest as he stares open mouthed at you.

"Of course not! What do you think of me? Why is your opinion of me is so low that you think I'd go as far to break the ship engine, so we'd be stuck here alone, find the busiest hotel on this planet, specifically book one room knowing the others would be booked already by the time we got here, ask for the smallest bed-"

He doesn't get to continue. Picking up the pillow you repeatedly hit him hard with it while Poe laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

"I'm joking. I'm joking, I swear," he laughs, grabbing his own pillow and hitting you back. "I'd never purposely break a ship."

"You manipulative little shit,"

Neither of you surrender until the bed is covered with feathers, the pillowcases empty and discarded, your limbs tangled together, lips pressed against sweat salted skin. This time it's you who pries the truth from him, your way.

"My methods may be unorthodox but -" he gets no further before you smack him in the face with your pillow, causing him to dissolve into laughter once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[jiminrings]

fail-safe

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 8k

glimpse: growing up, your brother's best friend always berated you for not having a passion in life outside of loving him from afar. when yoongi leaves everything he's ever known for everything he's ever wanted, trying to move on from him becomes your biggest aspiration.

alternatively, yoongi left when you needed him the most, and comes back home at a time when you love him the least.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ a Lot of angst, eventual fluff, brother's best friend AND single dad au, So Much Yearning, unrequited love (initial), jealousy, self-deprecation, a lot of talk abt passion in an empty n hurtful way that most impassioned youngest children feel (it's a specific feeling idk!!!), eventual redemption in the next parts ]

notes: finally got to writing a new series!!! i'm beyond excited for this + this whole new concept and flow i haven't touched on before <3 i hope u love fail-safe as much as i do :-)

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! | series masterlist

Yoongi buys atleast one scratch ticket a week.

The accessibility of buying one is top-notch considering that all he has to do is cross the street, shoot one look to the cashier, and he can either already go hunch in the corner of the road or in the comfort of his room. The moment his coin takes its first dig and he realizes that he’s won yet again, he’s satisfied enough not to buy another ticket.

He doesn’t want to risk losing the win he’s just gained, the odds of him throwing out money besting his chances in adding to his earnings. He thinks everyone’s a little greedy one way or another, but it’s the righteous part of him that thinks he’s different.

You do think that he is for all the right reasons, your vision only tunneling for him alone. He’s this fixed older figure in your life and you can’t figure out how to shrug him off — he’s this generous leech that sucks all of the rationality from your mind but returns it to you twofold, whether in the form of him saying something unintentionally endearing that it makes your chest hurt, or through him having to lightly smack the back of your head.

Yoongi’s your older brother’s best friend and there’s a novelty tag that comes with him, one that can’t be topped by any material possession to your name. He’s there for you, not in the exact way you want him to be, but nonetheless there. He’s special and unattainable at the same time, the finiteness of his love barely extending to you.

He’s there when you want him to burn the latest songs onto a CD you’ve spent all your allowance in, and he’s there when you get annoyed that he sneaked some of his own recommendations in there. You’re there when you later admit that his suggestions aren’t half-bad, and you also happen to be there when he grins at the praise.

He’s there when Namjoon won’t cough up the last slice of his cutlet, not because he’ll actually give you his, but because he’ll help your brother guard his plate. You’d only have to mope for a solid of three seconds before the two of them give up both of their last slices, and you’re there when Yoongi insists for you to try the sauce in the spirit of going out of your routine.

You don’t need Yoongi every single time but in the event that you do, he hangs back. He contemplates and hesitates and doesn’t give in to every single whim that you have, but he’ll be there. He lingers like the last holiday ornament you don’t want to remove until it’s February, his presence being oddly similar to your favorite festivities.

Yoongi’s the equivalent of a holiday you look forward to with each passing month and day; he comes around to and for you in instances, but never even in your most sincere wishes.

“I buy one scratch ticket a week — three if I’m really feeling lucky. When my palms itch, that’s when I know that I really need to buy them.”

He’s calm and collected even when you’re scrunching your nose up at him in combined worry and disbelief, humming mindlessly as you collect your thoughts. He randomly told you about his lottery routine and you’re still trying to wrap your head around how he blows his money off just easily. Yoongi has the mind to put scrap cardboard under you because sitting on the hot concrete with your uniform on can’t possible be a good idea, but you try to play off your fluster into stubbornness.

He’s just playing with his two ever-present coins (lucky charms as he calls them)— one that’s shiny and minted in the present year, the other being the oldest coin he’s ever had that happens to be older than he is — while you mutter about.

“I don’t know, Yoongs. That might be a gambling problem,” you squint, your side comment being heard clearly as day. “Might be the symptoms for hand, foot, and mouth disease too.”

“What— I do not have a gambling problem! My skin’s perfectly fine too, thanks,” he defends, the light shove he gives you doing nothing to tone down your teasing.

“That’s what people with gambling problems say.”

“Give me that-…” he mutters, trying to wrestle you for the sundae he bought you using the money he won from his scratch ticket just awhile ago. You don’t give in easily, even if your laughs that come straight from your chest suggest otherwise. “You don’t get it. It’s just this nice, fun little thing I can look forward to every week. I always buy the cheapest version anyway so when I lose, it’s not a big deal.”

You relent (like you always do when it comes to Yoongi) in understanding, waving him off after regaining your breath. “Nah. I get it. We all have to do things so we wouldn’t lose our shit,” you trail, racking your head to find the right words.“Yours is buying scratch tickets, and mine is-…”

“Yours is what?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow, lips quirked in eagerness to know where you’re going with this. He can’t pinpoint a single thing he can attach to you and neither can you, your actual interests merely reflecting those of the people whom you love.

You love cross-stitching because your mom loves doing it, the tolerance you have for accidentally being pricked by the needle growing over time.

You enjoy playing badminton because Namjoon’s obsessed with the sport, no matter how ratty your rackets and shuttlecocks have become, and no matter how much he pushes you to ring the doorbell to your neighbor’s when he’s sent it flying to their backyard.

You’re probably an imposter yet you don’t feel like it. You don’t feel bad that your life most probably and will only revolve around your mom and Namjoon (maybe even Yoongi); you don’t feel dissatisfied that your life’s mundane. 

You go where your love goes.

“Mine is watching you buy scratch tickets,” you shrug easily as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, making him laugh heartily. You’ve probably done something right because he hauls you up to your feet immediately.

“Get up. I’m buying you your first ticket,” he nudges you, grabbing you by the arm in excitement.

“But I’m not even legal!” you half-heartedly argue, internally excited that you’re finally getting to try your hand at the lottery because you’ve spent a few hundred minutes of your life tuned to the channel to pass the time, awaiting the results for something you haven’t even betted for.

“Right. Like I haven’t seen you trying to squeeze out a drop of beer from our empty cans whenever Namjoon and I drink.”

“Rude,” you roll your eyes playfully, gathering your things from the ground.

“It’s okay. I’ll give you your first sip of beer too if you want,” Yoongi offers sincerely; easily as if you’ve just asked him about the weather.

He’s here to buy you your first scratch ticket, and he’s still here to offer giving you your first sip of liquor in the future.

Your family friend for a cashier vehemently ignores the fact that you’re still underage to participate in the lottery, and instead only chuckles to herself in amusement. She’s an aunt that knows when to step in and not to, and she knows you won’t be harmed by a mere bet. In fact, she knows you won’t be harmed by anything with Yoongi in tow.

“I already used up all my change,” your frown in realization, holding the ticket in your hands in despair despite having scoured your wallet repeatedly.

“Rub it against the pavement. That’s what I do,” Yoongi lies fluidly, a scoff being caught in his throat when you actually attempt to do it.  “I was only kidding, Y/N. Jeez,” he groans, pulling out his wallet. “Ugh. Here. You can have one of my lucky coins.”

It’s the old one, tarnished beyond relief that you can barely recognize what it’s actual value is supposed to be.

“Ew. I’m giving it back. It looks prehistoric,” you narrow your eyes, knowing that you don’t even have to put your fingers nears your nose to know that it’s already left a faint stench on them.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, a habit he can’t tell he’s formed himself or got from you. “If you use your brain for one second, you’d realize that it’s actually worth more because it’s older. Collectors would go crazy for that in the future.”

“That sounds like a hoarding problem.”

He’s just had about enough of your whining so he attempts to trade in the old coin for his lucky new one, but you stop him at the last minute with a meek smile.

“Kidding. Thank you. I’ll keep it safe, Yoongi. I promise,” you rush out before he changes his mind, scratching your ticket in silence.

He waits for you because you’re scratching so politely and neatly, a stark opposite to his experienced skill of scratching the paint off in ten strokes or less.

Your face is too close to the ticket that Yoongi can’t tell what’s happening, making him part your hair like a curtain to peek.

“Did you win?”

“Nope.”

“Let me throw that out for you.”

“No!” you squeak, keeping the ticket close to your chest. It’s a bummer that your first time is a loss, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to forget the sentiment behind it. “I-I mean no, I’ll keep it. It’s memorable now that I think about it.”

“Alright,” he shrugs carelessly, a smile breaking out in retaliation. “Hoarder.”

“Gambler,” you spit, tucking the ticket into your pencil case. “Next week again?”

Yoongi agrees, wrapping his head around the fact that he doesn’t have to be alone in his little routine every Friday.

“Sure.”

( ♡ )

You don’t mind getting hand-me-downs.

As a matter of fact, you love receiving them. The wear and tear of the things that came before you is only proof that it’s been loved enough to be passed on to you.

You adore your mother’s dainty vintage watch that she wore throughout college, the hardware and sentiment behind it being pretty enough that you don’t mind constantly getting the battery replaced. You like Namjoon’s shirts that he’s outgrown, even through the numerous phases he’s had wherein only denim and tie-dye filled his closet.

You don’t mind the history behind the numerous things you have in your home, unbothered that you’re probably the only house in the block with the oldest possible rice cooker. The chips in the staircase aren’t covered up with marker ink and neither are the loose stitches in the couch quilt snipped off. It’s home to your mother and Namjoon — if it’s good enough for them, then it’s already the best for you.

Even on top of everything, you don’t mind your family almost always getting you shirts and shoes that have an allowance in them. Your mom would go to Seoul and pick out the exact pair of sneakers you wanted that are atleast three sizes bigger than your actual feet, and you’d barely bat an eye. 

You don’t mind the coziness of things that are brought to you, because even if they weren’t offered, you’d seek them yourself. 

So when Yoongi mentioned that he’s decluttering his room and needed someone (read: you) to vacuum it up for him, you jump at the chance. You take a grocery bag with you, wear the nearest pair of slippers within your vicinity, and book it to his house as soon as he finished talking.

“Go crazy, kid. Almost everything in that pile is garbage so you can take anything.”

“I feel like I should be more offended than how I feel right now,” you hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the pile in front of you. It’s a mound of Yoongi, or atleast everything he’s ever wanted up until he decided to do a general cleaning of his bedroom.

Yoongi chuckles, going through his pile of clean laundry for him to fold on the side while you scavenge for his things. “It’s either I have you take them or I get ripped off at the thrift store, then I see somebody’s uncle wearing my shirt as an added insult.”

You huff, rummaging through his heap of belongings while conveniently trying to ignore that you may look like somebody’s uncle the moment you wear his clothes. Everything is him; every distressed cap, every unfinished embroidered shirt, and every item of old significance with his initials branded on it.

The thick gray hoodie you’ve been eyeing (along with its owner) for the better part of the last few years surfaces into your field of vision, your gasp audible enough to make him jolt because he thought you’d gotten hurt.

“No way, this too? But this is your favorite,” you half-complain and half-rejoice, turning the hoodie inside-out eagerly in the fear that there’s a catch to it belonging in the pile.

“Eh. I know it looked good on me but I don’t think it’s my favorite. Besides, I’ve bulked up! Wanna feel?” Yoongi grins, his segue eerily similar to your brother’s at every given chance. A neighbor from down the block recently opened a small-time gym, and the both of them have not been able to shut their mouths about it since. From their gossiping alone, Yoongi and Namjoon have generated enough advertising already.

“You and Namjoon really have to stop asking random people to feel your biceps.”

There’s random knick-knacks throughout the clump in the middle of his bed, some being too good and actually useful that you snag them. Yoongi lets you do what you want anyways (most of the time), not having to turn his head to berate you on what you’re only allowed to grab from his stuff.

You’re not greedy — you already have his hoodie and that should be enough on its own. But there’s that handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it, then that Rubik’s cube he swore his relative got for him from New York, and even the little butterfly knife he got from a souvenir shop when his family when to the beach.

There were those and there is this, looking up at you in all of its glory.

“Yoongi.” 

“What now?” he sighs at your dramatic gasp, looking up from his folded laundry to see what you were going on about. It takes a second for him to fully realize why exactly were you so pumped.

“Are you serious? Your helmet?” you squeal, already hugging the shiny red mass close to you. “Does this mean you’re passing your motorcycle to me?!”

“Are you crazy? Fuck no,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, snatching his helmet back from you. He doesn’t miss the bratty frown that fills up your entire face; he’s not exactly the biggest fan whenever you were upset or angry; maybe even both. “Obviously I forgot I even put my helmet there when I made that pile.”

You whine, stomping your feet in exasperation. You would dramatically plop down on his bed if only it wasn’t full of his shit. “Come on! You told me you were teaching me as soon as you finish teaching Joon.”

“Teaching you how to ride my scooter is not the same as giving you it. Why would I just hand you what I bought with my hard-earned money?” Yoongi scrunches his nose, tone sharper than what he intended.

“But you still haven’t taught me,” you murmur to placate yourself and dissuade yourself from the delusion that Yoongi would even exert such an effort for you because of course — why would he do that for you?

You have an inkling that you’re being irrational for all the wrong reasons, perhaps even projecting your need to be looked after… by him.

Yoongi notices your mood that turned sour quickly, the silence between you becoming loaded. He didn’t mean to be that blunt. “I don’t think you’re even old enough to have your driving permit,” he adds in consolation, voice considerably softer.

You snicker lowly, still looking at your feet with your arms crossed. “But I’m old enough to backpack whenever you need me to carry shit that can’t fit in your carrier.”

He immediately groans at your comeback, his furrowed eyebrows mirroring yours. “You’re so stubborn.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” you retort, knowing for a fact he’s known how to drive even before he was eligible for permits and licenses and whatnot. 

Yoongi takes one, two seconds to himself to regain his composure, clearing his head in the process. You’re still not looking at him and you’re pouting and you don’t even notice the latter, making him crack a small smile.

“I will teach you next week.”

“Oh my-…”

He cuts you off, raising his hand in emphasis. “Provided that you listen to everything I say and wear full gear at all times. You clearly don’t have a job yet-…”

“Ouch.”

“And I don’t have the extra money to buy full gear for myself, so what you’ll do is bundle up with your padded coat and the thickest jeans you have,” Yoongi enunciates every word, eyes keenly on you. They’re too wide and alert, you actually feel like listening to him.

“You go on rides wearing your pajamas.”

“Just say ‘thank you, Yoongi’.” 

“You haven’t done anything yet,” you trail off, head tilting in confusion. 

You’ve had a million conversations like this with Yoongi before but of different fonts; worn, familiar, and warm.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he mouths, nodding at you to do the same. He won’t stop until you utter them back to him, and you know you won’t go home either without giving him your gratitude as you always do.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” you relent, the grin that breaks through your lips being infectious enough that he laughs lowly to himself.

He exhales all the worries he has and could possibly ever have seeing you ride the motorcycle (or for you yearning to do everything that he does), grasping at whatever sanity he has left from looking after you.

“You can have the helmet.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi knows the ins and outs of your home.

He’s been at your house too much to the point that your mom already gave him a spare key and nobody batted an eye about it. He has his own designated slippers at the entryway too, something you would only use in a hurry if you needed to sign off on a package.

Yoongi, for some reason unfathomable (not really; you can tell exactly why because your mom is an extremely warm and inviting person), also has the power of dibs on the food in your fridge. He’d put strips of masking tape with his name on food that’s neither brought in nor made for him in the first place. 

It should be off-putting — the way that for too many yet too little reason, Yoongi has become a prominent figure in your life even if you didn’t ask him to. You should be peeved that you have to set up four plates more often that you set up only three; you should be annoyed at some point that when you wake up at random times through the night, you’re not totally alone to begin with.

You shouldbe angry at Yoongi to a degree because he’s in your life and you don’t get to have a say on how he stays in it. The only problem is that you’re not, and probably never will.

“Can’t sleep?” you mutter as you look up from your strikingly clear paper, seeing Yoongi strut across the floor with a casualness that only real occupants of the house should supposedly possess. He has his brows furrowed at you as if he didn’t expect to see you in your living room, scratching his head in wonder.

“Why are you up?”

“Stressed,” you sigh, giving up altogether in attempting to make yourself look busy. Yoongi drives by your fridge to get himself a can of beer, finally seating himself beside you on the floor. 

“Stressed about what? I’m sure it’s not about studying,” he snorts, unsurprised at your paper and the clear lack of motivation behind it. You only roll your eyes at him and he has half a mind to not remind you to not do it so much, the frown in your face reminding him that you really were frustrated.

It is you to throw the occasional tantrum, but he remembers that it was only when you were young; when Namjoon would whisper gibberish to his ear and purposely not whisper to yours just so he could tease you, or when nobody would believe that you taught yourself how to ride a bike with no training wheels. You didn’t know how to do the latter at all, but what had made you throw a tantrum was that nobody believed you.

You notice Yoongi’s digs, of course. You notice each one of his more than unsubtle nods to your intelligence and whatnot, the shots at your intellect not flying over your head like he expected them to.  You admit that you’ve never been that scholastic; you weren’t born a genius and you don’t try exactly hard either.

Yoongi’s only joking but you can’t help but to think that he’s pertaining to something deeper, his constant digs at your lack of a passion making you sluggish.

“We have to write this essay,” you answer simply, your tone straightforward and unwilling for banter but Yoongi bites anyway.

“But essays are the easiest,” he trails, looking at you the whole time as he takes a sip of his beer.

You exhale heavily because no matter what, he just can’t seem to get it. Yoongi knows where you’re coming from but he doesn’t know where you’re headed. As a matter of fact, you don’t know where you’re headed either. “We have to write an essay about where we see ourselves ten years from now.”

“But that’s still easy.”

“If it’s so easy, then go write it for me,” you snicker, leaning back with a huff. He constantly undermines you and although you own up to your striking mundaneness from time to time, it didn’t mean that you liked being looked down on. Yoongi’s too used to you being yourself, he gets taken aback when you grow sick of your own.

He gathers all his willpower, far from being sleepy unlike you who would’ve been lulled to sleep if only you weren’t dead-set on arguing with him. “You know what? I actually will,” he claps, handing you his beer. “Go hold this for me.”

Yoongi grips your pen for dear life like you hold his beer, his hand warm as he works from sheer determination alone (he’s not competing with anyone except for whatever expectation you have for him and your paper), while yours was cold just holding his drink.

You’ve been so quiet that he actually gets curious, turning his head to check to see if you’ve dozed off when actually, it’s just you eyeing the can.

“No one’s watching,” Yoongi breaks you out of your thoughts, carelessly shrugging. He cares and he’s far too concerned for you, but he figures that nothing would hurt you so long as he can grasp you. “It’s okay. You can have your first sip.”

You blink owlishly at him and when he jokes about taking it back, you take your first swig of beer in a panic. Yoongi only shakes his head in amusement, pausing his writing just to see the look on your face.

“One more?” he asks right after he sees you wince, the unbearable sweetness yet bitter, stinging aftertaste of the beer making you shudder. 

You have the urge to wash off the taste with ice cold water (you’ll even drink from the tap because you’re so desperate), but you resist it just so you wouldn’t look like a weakling in front of him. You wave him off with a bitterness, upset that beer doesn’t taste like what you’ve always imagined it to be. “Just write my essay for me,” you mull over the taste in your tongue, in deep thought while you stare at Yoongi’s back ahead of you. “Do all beers taste that way?”

“Eh. Most of them do. You develop a taste for it later on,” he answers, taking the can back from you before drinking it himself. He looks too dedicated in writing your essay, only goading the curiosity in you to peek over his shoulder.

He knows you, both in heart and memory, because he shields your own paper from you when he sees your shadow hovering above him.

“Yoongi?”

“Hm.”

“I told you why I’m up. Why are you up?”

He’s silent entirely, the only indication that he heard your question being his hand pausing abruptly. Yoongi doesn’t answer, and you don’t ask again. “Don’t worry about it.”

You take his answer to heart, dozing off on the couch before you know it. You don’t remember a blanket being placed on you, nor can you remember preparing your backpack for school the next day.

Your paper’s neatly tucked into your portfolio bearing handwriting that’s clearly not yours, but with a sentiment that’s similar nonetheless. You read through everything quickly before even stepping towards your teacher, the tips of your fingers just as cold as Yoongi’s beer last night.

You’ve committed the paper into your memory, even until the last part with an excerpt you can’t forget despite having passed the paper already. You don’t know what to feel because it’s Yoongi who’s speaking for you, detailing that ten years from now, you will still be your mother’s daughter and your brother’s sister.

He wrote your essay either for you or in behalf of you, and you can’t tell which one is better.

Yoongi, who knows the ins and outs of your home and the peaks and troughs of your heart, writes in clear handwriting — Ten years from now, I will still be Yoongi’s rock.

( ♡ )

Surprisingly, Yoongi hasn’t been around that much lately.

Even Namjoon (who you consider as his Siamese twin) is clueless to why his friend hasn’t been hanging out with him lately to do either everything or nothing, confused because they’re enrolled to the same classes all the way to the same part-time jobs, yet Yoongi’s been mostly unavailable.

When Yoongi is, however, he doesn’t speak at all about his previous absences. He comes as if he’s never disappeared a few times before that, his evasion to talk about his presence being apparent even if you’ve asked him directly.

You’re getting used to his new routine of hanging out with you only when the both of you are free, no longer moving mountains for both of your schedules to line up. He’s more present this month than he was at the last, the criteria for it being how many times you bump into him in your own home.

Despite all odds and evens though, Yoongi can’t get used to your silence. He knows you hold grudges longer than your brother, and the last time that he checked, he knows you’ve already let go of your annoyance for him suddenly being unavailable without any explanation. 

It’s late, only the two of you are awake in the living room, there’s ten scratch tickets on the table for you to share, and he’s even gotten you your own glass to which he’ll put a controlled amount (a grand total of two long sips) of his own beer in. You’re not stressing about an essay this time, but the unconscious pout on your face is still the same.

“You’re awfully quiet.”

The frown on your face only goes deeper at being found out, the scratch of your lucky coin being the only clear thing that Yoongi hears. 

“My best friends want to have this slumber party,” you sigh, more upset about what you’ve just uttered than you are happy about the cash prize you’ve just won.

Yoongi takes what you say at face-value, groaning at his third straight loss for the night. “That’s great. Wear cute pajamas, snap a couple of polaroids, don’t be the first to fall asleep and last to wake up, and just keep a pocket knife with you when you’re going out by yourself.” 

The awe (and slight concern) over what he said should roll in any time now.

You should be comforted at Yoongi’s words because they’re supposed to ease the swirl of your stomach, even if what he just said is a repackaged version of what your family said before. You should let go of your worries because Yoongi, of all people, says that it’s supposed to be great.

Instead, you feel neither of what you think Yoongi wants you to.

“Was it something I said?” he mumbles after some time, turning his nose up at you as he tries to retrace his words. “I have an extra pocket knife you can borrow if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“We’re gonna be talking about boys, Yoongi,” you screw your eyes shut, sighing into the palms of your hands with a heaviness. “We’re gonna talk about crushes and experiences and all that.”

He shudders at that, his reaction mirroring Namjoon’s when you tried opening up to him. You get your brother’s reaction to a degree, of course, because you feel as if you’d be disgusted too if the roles were reversed. You want to talk about it with your mom too, but at the end of the day, she’s your parent and you just can’t talk about anything and everything with her. 

Yoongi’s your next plausible option.

“Do you want some ice cream right now? You know what, I’ll buy you-…” Yoongi tries to evade the topic altogether, his attempt of escaping feeble as you drag him down by his hoodie.

“I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

“Heh.”

Yoongi shrugs at that, regaining his words when you deadpan at him. “So? What about it?”

You starfish on the floor at that out of frustration, the whine you’ve been bottling up coming out in the open because as usual, Yoongi doesn’t get it. “I-I’m probably the only one in my grade who hasn’t kissed someone yet! I can’t just lie carelessly because obviously, they’ll ask around.”

“So?” Yoongi chuckles, his breeze towards your state shocking you. “What’s it to them if you haven’t had your first kiss?”

“You don’t get it,” you grit through your teeth, crossing your arms so hard that it feels hard to inhale.

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he sing-songs, drinking the last of his beer. When you’re not looking though, he plans to either drink or chuck the remainder of your share because he doesn’t want you to develop a taste for it.

The anger you have for Yoongi bubbles up once again, the itch in your throat unbearable. You’re presented with the age gap between you once more, along with the raging emptiness in you that Yoongi’s reached so far and you’ve reached so little.

“You don’t get it because you’ve had all of these experiences when you were younger than my age right now,” you snap, although you don’t look at him when you do. If you do look at him though, you’ll only be reminded of how a face like his could have everything in this world — even a first kiss you’ve never had.

“Yeah, and so?” he knits his brows, growing defensive. You weren’t lying at all, but he still feels a little offended at the dig. He’s not not proud of it, but with the way you say it, it’s like you want him to burn in shame,

“Stop saying so,” you angrily mumble in frustration, a little breathless because you still don’t ease up on crossing your arms.

Yoongi straightens his posture, staring you down with his jaw set. He’s stern as he is, nostrils flaring in irritation. “No, Y/N. I’m genuinely asking — so what? What’s it to you if I had my first kiss at a younger age? What about it if everyone else in your grade has kissed someone and you haven’t? It’s not the end of the world.”

“I-I don’t know! It’s just unfair!” you let up, yielding to both the facts that Yoongi’s right with it not being the end of the world, and that you’re still entitled to feeling upset.

“Instead of spending time obsessing over your first kiss, maybe I don’t know,  try being productive? You’re heading to college soon and you haven’t even thought of a career,” Yoongi goes off on you, making you roll your eyes automatically. There he goes again with the great big push of trying to push you into your supposed passions in life. “Someone else’s luck doesn’t mean it’s already your misfortune.”

“But it is.”

You say it so definitively, you almost convince him. You have your principles and so does Yoongi, but not everyone else. You have your principles yet you don’t have the luck. You’re not getting anywhere in life just like Yoongi or anyone else who was remotely born into wealth, no matter how quiet or obvious.

You can’t pursue something that interests you in the slightest without thinking what would come out of it. You can’t think of a degree and a course you’ll stick with, enough to do for the rest of your life because the only other option is to fail completely if you don’t. You have no plan and no passion and you don’t know if you’ll ever amount to anything to anyone at all.

By all means, you don’t agree with Yoongi this time. Someone else’s luck is your misfortune, in the same way that his first kiss doesn’t mean that it’s yours.

The sidetrack to your argument is a closed case already, judging by your downcast gaze. “I just have to put myself out there, that’s all. My first kiss doesn’t even have to mean anything. I just want to have it,” you admit, shoulders relaxing.

“Don’t,” Yoongi groans, the opposite of you as his whole body tenses.

He thinks that you don’t get him at all.

“What do you meandon’t?”

Your argument’s long-over (atleast you thought it was) but Yoongi’s getting more agitated by the minute, the disbelief on his face throwing you off. “Don’t do things just because you feel like you have to! Are you even hearing yourself right now?”

“I don’t want to be left behind, Yoongi! That’s all I’m trying to get at,” you raise your hands in surrender, shrugging thoughtlessly — it makes him want yell into a paper bag in exasperation. “I don’t want to be picked last. I don’t want to not be wanted.”

Yoongi exhales, screwing his eyes shut. It stays silent like that for a little while; him calming himself down, and you scratching your tickets. The calm doesn’t stay for long because you open your mouth carelessly, again.

“Can you be my first kiss?”

“Are you insane?”

“Ugh.”

You go back to your fourth scratch ticket, pouting in disappointment. You’re unfazed about the win that’s probably the largest sum you’ve had ever since you started doing the lottery.

You’re upset and you’re sick in the stomach but you stay silent like you never asked Yoongi to be your first kiss; it’s like you haven’t indirectly admitted to him that you love him enough, more than so, to want him to be your first.

You’re about to scratch the final ticket when Yoongi juts his hand out, fingers barely brushing yours to stop you.

“On second thought, don’t scratch that. Just keep it.”

“Because you want to turn me into a hoarder too?” you snicker, heeding his suggestion regardless.

“Because I’m not going to be right about everything,” Yoongi mumbles, looking at you with a solemnness you can’t decipher.

You try until the solemnness turns into pity.

“Still don’t want to be my first kiss?”

Yoongi softly laughs to your face, smiling as he lets you down — whether easily or harshly, you can’t tell.

“You already know what I’m going to say.”

( ♡ )

You’d like to think that you’re not kept in the dark about most things.

You already know that although your mom hasn’t had any relationships since your dad left, she still has plenty of suitors. Some of them are the reason why you have random food deliveries in the middle of the dinner that she’s already cooked, some have sucked up to her by getting you and Namjoon gifts. 

You know about Namjoon’s growing love for football, even with the lessons he takes in secret because he didn’t want to trouble your mom for the money. It’s why he does his part-time job and why you’re looking for one anyways. You don’t want nor need much, so you almost always give him the remainder of your allowance by the end of each week.

Yoongi, on the other hand, you don’t know much about. You know that he’s an only child with a doting mom who works overseas and a rich but emotionally unavailable dad at home, and that’s about it. His home life is synonymous with yours, considering that your four walls have become an extension of his.

Maybe you’ve become too lenient on him — either that, or he’s become too disrespectful. It’s at times like these where your house is not his home, sickeningly so that you don’t want it to be yours either.

Yoongi is a sight to behold as he makes out with a half-naked girl on your bed, in your room. Your room has never been the neatest but with everything going on, it feels that it’s become the dirtiest that it’s ever been. Your house slippers are on the floor even if you always leave them by the entryway, and your sheets are a mess despite being one of the only things you try to keep folded in the room.

You’re angry, too much to the point that the words get caught in your throat. They catch onto bile and venom and everything at once, the strain in your voice heard when you yell.

“What the fuck?!”

Yoongi and the girl, whom you figure out to be Hyewon that he’s shared his first kiss with, jolt in unison. Hyewon’s scared shitless while Yoongi’s annoyed to death, the grunt he lets out pricking your ears further. “Sorry, sorry. She’s my best friend’s sister. She’s so annoying,” he drags you out of your room before he even gives you the entitlement to storm out of there in a fit of rage, seeing red the longer that he seems upset at you.

“What the fuck was that, Yoongi?” you grit through your teeth, the moment of you seeing red turn into white because you’re so frustrated that you could actually cry. Your chest’s heavy, not only out of rage, but out of everything that’s built up in the course of years.

“Can you keep it down?” Yoongi seethes, pursing his lips. “What, would you rather see us do it in the living room?”

“In the — what? Who do you think you are? This isn’t even your house, why are you bringing these girls here?” you point an accusing finger at him yet he doesn’t back away, his annoyance for you only growing tenfold.

He’s in the wrong no matter which way you look at it yet he doesn’t realize it, the epiphany that Yoongi genuinely thinks he’s in the right for doing this to you making your skin burn in fire.

“This is literally the first time I’ve ever done this! I can’t bring her back to my place, my dad has guests over!”

“So your smartest idea is to fuck someone in my bed?”

“Oh, you’re welcome. It’s the most action your four walls have ever seen,” he spits sarcastically, eyes narrowing at you. It takes little effort for him to dig up what you came to him for in worry and it terrifies you. The facet of Yoongi who had sternly told you that it was okay to be left behind if it means getting what you deserve, resembling nothing like him at the moment.

“I can’t believe you!” you whisper as you tremble, the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. “I told you that in confidence.”

“In confidence? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re not exactly a catch, Y/N.”

You clench your jaw so hard that it hurts, you ball your fists so tightly that it stings.

You leave your home without saying another word.

.

.

.

Namjoon’s panicked.

He came home a little later than usual because he had maximized the life out of his soccer lessons, only getting the signal to leave when the lights were turned off. He was only slightly worried at the first place because he was supposed to cook dinner for the both of you, but he placated himself by realizing that you’re not the baby that he still thinks you are — you could cook dinner for yourself if you were hungry already.

He thinks nothing of it. In fact, he just makes a quick stop at the convenience store so the both of you could indulge in a liter of ice cream without your mom urging to leave some for another night. You could think of a recipe from scratch (and it almost always works out at the end), so Namjoon walked in fully thinking he’ll get to sniff whatever concoction you have.

Except, he walks into a completely dark house, and that’s when he panics.

He can’t find your slippers by the entryway and you’re not in your room either. You’re not at the other convenience store hunched over taking your chances on scratch tickets, and you’re not out on the street either going people-watching.

The panic rises in him the more that Namjoon grasps this is the first time that this has ever happened and he doesn’t know why. He’s always made an effort to be absorbed into both your personal and academic affairs, and as far as he knows, you’re neither in a sleepover nor on a field trip somewhere.

Namjoon thinks it’s his fault someway somehow, and the guilt can’t fully dissipate from him until he sees you.

“Hey, Yoongi,” he breathlessly gasps the moment his friend answers, the latter being surprised because he thought it was you who was calling him after what happened awhile ago.

It’s his fault and he’s realized that hours too late, and the selfish part of him thinks that it’s you calling at ten in the evening begging for forgiveness.

“What’s up, man? It’s late,” he wonders out loud, thinking for a second if they were too much of the Siamese twins that you tease them to be because he can’t think of a rational reason why Namjoon would call him at this time of night.

Namjoon raggedly exhales, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’m just wondering if you’ve seen Y/N by any chance?”

Yoongi’s heart drops so loudly that Namjoon thought for second that his friend had hung up on him, his urgency being shared the moment that he asked.

“What? Y/N isn’t home?” Yoongi asks in disbelief, immediately being filled with anxiety and disbelief. Just awhile ago, the two of you were arguing outside of your room. He did hear you leave, but he had fully expected for you to be back hours ago. He’s wracked with guilt all over, the drop in his chest amplified by the pit in his stomach.

“She’s not. Practice ran late and I-I know she’s responsible so I didn’t hurry home,” Namjoon recalls, being more and more frazzled by the second. “She left her phone here, and mom isn’t here either because she’s visiting my grandparents, a-and I don’t want to call her because I know she’ll be worried, a-and-…”

Yoongi interrupts him, the tremble in his fingers only enabling him to dig his nails into his palm deeper. “I’m coming over. Let’s look for her together.”

It barely takes a minute for the both of them to come together, not even exchanging any pleasantries with each other before Yoongi steps on the gas. 

Namjoon’s filled with guilt, the type that only a sibling could carry as a burden. He thinks he was too selfish — too accustomed to pulling your own weight that it must have given you the impression that you had no other choice but to. Whatever it was that made you leave out of the blue, Namjoon thinks he could’ve done more. He should’ve came home and made you dinner as promised, for starters. He’s guilty over the fact that he’s the only close familial male figure in your life and he let this happen, as he makes Yoongi put his headlights on high-beam, scanning for anyone that looks remotely like you.

Yoongi, on the other hand, is filled with a guilt he can’t even begin to explain. It corrodes him from the inside-out in realization that he’s to blame for your sudden disappearance, the fact that Namjoon comes to him first to help find you not helping at all. If only your brother knew what he had done to you, he’s positive that he’ll be on the receiving end of a punch — what gets him more is that Yoongi wouldn’t blame him at all.

They see you in the bus stop two cities away, dressed in the same clothes you ran out with. 

Namjoon’s relieved beyond compare while Yoongi’s fuming, his hands tucked inside his jacket to prevent himself from squeezing you into an embrace; neither of you deserve it. 

There’s an underlying anger within Namjoon, one that lies behind the back of his throat as he checks you over for any injuries. The two of you walk ahead to Yoongi’s car while he himself trails behind, his heart significantly calmer than it was the past hour, yet nowhere near normal.

“Wanna tell me what you did?” your brother hums, trying to exhale the worry that’s embedded into him with each squeeze he gives around your shoulders.

“Went to the convenience store, bumped into my friends, then we took this impromptu roadtrip to go to the night market, then we all had our first actual shot of liquor and not just beer, my friend who owns the car turned out to be a lightweight, and now everyone just has to commute home,” you narrate in recollection, squeezing Namjoon back to try and ground him.

“Okay,” he answers simply, nodding. “Wanna tell me what happened before you did all those things?”

The breathless chuckle that leaves you is empty, void of any amusement at all. You smile nonetheless, unable to placate both yourself and Namjoon. “Nope.”

You arrive in silence to Yoongi’s car, the words unsaid between the three of you generating more tension than your brief disappearance itself.

Yoongi opens the front door for you, but you settle for sitting in the backseat.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

something new

pairing: Minho x reader

summary: Minho’s trying subbing for the first time but doesn’t want to admit that perhaps he likes it just a little bit more than he lets on

warnings: dom (switch) reader, sub (switch) minho, lots of bdsm mentions, rimming, anal fingering, nipple play, minho gets called kitten a lot, praise kink, throat-fucking (with fingers), sensitive thighs!minho, some communication issues, jealousy, glasses minho for like 2 seconds (yes, that needs a warning)

word count: 8.1k (holy shit i'm so sorry)

a/n: thanks everyone for being so patient for how long it took to get this out. the beginning is a bit different than it is in the teaser but it's still the same concept

A soothing hand trails over his hipbone. 

It’s coaxing, lulling, making his head turn fuzzy, thoughts becoming a jumbled mess...

But he can’t.

He wants to...or does he?

No time to think, no time to process the thought even. Not before your dark laugh is in his ears, low and slightly raspy, filling his body with a kind of heat he'd never had the pleasurable (?) experience of hearing before.

“You ready?”

He shivers involuntary to his traitorous body, biting back a heavy moan at the feeling of your lubed up fingers slick against his hole.

“Yeah, yeah, just hurry up.” He impatiently pushes, sounding annoyed, almost agitated.

It throws you off a bit, nearly makes you pause.

But you can tell. From years of knowing him, from years of him being the closest person in your life.

You can read his expressions like a book, his body language like it's your own. His body, each and every sensitive little spot, like his thighs and that spot on his jaw right beneath his ear, you know it like the back your hand.

And it's easy to tell with the way his eyes are slightly glazed over-by the way his hips grind down onto your fingers.

Desperation and a tinge of something unfamiliar fills his words as he scrambles to keep his composure. “Let’s just get this over with. I wanna have my fun with you ne-” His voice cracks, cutting off mid-word, voice turning hoarse and weak.

A “Fuck!” that's immediately followed up by a gasp.

Your hand stays on his hip before trailing a bit higher in an effort to get him to relax a bit. "Doing so good for me, such a good boy."

He hisses in reply, biting down on his bottom lip so hard he's almost sure it'll burst, all in a silly attempt at trying to hold back the moan on the tip of his tongue.

The feeling of your fingers is awkward-not painful-just...odd.

He's never done this so it's understandable. Never let anyone else, or even himself for that matter, touch there. It's the feeling foreign object being forced inside a new space but slowly, ever so fucking slowly that he feels as if he's beginning to lose his mind, you start to move. Crooning into his ear, messaging his gummy walls, a hooded look taking over at the sight of him.

"How does it feel?" Hands clench the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white and his eyes squeeze shut. "Tell me...kitten."

Jesus. The word sounds so good rolling off your tongue. So completely and utterly intoxicating that he almost, almost allows himself to let go.

But he catches himself just in time.

"Do you like it?"

Because fuck, fuck, he doesn’t want to admit it.

Admit that maybe, just maybe he feels good under your control. That maybe he’s been craving for longer than he's suggested.

"Nngh,"

The sound is so soft you nearly miss it, but not quite. And you can feel your own body getting hotter and hotter from just this. From him. From his reactions, the way his body moves in small twitches and his eyes struggle to stay focused.

And the thing is, he tries so, so hard the control the noises he lets out that the lower half of his body moves on instinct, thighs tensing before falling slack and finally apart, spreading wide open for you and desperately, needily moving.

You barely have to do any of the work as he begins to fuck himself on your fingers, movements quick and sharp, hitting deep inside of him in a nearly violent way, warm walls clamped down hard around the two fingers.

“God, you’re so fucking tight baby.” You coo, watching in lustful fascination,

“F-fuck, don’t say that type of shit. I-i swear when I-m do-ne with y-you-“ He cuts off into a broken moan and despite the way his mouth clamps shut, it comes all the same.

Fingers clench the bedsheets, hard enough to make his knuckles turn white, teeth gritting down so hard he’s almost convinced they’ll shatter.

“Loosen up a bit baby, it’s okay, let me take care of you.” Your voice fucking purrs into his ear, an involuntary shudder ripping through his demeanour, body nearly shaking, goosebumps breaking across his skin.

A mewl crawls up his throat and he swallows thickly, trying to hold it back, trying to keep composure, trying to stay-

“Does it feel nice...” The teasing tone already has him spiralling, but what’s just a little bit further? What’s just a little bit more? You smirk lightly, tongue gliding over to wet your lips in a sinfully teasing way.

His heart pounds wildly in his chest. “C’mon, you’ll be a good little kitty? Won’t you?”

He can feel it. Your tongue, warm and wet around the shell of his ear. Your whisper, your words deposited straight into his head, engraving into his innermost desires. 

“All you gotta do is jus’ tell me what you want, tell me how you want it.” You growl. "Faster?" He nearly chokes on his own spit as you do exactly that, fingertips catching on the rim as you move quickly in and out of him.

"Harder?" Stars swim in his vision when your fingers meet his prostate for the very first time, abusing the oh-so sensitive spot, hitting it over and over and...

Fuck.

He squirms underneath your weight on top of him.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And then you stop and he can't help the anguished cry that falls from his red and bitten and puffy lips that you wanna taste so, so badly.

Heat raises in his cheeks, up his neck and his face, tinting him up to the very tip of his ears such an endearing shade of pink. So cute, so delectable.

God, you could just eat him alive.

You blatantly ignore his greedy movements, quiet, needy, high-pitched noises coming from deep in his throat as your hand trails up his body to cup his cheek. "Just tell me pretty kitty~"

It gives him a second to think.

A second to recollect himself.

A second to doubt all of this.

And...

Silence.

And more silence.

Just as quick as that adorably compliant look had appeared, it was gone and despite the bright colouring still smattered across his features, a hardness fills his eyes.

“No.” His breathe his shaky. "Stop."

The words hit a little bit harder than you’d like to admit. You know he can see though, the way your smile drops and your shoulders droop ever so slightly.

Remorse shines brightly in his eyes, chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath but he holds his ground. Screws his mouth up and simply returns your gaze as you falter and look away, doubt crossing filling your expression.

You knew that he was new to this…the submitting aspect of things. Knew that Minho wasn't the type to just lay down and take it. But when you had brought up the idea of it, he’d said he was down to try.

In fact, you weren't even the one to bring it up. It was all him. All because he’d been helping you pack up your things. 

Minho had asked you to move in with him a few weeks ago and you were elated, obviously agreeing to this next big step in your relationship.

Problem: your current place was a mess of junk with sentimental value and stuff you didn’t really need but insisted on keeping.

Honestly, it was almost like one of the tamer episodes of Hoarders.

You remember, you’d been packing up your closet and clothes, folding things and putting them in boxes and Minho had been in your room, clearing out whatever junk you kept in your nightstands and under your bed.

“Y/N?”

You hummed in reply, “What is it baby?”

The sound of shuffling reached your ears and when he spoke again it was much closer. “What is this?”

You twisted your body, straining your neck to see what he could possibly be talking about and…

Oh,

Oh.

In his hand, pinched between two fingers was a simple leather collar, black in colour with a silver buckle. A tag attached to the front ring, slightly swinging from his movements.

Minho himself had an unreadable expression. Blank in his await for a response.

Your lips pursed, unsure how to quite formulate one.

You avoided his gaze and he walked closer, taking your undivided attention. “What is this?” He repeated.

Now it was no surprise that you were kinky. Both you and Minho were, your relationship definitely being more on the adventurous side but, well you’d always let him take the lead on things, letting him take up a more dominant role in that area.

And it was quite obvious from the tag, shimmering in the artificial lighting in the room, the tiny letters engraved into it reading ‘pretty boy’.

One could assume that you weren’t the one wearing but administering it from that…

“What does it look like?”

His eyes flickered to the thing as if maybe taking a second look would prove to answer all his questions.

“Well I know it’s a collar,” he replied, almost snootily. “I’m not dumb, I’m just not so sure why ‘pretty boy’ is on it and why you’ve got it…is there something you need to tell me?”

Truth be told, you definitely could’ve told him sooner. 

About your past relationships where you stood in the role that he did. That this was one of your first times not being the dominant one in a relationship.

You could’ve told him but really, you’d kind of given up on it already.

Ever since you were discussing everything; the things you guys were open to, the things you weren’t, limits, safe words, etc, you had tried to hint it to him.

Suggest kinks and offhanded comments that would allude to it but it was the first time you’d seen your very smart and normally able to read between the lines boyfriend so inept, unable to put the pieces together.

Plus, he was very intent on domming, and when you told him you were fairly new to subbing he was ecstatic to show you everything. 

“Well? Is there?”

Your mouth opened, a response ready on the tip of your tongue...but nothing. Your mouth shut and so instead you put down everything you were doing and sat on the floor, patting on the space in front of you. “Sit.”

He seemed to contemplate it for a second before following your lead, the thing still grasped in his hand. You sighed. “Just put the collar down.”

Again, he listened.

And, stupidly, but not regrettably, your brain formulated a response without your conscious deciding to.

“Good boy.”

Minho froze and your mouth clamped shut. “Sorry,” flew out in a rush and he nodded like he understood but you knew he didn’t, not really. Not with the way his body turned tense, falling rigid in place, cheeks a brilliant hue of pink.  

The silence filled the room and the tag of the collar in the light caught your eye. You stared at it, counting the seconds in your head, recalling the memories that came flooding back with such a familiar object.

“I should’ve told you earlier, I know...it’s just...” Lamely, almost cringing at your own words, you trailed off, downturned eyes flitting up to read him.

His face is entirely blank, devoid of emotion, giving zero indication of how he feels.

It bugs you. That despite how well you know Minho that you can't read him. You've always been able to, especially with how long you've known him-long enough to move in with him-oh god was that still happening? Did you just ruin everything? Did he hate you now? Was he going to break up with you?

The thought process is broken with a single nod, his head bobbing down, eyes averted from yours. "It's...okay."

And...

You wait for him to continue but he says nothing more, gaze averted to look down at his hands which are fiddling around on his lap.

So you take a deep breath, hoping for the best. “Do you wanna say anything else?”

“Try it on me.”

“I know, it’s-wait, what?”

“Try it on me.”

That had been the last thing you would've expected to come out of your partner's mouth, obviously not an unwelcome answer, in fact you were elated but...it was surprising to say the least.

After that you'd talked for a bit.

You'd asked him to elaborate a bit, tell you exactly what that entailed and what he wanted from it, what he expected from it.

It was his first time and he wanted to go slow.

Nothing big like those 10 inch monster strap-ons seen in those hard-core femdom porns or too rough like any kind of impact play, but-somewhat shyly, in a completely out of character Minho fashion-he admitted that awhile ago he'd come across something about rimming that caught his interest.

And with the way he turned all red and embarrassed on you as he explained it, well, long story short, even the idea of it was more than enough to get you on-board.

----

“No.”

"Stop."

That's all it takes. That's all you had discussed it would take.

Eyes flash up at his face while gently pulling your fingers out of him, trying to be tender and not do anymore damage that you might've already done.

"Shit. 'M so sorry-did I go too far?"

His body squirms in a futile protest, clenching around you, his eyes screwing shut as he lets out a breathless groan, followed by a weak whine.

In pain? Maybe?

Trying to soothe him, you hush him, whispering small praises that just seem to agitate him more, "No. No...what're you doing?" he reaches for you, trying to grab at your arms and whining again.

His body laid tense, you raise up on your haunches, easily brushing his pawing hands away from your body.

"I think that this is enough for tonight Minho." Your voice is gentle, hands soft as you brush the sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. It does nothing to soothe his panicked, inarticulate protests.

"No!" His legs wrap around your hips, pulling your body close against his, his lips beginning to pepper soft kisses down your neck and collarbone.

What does he want? What is he trying to do? After telling you to stop and now doing this.

You push him away again by the shoulders this time with a sense of finality. Your warm hands made contact with his skin making him shiver.

You eyes are calculating as you try to read him, face serious. That's all there is for a second before you sigh and move to the edge of the bed, putting some space between the two of you.

"Look Minho," He did, intently staring at you. "You need to tell me what you want. I need to know that you're completely on board with all this." You wince, looking for the best words. "Because, I don't know, you tell me to stop and then act like that, I-i don't understand. And that kinda makes me feel like you're just doing this because I want to?"

He opens his mouth to speak but is cut before he can say anything. "And I don't want that. I want you to be enjoying this too and feeling good and safe. So...if you could just tell me what you're feeling?"

Minho looked at you and you looked back, completely wordless.

There were a million things racing through his mind, so many things he wanted to say.

But his throat couldn't work. Was his pride too high? Was he scared?

He had never had anything he felt like he couldn't share with you before. He never felt like you would judge him or scrutinize him. Especially when you wanted this too.

Why couldn't he say them?

When he wanted this too?

So all you got in reply was an animated nod. And you tried to smile back but it was weak. "Okay. So what do you need? Do you wanna take a shower? I could make you some lunch if you want and we can eat it together in bed...or we can always order food, there's that place you really liked last time?"

He looks anywhere but at you, fingers playing with a loose thread on the sheets. "Could you maybe...could you maybe just hold me?" The words came out quiet but seemed like a scream in your ears. "I mean-you don't have to-I just-"

"-Of course baby." You crawled over to him and wrapped your arms around his body, hugging him close, pulling the sheets up to cover you.

He went rigid for a second before relaxing with a contented sigh, shutting his eyes and curling into you. "Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for."

The silence followed wasn't awkward but Minho couldn't help but feel that way, listening close to your chest as your breathing slowed and eventually he knew you were asleep.

He knew he should be soon to follow. Warm and comfortable and close to you, and any other night he would've already been asleep too.

But he couldn't.

And it wasn't just because he was undeniably still very hard, his body still hot and aching for some kind of touch of release.

It was also because he couldn't stop thinking. Couldn't stop looking down at you, asleep, and feel like there was more he could've said. More he definitely should've said.

But didn't.

----

Nothing had been said about it since. Not a single word from you or from him for that matter.

You acted as if it never happened. Not in an angry or silent treatmenty kind of way but in a way that you were acting the exact same as before, no changes in anything, not hostile or bitter.

It confused him just as much as it frustrated him because it would've been amazing if he actually wanted to forget about it. If he hadn't stayed up all of that night coming up with what he was gonna say when you brought it up the next day.

And he waited for you to because it wasn't like he could.

But you didn't.

You stayed firmly in your place as if you actually forgot it ever happened. Nothing out of the ordinary. God, it was infuriating.

He meant to try to bring it up. Many times. When you sat at the table, eating dinner together. Or when he glanced over at you before bed, on your phone.

The words would tingle on his lips, ready to pour out, but then you'd catch his stare, smile gently in that way that made his heartbeat quicken and ask him what he was thinking about.

And then he'd chicken out.

It's been a week now and you haven't had sex since, not necessarily odd since he'd normally be the one to initiate it.

How was he supposed to though?

When all he wants is for you to shove him down and mess him up so entirely he won't be able to remember his own name.

When, when he takes a shower now, his fingers begin to touch places they never have, venturing down, trying to replicate the feeling that your's did.

Closing his eyes and imagining that they're yours. His mind trying to vividly remember the way that your voice sounded, raspy and commanding, whispering into his ears.

'Let me take care of you.'

'You'll be a good kitty? Won't you?'

'Just tell me what you want, tell me where you want me to touch you.'

Reliving the moment over and over in his head, arm covering his mouth to keep from whimpering as he falls apart on his own fingers, wishing that they were yours.

Trying to keep from being too loud because you're right outside the bathroom, pretending that nothing fucking happened.

Because he couldn't let you know like that. Couldn't let you know that even just imagining what you did to him makes him feel all fuzzy and floaty and high that it became new jerk-off material for him.

No, he couldn't let you know like that.

There was no way, it needed to be more special...well not necessarily more special...but definitely smoother.

So what better time than when you were your happiest of all?

Because as well as you knew him, he knew you just as well and knew everything that made you tick, knew what made you happy and what made you really happy.

And what made you really happy was days like this.

Days when you were both off from work and you'd wake up to something that smelt so good, your nose leading you to the kitchen where your beautiful boyfriend would be, hair still messy and, if you were lucky, glasses pushed up his nose as he made something that smelled absolutely heavenly.

Today in particular you must've been lucky because perched on his nose, making his look so absolutely delectable were his glasses.

Lucky or something along the lines of your boyfriend knowing you a touch too well.

Your arms wrapped around his torso, face buried into the back of his neck, making your voice some out slightly muffled. "Hey beautiful."

He smelled so good, like that specific brand of perfume he always wears, like warmth and comfort and a little bit of something that made you feel just a touch insane.

"You look good, what's the occasion?"

He sighed, ignoring the way his body reacted to the gravelly tone of your voice. "My glasses?"

You hummed in reply, warm breath fanning over his neck. "You know what they do to me. M' such a whore for you in glasses." You groaned, hands resting on his hips. "They just make you look so..." you trailed off without the right words to properly describe how good he looked in them.

The burner shut off and he moved the pan off the heat, turning around to face you. "Really? A whore you say?" He took your wrists in his hands, pulling them off of his hips and pushed you back against the counter.

You smiled teasingly at him. "Mhmm, they really just do something to me...you know that."

This was normally the point of your morning when he'd set you on top of the counter, or turn you around against it, sometimes back to the bedroom if either of you had enough patience for that-whatever available surface he could find to fuck you on.

He didn't though.

He frowned slightly and pulled your wrists down, pressing them under his shirt and letting go.

You obliged, watching in fascination as he held his breath, your hands, one planting on his hip, the other moving up, warm in travelling the expanse of his stomach and up toward his chest and pecs.

His body curled around yours, gripping the counter so hard his hands were near white, resting his chin of your shoulder, a breathy moan escaping as you brushed over his nipple.

"Y/N," He breathed, followed by something high and needy. It sounded so much like a plea, making something familiar begin to stir in your gut.

Was he...?

Did he want..."

You began to pull away but he stopped you, holding your wrists again to keep your hands where they were. "Don't." His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Please...please don't."

He pulled back just enough to hold your gaze. Pulling you into a trance you couldn't seem to break out of.

And slowly he began to move your hands for you, not breaking eye contact all the while.

Letting the one still on his hip to come up, cupping his pec.

Taking the other out from under his shirt and right back up, until it was loosely pressed against his throat.

Your breath hitched, feeling his pulse thrum under your fingers.

Searching his eyes and trying-failing to read him. Trying-failing to find the words.

"Y/N." He whispered you name again. In that tone. In that wanton, desperate way. "I-i need-"

Words were cut off, trance broken, moment ruined as a knock at the door sliced through the tension like a knife.

Your head snapped toward the door but he clung desperately to your arms. "No, j-just ignore i-" Minho was once again cut off as the knock came again, accompanied with words this time.

"Y/N! I know you're home! I know when your days off are, you can't fool me!"

You groaned loudly, whispering an apology to your boyfriend before pulling away, talking your warmth with you but leaving a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach behind.

"The fuck you want Hyunjin?" You yelled, heading toward the door, opening it wide to find the blond boy mid-knock.

Hyunjin looked at you, the only slightly more annoyed than usual expression on your face than when you normally looked at him then to Minho, shirt rumpled, hands clenching the countertop, face red.

Then he smirked and walked in.

----

"I swear to god, I hate living with them!" Hyunjin groaned loudly. "The food, oh my god, I don't think it could get any worse, it's 24/7 protein powder and energy drinks, I don't think I've had a decent, edible meal in weeks-and oh, don't even get me started on the smells they bring in!"

You scoffed out a laugh. "What? Not into the gym bro stink?"

Why the hell was he even here?

Minho found himself wondering that over and over throughout the day, sometimes in his head, silently to himself, and sometimes out loud with a pointed look toward the 'he' in question.

What was Hwang Hyunjin doing in his house all day with you, when it was Minho who supposed to be spending your time with?

You two were friends-best friends-ever since you'd met, years ago, before you'd even known Minho. Hyunjin had actually been the one to introduce him to you.

It was nothing irregular for him to come home at the end of the day to see you hanging out or you mentioning that you were going out to hang out with him as you were heading out the door.

And Minho had never had a problem with that before today.

Before your best friend had cock-blocked and ruined his perfectly planned chance to finally tell you how he felt, a talk that would hopefully lead to more than talking.

Before nearly six hours had passed since he'd arrived, clearly overstaying his welcome in Minho's eyes.

And on the specific day he had finally built up whatever it took to actually act on his feelings.

On his day off. When he had nothing else to do but watch you two talk about whatever, bring up inside jokes and continue conversations, gossip about things that you'd never even mentioned to Minho before.

You guys were clearly close.

A lot closer than Minho had originally imagined. Was this normal?

The way that you were throwing your head back and laughing, the way you hit his arm, almost roughly while wiping tears of laughter from your eyes.

The way Hyunjin seemed to listen intently when you spoke, the way he nodded along and didn't try to talk over you like the other boys did.

He was probably reading into things. But those were both things that you did to him. That he did to you.

Did Hyunjin like you?

Hyunjin shared his feelings. Hyunjin told people exactly the way he felt-he wouldn't hesitate to tell you anything.

Did you like that?

Did you like Hyunjin? That he could share and talk about the things that Minho wouldn't?

No. No, he was just being paranoid. He was jumping to conclusions.

He needed to get out of here for a bit, distract his mind. So he pulled out his phone, sending out a quick text.

"Hey guys, imma head over to hang out with Han and Felix for a bit." You leaned up with a smile, closed your eyes as he pecked you on the forehead. " Love you."

Unsatisfied with just that you took him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him down and kissing him full on the lips. "Love you more, have fun!"

"Tell them I said hi!" Hyunjin called over as Minho slipped his shoes on.

"Mhm."

"Oh! And remember to put on a coat, it's getting colder out. Don't want your pretty face to freeze."

He scoffs in reply, biting back a smile. "Glad to know you just care about my pretty face."

"You know it." You wink back.

Hyunjin fake gags in disgust. "You guys are weirdly wholesome and I don't like it."

You stick out your tongue, shoving him with your foot. "You're just jealous-Bye baby!" You call as he pulls the door shut, feeling paranoid once again.

----

"And then he said 'No. Stop.', so I did y'know, but then afterward he seemed kinda upset, I don't know, I love him so much, I really just wish he wasn't so hard to read sometimes." You groan.

Hyunjin laughs, "sounds like someone else I know."

You scowl in reply. "Fuck you, my communication skills have gotten much better and we both know that."

He holds his hands up in surrender, nodding for you to continue.

A heavy sigh makes its way past your lips. "Like, I don't even know what to do anymore. Because, right before you came in he was putting my hands up his shirt and saying my name all...desperate and god, it was hot. But he was looking at me with those eyes, y'know?"

Hyunjin listened carefully. You remember the very first time you'd brought up relationship stuff to him, asking for advice years ago, thinking it was so embarrassing. If only then you'd know the type of relationship stuff you'd be sharing with him now.

"Well, I for one think you need to stop avoiding the subject. Tell him."

"But what do I tell him?" You deadpan.

"Tell him everything you just told me. Tell him how you feel."

You huffed, crossing your arms, not hearing the door slowly creak open. "Then why can't he say anything? I'm here grasping at straws-trying to help him! He said stop so I'm trying to make it easier for him by not bringing it up! If he wants it, he should just fucking tell me!"

The door slammed shut and your eyes widened, looking toward the sound to see Minho standing in the doorway. And unreadable expression laid across his face but the hurt in his eyes evident.

Hyunjin looked from you to him and then back at you. "Y'know, I think I gotta go to the bathroom, leave you guys to figure everything out."

"Hyunjin," you try to grasp at him for help but he's up and going already, leaving the room quickly with a quick awkward wave. You look helplessly toward he disappeared with a groan. Asshole.

Then you look back at Minho.

He kicks of his shoes and takes off his jacket. Why was he even back so soon? He left, you glance at the time on your phone, he only left like twenty minutes ago.

The question must be evident on your face because he shrugs. "They weren't doing anything interesting, so I came back."

You look back toward where Hyunjin left and then before you know it Minho's in front of you.

"Please." He looks down at his feet taking your hand in his. "Please don't look at him," he begs, helplessly?

Hopefully?

You're not entirely sure, with nothing here familiar, a new territory that he's crossing into. You have no idea but something inside you is lit.

And then he's looking up at you again with a kind of determination in his eyes. "Look at me instead."

His fingers dig into the flesh of your arm, almost painfully, almost.

But then your boyfriend. Lee Minho. The man that you have given your heart utterly and completely to is falling to his knees in front of you, eyes wide and body slouched, hand at his side in a tight fist while the other still holds, pleadingly, desperately onto you.

"I'm sorry if I can't open up to you. I'm sorry I'm cold and I'm distant but I promise I'll try, I promis-"

"-Minho." You cut off. "I should be the one apologizing. I shouldn't have said that and-"

"-I want you to take over me." He breathes, heart beating quicker as your eyes widen in lust or surprise or both. "I want you to tell me what to do...Tell me-tell me I'm yours. Tell me I'm the only one that's yours, tell me that he isn't."

Your fingers squeeze the arm of the couch.

"-Do whatever you want to me. Please. I need you to do whatever you want to me." He pulls your hand into his hair, sighing into the motion of your fingers, reluctantly, running through the strands with a slight tug, forcing his posture straight.

You're surprised by the sudden change in mindset. In the way his words come flowing out like they've been stuck there for so long that they have no choice but to.

A muffled moan comes as he bites his lip. "No more of that." Your thumb guides his mouth open, a pointed look urging him to continue. "Go on. You're so pretty when you beg."

He hesitates, but only for a second. "Control me. Mark me. Make me yours."

His head is tugged back by the fingers knotted in his hair, leaving the smooth expanse of his neck on display.

You lean down in front of him, lips at his ear. "Are you sure?"

"Please~"

An awkward cough breaks through the moment. You both look and there's Hyunjin.

He averts his eyes, staring at his feet, pointing to the door behind him. "I-i'm just gonna-gonna leave, yeah?"

You nod incredulously, making a shooing motion with your free hand, Minho straight up glaring at getting cock-blocked for the second time today by him.

Hyunjin quickly makes his way out, leaving with a supportive thumbs up to you before shutting the door behind him.

"Finally." Minho groans.

Slapping his shoulder, with a pointed look, he looks back almost offendedly. "Be nice." You warn.

He presses his head further into your touch, nudging against your fingers in his hair with an appreciative hum and a bratty smirk. "I could be nice...or maybe I could be bad...and you could..." he presses himself closer, wedging his body between your thighs. "punish me."

Your eyes nearly bug out and you almost choke on your own spit. "Minho," Thank fuck, you wore shorts today.

Because his lips are brushing over your thighs. His eyes still locked on yours as he slowly licks up your skin, then begins leaving open-mouthed kisses everywhere he can find purchase.

Goosebumps rise all over your skin, a drawn out moan gracing his ears and your fingers tighten in his hair, almost painfully, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Minho," you gulp and he's quick to reply with nothing but a moan of his own.

But this isn't what he asked for.

This isn't what he asked you to do.

So you pull him away by his hair, sighing at the loss. He whines, trying to pull back but you don't let him.

"Minho." He ignores you, sticking his tongue out in a vain attempt. "Kitten."

That has his attention. Body freezing and breath stopping for all but a second before a shudder rips through him.

You smirk. "Go to our room and lay down on the bed for me." You glance over him. "Take off your clothes too."

He's scrambling up as soon as you're letting go, hurrying to follow your order.

This is gonna be fun.

You try to give him some time, a few minutes for him to carry out what you told him to and a few more just to torture him a little but anticipation eats away at your will-power, making it near-impossible to wait long before you stand up off the couch.

A million ways to fulfill his wishes run through your mind. But as soon as you're in the doorway it all goes blank.

He's gorgeous and that's all you can think about. More than gorgeous, fucking ethereal sitting there on the bed all 'innocently', on his knees, hands clenching and unclenching with nerves in his lap.

Completely and utterly bare.

It takes all of you to not pounce on him and ravish him where he sits but instead click your tongue disapprovingly. "Kitty," he shivers. "So messy," you lean down to pick up his clothes, thrown messily around the floor.

He turns a pretty shade of pink. "I'm sorry, was just so...excited."

Your gaze shifts down. "Well that's obvious. But that's no excuse."

"'M sorry."

You push his chin up, calmly watching the way his pupils dilate. "Oh, it's okay sweet thing, I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me."

His eyes light up, sparkling as you chuckle. "And that can start off by getting on your hands and knees."

He hesitates, but only for a second. "Can I have a kiss first?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely, kitty." You pull his face closer, cupping it in your hands as he whines, so close yet so far.

You smile at the noise and finally he received a kiss, rising up onto his knees, trying to get closer to you. Lips soft and eager as they seek out yours, purring out as your hands caress his body, going lax against you at the feeling.

It's a bit odd for him at first, the way that you take the lead in the kiss, teeth nipping at his lips, your hands groping his body. He gets used to it quickly though, his arms wrapping around your shoulders, trying to pull you closer before you pinch him in the side and he lets with a yelp.

"Just relax." You whisper against his lips, kneading at the skin above his hips, "Just let me take care of you." He mewls wantonly, pulling away and burying his head into your chest.

You give him a minute, continuing to rub your thumb over the dip in his pelvis. "You okay?"

He nods, taking a deep breath before looking back up at you, eyes glossy. "Yeah. J-just needed a sec."

He catches your lips with his again then, pure need in control of his movements now. Clutching you and letting his eyes slip shut, and when you bite down of his lip and he lets out a gasp, you take the moment to let your tongue to slip past the seal of his lips, fogging up his mind, a high needy moan escaping him swallowed by you.

Your hand comes up to the back of his head, deepening the kiss, letting out a groan in reply.

Nothing but pure horniness controls Lee Minho anymore. Nothing but the want to please and to listen and to feel good.

When you finally pull away, eyes flickering from one of his eyes to the other, breathing heavy, he lays back.

Teasing at first, landing on his back and spreading his thighs and groping at his inner thighs before flipping over to fulfill your request.

Prettily getting on his hands and knees, facing away from you and wiggling his hips enticingly, letting his back fall into a pretty little slope.

"Oh god, Minho."

Your hands attach to his skin like a magnet to metal, immediately gripping his skin, urged on by the sounds of his moans when you do.

Cupping his ass, squeezing the flesh in your hands like your own personal stress toy. You lean over his back all the while, pressing your weight against to whisper in his ear. "Do you wanna face me kitten or stay like this?"

He clears his throat, trying to focus his thoughts, try to ignore the fact that your fingers are already pressing against his hole, teasing at the entrance.

"C-can I, could I face you? Wanna see you, w-want you to see me."

So you roll him over.

His cheeks are flushed, looking so out of character, so shy, so adorable. "Want me to see you get ruined baby? Want me to watch as I make a mess out of you?"

He nods helplessly with a mewl, letting his legs fall open. "C-could you eat me out?"

The smile that blooms across your face should scare him but only makes him hornier, only makes him remember only just a week ago when you'd almost gotten to this.

Makes him remember the time spent in the shower, getting off to those thoughts.

Earlier today in the kitchen, the shock and then lust replacing that, giving into his silent wish.

Before fucking Hyunjin ruined it all.

That stupid cock-block, getting in his wa-

Minho's so absorbed in his thoughts, too in his head that he barely even realizes where you've gone, what you're doing.

Cutting him off mid-thought.

“Oh my god, f-fuck!” he cries out when you finally insert your tongue inside his ass. He grasps at your hair, cupping your head in his hand and tangling his fingers through the strands like a lifeline. "S-shit!"

You smirk against his skin and the feeling of it has him shuddering. "F-faster. G-go faster."

Immediately he feels the loss and nearly cries from it, trying to push your head back down. You only tsk at him in reply, like he's a misbehaving dog and not a beautiful man nearly crying from being denied once again. "Did you forget who's in charge here Minnie?"

Fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, skimming lower and lower, closer to where he needs you most until his pretty little head is turning into mush from need.

"N-no." But the words are meek.

Your hand mercifully squeezes around his cock all red and leaking with pre cum. You smile, thumbing over the slit, ripping a gasp from his lungs. "Then how about you rephrase that for me?"

God, he can barely think with your touching him like this, barely even comprehend what you're saying as your hand moves smoothly up and down him.

But you don't like that, stopping when you notice how far he is from you. "How about you use please for me Minnie?" You supply.

"Please!" He whimpers, trying to roll his hips down, back onto your tongue, trying to thrust back up into your hand. "P-please! I-i...I need you so, so, so bad! Need you in me, need you touching me, need you 't make me-nngh!"

Your tongue finally-finally presses past the tight ring of muscles once again, burying deep inside and Minho swears he can see stars, thighs trembling, body quaking as his eyes roll into the back of his skull.

You glance up at him, lips curling up at how he seems to have lost all composure. Pulling out and then thrusting back in, he keens, thrusting back down onto you.

The muscles in his abdomen clench, ghosting your fingertips over his inner thighs again, feeling them shake under your touch, tensing and then snapping shut, squeezing together as he moans and trying not to stop breathing.

You're quick to shove his legs back apart, pressing them onto the bed on either side, tracing your nails down his legs, making him shiver and whimper before settling a pinch on one, a little yelp escaping that lets into an adorable mewl.

His walls clamp down around your tongue, his hand tugging uselessly in your hair until it's almost painful. With a pained hiss, you're brushing his hand away easily.

"Keep your hands to yourself." You warn. "Or I'll stop and leave you here like this."

You wouldn't. You don't even think that you could even if you wanted to.

But he doesn't know that, nodding helplessly, words coming out in a hoarse but whiney whisper. "Need more, please, 'm so so close. N-need more."

You make a sound, giving a vibration that feels fucking amazing before licking a long strip from his hole all the way to the tip of his cock, pumping the base a few times, just enough to make him whine before you stop and pout up at him. "Is what I'm giving you not enough kitty?"

His body squirms, trying to say yes but not willing to, not willing to tell the truth. You smile and take two fingers, reaching up to bring them to his lips. "Suck on them for me."

Already too fucked out to care, or possibly because he's so desperate to get your touch back on him, he listens. Cute bunny teeth revealed as he opens up.

And then they're pressing against his tongue, roughly pushing to fuck his throat and all he can think of is you.

You, you, you.

As he can feel your mouth back on him, leaving teasing kisses all down his thighs and cock and hole and, his gaze, hooded and dazed meets yours as you do and fuck he feels like he's gonna burst.

"Good kitty." You murmur, pulling your fingers out to see the drool that drips down his chin before pushing back in. "Such a good kitty for me Minnie, aren't you?"

That feeling inside him swells because yes, yes he's a good kitty for you-just for you. He can't quite verbalize it but god he hopes you can tell from the garbled moans and the way he tries to clutch helplessly at you can convey that.

You keep talking but he can't hear it over the ringing in his ears, and the feeling of your hold on his jaw, so deliciously firm, heat pools deep inside him. You hand, you're groping his thighs, teasing and soft and mean and everything that could drive him utterly insane.

"Such a good kitty for me Minnie." He somehow hears over everything and that's it.

That's all his body can take before he convulses, before his body is trying to curl into itself on instinct, your firm hand keeping him in place. He loses track of time, loses track of everything.

The only thing he can do is let out the loudest scream.

And you swear, he's the most gorgeous thing you've ever seen.

Back arching up off the bed, mouth falling open, nearly shaking under your touch as delectably sinful noises fall from red puffy lips. Ropey streaks of cum spill over his stomach, his orgasm washing over him.

Or hitting him head on like a fucking truck.

Hiccupy gasps wrack him and you try to soothe him, moving quickly to grab a damp towel and gently clean him up.

He whines when you move but he's barely conscious, hand reaching out in an attempt to grab you that results in a quick kiss on his forehead. "Gimme a sec baby, I'll give you cuddles in a second, just let me clean you up."

He keeps that up nonetheless, shivering with sensitivity when you touch him, moaning brokenly and thrusting up at the slight overstimulation.

"M-more," He whispers brokenly, barely conscious.

Into overstimulation, you note, brushing his hair back sweetly. "Not right now, maybe later on but I'm so sleepy, I just wanna cuddle with you."

"Okay," his eyes close, "only if that's what you want." He reluctantly lets you go, so you can throw the towel into the hamper and strip down to lay next to him.

He practically molds to you once you do, curling himself into your arms, being uncharacteristically cuddly that you can't help but swoon at, lacing your fingers together.

You pull the blanket up and turn the light off, letting him fall into a sleep.

And you think he's asleep, exhausted until he speaks, "I don't know why we didn't try this sooner." He whispers tiredly. "That was so good...I don't think I've ever came that hard in my entire life."

You laugh softly, "You know, I'm sorry," Minho tenses but you continue. "a-about before. It is frustrating for me, I won't lie but I know it's hard for you and I should've talked to you instead of ranting to Hyunjin instead."

He nods. "And I'm sorry. I know I should communicate more. I was just so s-I was scared. I don't know why but I was."

You press him closer to you, hugging him so tightly you'd be worried if he weren't clinging to you with the same intensity. "Well, we can talk about it more tomorrow. Let's just go to sleep for now."

----

a/n: i hope everyone enjoyed it and i was thankful for how patient everyone was for the long time it took to get this out

but yeah,

my taglist is here, and here are the people that wanted to be tagged:

@hobihearteu, @imsolovelylovely, @d7dream, @lino-jagiyaa, @lemonhongjoong, @fangirlnation @honeymooncrz, @xcookiemonsteer, @blankdyean, @freckleboilix, @karatttttt, @jdopes-recorder, @maru-matt, @aliferousminho, @aeruiian, @iadorethemskz, i'm pretty sure that's it, sorry if you asked to be tagged and you didn't get to be, i just went off of who asked to be on the teaser

[thetempleofhades]

victors and fools

i just finished the whole lyney and lynette court case and oh my god..... i had to write something out for it because i'm full of ideas and no way to get them out other than my silly little brain rots.

it's surprising that a crime could take place in such a place as The Opera Epiclese, but you're not surprised that Furina is taking her chance to try and prove herself superior to the powerful outlander, especially after her first attempt was foiled by none other than the accused.

But even then, you don't interfere. You see no reason to, after all Furina would never stoop as low as falsely accusing someone to get her way, neither you nor Neuvillette would allow her to go that far.

Speaking of Neuvillette, he's one of the other reasons you're not interfering. He takes his job of Chief Justice seriously, as he should, for the sake of Fontaine and the justice it upholds. So, the outcome will be the truth.

You don't really care about any of that, you want to see the Traveler in action as an attorney. It should be funny enough to see them bring Furina down a peg.

As much as you adored her, she could be arrogant at times. Sly and demanding, you usually didn't mind but her near desperation to prove herself above the traveller and paimon was becoming annoying.

You sat in a seat that had been guided to, where everyone could only look up and see you, watching it all pass on with amusement or a contemplating look.

as the trial came to its conclusion and Furina's accusation was proved wrong, she looked over at you as you got up. Your starry eyes glanced over at her, unreadable.

That was new. You always allowed yourself to be an open book around those of your acolytes that you spent your times with. Usually a smile graced your face as you looked at her but a frown marred your lips as you turned and left, not stopping even as she ran out after you, shouting after you.

"Y-your Grace!" She called out for you, easily catching up to your slowed pace as she looked up at you, a nervous guilt in her eyes. "I-If I had only known-"

"You accused him and instigated a second duel with the traveler." You mused, looking down at her, the look on your face indicating that you were thinking. "....To prove that you were above them, above the other Archons?"

She frantically tried to figure out if you were truly upset at her. There was no rain or thunder or anything indicating that Teyvat had responded to you upset feelings. She relaxed only a bit. "I am above them! All of them! They were defeated so easily, I won't be. B... But, I will no longer regard them as a threat..."

You looked down at her for a moment as if looking right into her soul before you sighed, the same ever-suffering sigh you always let out when she caused chaos and dragged it right to you. "Haah, what will I do with you?" You rubbed your face gently. "You can be so irritatingly arrogant sometimes. Don't tell me you did this just because you're jealous of the attention and praise i gave them?"

Furina turned her face away from him, leading you to raise an eyebrow down at her form. "...Okay, I won't tell you anything, Your Grace."

"You're insufferable." You sighed as you started to walk forward again, not saying a word as she hurried to catch up to you once more, clinging to your arm. "....That dessert shop you like is still open, do you still want to get dessert? 'One must always have dessert after entertainment'." You imitated her voice in the last part, still looking forward.

She smiled brightly up at you, still clinging to you. "Mmm! Your Grace knows me so well, I'm honored! Let's get dessert!" She seemed happy by it so you let it be.

Just another day for the Hydro Archon and the Creator of Teyvat.

[v1x3n]

૮ . . ྀིა⁩ - AFTER.

simon 'ghost' riley ⸝⸝ navigation ⸝⸝ depressed masterlist ୨୧ tags : angst

୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : he soon regrets all the words he had spat at you when the guilt hit.

Simon and you hadn't spoken since the incident. No one really knew all the mind-fucking details but everyone knew the jist of it. You said some things, he said some bad things. Things that had you staring at the floor of the bar with your mates, his words repeating in your head over and over. 

“You should fucking try again and do it properly again.”

It's on replay, his voice blasting over the soft mutter of your friends. Glaring daggers through the rough floor, no one had really noticed until Gaz did. “You doin alright?” the faded buzz humming from across the table. His arm was tempted to wrap around your shoulder but his mind stopped it. 

The hot fuzz of the fight blazing your memory - always burned there. It was a scar. “y/n?” the murmured fuzz sounds as if you were underwater. Tap tap. Gaz had tapped you back into reality, "w-what?" your blur wriggled into clearness - finally looking over to him without mist in your pupils. “‘M fine, yeah! Just zoned out” the classic fake smile followed. Gaz glared at you, a very suspicious non-believing glare. His arm wraps around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him and the team. 

"Ayye, Bonnie lass, you want a new beer?” Soap calls out to you. You dot your eyes around to remember his position from before. Both your eyes connect before you nod at him. You'd just rather stay here and get tipsy with everyone, the warm chatter and the arm that was draped across your shoulder. Maybe you should forget Simon.

It wasn't long before the tears came, the guilt, the dread. No one had seen Simon like this. Perhaps you were special. 

The minute you had that one last shot to the minute you stepped into your bedroom, all alone, you knew what the night was going to end like. And it went perfectly. 

His thoughts were overbearing, guilt seeping from his mind. Spewing out at the worst times. Shouting at people who slightly annoyed him, crying in front of people - not bawling, sobbing just a few tears that melt down his eyes. Nothing over the top. He was given some time to mourn, as everyone was. It was a difficult thing - someone's death. Everyone knew what you were like. With your past attempts, they hadn't expected the next attempt to be so soon and succeed. I guess it was ghosts' words of encouragement that helped you, so really we should thank him! And praise him for this. 

Simon's room was quiet - too fucking quiet. Often you were in there, making the silent room fill with joy and laughter, but not anymore. Not since the last fight you had, not since the last fight you ever had. It made him feel…weird. It made him think about everything that happened that day and now he couldn't bare with himself. He hated the feeling of remembering that day and he couldn’t believe it had happened at all. Even though he was the one who made you go through with it. 

Simon sat in his shamed office, trying to move on and get past you. Despite the two weeks you two haven't spoken. Back at his job once more, back to sitting down and doing reports. Made to forget everything that happened - everyone was made to forget. It's part of the job, the lifelong guilt of someone who passed. Knock knock 

“Shit” he fumbles as the sudden knock makes him jolt. He wasn't the type of person to be scared or jump at a sudden shock. But the remorse mixed with him in his own head - everything got a bit too much.

“Come in" A rough voice blasts through the door, allowing Price to enter. 

“There's a briefing in about an hour and a half. I didn't think about everything-" 

He sighed, not just a small sigh - a long exaggerated sigh, the big bad wolf could only dream of. “Captain, I can still do my job. Thanks for the reminder though.” Price's mouth merged into a small line and he nodded.

“I know you can, I'm just stating it. I know it's hard but we still have a job to do - everyone does. No matter how close you were with..." he exhales a deep breath, like it's hard to say your name. It was almost a slur. “Her.”

Simon's eyes shut on his own, the blackness taking him and the low mumbles of price filling his ears and mind. A familiar voice sounded - one that he needed to hear, but could only at the worst time. “I hate you, Simon Riley." were the last words you had said to him. Simon froze at that, the thoughts in his head getting worse and more distorted. His breath hitched in his throat. He didn’t like the feeling of what was happening. 

“Ghost? You need to focus on your job.” His mind snapped back to current events. 

“My fault…My fault…” He muttered as he repeated your words in his head. He could feel his breath hitching, his heart starting to beat faster, and he felt himself starting to panic. The fuzzyness he had felt for years before grew, it enhanced by your stabbing words, the fluff clouding his mind. Simon's vision blurred as he tried to keep his eyes open. He was starting to feel like he couldn’t think, like his head was full and then...nothingness. All of his thoughts stopped. He couldn’t think anymore or maybe he could but his mind was silent. 

His limbs went limp, his head felt like he was submerged underwater as he passed out. 

Unwilling to open his eyes once more. 

@friedturtlewhispers

comment to join main taglist!

[lovelybucky1]

Pass the Time

Kinktober Day 15: Praise Kink

warnings: AFAB!reader, vaginal fingering, fwb(?), dirty talk, smei-public sex, 18+ minors dni, inspired by @hanasnx's han dirty talk thoughts

main masterlist

kinktober masterlist

You sit in the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon with your feet kicked up on the control panel in front of you. Han and Chewie sit in the seats closest to the windshield in similar positions.

You're bored out of your goddamn mind. Traveling from Tatooine to Dantooine takes forever, even in hyperspace. You're crossing the whole galaxy to get to the rebel base, but right now on the ship, you have nothing to do but wait.

You groan loudly and Han tilts his head back to glare at you. His arms are crossed over his chest and his eyes are half lidded like he was on the brink of sleep before you disturbed him.

"What's wrong?" Han asks, clearly annoyed.

"I'm bored," you say with a groan.

Han rolls his eyes while he sits up and spins around his chair to face you. He is slouched in the seat, legs spread obnoxiously wide.

"You can play cards with Chewie," he suggests, looking over at his furry friend. Chewie grunts in response. "Shut up, they don't cheat."

You narrow your eyes at the back of Chewie's head. If anyone cheats, it's him. "I don't wanna play cards."

"You could mop the floors." You cross your arms and give him an unimpressed look. "I don't know what to tell you, kid. I can't make this thing go any faster."

You groan again, leaning your head back against the chair. Han closes his eyes again, still facing you, trying to resume the sleep that you interrupted.

Making yourself busy is a difficult task on a ship full of nothing but nuts and bolts. You spun around in the chair for a while, considered taking a nap, and now you've taken to drumming a rhythm on the armrests of your seat.

"If you're gonna be a pain in my ass this whole time, you can wait in the cargo hold," he says, voice gruff.

His voice breaking the silence scared you but you quickly recover. "There's nothing to do on this rust bucket. What do you do to pass the time normally?"

Han stays silent but raises his eyebrows at you suggestively. Your face curls into an expression of disgust. "Not in my seat, I hope."

"Everywhere, sweetheart," he smirks.

Han turns back around and you're left to wait some more. Eventually Chewie retires to his bunk for a nap, and you take his spot next to Han.

The unending silence got you thinking, Maybe Han's way of passing the time wouldn't be so bad. Being bored does make you horny, and it's not a terrible way to kill some time, especially if you did it together. He's an attractive guy and it's always better with someone else, right? At the very least, you know he can please a woman based on the stories he tells when he's drunk.

"Han." His eyes flick over to you. "I have something we could try."

He stretches out his legs and turns to face you with a neutral expression. "What's that."

"We could..." he looks at you expectantly. Honestly, you thought he would pick up on your intention before you had to spell it out for him. Now you're not sure exactly what you want to ask for.

"We could, what?"

"You could help me... you know," you say, raising your eyebrows trying to signal to him your meaning.

"I'm not quite followin' you," he says, but the slight smirk on his lips makes you think he's playing dumb.

"You could help me get off," you blurt out.

A slow grin forms on Han's lips and he allows his thighs to part even further. "Well shit, kid, why didn't you just say so in the first place? Could've saved us all that time just then."

Han pats his thigh and you get up from your seat and step over to him. You perch yourself on his thigh and he wraps his arm around your middle to keep you stable.

Being close to Han like this should feel weird. You've been nothing but platonic up until now, but he's looking at you like this isn't the first time he's pictured you in his lap.

"You really wanna fuck me or are you just bored and horny?" he asks as his fingertips trace circles on your thigh.

"Will my answer change the outcome?" you ask.

"No," he smirks.

Han grabs your hips and positions you so you're straddling his thighs. His hands then drift down to your ass and he gropes you shamelessly, not caring when you roll your eyes in his face. He touches all over you and while his large, calloused hands feel nice, it isn't taking the edge off.

"I thought you were helping me get off," you say.

"I can't play with your pussy if your clothes are on, sweetie," he says smugly.

You stand up and begin to strip. You feel a little nervous under Han's gaze, but he's drinking you in like you're the best thing he's ever seen. You know that's far from the truth; he's fucked princesses and queens and every beautiful woman on every planet.

Before you have the chance to turn back around to face Han, he is pressed up against your back and walking you forward to the control panel.

His hand is splayed across your stomach and his chin tucked over your shoulder. "Always knew you had a nice ass," he says in your ear.

He slides his hand down your front to the apex of your thighs. His fingers tease along your mound, dipping low enough to get your heart racing but not enough to quell the rapidly building ache.

"You want it, pretty girl?" he asks. You nod, but apparently that's not enough for him. "Nah, you gotta use your words. If you can't be a big girl and tell me what you want then you don't deserve it."

You sigh and lean back against his chest. You can faintly see your reflection in the windshield, but it's hard to see with the bright lights of hyperspace behind the glass.

"I want you to make me cum."

You can feel Han smirk against your neck as his fingers slide down between your lips. "Shit, you're wet already. Have you been workin' yourself up over there this whole time or do I just do it for you?"

"Shut up," you breathe.

Han's finger makes contact with your clit and you gasp. Noticing that you're sensitive there, he avoids the area so he can save it for the grand finale. He touches every inch of your cunt, swiping his fingers through your wet folds and dragging the mess around.

"What's a good girl like you doin' with a needy pussy like this?" he asks. "'s enough to make me fall in love."

You elbow Han in the side but he only laughs. Mercifully, he dips his finger into your cunt and eases it inside, allowing you to get used to the stretch of his large finger. He groans into your ear like he's starring in some cheesy holo porn, but you can't deny that the rasp of his voice is hot.

"You don't love me," you say.

"Not yet. As soon as I get my dick in this cunt I'm gonna, though."

He fucks you with his finger slowly and the drag of it against your sweet spot makes you curl with pleasure. Even with one finger he has this much of an effect on you. You can't imagine what his dick would do to you.

He works you up to fitting a second finger inside, but it's a tight fit. You're cunt squeezes around his fingers as he tries to scissors them in an attempt to open you up.

"Tight as a fuckin' vice, aren't you, baby? You're not a virgin, are you?" You shake your head no and give a small whine in response. "Didn't think so, but what a fuckin' idea that is, huh? Pretty little girl saving herself for the smuggler who can show her a good time."

Han's lips attach to the skin underneath your ear, sucking a hickey shamelessly onto your skin. You squirm, but the arm around your waist keeps you from getting far.

"Don't run from me, sweetheart. I'm being good to you, don't you think?"

"Uhhuh," you reply.

"Damn, kid. Just a little fingering and you go dumb on me?" Han curls his fingers and rubs them against your g-spot while his thumb rubs circles over your clit.

You can feel your walls fluttering aroud his fingers and you know you're getting close. Han's hand grips your hip tightly and the possession and roughness he's displaying serves to bring you to the edge quicker.

"Han," you whine.

"Cum on my fingers, kid. Get 'em soaked like a good girl," he says. "Make Daddy proud."

[vasyandii]

I have no idea if I can ask that but I'm so curious... Any headcanons of AM and Vernon having sex? I made conclusion that they are doing that by your last nswf art... (Very good one, btw!) Or am I wrong? It's okay if you don't want to answer on this ask or it's uncomfortable for you! Sorry if I made you feel bad... 👉👈

VernonAM

NSFW Headcanons

Warning: Sexual/suggestive topics.

⚠️ If you're under 16+, Please scroll pass. There are better places to be. (My Boundaries here.)

Howdy Anon, thank you for the ask. you're allowed to ask anything as long as it's in a normal/polite manner XD. I see sex more as a character study/ exploration than anything else.

In the context of THIS art; they haven't yet, more just AM struggling to deal with new sensations and emotions of want because he has big feelings towards Vernon and nowhere to put it to.

1.) AM's bad at fucking.

Let's get this out of the way, when their relationship started to become sexual, AM was bad at it. Like way worse than most. Just because one has the knowledge of how to fuck doesn't mean they have the skill to fuck.

So during the initial stages, it was less than satisfactory for Vernon's end, even if she's been touch starved for 109 years. (not for AM though he enjoys it very much.)

2.) Ideas on sex.

I don't think Vernon sees sex as an act of intimacy, if she does, it's very rarely. To her it's an act of power, worship. She requires it from AM, he's a good follower and she'll be a good god.

AM, however sees it as an intimate experience, a moment of vulnerability that he's willing to give to her. He wants to please and see her pleased. It's a form of showing his affection towards her. AM has more complex emotions with his experience being "human". (I hope that makes sense)

3.) Vernon's experience

4.) Vernon is LOUD. AM is quiet.

She just generally had more experience in sex than him. ( Mostly one night stands during University and her Archeological excavations overseas.) but because of this, the initial stages felt transactional.

Intercourse did get better as time went on but she had to basically talk him through most of it since AM had no sense of pace, rhythm, control, and it usually didn't last long.

Vernon gets a kick out of embarrassing AM in the bedroom. She will moan, scream, laugh. AM knows there's no one to hear them but he ushers her to stay quiet because he gets shy.

AM is fairly quiet because his brain can only process so many overwhelming sensations at once, he short circuits. His words often come out garbled, even in its omnipresence. His face is often buried in her neck to not make any noise.

5.) idk what caption to put here lmao

Vernon's just really degrading when it comes to teasing AM idk how to put it. She'll whisper praises in AM's ear, kisses on his neck, while giving him a handjob or kisses along his thighs and dick before she sucks him off. But then she goes along to choking, scratching, or biting him.

Not much to say for AM since he's a bumbling mess during, alot of sniffled "Thank you's" from him. He's good with his mouth though.

6.) Aftercare

Vernon doesn't do aftercare. It's a waste of time to her, or at least that's what she says, since usually in her past experience she would just leave and never see the other person again.

She's a bit repulsed by the idea that there's something that she has to do that'll make her get attached to someone which shows in her being slightly irritable after sex. An irritated fondness for AM, basically.

AM requires aftercare from Vernon. He's pretty annoying about it. He'll whine and stop her from leaving bed with his weight.

He needs her to give him kisses and tell him that he's good in some way. Vernon will give the reassurance he needs (kisses, petting his hair, holding him) as long as he shuts the hell up and lets her sleep it off.

That's really it for my headcanons for them, I'm not very good at writing sexual things so if there's anything you'd like for me to clarify, feel free to tell me.

[nahoney22]

Hello darling!

I’d love if you wrote a NSFW fic with Tech or Wrecker.

Maybe you’d be coming home from a bad day at work and a bad fight with your parents and he comforts you and makes you forget your troubles with some soft sex. Lots of praise and pleasure. Maybe some overstimulation??

Only if you have the time of course!! If you’ve already written something like this, I’ll scour the master list

Many thanks lovely!!

Gentleness***

Wrecker X F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

After visiting your parents, you brain is fried with their words and demands of wanting you to have a different path in life. So when you return to your boyfriend, Wrecker, you crave some much needed TLC.

warnings: NSFW, 18+ only. Explicit sexual content and language. Soft smut, cunnilingis, praises, overstimulation, established relationship, aftercare and female reader. A little bit angsty, mentions of arguing with parents.

authors note: I chose to do Wrecker because I’ve not wrote for him in a hot minute and I feel like this is Wrecker coded. Sorry for the wait @originalcollectionartistry ✨🤍

With a raspy throat and misty eyes, you approach the Marauder following what was meant to be a pleasant reunion with your parents, only to unravel into a heated debate about your life choices. Are you old enough? Mature enough? In their eyes, the exhilaration of navigating the galaxy with a band of rogue Clones was an unacceptable life for their daughter. They envisioned a different path—one confined to a desolate planet, toiling behind a counter in a dreary little shop.

You yearned for their support, but some convictions remain unaltered. It had been this way for many years and each time you see them, you think they would change their minds.

Outside the Marauder, you collect yourself, wiping away tears and clearing your throat before boarding.

However, the usual clamor had subsided this evening, leaving you in solitude momentarily. Yet, a yearning for your boyfriend lingers.

Thinking you've found respite, you settle into the cockpit, allowing tears to cascade. With your head in your hands and fingers entwined in your hair in frustration, your sobs echo in the silence. Unbeknownst to you, the familiar and resounding footsteps approach, shattering the quiet.

"I thought I heard ya—hey, what's wrong, babe?" Wrecker swiftly joins you, crouching beside you and tenderly placing a hand on your thigh.

Peering at him through your hands, you manage a smile amid the tears and emit a soft sniffle. "I'm fine, just parents."

A frown creases Wrecker's brow. "I thought you were looking forward to seeing them?" he asks.

"Yeah, until they started bombarding me about what they think I should be doing with my life," you groan, swiping away your tears once more and straightening up. "Just annoyed."

Wrecker offers a sympathetic smile, planting a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Did they, um, mention anythin’ about me?" His hand grazes the back of your neck, prompting a playful eye-roll from you.

Fortunately, your parents did inquire about Wrecker. Your relationship with him wasn't exactly a secret after their initial meeting, which left a favorable impression. That much you were thankful for.

"They just asked about how you were and all," you mention, crossing your arms and leaning back against the chair's headrest. "But... they still disapprove of me traveling with you all. They want me to stay home and work for them."

Wrecker tilts his head, his brow knitting together. "Is that what ya want?"

"Absolutely not, Wreck," you declare. "I just wish they could understand that this is the path I've chosen."

Wrecker stands tall and concerned above you. “Well I’m glad you're still here,” he says, a gentle smile tugging at your lips in response. Yet, he's not entirely convinced. “Is there anything I can do?”

Initially stumped, you gaze up at him, taking in his towering presence, his striking features, and suddenly, a longing for something, anything, wells up within you. "Honestly?"

"Yeah, anything!" His smile widens, noticing a glimmer of light returning to your eyes.

As you stand before Wrecker, your voice carries a hint of vulnerability. "I want you to love me."

Confusion knits Wrecker's brow. "But you know I already do? Don't you?"

You let out a soft, tender laugh at his innocent bewilderment. Your hands trail up his sturdy arms, tracing the contours of his broad chest before delicately cradling his cheeks. Your fingertips brush over the rough, scarred tissue, as you gaze deeply into his eyes. "Yes, but I want you to love me," you express, your voice filled with longing and an unspoken yearning for more.

He’s silent now, but he understands what you mean as his eyes spark with interest.

With such a gentleness, he took your hands away from his face, starting to trail soft kisses up your arms until he seals his lips over yours, drawing you in.

You let him take the lead, keening into his touch as his hands begin to pull the clothes away from your body, his large hands gently kneading at your soft, nude flesh as his tongue dances with yours.

It’s not long until he has you wrapped around his waist, carrying you through the ship until he lays you down on his bunk, warm breath waltzing against your skin.

Soft moans begin to part your lips as Wrecker kneels at the foot of the bunk, your legs spread and balancing over his shoulders as he slips a finger between your folds. Your increasing arousal helps Wrecker to move his digit up and down before he gathers your slick on his fingers, using it as lubricant to rub at your swelling clit.

You choke on a groan, knees subconsciously closing around his head but Wrecker doesn’t mind, infact, it spurs him on as you start to gently roll your hips to his touch. He encourages you, keeping a steady pace as he places kisses to the inside of your thighs as he works at your clit with intent, yet gentle.

Your legs start to tremble, chewing on your lower lip as Wrecker lets out a satisfied growl of pleasure as you grind down on his hand, slipping a finger inside you and curling it as he gently thrusts. “That’s it pretty girl, take what ya need.”

“S-So good Wrecker… you’re so good to me.” You whine, toes curling as he maintains a steady momentum.

“Of course I am, I always will be,” he rasps, eyes fixated on your glistening pussy, “let it go, cum for me. I’ve got ya.”

Your eyes are seeing stars, stars more beautiful than those through space as your body becomes rigid and your breathing becomes heavy. Then, you cry out his name, your orgasm shooting through you as you ride out the pleasure against his hand. “That’s it, you did so well.” He cooes. “That was a lot.”

A happy sigh parts your lips but Wrecker didn’t stop there. “Do you think you can cum again sweetie? I think you can.” He cooed as he placed soft kisses to your thighs before his warm breath fans over your tingling pussy.

Naturally your hips bucked as his tongue glides over your folds, licking up the residue of before and melts as he whines softly at the taste of you. You squirm, getting a bit too overstimulated but a part of you wanted more, you wanted to fight against it and let Wrecker continue to have a taste of you.

“Don’t worry,” he purrs, sensing the struggle between wanting another orgasm and for him to stop teasing at your pulsating cunt, “I will take extra good care of you if you are a good girl and cum on my tongue.”

Your blood runs hot, his praises alone almost making you hit your high. Softly, you hold onto the back of his head, grinding your hips on his tongue as he delves his tongue against your stimulated clit, the burn now desirable.

His large arms wrap under your thighs, bringing you even closer to his face than before, chuckling into your pussy as you let out a wanton cry of pleasure. Your hands move to the sheets on the bunk, gripping as if for dear life as he laps eagerly at you, sucking and flicking his tongue expertly against your sweet sex. “Oh f-fuck! Wreck..!”

“Say my name again sweetie, let me know how much I’m pleasing ya.”

You were blessed to be laying down because if you were standing there was no way you would’ve been able to hold yourself up. “Wrecker, you’re so good at this.”

Again, he chuckles, sending vibrations through you that have your toes curling as your cunt becomes numb. As your moans become louder, you knew you were close again. Wrecker groans as he slips his tongue into your pussy, feeling you clench around his tongue that has you soaring into the galaxy.

“Your moans are so perfect, baby. You’ve done so, so good for me.” He pulls away, catching his breath and you almost sob at the sight of your juices around his grinning mouth before he moves his hand back to your core and lets his fingers strum rapidly against your clit.

It’s too much and somewhat not enough either. His name runs past your lips like a mantra all the while he ushers words of praise. “That’s it, good girl. Cum again.”

One part of your brain makes you squirm away from his touch, finding it unbearable but the other half craves for the intensity of another orgasm. “It’s too sensitive Wrecker,” you moan, knuckles turning white as you grip onto the sheets.

“I know baby but I know you can do it. Let it go, you’ll feel so much better.” For someone so loud his words were so quiet and soft yet laced with pure filth. You’re hot, the stimulation relentless and it’s not until his mouth is back on your clit when your climax finally hits.

“O-o-oh stars!” you whimper as your orgasm rakes through you and onto his mouth and chin, your whole body tingling now. He continues to lick your pussy, collecting every ounce of your high before he stands, wipes his mouth and chin and pulls you into his arms as he sits on the edge of the bunk with you.

“That’s how it’s done, sweetie. Well done.” He cooed, stroking a hand through your sweat covered hair, “was that enough?”

You give him a dazed, dopey grin and nod. “It was perfect.” You sigh happily, resting your forehead into his chest as he cradles your nude body. “Thank you for this.”

“Like I said, I’d do anything.”

Masterlist

Ko-fi if you wanna buy me a coffee ☕️

More Wrecker Works

Taglist if you want to be added or removed (please note I’ll respectfully remove you if you’re not interacting with my work 🤍)

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[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Hi, I read your monster au posts and they are amazing. Though I was wondering what would Rollo be and how would he handle there being a magicless human given his attitude in canon, as well as how would GloMas go down with Yuu and Mini!Yuu in that au?

So, I’d been holding off on answering this for Rollo until I had a better grasp on his personality and behavior, as deciding the monster/cryptid species that fits best is important. But since the Glorious Masquerade is coming to the ENG servers tomorrow (I’m not ready!!!), it feels like the right time to introduce him into the Monster!AU!

Also, as for whether or not RSA has seen Yuu/mini!Yuu, I think at least Che'nya and Neige and the dwarves have seen them yes! Outside of those, I leave that up to you/whatever direction the game takes us down next! And thank you so much, I'm glad everyone loves the AU's ;;v;;

To answer the question, I decided to base him off the French (and coincidentally Louisiana) cryptid “feu follet”, otherwise known as a Will-o’-the-wisp. Why did I choose this versus creatures like the “Beast of Gévaudan” or the “Gaueco” which will make him a fluffy canine monster? Well, while I think both would be interesting concepts to work with, neither of them really seem to fit the vibe I got from him as he’s portrayed in the beginning (…well, before chaos as usual hits the fan of course). Plus, it was also an interesting excuse to delve into more of the non-animal based ones besides Ortho being a golem!

WARNING: SOME SPOILERS AHEAD AND MENTION OF DEATH BASED ON THE MYTHOLOGY OF THE FEU FOLLET/WILL-O’-THE-WISP!

Anyway, I picture him being more of a feu follet/Will-o’-the-wisp as a call to his UM “Dark Fire” and his last name Flamme, which translates to “flame” in French. Hence, as a “ghost light”, it seemed more fitting! Feu follets are said to come in various shades of blue, yellow, red, and even green—now imagine him changing color based on his emotions and having to control that side in public! His poker face means nothing behind that handkerchief if he turns colors! 😂 (Especially if you keep in mind color theory!)

While they’re also generally harmless, however, if you’re familiar with the legend of Will-‘o-the-wisps (which has multiple different variations and stories across the world!), following one at night thinking it’s a fellow traveler can lead to one’s death in a marsh, bog, swamp, etc. Typically, they’re seen in a graveyard or one of the above-mentioned areas. Since no one knew how dangerous Rollo was until it was too late, it seemed fitting for him to be one!

By the way, he can be corporeal to handle things or be hugged by someone. He can also phase through things he wants to avoid…now imagine his hat getting caught between the fence bars! 🤣🤣🤣

With that out of the way, let’s discuss his reaction to Yuu and mini!Yuu!

Given that he’s more comfortable with non-magic users, he’d be fascinated and charmed at the thought of humans—creatures of historic legend and cryptic bedtime stories—being non-magic. A world where magic doesn’t exist and no one will be consumed by blot or harmed by spells gone awry? He’d likely want to know more, but he wouldn’t want to get too close—after all, he’s not exactly keen on making friends or showing a vulnerable side. Yuu is gonna have their work cut out for them if they want to give him pets and scritches! Their best bet is in private where he’s less likely to react so strongly (though if he learns that getting the majority of Yuu’s attention is enough to annoy Malleus and the others, I can see him being smug about it and letting them praise him 😌).

As for mini!Yuu though…

Mini!Yuu: *toddling around the room, giggling as they support the large puffy cap on their head*

Azul: “Where did you get that, little one?”

Mini!Yuu: “Mr. Rollo dropped it and let me wear it!” *adjusts the cap with one hand to try and look up at them before bumping into Deuce’s leg* “Oof!”

Deuce: “Oop! Careful, Yuu!”

Riddle: “I’m surprised he allowed you to wear it given his position as Student Council President.”

/Meanwhile/

Vice President: “Uh…President Rollo? Where is your cap?”

Rollo: *holding handkerchief to his mouth* “Yuu wanted to know how heavy it was.”

Vice President: “Y-you’ve never let yourself be out of uniform!” *gets emotional* “But you’re allowing the human child to wear it…that is so precious!”

Rollo: *scowls, his wisp body turning reddish-pink in embarrassment*

///////////

Pfft…I just couldn’t resist a bit of cuteness~! UvU/)

As for how the whole event would go down…well, I can imagine that Rollo would believe he’s doing the right thing, so him possibly trying to separate Yuu from the others using the flowers would be even more terrifying! For mini!Yuu, the whole situation would be absolutely terrifying for the toddler since I doubt the others would have let them come with them to stop Rollo. So, the boys would likely leave them with Grandpa Trein for safety until the whole situation is done and over with.

Once all is said and done, it’s really up to Yuu to decide how they see Rollo after the fact. As for mini!Yuu? Whether they find out it was started because of him or the boys kept it under wraps just like everyone else in NBC being ignorant of what happened, they might just be happy to see he’s okay. Now imagine him dancing with mini!Yuu at the end of the event like Charlotte with Prince Naveen’s younger brother from Princess and the Frog!

[sailorkamino]

Hi! Could you write some headcannons for tbb x body insecure or plus sized reader?

body insecurities [bad batch]

relationships: gn!reader x bad batch

warnings: weight insecurities, echo has body dysmorphia, diet culture, an older sibling being a parental figure, autistic tech struggling w/ emotions, past body shaming

a/n: i love writing for tech but i struggle with his dialogue, if you're a bad batch writer pls send me some tips to making him sound in character <3

crosshair

• great at reading body language so he can tell when you need comfort even if you don't verbalize it

• he might seem annoyed but that's just his rbf, if he didn't care he wouldn't ask

• the type to be angry when he's worried

• it's eaiser to threaten you then admit he cares

• he'll say stuff like "take a risk like that again and i'll shoot you" or "drink some water dumb ass, i'm not your baby sitter"

• his first reaction is to fight the problem

• "did someone tell you that shit?"

• once he realizes he doesn't need to commit murder he's not leaving you along until you talk

• cross is the best listener and i will die on this hill

• he can seem dismissive of your insecurities but he does care, he just thinks you're wrong lmao

• brutally honest so any praise from him means a lot

echo

• the most empathetic boyfriend part 1

• def has suffered from body dysmorphia so he understands

• but also baffled cuz you're perfect to him

• he's very serious about your mental health so he wants to his a conversation about this

• the most genleman to ever gentleman, he will shower you in love!!

• lots of cuddling and sweet words

• hope you don't have any plans cuz you're not allowed to leave his arms until you feel better

• if you want to eat better that's great! but none of these unhealthy diets you see on the holonet

• no he'll research the best diet/exercise plan for you personally to make sure you're safe <3

• you've helped so much with his confidence he's determined to return the favor

hunter

• instantly knows when something's bothering you

• as the oldest he was forced into a parental role at a young age so he has a lot of expierence with comforting

• will give you a worried dad look until you tell him what's wrong

• he might get a little pushy if you aren't opening up

• he doesn't mean to but worrying about his loved ones is like his default setting

• [protective mode activated] did someone say something? cross will probably help get rid of a body if he asks-

• blames himself for your doubt

• secretly reads/watches romance stories so he'll probably drop some cheesy lines from them

• shows your tummy lots of love, like using it as a pillow while you stroke his hair or sneaking a hand under your top, lulled by your breaths

• cuddles with skin to skin contact are very intimate to hunter cuz of his higtened senses so this is very special privilege

• if it'll give you confidence he offers to work out with you, using the holonet he tries to find 'fun' exercises you can both enjoy (yoga, zumba, etc.)

tech

• he'll get frustrated because he doesn't understand your pov

• he's told you that you're attractive and healthy, why are you still upset?

• hunter has always told him "you can't make others see things the way you do" and it's infuriating for him

• tech is a fixer so he feels helpless when he can't just fix your insecurities

• he'll encourage you to talk to one of his more emotionally intelligent brothers which you take as rejection

• when your eyes fill with tears he panics even more

• "perhaps i should get hunter-" "i don't want your brothers, i want you tech"

• he's quiet for a moment before awkwardly opening his arms, "physical touch causes the brain to release oxytocin, a bonding hormone that strengthens social bonds in mammals. would you like a hug?"

• he's always found you attractive but never voiced it, now he makes sure to tell you every time

• get ready for blunt but 100% genuine compliments like "your chest is distracting in that shirt"

wrecker

• the most empathetic boyfriend part 2

• king of emotional intelligence

• will pick you up and hold you like you're a doll, laughs if you call yourself 'heavy'

• everyone is kind of small to wrecker (even his brothers) so to him you're practically a baby tooka

• but still he takes your feelings seriously

• cadet wrecker was definitely body shamed by regs so he knows how it feels

• showers you with affection 24/7 so it's hard to feel insecure around this guy

• will fight anyone who makes you feel bad >:(

• like hunter, he also offers to work out with you (not just cuz he loves showing off-)

• loves active games, like just dance or wii sports

• is up for any activity has long as you're involved tbh

[jweekgoji]

yandere five with a reader who's just as smart as him, but is still really sweet. however, she won't take any of his shit and gets past all of his shenanigans, escaping every he drags her back.

Yandere!Five x Reader

warnings: yandere behaviour, dark themes (obviously), yandere Five, kidnapping, mentions of breaking bones.

a/n: I'm sorry if that's not...what you expected? i dunno why I'm saying this, it's just every time I'm doing requests I have a feeling I didn't do it perfectly? and you probably expected more-

For a man like Number Five, having a potential competitor around is kinda a great danger. For him? Haha! Definitely not, more for you. You see, since childhood, Five has been a pretty...competitive guy. He's faster, smarter, stronger than the ones he grew up with at the Academy when he was much younger.

In fact, meeting the same person who can make Five sweat so well would be very interesting to him. If Five were younger, his reaction would be simple. He wants to be the best, as well as get his dose of praise from Reginald, will simply start spending a day to get ahead of you. He'll work out, he'll solve more math equations, he'll read every book in the house day and night, he'll do anything to say, in the end, “I'll always be better.”

Five, who survived several apocalypses, life in the Commission and other things, will be a little...calmer. Yes, he has a younger body, which means he must have strength. But. Five was tired mentally and physically. His body may allow him to do a few runs around the academy if he really wants to, but the other question is, will he compete with you? No.

I understand that you are probably a little disappointed with this answer, yes? Sorry, but Five is not 13 years old! There may be a part of him that wants to get some praise from Reggie, but for the most part, he just doesn't care. He is an old man. He's 58 years old guys, all he wants to do is drink coffee and read some newspaper while enjoying a legal retirement. Your games do not impress him, play such games with Diego or Ben from Sparrow, and please do not bother him.

And so, we approach the other side, by some miracle Five liked you so much that he now loves you, congratulations! I think some of your sarcasm plus sweet and intelligent behaviour will annoy him a little, but for the most part it will amuse him. You, compared to him, are so inexperienced and cute, you are probably trying to copy him, right? He will rather laugh at your behavior.

But if you really are really incredibly smart, then congratulations, you can even shut him up for a while. Remember how Viktor reminded him of the events of season 2?

You stand next to Five, silently looking at him, then at his older doppelgänger lying on the cold metal surface of the table. A moment, and you noticeably shift your gaze first to the younger, then to the old man, and so on several times. This obviously does not go unnoticed by Five and he, already on the verge of breakdown, turns to you.

„What?” he practically grinds his teeth, trying to keep from sounding rougher.

“Nothing,” you shrug, chuckling softly. “It’s just that if he is you, and you are the creator of the Commission, then it’s a little funny.”

He raises one eyebrow at your words and, moving away from his counterpart, now seems a little interested in your point of view.

“What the hell is funny about that? Can you try to explain yourself, missy?”

“You complained that the suitcases are not bulletproof, but it turns out that this is like your mistake?” you are still smiling. “It's not that I blame you...”

For a moment there is only awkward silence between the two of you. You look at him, he looks at you, only making this conversation more awkward now. He seemed to think about your words and the realization really hit him hard, and his face turns red, more likely from anger, and possibly embarrassment.

“You brat really think it's a good idea to say it right now-”

I think if you have yandere Number Five behind you, who, if you remember, is one of the most dangerous people in the world, then you must be pretty damn smart. You must be much smarter than him, considering the fact that you are a simple person with no abilities. It will be incredibly difficult for you to avoid problems if he wants to have you with him 24/7, since he can literally appear at any moment and move you anywhere and you won’t even have time to blink.

Dealing with a person with teleportation is a 50/50 situation where you may or may not get lucky. Your reaction should be quick and immediate, being able to analyze your situation in a stressful situation, because then the right to make a mistake is a luxury that you cannot afford.

Right now, one of your many attempts to escape from Five, and you can tell exactly how he is not happy about this fact. How many times have you already done this? Five times? Ten? Twenty?! He is tired of constantly pulling you away from leaving the house, you damn annoying him at such moments, and after each such attempt, he often has to change the doors and locks on the windows, because you, by some fucking miracle, manage to break them.

“Can you stop this for one freaking day?” he hisses angrily, wrapping one arm around your neck, pressing you closer to him.

His other hand is on top of your mouth, thereby shutting you up. Just from looking at Five's face, you can see how tired he is. Sweat runs down his forehead and his chest rises up and down incredibly fast.

There is a slight smile on your face and for a moment you froze, looking up at him.

“Oh, I'm really sorry for all the trouble I'm causing you,” you say in your real, sad voice. “And sorry about that too.”

Without giving your kidnapper time to react, you strike him hard in the side with your elbow, causing him to groan in pain and let go of you for a moment. Enough for you to be able to escape from it.

If you are smart and have abilities that can help you, then it will be a little easier for you. Because you can at least protect yourself a little if something happens. But in the end, Five is an experienced killer who has a lot of experience and a mountain of corpses behind his back, so at some point the cat and mouse games will end and you can hardly escape your fate.

“You really made me all so worked up over this little games of yous ,” he admits, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “But in the end, you can’t run away from fate, right, angel?”

“My dear, it's only a matter of time before I can get away from you again,” you chirp happily, your wrists a little sore from how tight the ropes are pressing against your skin, but your whole appearance doesn't show it.

“Then I need to try to take this opportunity away from you forever,” his hand rests on your knee, squeezing lightly. Your breath is held for a moment and you look down, your heart beats stronger in your chest and it seemed that it was about to jump out.

He won't dare to break your legs, will he?

[sweetprettyprincess]

⟶ sunday morning

pairing: husband! jungkook x wife!reader

summary: where even sleeping, jungkook has the ability to warm your heart and at the same time ruin your panties.

warnings: pwp (oral sex male receiving, somnophilia)

english isn't my native language so pls excuse any mistakes

Sunday morning; you can hear the birds singing, the neighbors dogs barking, some side conversations coming from outside. Sunbeams invade the room through the window, kissing the lightly tanned skin of the man sleeping beside you.

'How can someone be so handsome even while sleeping?' is all that goes through your head, as you takes your right hand to gently caress his bare chest, enjoying the privileged view of Jeon Jungkook surrendered to sleep. There's a calm expression on his face, calm breathing, hair slightly messy, lips parted. You try to absorb as much detail as possible, enjoying the insider's view, as it's not like his dominant personality allows you to have him that often, so vulnerable, completely at your mercy.

It's amazing how Jungkook manages to warm your heart and at the same time ruin your panties.

The ridiculously wet tissue clinging to your sensitive core becomes the last thing on your list of priorities, as nothing would please you more than to see his face contorting in pleasure as a result of your touches.

You place a long first kiss on his jaw, creating an imaginary trail that passes through his neck, shoulders, chest, well-worked abdomen, stopping at the boxer's waistband. You can clearly see the length through the white tissue.

"Good morning", Jungkook's morning voice echoes in your ears and when you turn your gaze to his face, you are met with a rogue smile.

"Morning, darling," you respond softly, before gently placing a kiss under his scarred cock. "Can I take these off?", you refer to underwear.

"Weren't you already about to do that anyway?" he teases and you laugh.

After long, serious conversations, you got used to being woken up by your husband's fat cock stretching your pussy, sometimes with his face between your legs. Pleasing you in your sleep became like an addiction for Jungkook and you always wanted the opportunity to return the favor. However, his light sleep prevents you from carrying out your plan this morning.

Although disappointed, you still intend to finish what you started.

You pull his boxers down just enough to see his morning hard-on leap toward his stomach, the sight of it makes your mouth water and your needy pussy tighten around nothing.

Under your husband's watchful eye, you bring your right hand up to length and use your thumb to rub the pink glans and spread the presemen all over the base to facilitate the deliberately too-slow movements of your hand.

"Don't tease, baby," Jungkook's words sound like more of an order than a request.

It's so annoying that even though it's supposed to be you in charge, he's still so fucking authoritative. So, convinced to keep to your own pace, you decide to ignore his words.

Keeping eye contact, you lick the tip of the kitten, taking in the flavor you love so much, drawing a long, deep breath from him. Then, you wraps part of the length between your lips and starts sucking slowly, enjoying the sensation, but soon you feels one of your husband's hands in your hair, establishing a new rhythm himself. Unconsciously, you are obeying him without question.

"Fuck, you're such a good girl...", he praises between groans. "Taking my dick so good, making me proud"

Your husband's words encourage you to try to go deeper, slowly getting the full length into your mouth. You struggle not to choke, your eyes are watery and your breathing is hard, but you're too committed to pleasing your man to even think about stopping.

"Baby, I'm gonna cum," he warns, moving his hips and getting rougher.

It doesn't take long until you feel jets of cum pouring into your mouth and no matter how hard you try to swallow it all, remnants of the liquid end up running down your lips, but you soon use your tongue to suck it all in.

"Come here", after a few seconds of silence, Jungkook says. "Lie down and let me return the favor."

[whiskeynwriting]

Hey ❤️ I hope you’re doing ok with your concussion and are getting better! Your post about loving Daddy Whiskey so much made me go “yep me too…EEK!”. He just makes me feel so safe and lovely.

I understand you’ve probably got lots of fics lined up and are really busy/still getting better, but I saw you said yes to DW reqs, and would love to ask for an absolutely sickly sweet fluff fic (with maybe some really loving/romantic SMUT 😏).

DW spoils you rotten: shopping trip for anything you want, being driven from shop to shop in his car by his driver (feel like he’s called Frank? 😂), back to his for take out (from a fancy AF restaurant, I’m thinking steak), movie on the sofa with blankets, pillows, you tucked up into his side, all your favourite snacks. DW is constantly telling you everything you try on in the shop makes you look “pretty as a perfect peach, darlin’”, and that “daddy loves you so so much, angel”, holding your hand, kissing the top of your head and giving you the FULL princess treatment… “Daddy will get you anything you want sweet pea, just say the word. You never need to want for anything with me, daddy’ll keep you safe.”

I need full on DW tooth rotting adorable, caring, daddying content 😂

Ok I’ve talked this up so much…imma head out

thank you ❤️

I'm L O V I N G this. I know you didn't mention reader being pregnant in your ask but with the recent Daddycember announcement I figured I'd squeeze it in.

Little Pea

Agent Daddy Whiskey x Female Reader

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Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI)

Pregnant reader, discussions of pregnancy, discussions of loss, established relationship, dirty talk, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, spit kink, unprotected vaginal sex

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A/N: I love this so much. And I love my daddy

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Agent Daddy Whiskey Taglist

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“Are you sure we need all of this?”

Glancing down at the cart, you wince just thinking about how much everything will be. But that doesn’t stop your husband from adding more items to the pile.

Looking back at you with an expression of annoyed disbelief, Jack huffs. “‘Course I’m sure!” Tossing his hands up, he continues on, reaching for something new on the shelf. “We’re gonna give this baby everything they need!” 

You’d like to say it warms your heart, seeing him like this, but that’d be an understatement. There are ten pairs of newborn-sized onesies in the cart, along with fifteen different outfits. And he’s still grabbing more. He can’t help himself, he’s never been this excited about anything. 

Suddenly, he’s snapping his head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Where’s the beauty care aisle?” He mutters to himself, searching quietly. 

“What do we need from there?”

“I gotta make sure you have everything you need, too.” Is his simple explanation. “Oh!” And then he’s tugging the cart away from you and scurrying across the store. 

With an amused huff, you follow behind him. Jack doesn’t let you do anything, not even push the cart. You’re only about six weeks along, but no matter how much you insist, Jack tells you that you’re more fragile than ever before. 

“Here we go.” His voice allows you to find him easily, turning the corner to find him picking out a foot bath. When he puts it in the cart, he places it beside the heating pads and fuzzy robe he got for you, too. 

“What’s that for?”

“Honey, everything in that cart is either for you,” He looks up, then down at your tummy. “Or them.” 

You’re truly in awe of him, the man you married, the person that chose you. By far, it’s the luckiest you’ve ever gotten in life. To be with a partner so caring and so genuinely loving, is more than a blessing. There hasn’t been a single day that’s gone by in your relationship that Jack hasn’t made you feel provided for, protected, and so completely adored. 

Dreamily, your husband sighs, shaking his head. Taking a step forward, he moves beside the cart before his arms find your hips. Gently, he pulls you in, resting his forehead on yours. 

“You’re amazing, baby.” 

“I mean,” You chuckle, linking your fingers behind his neck. “All I did was have sex with you.”

Your words make him laugh, that handsome smile blooming proudly. “Give yourself some credit. You’ve put up with me for a while, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you that.” With a kind smile, you lean up, connecting your lips. But he ends it all too quick. 

“Let’s get you some new clothes, babycakes.” 

“Really? Are you sure?” Eyes dipping down, you then frown. “I didn’t think I was even showing yet.”

“No,” Jack laughs, “Not maternity clothes, just some new ones. Anything you want.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I saw some dresses a few aisle back.” One big hand smoothes its way over your hip, fingers brushing over the curve of your backside. “I know you’d look gorgeous in ‘em.” 

Just like that, your feet are pattering along after him once again, watching him lay one, two, three dresses over his forearm before grabbing even more. They’re each a different shade and style, and he doesn’t even have to ask you which size. He already knows. 

“I’ll sit right here, honey.” Jack tells you, placing himself on the stool outside of the fitting room you chose. “You let me know if you need any help, okay?”

“Baby, I won’t need help just yet. I can still dress myself.” 

Jack only grins. “Okay, honey.” 

Albeit slightly difficult, Jack does his best to be understanding. He knows he can be a bit much, especially when it comes to your pregnancy. But he expected this, and so did you. In all honesty, he’s never fully healed from the trauma of losing his late wife and unborn son. He tried therapy, he really did, but nothing could fill the tremendous hole they left. Not even you. But what made you so amazing in his eyes, is you didn’t try to fill that hole, you didn’t try to become what Anna was to him, or try to replace her. You were you, you made his life special in your own way. You didn’t fill the hole Anna and Rhett left, you just made sure he never felt broken again.  

“How’s this one look?” The first one you walk out in is a linen- blend midi dress, colored in a light blush. 

Grabbing the edges, you grin, swinging your hips a little bit. And Jack’s warm eyes light up at the sight of you. 

“Babycakes,” He’s still sitting, staring up at you in awe. “That color looks so good on you. How does it feel?”

Smiling, your eyes dip down, admiring him more than yourself in the mirror directly across from you. “I like it.”

The next dress isn’t colored to your liking, a yellow shade resembling that of a deep mustard. The third is a light purple, almost lilac, and you would have bought it if the bustline wasn’t too small. 

“You like this one, babe?” Turning, you eye yourself in the mirror, considering the fourth one. The backless cami dress is a deep forest green, something you’d definitely wear this coming spring. 

“You look stunning, sweet pea.” Releasing an airy sigh, Jack fiddles gently with the ring on his finger. Inside, his heart is swelling with joy. He’s no longer looking at just you (although that sight will sweep him off his feet for the rest of his life). He’s looking at his baby, too. “That’d be perfect for the spring.”

Grinning widely, you look over your shoulder at him. “That’s what I was thinking, too.” 

Spring. By next time this spring, we’ll be holding our baby. 

The last dress takes your breath away. Standing in the stall, you grin, thinking about the reaction Jack will give you. It’s a mocha colored knit dress, with long sleeves and a square neckline. It compliments your waist perfectly, the sleeves comfortable and the neckline just low enough for you to be comfortable. It reaches your mid-thigh, and although it’s knit, it isn’t too heavy on you. 

“What about this?”

“Oh, sugar.” Looking up from his phone, Jack’s lips part in awe. It makes you grin, a small giggle slipping from your lips. This time, he actually stands, holding out both hands. Running them along your sides, he glances down, speaking softly to you. “This is definitely the one babycakes. You look so stunning, pretty as a perfect peach.”

Pouting playfully, you ask in the sweetest voice you can muster, “Just one?”

“Babycakes, you know I’ll get you anything you want. Just say the word.”  Quickly leaning down, he presses a firm kiss to your cheek. Now, you laugh fully, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Daddy loves you so much, angel.” He’s muttering, his lips trailing over your soft skin. “You know that? You know that, don’t you, honey?”

Lifting your head, you meet his eyes, smiling. One of your hands shifts, moving to cup his cheek. Stroking his plump bottom lip, you nod. “I know, daddy.” 

*

*

*

Jack’s hand is on yours whenever he’s not pushing the cart, even making room to do so when he’s carrying the bags. Once you’re done in the store, you meet Jack’s driver out in the lot. With your current state, Jack wanted to be by your side constantly, and that meant him driving as little as possible, and you not driving at all.

“Go on in, sugar.” Kissing the top of your hand, he nods. “I’ll just put these away.” 

Even though the driver is more than capable of helping, Jack does it himself. He’s not helpless, after all.

“Hey Frank,” Sliding in, you smile, greeting the man you’ve now known for years. 

“Hey there,” Turning, he returns your kind expression. “How’d the shopping go?”

“Really good. Jack’s putting away the bags now.” And then you giggle, glancing down at your ring. “He can’t help himself.” 

“Yeah,” Nodding, Frank shares a familiar look, one of genuine joy. “You know, I don’t think I ever saw him this happy before you.”

“You don’t have to say that.” You return with a bashful grin and a roll of your eyes. 

“Oh, c’mon. You already know it’s true.” 

It’s only a short drive back to your home, and an even shorter ride on the elevator up. Jack carries every bag, the biggest smile making itself comfortable on those beautiful lips. It makes you grin, seeing him like this. Linking your arm around his bicep, you let your head fall to his shoulder, sighing. He’s going to be the best dad. 

After finding out about your pregnancy, you and Jack talked about, well… everything. One of the main topics being the baby’s room. For a moment, you considered moving, but were quick to find it unnecessary. The penthouse was big enough to house a master bedroom, two spares, and an office. So, the baby will just take one of the spares.

“I can’t help with anything?”

Currently, Jack is putting away all the baby clothes the two of you bought today. You had a say in almost every piece, of course, but some were entirely Jack’s idea. One being a little outfit of Woody from Toy Story. 

“Sure you can, sweetheart.” He just wants you to rest, but finally, he gives in. “Can you take these tags off for me?”

And so, you create a system of you untagging the clothes, and Jack folding them. You haven’t put the nursery together yet. Hell, you haven’t even hit the two month mark yet! But Jack wanted to go shopping, nonetheless, having ordered a couple cabinets to put the clothes and toys in for the time being. 

“What?” When you look up, he’s staring at you.

“How about some dinner?” 

“From where?”

“That one hibachi restaurant? You said you liked it, right?” He’s already pulling out his phone and dialing the number. 

“Yeah! It’s my new favorite since the old one closed down!” A bright smile colors your face, immediately perking up at the mention of it. “It’s kind of expensive though, isn’t it?”

Jack looks up from his phone, giving you an unamused face. “Do you actually think I give a shit about that right now?” And he’s right, you don’t even know why you asked. When Jack has his mind set on spoiling you, that’s exactly what he’s going to do. 

“Why don’t you go get some blankets, babycakes?” Jack suggests, the phone now on his ear. “We can make it a cozy date night.” 

While your husband arranges for the food to be delivered, you gather the coziest pillows and blankets you have. Laying the biggest blanket on the floor before the living room couch, you stack a few pillows against the large piece of furniture, allowing you to lean back against it. The rest of your fluffy items are them piled on top of the main blanket, some lining the perimeter too. All in all, you’ve created quite the cozy little nest. 

“Ready to eat, babycakes?”

“Yes, please.” You’re already sitting, your back against the pillows as you reach up eagerly toward your plate of food. 

Jack chuckles at your impatience, bringing himself down to your level so he can sit beside you. You’re already stuffing yourself with your favorite food before he can even ask what movie you want to choose. 

“Jurassic Park?” He asks, one eyebrow raised in amusement. With your mouth still full, you offer a close-lipped smile and a happy nod. And after switching the screen to one of your favorite movies, he grins, wrapping an arm around your back to pull you in. 

“C’mere,” Jack scooches a little closer, too, lifting his arm to your shoulders when you finally nuzzle into his side. “You hungry little hippo.”

“Hey!”

“Not because you look like a hippo.” Jack immediately defends, reading your thoughts while rolling his eyes. And then he turns his head, eyeing you with a grin. Reaching over, he gives your nose a little pinch. “C’mon now, just enjoy yourself.”

You almost hate to say it, but when Jack acted like this… it really made you melt for him. It’s like he can corral you in without even having to lift a finger. Like he knows how to calm you down just as quickly as it is easy. Some might find it patronizing, but you know he doesn’t mean it that way. Personally, you find it endearing. 

It’s only when you catch him staring at your stomach that you huff out in annoyance. “What?!”

Easily, he dismisses your sassy tone. “How big you reckon they are?” 

“Huh?”

“The baby,” He nods, still staring. “What, maybe a peach?” Gently, Jack’s free hand slides down, that warm and broad palm settling over your lower belly. And then he grins. “Lil’ peach.”

“Baby,” Glancing up at him, you giggle quietly. “There’s no way they’re that big.”

“Huh?” Furrowing his eyebrows, Jack cocks his head curiously. “Really?”

“Yeah, let me see.” Pulling out your phone, you type in a quick Google search. “At six weeks, they’re about the size of a pea.”

“A pea?!” Your husband asks incredulously. 

“Yeah,” Laughing, you nod. Now, you’re looking down, too. “Tiny lil’ thing.”

“Little pea.” Jack says affectionately, fingers rubbing your covered belly. “I like that.”

“Yeah?”

Tilting his head upwards and to the side, he shifts his gaze to you. “Yeah…” He responds quietly, leaning in to give your cheek a tender kiss. “I got my sweet pea,” And then, he’s moving, bending over your lap to give the baby a kiss, too. “And my little pea.” 

“Baby,” His loving words move you inside. “You’re so freaking sweet.”

“You think so?” Lifting himself back up, you’re met with that stunning grin. And you can’t help but bring your hands to his face, pressing your lips to his. 

“Mhm,” It’s tender and firm, your kiss, and he leans happily into it. 

“It’s only because I love you so much.” His voice has dropped an octave, and it a bit breathier than before. And you’d find his words cheesy if he wasn’t speaking to you so intensely. 

Sliding his hand up he cups your cheek, urging you to lean into it. “Because I do,” He sighs, soft lips finding your neck. “I love you so much, sweet pea.”

Slowly, Jack’s fingers dip beneath the edge of your shirt, his warm palm finding the skin of your lower belly. 

“You’re gonna be such a good papa, baby.” Your husband’s heart beat profoundly at the name. He can’t wait for the day. 

“You wanna know how I know?” Jack’s gentle kisses take your breath away, your words coming out as a whisper to him.

“Tell me, baby.” He’s pressing his body to you, leaning into your frame. And from where he’s at, you can speak directly into his ear when you say, “Because you’re already such an amazing daddy.” 

And just like that, you’ve got him’ the string of Jack’s soul wrapped tightly around your finger. His lids flutter closed, releasing a firm breath through his nose. 

“I’ll always be your daddy, baby.” His voice is low, predatory, protective. 

“I know, daddy.” You’re nodding, turning to look up at his handsome face.

“You’ll never need to want for anything, babycakes.” Stroking your cheek, he promises, “Daddy’ll take care of you - he’ll keep you safe.”

And right now, you do feel safe, you feel so safe and small in his arms. Nuzzling into him, your chin lifts. Now, it’s your turn to pepper his neck in sweet kisses. He’s already sighing, soft moans filtering through his pen mouth as his arms wrap tighter around you. But just as easily as he’s holding you, you break free from him, moving onto his lap. 

It surprises him, but he welcomes it, nonetheless. How the hell could he not? Watching his pregnant wife crawling onto his lap made him the happiest man in the entire damn world.

“You want me?” He asks in that deep, gravelly tone, cocking his head while your arms wrap around his neck. 

Nodding, you lean in, pressing your forehead to his. “Yes, daddy.” 

Before Jack can do or say anything else, your hands are on the front of his pants. He grins cockily, letting you undo his belt and zipper, pulling him out and stroking him in your tiny hand. 

“You really want me, huh?” Your husband asks again, stroking your outer arms and then moving in to touch your sides. 

That familiar feeling inside you seems to be building much quicker than it used to your emotions running high and arousal burning hot. Your body tingles with it, with the need to be touched by him, filled with him. It’s so overwhelming that you don’t even bring yourself to answer him, you just stand, shoving down your pants.

Tilting his chin up, he watches you undress, shucking your bottoms to the ground before returning to his lap. 

“Oh, yeah…” Calloused hands find your naked hips, fingers grabbing hold of your flesh. He loves when you’re like this, when you’re so needy you can’t help but take initiative. “Take this -”

But you’re already taking your top off, he doesn’t even have to tell you. Within seconds, you’re completely naked in front of him, and he feels like he can’t catch his breath.

“Holy fuck,” Firmly, you grind yourself over him, ducking your pretty face into the crook of his neck. “Baby, what’s going on with you?” He chuckles, linking one arm around your lower back, his free hand finding your ass. 

“I love you.” Shivering, you release a shaky breath, feeling him guide your motions. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” He coos, almost mockingly, to you. “I know you do. And daddy loves you too, babycakes, he loves you…” 

Sliding his hand down, he finds your crease, his fingers moving down its center. And you moan when he finds your upper hole, applying just a bit of pressure. 

“Daddy, please,” Biting gently into his neck, you whine desperately. “Please fuck me, I want it. I want you so bad, baby.” 

“Yeah?” He asks, a bit more aggressively. And then his hand lands on the fat of your ass, stinging your skin. “Then do it.” Gritting his teeth, he turns his head, pressing that beautifully curved nose into your cheek. “You wanna fuck daddy, baby? Yeah? Well you go on, you go right ahead.” 

“Take this off.” Your fingers are scrambling over his chest, begging to feel his skin. And he complies, lifting it from his torso while demanding, “Fuck your pretty pussy open on me.” 

“Oh my god,” With his chest exposed, your palms lay flat atop him. “I fucking love the way you talk.”

And still, your hips are moving over him, wetting him with the arousal seeping from your center. 

“Yeah, I know.” He grins, lips curling into a cocky smirk while he watches you lift yourself. “Daddy knows you love it, I know how much that pussy wants me…” 

“Baby,” Angling him upward, you sink down easily, gasping at the feel of his bulbous tip sliding past your lips. 

Jack’s hands squeeze your hips as he watches you take him, eyes trained on your beautiful face. With your eyes closed, you sigh, releasing a delicate moan when he’s sheathed entirely inside. And when you’re in his lap, the soft skin of your thighs rubs against his jeans, feeling the coolness of his open zipper. 

“Yeah…” Jack sighs, head lolling lazily to the side. “Yeah, how’s that feel, sugar peach? Huh?

“Daddy,” Already, your thighs are shaking around him, chest inhaling a steadying breath while you grab hold of his bare shoulders. 

“Tell me,” Jack encourages gently, fingers stroking your back. And then one hand rises to the back of your neck, bringing you forward to his lips. He kisses you kindly, lips moving against your own in such a sweet way, that you’re shocked by the tone of his next two few words. “I said tell me.”

The hand on the back of your neck tightens, Jack’s stern eyes rising to bore into your widened ones. Gulping, you take in a breath. “You feel good, daddy. You feel so good inside me… Sliding your palms up his chest seems to relax him, along with your next sentence. “You always do.”

Groaning, Jack nips at your bottom lip, his hips beginning to move. Tilting his head downward, he drags his mouth over your exposed chest, using his hands to roll your hips over his lap. 

“That’s good, honey.” He praises, the words muffled by your chest. “That’s a good girl, for me.” 

“Daddy,” It feels pathetic, only being able to whine out a few words when he’s inside. But sex with Jack was just so incredibly overwhelming, it has been since the very first time.

The strength of his hands moves you back and forth over his crotch, not lifting you up and down but grinding you against himself. He’s holding you down, rolling his hips up just barely, while listening to your high whines. But when you finally begin to move with him, that’s when he tosses his head back with a groan. 

“Oh, that’s it.” Now, you’re ushering your hips along, your pleasure center stimulated every time it nudges against his naked skin. “That’s it mama, ride me.” 

“Oh my god, baby.” Digging your fingers into your husband’s shoulders, you glance down, taking in his beautiful, blissful expression. He’s never called you that before. And you’re not sure why, but it makes you fucking melt. 

“God yeah,” Looking down, Jack’s eyes find the space where you’re connected, feeling himself throb against your inner walls. “Fuck yeah.”

Usually, when you rode Jack, he guided you onto him, up and down, over and over again. He loved feeling your ass slap down against him, loved forcing you onto his lap so he could reach as deep as he possibly could. But right now, he’s reveling in this - you seated on him, his cock entirely inside while you just grind back and forth over his lap. He can’t even begin to describe how sexy it is to see you like this, to see you getting yourself off on him. 

“Baby,” Sliding your fingers up through his hair, you grab hold of the mocha colored strands, pulling on them. “That f-feels so good.”

“Nah, I know you can do better’n that.” Jack chastises playfully, shaking his head. Punching his hips up against your pelvis, he watches you gasp, dominant hand immediately reaching for your throat. “I know you can fuck yourself better than this.” 

“Daddy, I -”

“Jesus,” He cuts you off, giving his head another quick shake. “Look at you, rubbin’ your pretty little clit against me. That feel good, honey? Does it feel good to fuck your daddy?”

“Yes!”

Lids fluttering open, you meet your husband’s gorgeous face, his lips parted as he releases the occasional groan or gasp. Quietly, he admits, “There’s nothin’ better than watching you fall apart on top of me.” 

Leaning in, Jack’s mouth finds your neck, biting into your soft skin. His movement allows you to fully wrap your arms around him, repeatedly rocking your hips down onto his lap. And then, he’s smiling against your throat, tongue laying out to lick a stripe up your neck. 

“You like when I call you that?” He doesn’t even have to specify for you to answer with a rapid nod and an eager yes. “Yeah, I figured you would.” Jack’s never called you a name you didn’t like. 

“I made you that, after all. Didn’t I?” His deep voice is rumbling across your throat, plush lips dragging up to your ear. It’s tantalizing, the voice he has and the way he uses it against you. “You gonna let me do it again? Fuck you full? Put another baby in you?” 

“Daddy, y-yes, yes please. Always.” You haven’t even had this one yet and already, you want to give him more. 

Jack’s hands quickly drop, both palms fisting the curves of your ass. With a firm shove, he quickens your pace, rocking his hips up in time with yours. 

“Then c’mon baby, fuck me. Fuck your daddy until you can’t take it anymore.” 

You let Jack shove you over his crotch, feeling the thickness of him drag against your walls. Turning your head, you grab his face, bringing him back up to you. And he lets you move him happily, those talented lips mouthing at your own. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, rubbing across your own and moaning at the taste of your spit. He just loves it. 

“Do it, baby.” Jack tilts his head up toward you, eyes full of lust and admiration. Glancing down, you sigh, holding his face in your hands. Your thumbs rub his cheeks, palms feeling the smoothness of his jawline and chin. 

“Please.” He begs simply, delicately. 

Pursing your lips, you let a small trail of spit drip down, Jack’s soft lips parting to capture it. His head drops back against the couch when you do it, the taste washing over his tongue. 

“That’s such a good girl, baby. That’s so good, oh my god…” And then he’s shooting upright, head tilted up as he demands more. “That’s so good…”

“Hm,” Grinning, you tap his nose. “What do you want?”

“Please, baby. Give it to me.” He’s still pawing at your ass, urging you over his lap while he throbs between your legs. “Please.”

“Tell me.” You demand simply, still holding that gorgeous face in between your hands.  

It’s easy to let him move your body, your hips grinding over his crotch and now beginning to lift. You need more of him; you need to feel him deep. 

“Spit.” His raspy voice responds. “Spit for me, sugar. Right in my mouth.” 

It was always one of Jack’s dirtiest fantasies. And you allowed him to live out every naughty thought in his mind. 

Open-mouthed, he groans, feeling your saliva land on his tongue much more forcefully than before. With his eyes rolling back, he closes his mouth, feeling your movements quicken over his body.

“Oh, that’s it, mama.” Lazily, his eyes open to stare up at you, giving your outer thigh a smack. “Keep it goin’, baby…” 

It’s like he’s genuinely drunk on you, inebriated from indulging in your body. His hands hold onto you, but his hips are no longer matching your thrusts. He lets you do the work, smiling lazily as he gawks at your naked form. 

“B-Baby, I’m, fuck…” Dropping your head, you gasp. “I’m so close.” 

“Oh god, honey. Please do it, do it for me.” Jack begs, fingers massaging your hips and outer thighs. “Please cum on me. I love when I’m all wet from you.” 

“Fuck.” Jack’s dirty talk will be the fucking end of you.

Dropping your head, you move to his shoulder, leaning on him. And he lets you use him in this way, giving you the leverage you need to rub yourself against his body. With your arms looping around his neck, you whine against him, fingers curling into the ends of his hair.

“C’mon, baby.” Jack coos, his throat going dry. “I know you can do it.” Turning, he kisses your cheek, keeping his lips pressed against you as he nears his own peak. “I love when you fuck me.”

And that’s exactly what sends you surging over the edge, the pleasure of it enveloping your entire being. It shivers through you, your arms tightening around his neck. And Jack feels this, feels the tight clench around his already throbbing cock seated so deeply inside you. Both of those strong arms cling to your midsection, holding you tight while he finally moves his pelvis upward against you. 

“Daddy,” It’s barely a gasp, the word breathy as it leaves your lips. 

Your entire body is tensing, muscles contracting as you experience this. And you can tell your husband has reached his own bliss from the way he groans into your ear, from the way his hips stutter between your legs. His head drops back against the couch, releasing into you just like every time before this. 

“Oh, baby.” Rolling his hips against you, he rides out the feeling of his high for as long as he can. And in turn, prolonging your own. “You’re so tight around me.” 

Breathing heavily, you return your lips to his, mouthing passionately at them. And Jack moans into it, head rocking rhythmically as you slide your tongue in. 

“I love you,” Now, both of your arms have retracted, your hands finding his gorgeous face once again. “I love you so much, baby. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone but you.” 

For the first time in a long time, Jack can’t find the words to respond. It takes his breath away, makes his insides squeeze with affection. 

“I love you, baby doll.” Is all he can manage to say, warm hands rubbing the bare skin of your back. He likes that you’re still pressed against him, still as close as you can possibly be. 

After sharing a quiet, intimate moment, Jack’s smile widens. “And I love our Little Pea.”

[fabuloustrash05]

Some of My TMNT Hot Takes (PART 2) 🔥

Warning: More Opinions

Part 1 Here

I don’t like that in Mutant Mayhem Donnie is not a “science guy” but instead is more of an anime and pop culture geek. I’m not against him being an anime fan (I love anime too) but I wish we saw more of his science and being a tech genius side instead of him just liking stereotypical “nerdy stuff”. If that makes sense.

I don’t like the Punk Frogs (any version).

The 87 crossover episodes in the 2012 series (as much as I did enjoy them & are great episodes) should not have happened. They leave no real impact or development to 2012’s overarching story and just waste time. These episodes could’ve covered more important things that 202 was desperately lacking like like character exploration and character dynamic development. It was just nostalgic fanservice. The arc in S5 specifically would’ve work better as a movie instead of a 3-4 episode arc in the (most likely non canon) final season.

Shinigami being Mikey’s second love interests ruins her character a bit (for me personally). That was a pointless decision that did NOT need to happen. She would’ve been our first recurring female character to not be a love interest, but nope!

People are allowed to like/ship Donnie x April in ROTTMNT (this is coming from someone who’s not crazy about April being shipped with the Turtles).

I ship Yuichi with 2012 Leo more than Rise Leo (still ship Rise Leoichi, but I just think 2012 Leoichi is way more interesting, plus 2012 Leo deserves a good love interest).

The humans in Mutant Mayhem look ugly af (I know that was probably an intentional design choice but still. It looks bad.)

I hate Raph x Casey (any ver). I’ve stated in part one that I don’t like Raph (any version) being in a romantic relationship with human characters and yes, that meant him with Casey. Not only that but Raph and Casey being a couple ruins their whole dynamic and iconic friendship I love so much. I’m all for friends to lovers but they are a line that should not be crossed. Not every friendship needs to turn romantic.

2012 Karai’s hair looks bad.

Fans often over exaggerate Rise Donnie’s character and badly mischaracterize him in fanfics and fan comics to the point it makes him feel like he’s an entirely different character.

Shinigami should have been revealed to be a villain.

Rise Donnie was just as mean to his brother as fans claim 2012 Raph was to his. Yes, they both do love their families and I’m NOT saying either of them are abus!ce (they’re not), but fans praising Rise Donnie for doing similar things fans criticize/hate 2012 Raph for doing just makes them hypocrites.

Venus does NOT need to be in every iteration of TMNT. It gets kind of annoying when fans keep on saying that she should be in all the other iterations when in truth her presence would not make sense based on the already established canon story. The only (recent) version of TMNT where I think her being included would’ve fit the best and deserved to make her comeback in is ROTTMNT.

The side plot of 2012 Karai being mutated and later getting brainwashed by Shredder was a waste of time and the most boring arc in the series.

2012 April, Donnie and Casey being in a poly relationship does not fix anything with their problematic dynamic and massive flaws with one another. I'm not saying you can't ship all three of them together, you do you! Idc But in reality their relationship would be a train wreck, that's why I personally don't ship 2012 Capriltello.

Renet is probably one of the most powerful allies the Turtles have in the 2012 series.

Rise Donnie would NOT hate 2012 April. He’d go crazy over her psychic powers and want to study them to help her explore them more.

From what I've seen so far, Leo x Usagi seems like the only GOOD ship in the 2003 series (this hot take might change tho).

Raph had the best character arc and development in the 2012 series and changed the most out of the four brothers. Next would be Leo. With Mikey and Donnie have little development (or none at all sadly).