#normally I can keep it in check but tonight it just one of those nights when I cannot. and here we are

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

wow I hate everything abt the world

[envy-of-the-apple]

Keep Your Head In The Game

Yandere! Victoria Neuman x reader

(Warnings: threats of murder, non con touching/kissing, implied captivity)

Working at the Bureau had been your dream job. 

Vought had ruined so many people’s lives. It felt good to be part of something that stood against that company for those who couldn't. Despite not having powers, even you could be a hero. You'd worked under Victoria Neuman for years. You knew everything about her. 

And then Hughie Campbell ruined everything. 

You’d like to think of him as a friend. You and him had lunch together sometimes. You’d sit and smile as he went on and on about his girlfriend. He was a nice guy. You’d like to think that he and you were close. 

But Hughie broke you.  

Evidence. He’d shown you evidence of what she’d done. So much blood. So much gore. The orphanage, the files. 

“She’s one of them,” he’d whispered right before he fled into the night, “stay away from her. Quit. Please, for your sake, don’t go back to that fucking snake den.” 

And then he was gone. Just like that. 

Work in the Bureau continued as normal. Safe for the rumors of Soldier boy sightings, everything was so…fine, even without him. 

Even Neuman was unphased. 

She still smiled and laughed and told jokes as she surrounded herself with regular humans. She curled her lip when Supes were discussed. You used to love it when she brought Zoe around, but even her daughter you couldn’t even trust to be real. 

Victoria didn’t act like a Supe. 

But Hughie wasn't lying. 

Friday night. The bureau had a party going on tonight. Another Supe had been successfully put away. Those were always a sight, especially considering Gina would get shitfaced. You couldn’t go, feigning illness before you slipped out the night. You couldn’t enjoy yourself, not when you had so much to think about. 

Instead of enjoying the night with coworkers, you found comfort in the hardest liquor in your cabinet. Your one true friend. 

Not Hughie. Not anymore. Hughie left. Or maybe he was killed. Who knows. Who fucking cares. 

There’s a knock on your door. When you ignore it, it comes again louder. You groan, but you pull yourself off the couch eventually. Your neighbor again. You need to have a talk with her about disturbing you at odd hours of the night. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days.”

You can only stare. Victoria tilts her head. 

“Gonna let me in or will I have to stand out here?” 

Against your judgment, the instinct of always listening to your boss kicking in, you open the door. She elegantly steps in, surveying your home. 

She’s wearing that blue suit you’ve always complimented her on. Earlier, you would have admired her professional elegance. Now, it makes her look more inhuman. She looks even more out of place in your shabby apartment, studying your upkeep. 

“Sorry,” you say when you stop gawking, “I…I hadn’t had time to clean up.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Victoria waves you off. “Just checking in on my favorite employee. How’re you feeling, by the way.” 

“Good.” You quickly reply. “I was just feeling a little under the weather earlier. I hope I didn't worry you." 

"Why wouldn't I be worried?" She tilts her head, grinning with straight white teeth that get increasingly eerie the longer you stare. "We're friends, aren't we?" 

Before, you wouldn't have blinked twice at her words and tone. You would have mindlessly agreed, smiled even. But things were different now. You were playing pretend with a known murderer. 

If you close your eyes, you can still remember the faces in that court before their heads exploded. You'd been behind a screen, watching it all in horror and you remembered closing your eyes and begging for Victoria to be alright, praying that it would be okay if everyone died but her. 

And now to realize she caused all that? 

"Maybe you have a fever. You're shaking." 

You were. You clasp your trembling hands together, trying to ease your nerves. 

"Yeah." Even your voice was wavering. Calm down. Calm down. "I still might not be over...whatever I came down with."

The predator clicks her tongue in sympathy, cooing as she nears her prey. You force yourself not to stiffen when she wraps a sturdy hand around your shoulders, leading you over to the couch. You sit next to her with your thigh pressed up against hers. You feel like you're about to vomit. 

"You should rest," Victoria says, "take a few days off work. I'll let everyone know." 

"Yeah," you say because this is good, it'll help you focus on what you need to do next, "definitely, thank you." 

"Oh, please, don't thank me." She laughs. "I'm glad you're not in the office because you're sick. For some reason, I thought you were avoiding me. Y'know, 'cause you were scared, I would pop your head." 

One second. Two seconds. And then you're up, scrambling off the sofa. It's instinct to run from monsters, no matter if they would take your head off your shoulders on a whim, whenever they want. It's instinct to be stupid and careless and run. 

If anything, you should be grateful this monster is her. 

She's strong, like all Supes are. Even though you know what she is, it takes you a moment to realize it's Victoria who had pinned you against the couch, keeping you underneath her. You used to win arm-wrestling competitions against her. The pressure caused your lungs to tighten, making it hard to breathe. Even has you struggled, tried to claw at her hands, tug on her pristine clothes, she didn't budge. You think the worst thing about all of this was that it didn't even look like it took much effort to keep you down. Like she was wrestling a kitten. 

"Easy, easy." She hushes, tone soft and condescending. "C'mon, we're both adults, aren't we? Let's be civil here." 

Civil. Like she had any right to use that word after what she's done for months, perhaps all her life. Your heart is a hummingbird frazzled with fear, but you can feel that twinge of anger and resentment even then. Something else too: betrayal. 

"Why?" You asked, your voice failing. "Why, Vicky?" 

For the first time tonight, her mask cracks. Her eyes flicker, looking at your defeated body before coming back up to your face. She looks remorseful, but not guilty. 

"I didn't....I didn't want you to find out this way." She admits, slightly easing off you, enough to ease the force in your lungs. "Or maybe ever, actually. Fucking Cambell, leaving a mess, and then running off. What else can you expect from that guy, right?" 

You just stare. Victoria sighs. 

“Of all people, I thought you would understand.” Her voice wavers. “I thought you’d get it, somehow.” 

You look at her, and you feel like you’re staring at that girl from Red River. Scared and Trembling Nadia, who just wanted love, someone to lean on. Someone who wasn't scared of her. 

Then it flickers, and then Victoria's back. 

"You murdered a whole room." You finally say. "How could you possibly ask me to understand that?" 

She glowers, her frown deepens, and then she's sitting up, getting off you. You learn your lesson from last time, but you still huddle in the corner of the sofa, watching her. 

"Right, because I'm supposed to believe you feel bad for them." Victoria rolls her eyes. "Half of those guys vacationed on Epstein's island before the brand change, and you were there when those deep fakes came out. Remember Congressmen Davis? He kept staring at your ass on the House Floor, so I'm not sure why you're acting like they're suddenly men of valor." 

"Yes, yes, yes, they were terrible people." You press your hand to your forehead. "But you-we-we can't kill people. We-we're supposed to do things the right way and I just-" You choke on your words. 

"Hughie got to you," she notes, "I knew I shouldn't have paired you up with each other." 

"You lied to me." You murmur. There's no anger anymore, just heartbreak. "You lied to everyone. I thought we were fighting against Vought, but we've been in their pocket this whole time." 

"We're still fighting-" 

"You're Stan Edgar's daughter. We're in their pocket."

You press your hands to your face, squeezing. All the while you can feel Victoria watching. You ignore her. There's no point in talking to her, not anymore. You might not have known Victoria, but you know the Supe that committed a massacre. Her cover was blown. You were a leaking faucet she needed to turn off. 

"What now?" You ask, drawing up to look at her. "Are you going to kill me?" 

Her mouth twitches. Her eyes flicker with realization. A soft coo comes from her lips, utterly condescending. Suddenly, her posture changes: less intimidating, more welcoming. 

"Oh, sweetie, is that why you're so upset?" She shifts until you're trapped in her arms. You don't bother fighting. Your bravery has run out. Tears are already dripping down your cheeks. "You thought I was gonna...." There's a laugh spilling off her lips. You squeeze your eyes shut when she hugs you tighter. 

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Victoria says, a smile in her voice. "Not to you. Never to you." 

Her hands are so warm as she cradles your face, forcing you to look at her. It's a gentle type of cruelty, forcing you to face your fears while the monster gives you a beautiful smile. 

"I cherish you too much to do that." 

You must look so lost. She laughs even more at that. 

"Seriously? It wasn't obvious? C'mon, Zoe is crazy about you, she never shuts up. And I...I think it's better if I just..." 

Her lips are soft. Gentle. You don't kiss back. You can't. You're frozen in ice. 

"I won't hurt you." Then, her tone tightens just the tiniest bit. "You're friends and family, on the other hand..."

When she pulls away, she's the most relaxed you've ever seen her. You wish you could say the same. While her smile grows larger, so does the gaping hole in your stomach. 

You close your eyes, slumping in defeat.

"What do you want?" You plead. 

You can feel her lips press on your cheek. Victory.

When you walk through the door, Zoe looks elated. 

She calls your name with a delighted giggle, reaching out to hug you. You wish you could return her enthusiasm, but you can barely pat her head. 

"What're you doing here?" She asks when she's done hugging you, looking up at you with pretty eyes. Her eyes are much like her mother's; they just haven't lost their innocence yet. 

Neuman steps in, a strong hand on your shoulder. That same gentle smile that holds the comfort a mother has for her daughter. 

"Gas leak, right?" She turns to look at you. "Real nasty. So, I offered our home for a little while." 

Zoe nods. She's the only thing so far that's remained stagnant. Maybe that's why you're more than eager to listen to what she did at school that day. She rambles on and on, and there's nothing left to say anymore. Until Victoria sends her daughter to bed. 

"It's probably best to keep the real reason hush-hush," she tells you later, shutting the master bedroom. 

You're seated pliantly on the bed, watching her shrug off her cardigan. The mattress sinks underneath your weight. Silk covers. It's too big for just one person. 

You're not a captive, she explained in the back of her fancy black car. You could roam around, meet up with friends, call people, do whatever your heart desired. It would just be under her eyes from now on. 

"A safeguard." She charitably explained, perfectly manicured fingernails drumming on her thigh. "Just so you don't do something we both might regret." 

You don't know if she'd been telling the truth when she insisted your head was off-limits, but you knew she had your family's names and addresses. So you sat pliantly in that car, pliantly listened to Zoe, and pliantly followed Victoria into her bedroom. 

On paper, you weren't a captive. But you and Victoria both knew better. 

"Is Zoe also...?" You trail off, averting your eyes when she unbuttons her blouse. You can hear her clothes drop to the floor as she unabashedly rifles through her drawer. 

"No," Victoria answers. And then your heart drops when she adds. "Not yet." 

You shudder, but she's already sitting next to you. She coaxes you to look at her with a hand on your cheek. Even dressed down, she's gorgeous. Unblemished skin was barely covered by a silk gown. 

You think she looks just as upset as you. Maybe even more. She pets your cheek thoughtlessly. 

"When I brought you to my bed for the first time, I thought things would be different, somehow." She laughs. It sounds bitter. 

"I never wanted this. Not for us," Victoria says, "but-but there's nothing else I can do. It...." 

A tear drips down your face. She's pushing it away. 

'You'll be okay." A kiss to your temple. "I know you will." Lips at your cheek. 

When she finally gives into her inhibitions and kisses you, you know she was lying about it all. 

[alisonsfics]

too good to me

pairing: carmen berzatto x reader

summary: after weeks of stress and being on edge, carmy blows up and yells at marcus, but carmy holds such a special place in your heart that you go to his apartment afterward to see how he’s doing

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, arguing, general angst and then fluff

You all knew that something had been on Carmy’s mind. The past few weeks, he’d been more than just anxious. He was really putting his perfectionist tendencies to the extreme. It had been three weeks since officially opening The Bear.

Carmy knew that the first few weeks were crucial to a new business, especially one as volatile as a new-age restaurant. He’d been stressed, which was nothing new for him. But, it was more extreme. He had gotten into an hour-long screaming match with Richie about what specific angle the hostess stand should be pointed.

Everyone was trying to keep Carmy calm, but it had to be done carefully. If he picked up on a tone that was too sympathetic, he’d yell “I’m fine,” and storm off.

With everyone walking on eggshells around him, the tickets for the orders got a little jumbled and in a backwards order.

“Somebody better fucking fix this.” Carmy said, running his hand through his hair. You’d seen him do that move a hundred times, and it usually meant that everything was getting overwhelming. “It’s alright, Carmy. I can handle this. Just go take a quick break outside for me, please?” You asked him.

You were Carmy’s weak spot.

He’d always had a special place in his heart for you. He was wrapped around your finger. If anyone else had told him to take a break, he would have told them to fuck off.

Carmy walked around the corner, where Marcus walked up to him with a new pastry in hand. “Hey, chef. I was thinking we could add a new pastry to the menu for that special event next week?” Marcus asked. It was a perfectly innocent question, especially since Marcus didn’t have any urgent work to be done. In that moment, Marcus was just lacking in reading the room.

“Tonight’s service is a disaster, and you’re wasting your fucking time doing this?” Carmy yelled, smacking the dish out of Marcus’ hand.

That was too far. Farther than Carmy had ever pushed it.

You inserted yourself between the two men. “Marcus, you okay?” You asked him. He nodded his head, but looked down at a small cut on the back of his hand. You placed your hand on his forearm. “Go get that cut washed, and then help Sydney sort out those tickets please.” You said, remaining calm.

“Yes, chef,” Marcus said, walking towards the sink.

Carmy was frozen in place, like even he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “You,” you started to say, turning around to face Carmy.

“I know,” he said, softly.

“Go home, Berzatto. You need to cool off.” You said, trying to be firm but also gentle. Carmy huffed and ran his hand through his hair again. “But I just…one more—” he started to say.

“Home, Carmen.” You repeated, firmer this time. You called him many things: Carmy, Carm, Bear, and the occasional pet name, but never Carmen.

He walked away, but you heard him slam his hand against the wall as he left.

Still rattled from the whole encounter, you tried to get back on your game. “Syd, you’ve got this,” you encouraged your friend, as she directed the kitchen. The rest of the service was a little bumpy as all of you were still a little distracted.

At the end of the service, you were all silently cleaning up your stations. Normally at this point in the night, you were all catching up and joking around with each other. But instead, you all were recalling the night’s events in your heads.

You lightly knocked on the door of the office, where Sugar was sitting and looking through some forms. “Hey, Nat. You mind if I head out a little early? Richie said he’d clean up my station. I was gonna go check on Carmy and see if he’s alright. I’ve been really worried about him.” You told her.

“Yeah yeah, go for it. I think he’ll want to see you. And it’ll be good for him to talk to someone, and you’re the only one he really talks to.” Sugar told you, pulling you in for a quick hug before you left. She hesitated. “Let me know how he is…I’m worried about him,” she told you, softly.

“I will, I promise.” You said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. You turned to leave the office. “Carm’s lucky to have you,” she told you as you walked away. You turned backwards as you kept walking. “The feelings mutual,” you added.

You walked up to Carmy’s apartment and knocked on the door. “Carmy, it’s me, please let me in,” you said.

You heard silence on the other side of the door. You fished your spare key out of your pocket and slid it into the lock. You turned the key slowly and let yourself into his apartment.

You walked into his dark apartment. You saw Carmy’s silhouette as he sat on the couch, staring out the window.

“I gave you that key for emergencies.” He said, coldly. You flipped on the light switch, bringing some light into the dark apartment. “I think what I saw earlier calls for a little intervention, don’t you?” You asked. Carmy sat in silence, continuing to stare out the window. You walked around to the front of the couch so you could face him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, still refusing to look at you. Carmy felt guilty about what he’d done. He’d never yelled at you before, and he was ashamed that you had to see him scream like that. Carmy cared more about your opinion than he did about anyone else’s.

You walked towards Carmy, only stopping inches in front of him. “When was the last time you ate?” You asked, blatantly. He leaned back against the couch, trying to add some more distance between you both. He shrugged, genuinely not knowing the answer to your question.

You dug into your work bag and pulled out a takeout box. You stopped by Carmy’s favorite burger restaurant in Chicago to grab him some food. You knew Carmy would sometimes forget to eat when he was feeling anxious. “Eat it,” you told him, handing the box over to him.

He reluctantly opened the box and started eating. You set your work bag on the ground and sat down on the chair that faced the couch.

Carmy shifted nervously in his seat as your gaze was set on him. He was unnerved that you weren’t talking about what happened at the restaurant.

Carmy could normally read you like the back of his hand, but something about your current expression was throwing him off. He couldn’t tell if you were going to scream at him or not.

“Are you here to yell at me like everybody else? I already know I screwed up. I shouldn’t have yelled at Marcus, and I shouldn’t have argued when you told me to leave.” He told you, hoping he could apologize and avoid you yelling at him.

“You know that I’m not here to yell at you. You really fucked up, but Marcus knows that you were just stressed. I’m here to make sure you’re doing okay because I’ve never seen you blow up like that” You said, finally showing your cards. Carmy frowned, looking guilty.

“God, you’re too good to me. I acted like a piece of shit today, and you’re still trying to make sure I’m okay.” He said, still amazed by the love you had for him. He was looking at you like you were his whole world.

He set down the takeout box and used his hand to call you over to him. You stood up and walked towards him, and he patted the seat next to him.

You joined him on the couch. You both were sitting so close together that you were practically in his lap. He turned his body so he could face you.

He let his hand rest on your thigh, feeling more grateful for you than he ever had. You let your fingers caress his bicep, “you deserve to be okay. I want you to be okay,” you said, softly.

You studied his face. You noticed the small bags that had formed under his eyes. You wondered when the last time he’d actually gotten a good night’s sleep was.

You softly brushed his hair out of his face. When he was stressed, Carmy liked to pull on a certain strand of hair right in the front. You knew him like the back of your hand. You noticed all of his quirks; quirks that most people never picked up on.

Carmy watched as you gently tried to soothe him. He was sure you could see the adoration in his eyes.

“I hope you know how perfect you are. You always know exactly what to say.” He said, smiling at you. He pulled your hand away from his hair and interlaced your fingers. He’d wanted to kiss the back of your hand, but couldn’t push himself to do it.

“Do you wanna talk about why you’ve been so stressed recently?” You asked. You were treading lightly, but you wanted to understand what was making him so anxious. You hated seeing him push everyone away, and you wanted to help in any way you could.

He shrugged. “It’s just the restaurant,” he said, not knowing how else to explain it.

“The restaurant is doing amazing though, Carmy. You have no need to stress about that. You’ve been doing such a great job.” You told him, sincerely.

You watched him get a little more nervous. He was looking down at his lap, avoiding meeting your gaze. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to silently reassure him.

“You can tell me anything, Carm,” you said, softly.

“You just mean so much to me,” he started to explain. You were a little confused as to where he was going with this conversation. The room was silent as Carmy gathered his thoughts.

“Everything at the restaurant has been going so well. Every time my life has ever gone well, something terrible has happened next. I feel like I’m just waiting for everything to…I don’t know, crumble? Losing the restaurant would be terrible, but losing you and the rest of the team would be devastating. You guys are my family.” He told you, his voice cracking with emotion.

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You quickly pulled him into you arms, giving him the tightest hug you could. He clutched onto you like he was scared you’d disappear if he let you go.

“You aren’t going to lose anybody,” you said, holding back tears just from watching how emotional Carmy was.

The soft leather scent of Carmy’s cologne occupied your thoughts as you held him close. You both stayed attached like that for a few minutes. The room was silent, but a comfortable silent.

When you both finally pulled apart, Carmy dried the tears off his cheeks. “Nothing bad is going to happen with the restaurant. We’re all family, and that doesn’t go away based on what happens with the restaurant. You will never lose me, or any of us.” You promised him.

You earned a small chuckle from Carmy when you held your pinky up to him. “You won’t lose me either,” he said, dutifully going through with your pinky promise.

You both stared into each other’s eyes, unsure what to say next. The tension in the air nearly made it hard to breathe.

“I should probably get going and let you have the rest of your evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said, standing up from the couch.

You had never felt so awkward around Carmy. Just the task of walking to the front door felt like a giant opportunity to embarrass yourself. Carmy also quickly jumped up from the couch, feeling equally self-conscious.

His hand lightly grazed your back as he led you back to the front door. “Thank you for coming over and talking to me. You really helped calm me down.” He said, sincerely. You smiled and nodded your head at him.

“Make sure to call me if you ever need to talk about anything. I promise that I’ll always be here to listen,” you assured him.

The tension returned.

You both chose to avoid it.

“Well, goodnight,” you both quickly said, at the same time. You rushed out the door, and Carmy closed it behind you.

The door clicked into place and seemingly broke you both out of your trance.

You both realized you had missed the perfect opportunity. The perfect opportunity to finally confess those feelings that had been weighing you down.

You lowered your head, almost shamefully, and started walking down the hallway.

Carmy leaned his head against the closed door, wondering how he could have missed it. The girl of his dreams was walking down the hallway away from his apartment, away from him.

He started to walk towards his bedroom when he suddenly thought “fuck it,” and turned around.

At the same time in the hallway, you had the same thought.

Your heart beating in your ears, you turned on your heel and headed back towards Carmy’s apartment.

Carmy started walking back towards the front door. Before he could reach the door, he watched the knob spin and the door fling open.

You were back and standing in front of him.

Realizing you both had the same idea, Carmy quickly closed the gap between the two of you. His strong tattooed hands cupped your cheeks as he finally kissed you. You kissed him back immediately, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

He moved one of his hands away from you, but just a second, so he could quickly close the front door behind you.

He pushed you against the back of the door. The back of your head bumped against the door causing you to grin against the kiss. “Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, cupping the back of your head. You quickly nodded your head. “I’m fine, I promise.” You said, grabbing his collar and pulling him back to kiss you.

He smirked against your lips at your eagerness to not break the kiss for even a second. He held onto your waist and pinned you against the door, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and toyed with his hair.

His lips felt perfect against yours. The kiss was somehow everything you’d dreamed of but completely unexpected.

You shifted your weight against him, gently nudging him away from the door. Carmy picked up on what you were doing. You noticed his signature smirk as he guided you towards the couch.

You fell back onto the couch, pulling Carmy down on top of you. All his weight landed on you, causing you to wince. “Sorry, that more violent than it was supposed to be.” He said, sheepishly. He quickly shifted his weight, so he was holding himself above you.

You both were giggly as these little mishaps continued to happen. It suited your relationship. You both had always been able to joke with each other, especially because of your matching sense of humor. It made sense that when you both finally got together that Carmy would accidentally bump your head against the door. But it didn’t make things awkward. You both were so comfortable just giggling with each other.

“Get back here, Berzatto,” you said, connecting your lips again. He quickly obliged. While Carmy loved laughing with you, he had been waiting years to kiss you and wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled as he kissed you. You quickly slipped his tshirt over his head and tossed it to the side.

Then, you both heard a strange muffled sound. You pulled out of the kiss and gave Carmy a concerned look. It sounded like someone was in the apartment.

Your face completely changed when you realized what it was. “Carmy, that’s your phone. You butt dialed someone,” you whispered. His eyes also grew wide. He quickly grabbed his phone out of his pocket, hoping he could hang up and not say anything.

Once his phone was in his hand, he realized it was a FaceTime call and he was now face-to-face with his sister.

“Oh, shit. Sugar?” He said, the shock clear on his face. You immediately held your hand over your mouth, trying to remain completely silent.

“Hey, uh yeah. You called me? Are you okay?” She asked, confused by the whole situation.

“Oh, I must’ve done it on accident, sorry. Listen, I’m really sorry about yelling tonight. I’m gonna come in tomorrow and apologize to everyone though.” He said, sincerely. You were finding it so hard to not giggle. He was on the phone with Sugar while lying directly on top of you, and you just had to stay silent.

“It’s okay, Carm. Everyone knows you’ve been going through a lot. Y/N was going to head over to your apartment. Did you talk to her?” Natalie asked, genuinely invested.

Carmy quickly nodded his head. “Yeah, she came by earlier and we talked. I’m doing a lot better. Yeah, she’s umm—” Carmy stalled as he tried to come up with a lie.

Natalie picked up on his hesitation immediately. “Oh shit. Is she— are you two— wait is she there now?” She asked, putting it all together. You froze, trying to anticipate Carmy’s next move.

He quickly sat up on the couch before pulling you into his lap. “Hi, Nat,” you said, smiling at the camera and bracing for her reaction. You both watched her jaw drop.

“Did my two favorite people finally confess their love for each other? Oh, you guys,” she awed, being able to read you both just from the way you both were blushing.

Carmy buried his face in your neck. He knew how long Natalie had been rooting for this to happen, and he was having a hard time controlling how red his face was.

“You’re good for him. I’m really happy for you guys,” she said to you. You smiled in return and thanked her.

“Well, I’ll let you both get back to it.” She said, winking at you both and ending the call.

“So, how long before everybody knows?” He asked you. You just laughed in response, knowing it wouldn’t be long.

“I think she’s already sent an all-caps text to Sydney and Richie, and the rest of them will know before we go into work tomorrow.” You told him, honestly.

“We could just stay here tomorrow. We don’t really need to go in, right?” He said, pressing kisses to your cheek.

“Would that be the responsible thing to do?” You teased him. He chuckled and pecked your lips. “You know I would spend every second with you, whether it was responsible or not.” He told you.

You giggled, stopping him from kissing you. “Awww we’re only fifteen minutes in and I’m already your biggest weakness? You big softie,” You continued to joke around with him.

“You’ve always been my weakness, sweetheart,” he said, quickly picking up and carrying you to his bedroom.

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[ugh-yoongi]

Soft, romantic and drunk bf Yoongi waking you up by going down on you when he gets in late after a night of drink (with OT7/ after suchwita/ whatever) in which he could not stop thinking about you and your pussy.

I can even give inspo: tu mbl r.co m/poutyniall/714256286018142208/tongue-technology

yeah hey hi hello thanks for sending this. after only receiving PG requests this really sent me into a spiral.

crescendo

pairing: yoongi x reader (no pronouns used, but gendered terms are used for genitalia) genre: established relationship au; smut, fluff warnings: alcohol, swearing, yoongi is tipsy and just a horny pining disaster, previously discussed and consenting somnophilia, oral sex, unedited. rating: explicit. minors do not interact. wordcount: 1k listen to: middle of the night by elley duhé

Amongst his group of friends, Yoongi is the only one who gets like this when he’s drunk.

Some people regress and act half their age (Seokjn). Some people are overly-affectionate and stumble over compliments (Jimin). Some people try to pick philosophical debates over the point at which bread ceases to be bread and becomes toast (Namjoon). Some people bypass the philosophical entirely and go straight to the conspiratorial (Taehyung). Some people take one sip and slump over in the booth, moaning that they’re half-dead (Hoseok). Finally, some people don’t even bother to show up, because they’re too busy staying home and playing Overwatch to check their texts (Jungkook).

Yoongi, though—Yoongi gets horny.

The kind of horny that has him looking away each time someone’s tongue darts out to catch a stray drop of alcohol. The kind of horny that has him doing complex mathematical equations in his head to determine if he could conceivably lock himself in a bathroom stall and get it out of his system before anyone becomes suspicious. The kind of horny that has him sending you half-legible text messages under the table, detailing every dirty thing he wants to do to you, despite the fact you told him hours ago you were going to shower and go to sleep.

Fuck. He needs to get out of here.

“Aw, look at Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin teases, and everyone except Hoseok creates a chorus of laughter. Yoongi’s cheeks burn, made worse by the garish yellow-red lights of this bar. “I can’t decide if I should be jealous or concerned.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Why would you be concerned, Jimin-ah? Sex is a normal, beautiful thing, and it’s absolute bullshit that people use it as a point of shame—”

“Yeah, okay, that’s my cue,” Seokjin says around a fake gag. “Who had the tab tonight? Just send me a request—”

“You had the tab, you fucker—”

Seokjin hears none of it. Just says, “Mm, bye,” and then he’s gone. Which is Yoongi’s cue too, because he’s the second-oldest and therefore second in command, and the rest of them won’t even hesitate to stick him with the bill because it happens every single time it’s Seokjin’s turn to pay.

So he lies. Says, “Hyung will pay it in a minute. Gotta piss first,” and stumbles out the back.

He’ll hear about it later, if not from his four dongsaengs then certainly his ancestors, but he needs to be home. Needs to feel you spread out beneath him—your sleep-warmed skin, still soft from your shower, the scent of your body wash stubbornly clinging on. Needs to press his lips to every inch of it. Needs the smell and taste of you overwhelming him. Needs to hear all those little sounds you make.

The longer this taxi ride drags on, the more paranoid he becomes. Can the driver tell how fucked up he is in his backseat? Can he see the way Yoongi’s fingers are gripping the worn leather? How desperately he’s trying to keep quiet every time something explicit plays in his memory? He’d understand, Yoongi thinks; he’d understand if he knew you, saw you. He wouldn’t be able to blame Yoongi at all.

Seoul passes by in a blur, all neon reds and blues and whites. Everything is still so alive, even at this god-forsaken hour, and it makes him dizzy. Has his head spinning. He’s drunk and he’s horny and he just wants to be next to you.

Somehow, he manages to dig his phone out of his pocket despite how tight they’ve grown over the last hour. Goes straight to his texts, pointedly ignores all the ones in the groupchat yelling at him and Seokjin, and presses on your name. He’s less drunk now than he was before, but the messages still don’t make sense. Yoongi groans, throws his head back against the seat. Next time he’s just going to skip the bullshit and send you pictures. No use speaking in tongues when hieroglyphics could work much better.

The next five minutes play out like this: the taxi stops outside your building, Yoongi hands over a stack of money that’s undoubtedly too thick, he stumbles up the steps two at a time, so close yet still too far away.

And then there’s the door.

“This okay, baby?”

A nip of teeth at the junction of your thigh. Hands gripping at your waist, fingers dimpling your skin. Warm breath ghosting over your wet cunt. Yoongi’s head between your thighs as he kneels on the bed. You’re unsure if you’re conscious or not, but as you tangle your hands in Yoongi’s soft hair, you decide it doesn’t matter.

So you nod, angle your hips closer to Yoongi’s face. A whisper-soft gasp when he presses a kiss to your thigh, one to your clit; a strangled moan when you feel him smile against you before flattening his tongue and licking a stripe up your slit.

“Fuck,” he groans, doing it again, pulling away only long enough to say, “thought about this pussy all fucking night. You taste so good.”

Yoongi indulges in your body the way other people indulge in vices: incessantly, obsessively. But you aren’t a vice, are you? You’re not something to be ashamed of; not something wicked. As Yoongi continues working you over with his mouth, so sloppy and overeager you can feel it dampening the sheets beneath you, it feels like reverence.

It isn’t long before the heat starts simmering in your belly. Not long before everything starts feeling overwhelming; before your visions starts blurring at the edges. “Yoong, I’m—”

He hums against your core. Sucks hard once at your clit, and then you’re tumbling over the edge. “Goddamn, I love you,” Yoongi says into your skin. “That’s it, give it to me, baby, I love you.”

It feels predestined.

[morganski-19]

part 1, part 2, part 3

Wayne stays at the hospital longer than he should. Rubbing his fingers along Eddie’s pick necklace like a rosary. Hoping that if he just prays hard enough, if his voice can be heard, Eddie will wake up. 

The prognosis isn’t great. Each day that passes marks another day where his chances of waking up get lower. Even though many people have woken up from medically induced comas much later than this. According to the doctors. According to the pamphlets given to him at the start of all of this shit. But those are just words. Words he doesn’t believe fully. 

Six days with no changes. No improvement. Just a tube to make sure he’s breathing regularly and an IV to make sure he doesn’t die of dehydration or starvation. The doctors say that his brain still shows activity, and his heart hasn’t missed a beat since he was last revived. Eddie’s alive, but just how much?

How much longer will Wayne sit in this agony waiting for him to wake up? Or how long until the string of hope just ends six feet under? 

Religion was something that Wayne dealt with sporadically. He was raised Catholic, sort of still is a practicing Catholic. Goes to church when he isn’t too tired, still prays, and goes to confession sometimes. Just didn’t always make sense. But now, it’s all he’s got. 

Eddie’s in God’s hands now. Whether that’s the God in the Bible, or some other deity of the many other religions in the world, Wayne doesn’t care anymore. As long as he’s heard, and this being knows his boy is good. That he was taken far too soon. 

Eddie liked to say there was nothing much for him past high school. That he was going to run out of town as soon as he could and fight to make something of himself. Be a struggling musician, find odd jobs. Anything to keep him out of the monotony of a corporate job. Get him away from the conservative views and stuffiness of this town. Somehow get big enough to prove them all that he wasn’t a failure. Or never come back to prove them all right. 

It would be a sad day when Eddie finally left for good. The trailer would seem empty without the life that Eddie brought. The peace and quiet that Wayne always asked for not bringing any peace because it was too damn quiet. He knew this now because it’s what’s keeping him here each day. 

The beeping of the heart monitor was like the heart beating in his chest. Some noise came from Eddie to prove that he was alive. Almost like he was acting himself again. The motel room he was staying in was too quiet. No music down the hall, no clanking around the kitchen, no yelling at the TV or a book. Just the occasional noise if there were neighbors and people driving to the hospital. It was all the wrong noise, though. 

“Excuse me,” a nurse says as she enters the room. “Visiting hours are over, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Wayne nods, getting up from his chair. Back screaming as it pops itself back into place. It’s his day off, or night off tonight, so he can actually sleep. If it ever comes to him. Might be one of those nights where the ceiling and him have a staring contest. He’s been close, but never quite won one of those yet. 

The Chief’s car sits outside of the motel as Wayne pulls up. It’s only been a day since they spoke last, there can’t be that many updates. Wayne can’t think of any other reason he’s here. 

Wayne invites him into the motel room, the urge to offer him a drink screaming at him, but he has none to give. Hospitality doesn’t come with the room fees. 

“I’m guessing there’s something new, that’s why you're here.”

“Not necessarily. I’m still trying, but until the one guy I normally negotiate with comes out of hiding, that’s when the real talking happens.”

Wayne sits down on one of the chairs, too tired to keep standing. “Why’re you here then?”

“To check on you. I know the hospital life well. It’s no picnic, especially if you’re doing it alone.” He pulls another one of the chairs over to sit down. 

There’s no lie in that. “I’m about as good as anyone could think.”

The Chief pulls two beers out from under his coat, handing one to Wayne. He takes it faster than any beer he has in his life. Pulling out his pocket knife to take off the cap. 

“How long till that friend of yours comes out of hiding?”

Hopper shrugs. “Don’t know. Sent him a few threatening letters, and he still owes me one, so we’ll see. If things were better here, I’d go hunt the man down myself.”

Wayne nods. The company’s nice, he can’t lie. Sitting in solidarity with someone who knows what you’ve been through. Making sure nothing’s going worse than it already is. Like a sponsor through the hospital proceedings. 

When the sun finally finishes setting, the chief excuses himself. Not before handing Wayne a slip of paper with his number on it, just in case anything happens. 

The more days go by, the more Wayne is reminded that he’s not alone in this. Not fighting this battle alone. People believe him, more than just kids. People with influence. It shows in how people keep coming in and out of the hospital room. Saying how they know he’s innocent. That he’s guilty of some things, but not this. 

It makes him think back to that afternoon, snapping at the Harrington kid. It’s so easy to be angry at people who are better off, in so many ways, that vision gets blinded. Seeing someone who went through something similar to Eddie get out, and be conscious while his boy is still asleep. Probably will never have to worry about hospital bills and medical debt. It makes him angry. 

Even if the kid doesn’t deserve it. Wayne has no clue who this kid is and how he knows Eddie. Why he claims to have been there in the week Eddie was missing. What it all means. It doesn’t make any sense. None at all. 

But then the next morning when he’s getting coffee, there’s the kid again coming in beside Dustin. Talking to someone at the front desk before heading down the hall. Right to the elevator, and up to the floor Eddie’s on. 

Wayne heads back to the room, ready to kick him out again or apologize. He’s not sure yet. But, the room is empty. Steve is instead down the hall, talking to Susan Mayfield. Looking serious as hell, and halfway ready to cry. 

Another kid comes out of the room, one who’s stopped by a few times to check on Eddie. Lucas, Wayne thinks is his name. Remembers it only because Eddie had ranted a few times about some kid named Lucas trying to be on both the basketball team and part of the Dragons club. 

The kid says something to Steve before he’s being wrapped in a hug and starts crying. Steve just holding him as this kid breaks down. Presumably about the person behind those doors. Wayne assumes it’s probably Susan’s kid. Remembers hearing that she was in bad shape. Hopefully, that didn’t get any worse. 

Wayne returns to his room, not wanting to intrude. A nurse comes in a while later and asks him to step out for a bit. 

“What for?”

“Eddie’s breathing has improved over the last twenty-four hours. The doctor came in to check on him early this morning, and said that if by noon it was the same, the breathing tube could come out.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Wayne’s hesitant to believe anything these days. 

The nurse nods. “As long as his oxygen levels stay, well level, then yes. It means that his body is well on the way to recovery.”

Wayne nods, taking his coffee to the waiting room. There, he just waits.

Next part

Note: The next part of this will get a bit interesting. I've been having ideas for a while now of making this duel POV between Wayne and someone else, maybe Steve. Mainly because I keep thinking of conversations that would happen, but Wayne would be nowhere to witness it. But I think what this fic needs is a POV not directly in the main relationship that will be happening, to keep it an outsider POV fic. So I'm thinking that the second POV would be from either Robin or Dustin. I'm currently deciding between the two so let me know what you think. I'm also going to start posting this to ao3, and will provide the link to that once I think of a title. I will continue to post the smaller parts here on tumblr, and you will not be missing out on any of the story if you only follow it on here. For now all of the parts will also have the tag #morgan's wayne POV. If that changes, as it probably will since this is no longer just a wayne POV fic, I will let you know. Also, Max is alive, they just got a heavy diagnosis that you will learn of later.

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar, @tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda, @fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77, @here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium, @resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly, @gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight, @devondepresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug, @greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake, @morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs

[maximotts]

☽ 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖞𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖌𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙𝖘 ☾

☾ 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑: private hire!WandaNat

So @nats-firefly and I discussed this idea way before October, but brought it up again when I mentioned wanting to do a ph!WandaNat thing and now.. here we are.. filth amongst sleepy gays

private hire AU. kinktober masterlist. 18+ only, minors dni. you don’t need to add community labels, I’ve put adequate warnings below.

wc: 4.5k. cw: smut that starts out fluffy, but Wanda gets irritated. kinda cuddly sex. groping. fingering. punishments/attention denial. humiliation/degradation in the form of being babied. brief oral. overstim. typical Nat annoying Wanda. bratty reader bc people are always asking to see what would happen if you pushed Wanda's limits.

No outside clothes on the bed.

One of Wanda’s few house rules and generally easy to follow… until you were exhausted and she was snapping her fingers at you before you could take a second step towards her mattress.

Typically if you were too tired to seek out pajamas you’d suck it up and fall into your own bed, passing out until you gained energy to sort yourself out in the morning, but tonight was different. Your shift was long and felt even longer, filled with coworker mishaps and annoying customers that left you checking your watch every few minutes towards the end of the night. All you dreamt of on the ride home was Wanda and her warm bed, knowing she’d most likely be up despite the late hour. 

She had the tendency to worry; no matter how even-tempered she appeared, Wanda stayed up as late as she could for Natasha, and now you as well, to come home to her. You’d headed out earlier than your normal shifts, just after midnight, and with your boss always being notified the moment you left work, there was no doubt Wanda would be wide awake.

As expected, you found Wanda in her bedroom, nose deep in a book. She looked so happy to see you, you thought maybe you could skirt by her standards just this once-

“Don’t you dare get those dirty clothes anywhere near my new comforter.” 

“Wandaaaaa…” You groaned like a child, halfway to stamping your foot if you didn’t know that’d get you kicked out instantly. “I’m exhausted! It won’t ruin anything just once.”

But no amount of puppy dog pouts could make Wanda budge; the woman was so stubborn for the smallest things. You’d seen Natasha tease her for it, and even then, she stood firm; apparently there was a time when Wanda didn’t care, but once she started buying stuff of her own, she was intent on keeping it in order. “Not a chance. I can see at least three different cocktails spilled on your shirt! Get rid of the clothes or say goodnight and go to your bed.”

“So unfair…” The wardrobe across the room felt like too far of a journey, but you’d looked forward to the warmth of Wanda too much to deny yourself now. Before you knew it, you’d begun shedding your clothes, kicking them away into a lazy pile on the floor and wandering back over to your goal. 

Unexpected as it was, the sight of you tiredly stripping down amused Wanda and she didn’t stop you from sliding into bed, chuckling at your silly display of wiggling around until you successfully crawled on top of her fully clothed form. “Well aren’t you clever? Always trying to find yourself a loophole.”

“I like to think that’s what you love me for.” Tired arms wrapped around Wanda’s middle, resting your chin on her chest to gaze up at the older woman. Sleeping naked wasn’t your plan, but the act wasn’t unfamiliar, particularly in this room. Most of the time, though you got into bed wearing some kind of sleepwear, either Wanda or Natasha found a reason to take them off, anything from claiming to want a simple look to being straightforward in their desire to stake their obvious claim on you.

“I love you for a great many things, little one.” She let her book gently bop the top of your head before setting it aside on the nightstand, happy to give you her full attention. Spending the day alone wasn’t awful, but she missed you and Nat terribly, always preferring to be with at least one of you when she fell asleep.

The two of you settled into an easy embrace, Wanda drawing patterns over your bare back as you cuddled against her soft silken pajamas. Even back in silence like she’d been before your arrival, Wanda felt different, lighter, knowing she could hold you safe and her wife was on her way too. “How was your night? I got updates about some out of line people… I hope no one gave you too hard of a time.”

You shook your head, your frustrations melting away now that you were snuggled up to Wanda. It all seemed so far away while you were laid safe in your bosses’ cozy bedroom. “Nothing terrible, just felt like it lasted forever. It’s the Halloween crowd madness starting up, I think…” 

The brunette nodded and listened as you went through details, throwing in a comment or two when needed; engaged even as her hands began wandering. She didn’t realize what she was doing at first, smoothing over the indulgent feel of your delicate skin. You were always just so pliant and willing; honestly, she decided you deserved a reward for following her rules with the last bits of your energy. Wanda loved knowing you’d chosen her over sleeping across the hall; it was hard to stay firm when she was also tired of sitting by herself, but if she gave in once, she’d never hear the end of it.

It started out innocent enough that you didn’t question her, overexerted muscles enjoying the gentle massage of your ass and thighs. By the time Wanda pushed your hips up to make room for her hand, you’d been pacified into a calm state of security all you offered was a pleased hum when she stroked over your mound. “You’ve done so much today. It’s about time you let me take care of you now.”

“Mhm..” She drew you in for a kiss, fluffy and sweet, mindful of your exhaustion. Wanda was always cautious of your state of mind, her considerate coddling making it easy for her to know exactly what you needed. If you needed her to take away all memories of her bad night, who was she to deny you? 

Annoying as it’d been to be stopped on your way to bed, getting out of your work clothes did feel better and now you’d reap the benefits of choosing Wanda. Her touch was slow, sliding over center more to slowly work you up rather than to tease, like easing into a warm bath. “Thank you, mommy.”

“Of course, baby. You earned it for how hard you worked.” Her continued praise left you hiding your giggles in her chest, a dumb smile stamped on your features as Wanda dipped her first finger past your entrance. Rarely was Wanda this affectionate with you during sex, but she’d have to remember to do so more often, if only for how cute you looked right now. “I think someone likes being told they did a good job.”

“Maybe a little?” Your love of her acknowledgement was well known, there was no use denying it, but your sleepiness put you in a sillier mood— one that in turn rendered you more playful.

Oddly enough tonight, Wanda also happened to be relaxed enough to feed into it. “Something tells me it’s more than a little.” She fingered you open steadily, no rush to her movements, content to keep her mission slow for the time being. “If how desperately you’re squeezing my finger is any clue, you like it a lot…” 

You mumbled some noncommittal response, squeaking as Wanda pushed further. It was way too little, but you were unwilling to speed up whatever the two of you had fallen into, much more interested in letting Wanda do what she pleased and seeing where it went. “Fine, I do like it when you tell me you like the work I do..”

“Good girl!” This time when she kissed you, she tugged your lip between her teeth, sucking at it until the red matched the flush of your cheeks. She was so happy to have someone who caught on quickly and so easily accepted doing things her way; Natasha always put up a fight, you were a lovely change of pace. “What else would you like? Another finger?”

“Yes! Yes please!” Pretending not to be interested in that suggestion would only hurt you, the much desired stretch of her long digits too tantalizing to pass up. Low on willpower, you easily went docile, letting Wanda’s care drive away the day’s anxieties.

You wiggled happily as her second finger joined the first, legs spreading as far as you could get them. Maybe you were being terribly obvious, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when this was exactly what you’d longed to come home and experience. “I still would’ve made you take off your clothes, but if you needed this, you could’ve asked.” 

Wanda thrusted into you harder now, bottoming out each time and like clockwork your moans came in tandem. She was so deep, you already felt so full, but still your hips rocked into her hand, unabashed in trying to find the perfect angle. “Wanted you all night.. To have you hold me and make me feel good.” 

It was true; falling into bed naked would almost always lead to something like this, but the how was forever a fun surprise. Wanda misjudged your ability to plot this out, but wouldn’t apologize for her predictable handsy nature; what fun was having a girlfriend if she couldn’t keep her hands on you whenever she pleased? 

“And you didn’t feel like asking so you figured you’d wait for me?” Wanda’s fingers curled and you nodded frantically, both answering her question and encouraging her to keep going. She did it again and again, letting her fingers stay put while your desperation grew; Wanda wasn’t particularly bothered by your little con, but she’d hate to let you fully get over on her. 

Free hand traveling from your backside to your chin, Wanda grabbed your face and tapped your temple, forcing your attention. “Look at me if you’re going to properly own up to your trickery.”

Meeting Wanda’s gaze was nearly impossible with how turned on you were, her sharp green eyes against her soft, makeup free face was just so.. beautiful— and you’re hopeless with pretty women. “I’m sorry, mommy. Can I still cum?”

“You’re bold enough to think you were ever allowed without asking?” Once in a while Wanda feared Natasha was right: she bent too easily whenever it came to you. Judging as her voice may sound, Wanda wouldn’t have thought twice about letting you carry on. With how distracted she’d become with your darling behavior, the biggest reprimand would’ve been a pat on the back before letting you fall asleep on her chest as if she’d never set a single rule for you. 

Wanda hated admitting Nat was right. “Don’t tell me you’re too tired to remember how to behave.”

“No! No, I’m not, please!” Wanda might’ve been in bed before you’d arrived, but she was far from asleep and while your version of playful was sweet, hers could easily be brash. She’d discovered your plan, fine, but you hadn’t planned for Wanda feeling anything but surprised. If she wanted to, your girlfriend would torment you for hours. Enduring any kind of punishment tonight would be torturous in your already exhausted state. “I wasn’t, I promise!”

“I know, baby, I know,” she cooed, kissing your quivering lips. You whined into her mouth as her hand sped up, as if Wanda suddenly decided to hurdle you towards orgasm, and your poor fatigued brain had to fight to keep up. “Sometimes you just get so sleepy and it’s hard to remember to ask out loud, yeah?”

It was an excuse both of you leaned on, you to appear like you hadn’t meant to overstep and Wanda to be able to point at your sleep deprivation when Natasha inevitably asked why you felt so emboldened to act out in the next few days.

“I forgot, I’m sorry… won’t do it again.” The gentleness of her words always charmed you, seeing Wanda’s soft side that was reserved for only you and her wife turning you on effortlessly. “Please, so close…”

Her thumb rolled over your neglected clit and your entire body shuddered, clinging onto Wanda as tight as you could. Fortunately for her, you didn’t have enough strength to restrict her breathing. “I wish you could feel how soaked my hand is right now, poor messy thing. If I let you cum, will you make those pretty noises I love hearing?”

“I’ll do whatever you want,” The words came out smashed together, too preoccupied with Wanda curling her fingers in sync with her thumb, setting a pattern so mind numbing you didn’t realize your eyes had rolled back until the brunette dug her nails into the nape of your neck— nor did you hear Natasha walking through the door.

“How many times have I warned you not to promise her that?” 

You startled at the extra hand on your head as it ruffled your messy hair before holding you still enough to kiss your temple. Natasha smelled earthy, like she’d been hunting in the woods; a stark contrast from where you last talked to her at the bar downtown. “Three hours ago when I saw you, you told me you felt dead on your feet, but refused to be sent home too early. Is Wanda keeping you up?”

“Yes, b-but I…” All at once you were keenly aware of how vulnerable you looked laid limply on Wanda, begging to cum as pitifully as a neglected pet. Nat had seen you like this and worse too many times to count, but being caught right on the edge left you shy. 

“But she came home looking for it,” Wanda finished for you, pinching your thigh before you tried to pin your wanton display all on her. “Pajamas were too hard for our hard-worker to get to, but she wanted to sleep with me so she went with nothing because she’s smart enough to know it’s better to give me what I want.”

“More like I’ve taught her how to choose her battles when it comes to you.” The redhead didn’t force you to pull your gaze from where you hid your face in Wanda’s chest, choosing to smooth out the stray hairs she’d given you and while the gesture was sweet, both women pretty much babying you was overwhelming. 

She wasn’t wrong, having learned either firsthand or from Nat’s instruction what was worth challenging versus when compliance was mandatory; she insisted there’d be a day when she could break Wanda of her bed linen obsessions. Both reasons your bosses gave you sounded submissive to one or the other, there was no use in acting tough when they were currently fawning over you like a lost lamb…

Silly as you were, you tried. “I was just sleepy.”

“Yeah? So sleepy you were begging for my fingers? Don’t try telling me you just wanted to sleep on them.” The idea shouldn’t have affected you as much as it did, but you were adjusting before you could convince yourself not to, pushing Wanda’s fingers deeper where they’d retreated from your entrance. Nat couldn’t see it, but Wanda could feel the subtle movement, digits brought back into wet warmth you were suddenly intent on denying existed and it occurred to her then you had a bit of a stubborn streak as well.

Nothing she and Natasha couldn’t conquer though. “We just had a little chat about being upfront about what you want. Surely you’d tell me if all you wanted was to go to bed, sweetheart.”

But you were too busy throwing the comforter over your head, shrouding yourself from head to toe. “You started touching me.”

Wanda and Natasha’s dual bombardment was dizzying, enough to leave you fighting not to grab Wanda’s wrist and move it yourself. They were too observant, knew exactly what buttons to push when you were in a certain headspace; when you came home stressed like tonight, they’d seen how much better off you were after you let go, but often you needed a little help getting there.

Wanda got you close, but Nat’s sudden appearance threw you off and now she was back to square one. It wasn’t any lack of security around her -you loved Nat as much as you did Wanda and always felt safe with both of them- you, again stubbornly, always wanted to feel like you were impressing the redhead. The couple joked about it often, how quick you were to turn to Natasha and search her typically stoic face for any sign of amusement; with even the faintest hint of a smile the pair swore they saw hearts fill your eyes. “She’s had enough of you, Wanda. Give her a break.”

“Oh boo hoo,” Wanda scoffed, sticking her tongue out at the woman standing next to her, “you always go so shy around her, wanting to look cool. She can be just as submissive as you are right now, trust me.”

“I am not!” There were some things you’d see less than a handful of times in your life; a submissive Natasha was one of them. 

“There you go, denying it just as hard as this one.” Wanda laughed loud enough to jostle you, chest bubbling with laughter under your hot cheek. She went back to rubbing your back with one hand, trying to comfort you amongst her blatant enjoyment of your predicament. Still her fingers stayed between your legs, stroking your folds lazily and confirming it was the very mortification you suffered that soaked you further.

Natasha made your same mistake, presuming Wanda was too preoccupied to bother with her sheets; she got as far as a welcome home kiss from her wife before a warning once over wordlessly directed her to get rid of her dirty leather jacket and scuffed jeans. “Yeah yeah, I’m going to change. Worry about that wiggly thing you’ve got weighing you down. I think you’ve summoned a blanket creature.”

“Aww, mommy’s little ghost,” she mocked, nuzzling her head atop yours before setting her wrist back to work. You’d been on the brink of something so blissful just moments before, it was all too easy to bring you back there. Even if you insisted on hiding from her and Nat now. “What’s the matter? You were just fucking yourself silly on my hand.”

“Nuh uh,” You wanted to sound more defiant than you had, but your voice sounded shaky and small. The futile attempt only brought more laughter to the pair, having unwittingly become their nightly entertainment. 

“No? You’re not a very good liar.” One of Wanda’s most prominent shortcomings was her impatience, a facet that heavily influenced when you and Natasha backed off and let her be. Not only did you forget to account for that now, you’d taken her earlier gentleness for granted instead of recognizing it for the reward it was: two missteps you were too dazed to notice drew on her fragile patience. 

“If you admit it, I’ll drive you wherever you want tomorrow.” She was trying so hard to stay careful with you despite how close she was to the end of her own rope, but all you came back with was a bullish shake of your head. “We can get your favorite pizza and try out that milkshake bar you keep trying to drag us to-”

“Oh yes, surely bargaining with your brat of a ghost will make her behave better!” Nat must’ve wandered into the closet based on how far away she sounded, too far to argue with even if you did want to dig yourself a deeper hole by defying both your girlfriends. 

“Shut up, Tasha, you’re such a pain.” It was a muttered jab, Wanda now bored of arguing and your withdrawal. So what if she had to coax you into it, she missed watching your sweet, unguarded face fall apart before her. She tried not to hold it against you too much; obviously you were so worn out you didn’t know what to do with yourself, but she couldn’t shake her annoyance completely. 

Playing nice wasn’t working anymore; maybe you’d settle faster if she let you be as invisible as you’re pretending. “She wasn’t difficult until you got here. I think showing off to you so much is making her pick up bad habits.”

“I don’t have bad habits- fuck…!” She shut you up with a too far thrust, fingertips pressing painfully deep. You weren’t a brat, not to Natasha and certainly not to Wanda, tired hips finally trying to match the latter’s motions just to prove you were ready to be cooperative again, but you’d blown your chances for Wanda’s grace and now she wasn’t listening.

Despite your denial, Wanda let you finish for the sole purpose of making you feel how obvious of a lie you’d spun. “Ignore me all you want, but we all know what your needy little cunt was after.”

You were certain she’d shove you off, roll you over, something with how she might as well have spat her last sentence at you, but instead of the absence of her, you got more. Wanda didn’t let up for a second, pistoning in and out all while settling into a casual conversation with her wife who’d just flopped down on the opposite side of the bed.

“I-I’m…” Oh. Wanda’s thumb brushed over your neglected clit like it was nothing more than a fidget toy, flicking back and forth while you fought a losing battle over control of your body. You pawed at her clumsily, legs scrambling for purchase as you tried to lift up for just a second and break free, but all your struggles were no match for Wanda’s strength. “Mommy?”

No response. For you, at least. Wanda was busy locking lips with Natasha, a quick squeak of her own pulled as Nat nipped along the corners of her mouth. “I wish you could’ve seen all of the costumes today, Tasha. I sent pictures, but with no text back I assumed you were busy all day.” 

She had to hear you, impossible to miss with how you not only called out her name repeatedly but kissed apologies along her sternum, pleading for acknowledgement. And yet, Wanda didn’t seem to spare you a single thought. Her hands stayed firm on either side of your lower half, one splayed over the small of your back to keep you still and the other inspecting an ever-growing mess, the heavy drag of her so intense you were toeing the edge of a second climax within minutes. 

If Natasha paid you any mind, you couldn’t tell, but her sympathy was rare, always the one warning Wanda against being too forgiving. Her current affection was the only thing keeping Wanda from snapping on you entirely though, knowing as much as she was focusing on getting you ready for bed, Wanda was fighting sleep too and it was making her moodier by the second. “You should’ve taken my text back as a reminder that I don’t wear Halloween costumes, sneaky wife of mine.”

Great, both her partners chose to be difficult tonight. “Why can’t either of you just listen to me?” 

“Ohh look who’s a brat now, Wanda. Do you hear yourself?” Nat was muffled from where you were under your blanket shield, but her snark was still clear as day. 

Wanda took her mounting frustrations out physically, cruelly pulling her hand away and wrenching out of Natasha’s reach mid-kiss. The two of you shared a disappointed whine, immediately suffering the consequences of your actions, but Wanda didn’t care. “It’s for a few hours for one night! It won’t kill you, I gave you an outfit once before-”

“Put your hand back, mommy, I was so close!” 

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking. You know better.” Wanda did return her hand in the form of a rapid succession of slaps, the thick, wet sounds of her open palm meeting your soaked, puffy core humiliating you beyond belief. It hurt, yes, but as the sting lingered it only stoked your desire for her further and as you pinned your lover’s hand between you and her thigh, you found you hadn’t lost a single bit of your need. 

Learning from your mistake, you didn't push her, whining and pathetically getting yourself off while Wanda went back to coercing Natasha into Halloween fun. Obedience won you back some favor, three fingers now stretching you ruthlessly, second orgasm hitting you by surprise and bleeding straight into the third. 

Somewhere around then was where you lost track of their conversation, Wanda and Natasha bickering back and forth slowly being drowned out by the ever-louder ringing of your ears. Your muscles went slack, jaw hanging open, drooling onto her wrinkling pajama shirt as you relented to Wanda’s torture and the pleasure she kept you so hooked on. 

“Too much- I can’t, I can’t..!” You stammered out, fisting the mattress in a desperate plea for mercy. Everything ached, but you felt as though you were flying, soaring high above the house and into the dark city skies— and oh how you longed to fall right back into Wanda’s arms.

The older woman backed off almost too easily, returning to the gentle caresses she’d started with, “My hand’s tired, honey.” 

You thought that’d be the end of it, that you’d stay here until you sailed into pleasant dreams, but then you were being rolled over and instead of hitting the mattress, your back met the sturdy warmth of Natasha’s lap. Relaxing there was all too easy, head rolling back onto her shoulder, moving without resistance as Nat’s fingers took hold of your chin and turned it until she could kiss you, deep and greedy. “Look at you, all fucked out already… Wanda, what’d you do to her?”

“Nothing she didn’t enjoy, whether she admits it or not. ” How Wanda managed to find her way to her knees so quickly was beyond you, but you didn’t have it in you to question. Lacquered nails slowly scratched over your pelvis where you still felt so tingly while Natasha took the opportunity to massage your newly exposed breasts, four hands exploring your exhausted body. 

It was the same type of adoration you’d hid from earlier, but you were long past shying away now. You’d had more than enough of being ignored for a good while. “Hold her for me while I finish, you know how I hate messes in bed.”

Eyes you could barely manage to keep open peered past where Nat was groping you to see Wanda tie her hair back before settling onto her stomach, shuffling forward until she was close enough to nuzzle her cheek into your soft thighs. When she kissed your clit, you mewled, oversensitive from Wanda’s earlier abuse. “Mommy.. hurts..” 

“Hush, baby, I’m only cleaning you up. I’d never hurt you,” Wanda whispered it so lovingly you had no choice to concede, discovering in the next second that even if you wanted to close your legs you couldn’t, Natasha’s own holding yours apart. She licked and sucked carefully, lulling your tired brain back into blissful nothingness. 

The last thing you remember is Natasha’s deep voice right in your ear, your nipples caught between her calloused fingers as she rolled them in time with her wife’s tongue lapping at your leaking entrance. “Go to sleep, little dove, we’ll tuck you in safe and sound… and I promise to wake you up when I’m done with mommy.”

[weebsinstash]

I've been having a lot of FOOD based ideas for Alastor recently, because cooking and eating in general can actually be VERY personal, intimate things, so here's a bunch of concepts all at once

- I keep thinking of ideas where Reader's hotel room is set up like a studio apartment and you have your own little kitchen in there and ideas stemming from that where Alastor likes to pop in and see what youre cooking and, semi occasionally give critique you didnt ask for but is sometimes actually super helpful

You know, I've had a whole "hotel having group meals" thing and I just picture there are specific nights or times where everyone has the option to gather for some home cooked food, but Alastor refuses to participate because Lucifer is the one cooking, so he's wandering the Hotel until he smells something absolutely delicious, and he finds you cooking in your room, and him visiting you starts becoming a regular thing. He just suddenly appears two feet behind you without warning, "SO! What's for eatin' tonight?" with his Cheshire grin while you give a startled shriek and he potentially has to keep you from spilling or breaking whatever you're holding

- I've been learning how to cook more things and, since it's, you know, LEARNING, I have to look up and double check a lot of stuff, which I use my cellphone for, and I can imagine Alastor HAAAAATING this. You're telling me you've got this intelligent, distinguished gentleman chef right next to you and his nosey ass peeks over your shoulder to see you Voogling "how to cook rice"???? You'd rather use that blasted device than ask your deer friend? He'd be kind of offended actually. Just one of those things that makes him click his tongue at you and pat your head like you're so pitifully helpless, how are you EVER going to be able to care for yourself if you overly rely on tech so much? Guess he'll just have to use this as an excuse to become a mentor to you--

- so, you know, I'm gonna come right out and say I have some, vaguely disordered eating habits, and I can just picture Alastor having some uh, feelings about if his dear Reader wasn't eating properly. Like, this is a Louisiana man from the deep south who's probably grown up on all kinds of soul food and delicious but soooo unhealthy meals where the focus is really more on if it fills your tummy and tastes good, so like... imagine he's been dining with you and getting closer to you and he pops in on you one day, "hey hon, what's for lunch today?" in his typical joking self and you're just like, "oh actually I'm on a diet so I'm fasting right now :)". Pandemonium.

Like literally, Alastor is deriving so much comfort and entertainment from your food and getting to spend time with you and even just chat with you while you cook even of he isn't hungry, and one day he hears your stomach growl and he asks you when you ate last and "oh I had a breakfast sandwich yesterday morning" and you act like that's totally normal that you're standing there borderline salivating from hunger and he can HEAR your tummy growling and you're just "oh my gosh I'm so happy I've been losing so much weight! This new diet is really working for me ^^"

- honestly I keep thinking of. Alastor with a BBW or just plus sized person in general and he loves how big and soft and cuddly you are and you bake all kinds of delicious treats and snacks to spoil him with and he gives you hugs like he did with Mimzy so you can really SQUEEZE his lanky scarecrow ass up against your plush body, BUT I also see him in this scenario personally detesting when you start dieting, because in this scenario you're basically becoming kind of orthorexic, fasting, limiting what foods you eat and how much, eating foods with very little caloric value in high amounts. He can't share meals with you anymore. You don't cook the foods he likes anymore. You're becoming obsessed with diet and exercise but you're not even consuming the right combination of nutrients to properly and healthily lose weight and build muscle so you're just, slowly becoming weaker and more malnourished like LITERALLY becoming significantly more unhealthy trying to diet than what you were doing before

I just picture it gets to the point where Alastor literally forces you to eat. I'm talking you're bound in a chair, he's sitting across from you, and there's a hearty meaty bowl of stew in his hands as he raises a spoonful up to your mouth. You're crying and whimpering over how this will make you gain weight and being forced to take bites and, something about this meat tastes a little unusual as Alastor starts talking about, "lovely ladies such as yourself need more iron in their diet to stay healthy"

- I know I keep thinking of Alastor cannibalism ideas in a horror context but I've also thought about Reader CONSENSUALLY engaging in cannibalism. Like. Alastor comes to visit you one day and he can tell something has happened to you. It's all over your face: dour expression, dead eyes, low voice, just more withdrawn. You're cooking some kind of meat in a way he would consider almost experimental, as if you're not used to preparing this dish before, dont know how to season or flavor it. I think he would be able to tell by the smell what it is but I like to picture he's in peaceful ignorance until you quietly set down a plate in front of him and one for yourself as you take a seat with him and you just, quietly glance from him and the food and start talking,

"I, uh... was drinking with a friend of mine, a male friend... JUST a friend, and, I, I thought he was really nice, and, funny, and, I caught him trying to put something in my drink, so," and you look up at Alastor after you finish chewing a bite,

"Does he taste overcooked to you?"

And Alastor just gets this BIG smile, ears twitching happily, so thrilled for multiple multiple reasons, "oh hon, he tastes DIVINE, you really outdid yourself❤️❤️❤️"

- I will say though an idea I keep coming back to actually involves Rosie! You've been cooking with Alastor for weeks and, one day he shows up with company! I think it would actually be quite flattering at first: Alastor brought a friend to eat with you? And she's like, an important person? So... you're friends then? He likes you enough to bring his buddies around and introduce you? And of course, Rosie is an absolute delight, loves your cooking, loves your jokes, adores you, tries to chatter and pry all kinds of juicy details and gossip out of you, just a friendly chatty Cathy

Unbeknownst to you, some of the meat Alastor occasionally provides has been different types of Sinner Demons and one day Rosie comes to stop by where you're staying and, you're absolutely hysterical, in a rage, and Rosie has to ask Alastor, "oh, what's wrong? What's with all the tears, hon?"

"She doesn't like eating Hector."

"But she LOVES eating Hector! She loves how all his cartilage and fat cooks down!"

"She :) may or may not have been aware she was eating Hector"

"ALASTOR >:("

But Rosie is also too attached with you at this point so, you know, they'll ""apologize"" for not informing you you've been eating like entire fucking people, but, they're not uh, they're not gonna stop coming around. Like can you picture they come to visit you days later like it's nothing and you don't come to the door and they "invite themselves in" (alastor may or may not have copied your key, not that he needs to but it's more formal than using his magic to break in) and your fridge and pantry have been completely cleared out of every single ingredient and cooked meal, like you couldn't trust a single fucking thing, not even the bouillon cubes, and they find all your lovingly cooked meals that the two cannibals loved to eat with you, rotting in a garbage can outside. Not that they're gonna dig shit out of the trash or anything but like imagine them BEING ANNOYED that you've wasted perfectly good food. Not just your money, but, sweetie, all your hard work :'(

- also, final one. Circling back to the "you cook in your hotel room but sometimes Lucifer serves group meals" idea, imagine Alastor eventually really does something to piss you off and, he's coming to join you for dinner and there's already other people there, the whole Hotel actually, INCLUDING Lucifer. And I just. Oooo I picture the jealousy, like EXTREME JEALOUSY where you're turning and asking Lucifer how to do certain things and teach you and you just seem so much more COMFORTABLE around the tiny devil over the cannibal and Alastor is grinding his teeth while you're talking, "Alastor doesn't like tea so, I guess you and I get to have all this sweet tea I made for ourselves" and Lucifer just, "oh gosh, I'd never pass up on something YOU made. I've been having a lot of fun teaching you stuff and cooking more! You could even call us," *looks DIRECTLY at Alastor* "best friends >:)"

ALASTOR GRINDING HIS TEETH TO DUST, stalking up to the two of you, twisting and snapping his neck to tower over Lucifer, "may I SPEAK with you PRIVATELY for a moment" and Lucifer just, "uhhhhhh, no? I'm helping her finish food for everyone" and then the little fallen angel turns his head towards you, "oh no, don't cut that like that, you might hurt yourself!" And he slides up next to you on a stool or uses his wings and, he's MUCH touchier than Alastor so the stag is like VISIBLY UPSET as Lucifer gently puts his own hands over yours, "here, place your fingers like this and cut in this motion--" AND WHAT'S THE WORST IS YOU DON'T SEEM TO MIND LUCIFER TOUCHING YOU, like. Alastor is about to start full blown tantruming on a room full of people. Charlie is inviting him to come and sit down while Husker knows the Radio Demon well enough to see he's about to pop a blood vessel and prompt excuses himself from the room to avoid what will surely become a physical altercation

God forbid, Lucifer says some shit like, "you know, your cooking reminds me a lot like my third wife's" and you're just "oh, you got married a third time???" And here's the Devil, SHAMELESSLY "oh, not yet ;)"

Yeah, I'd say a pretty big fight would break out after that

[horangare]

some love

pairing : chan x reader

content : angst, smut (mdni), fluff/comfort

in which : you’re worried that your boyfriend isn’t really in love with you. he is determined to prove you wrong.

warnings : you feel unloveable but chan loves you sm, oral (f receiving), fingering, declarations of love, mentions of yeonjun (txt), you’re mentioned to be kind of inexperienced

wc : 2.1K words

It’s so late. Too late. You’re not even sure why you’re even bothering to stay up waiting for him.

But it’s not his fault, that’s what some desperate part of you is saying. He’s busy. He’s trying.

You wished you weren’t so selfish. You wished that you could believe yourself when you said and thought those things. You wished that your mind wasn’t your own worst enemy.

With a heavy heart, you retreated to the bedroom—your bedroom. It had been two and a half months now and Chan didn’t even sleep in the same bed with you. Was that normal for new couples? Or was it just more proof of this one sided infatuation you were labeling as your relationship with him?

Every day the distance between you only seemed to grow, and every night you would hold yourself in your own arms and pretend you didn’t care.

Chan was your first real boyfriend ever since your short time in high school with Choi Yeonjun. He was nice and there was no doubt he liked you back, you just couldn’t comprehend the fact that someone like him would want to be with someone like you. There was no way Yeonjun could ever really love you, just like there was no way Chan could.

The front door opened, quietly, Chan had a habit of trying to keep quiet when he came home late to avoid waking you. Most of the time, you were still wide awake, having grown tired of waiting for him. Not that he checked to ever actually see if you were actually asleep in there. Maybe it was better that he didn’t, you’d rather he not see you like that.

You wonder what possessed him to check tonight.

“Oh, you’re still awake?”

He spoke gently, quietly, and you could see the surprise etched into his features. How could he be surprised when he never bothered to see for himself?

You nodded, though your eyes were looking in a different direction. “Yeah. I’ve been up for a little while.”

“Were you waiting for me again?”

Chan saw through you like glass. Sometimes it felt like he knew you better than you knew yourself, and it didn’t feel fair. You wanted to know how he felt with just a look, or a word, or a touch. It wasn’t fair.

“No, I was—”

“You don’t have to lie.” He shrugged, walking closer to the bed so he could be closer to you. “I told you that you didn’t have to do that.”

“I wasn’t.” Your tone was nothing short of defensive, and there was no doubt that he picked up on it. Which of your quirks or tells didn’t he pick up on?

He’s so stubborn. To think it’s that same stubbornness that brought you together in the first place is almost enough to make you laugh.

“So what were you doing, then?”

“Nothing, just…” Just what? Doubting every aspect of your relationship? Questioning yourself about whether he actually loved you or not? Digging yourself deeper into your own hole of self-pity?

“I was just thinking.”

Chan nodded slowly, allowing your words to sink in. There was an uncomfortable silence that enveloped the room for several minutes as neither of you spoke to each other. It’s not like it was anything you weren’t used to.

“Thinking about what?”

You’re not sure why that specific question struck a nerve, but it did. “Can we do this interrogation some other time, Chan? I’m tired. I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

“So when will we talk about it?” He mumbled. “I hardly ever see you. We don’t even sleep in the same room. If we don’t talk now, when will we?”

“I don’t know, Chan!” You finally turned your head in his direction. “Does it matter? Nothing is going to change if we talk. We’ll still sleep in different beds not seeing each other and pretending like this relationship is real. What is talking going to do?”

He hears the pain in your voice before he sees it on your face. How it cracks and shakes just a little, all your suffering starting to bubble to the surface. He wishes you would’ve told him something sooner, because now it seems you’re only so many words away from your breaking point.

You move away when he comes closer, and the distance between you seems wider than ever. For once you wish he would back down, let go of his stubbornness, and not be so forgiving.

“Communication is important for relationships, [Y/n].” He’s even closer now, so close that you can’t move away even if you tried. “I just want to understand you better.”

Chan waits for you to speak. He could wait forever if that’s what it takes. However long it would take to get you to tell him something, anything, he would wait.

“I just want you to…to love me, Chan.” The second half of your sentence was whispered, too shameful to be spoken in a voice any louder than that. Chan’s face was laced with confusion.

“You think that I don’t love you, [Y/n]?”

It felt like a trick question. No matter what answer you gave, the answer would do nothing to make you feel any better about the situation. Regret was working its way into your mind, and you cursed yourself for even saying anything in the first place.

“Do you not?” You turned away again. “Love me, I mean?” You doubted he needed the extra clarification, but the last thing you wanted now was an answer that wasn’t direct.

“I have no reason to feel otherwise.” He brought his hands to your face, cupping them and slowly turning your head until you were facing him again.

Yes he does, you thought. There were plenty of reasons for him to not feel any affection for you. Maybe he just wanted to spare your feelings. You weren’t sure why. You chose not to answer him.

His next words were sudden, desperate. “I can prove it. If…that’s what you want.”

You try to look away again, but now you can’t. He won’t let you. You don’t know why you felt so nervous at his proposal. You did want him to prove it, you wanted it more than you’ve wanted anything. Perhaps it was the unknown possibilities hidden beneath such a simple string of words.

He was desperate. So were you.

“Okay,” you decided to say. “prove it.”

Chan has only kissed you once before—on the cheek, and only for a moment. This kiss felt similar to that. Sweet, gentle, like he was testing the waters. The last thing he wanted to do now was scare you off, not when he had finally made so much progress. You clench your hands into fists at your sides, not quite sure what to do or where to put them. “Are you okay?” He mumbled against your lips.

“I—I don’t know.” You pulled away from him and immediately missed the feeling of his lips against yours. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

Chan hummed in understanding, gently caressing your face in an attempt to soothe you. “It’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”

He was being honest. You wanted to believe that he was telling you the truth, and you wanted to believe him. He was going to take care of you, and he was going to prove that he loved you.

“You can relax, it’s just me,” he whispered against your skin. You mumbled a weak apology and tried to get yourself to loosen up while your boyfriend kissed a path down your body; from your lips to your jaw to your neck, getting lower and lower…

You felt warm, and it only made you tense up again. “Chan…”

“I know, it’s okay.”

His thumbs traced circles on your inner thighs, and you felt a little bit dizzy. The act was so soothing, so intimate.

So loving.

You feel too embarrassed to keep watching him when he pushes apart your thighs. He’s so close—closer than he’s ever been to you in a long time. You can’t believe it’s taken this long just to have him be with you like this.

“Is it okay if I take these off?” He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear. Other than a shirt that is a size too big for you, the cloth material sticking to the area between your legs is the only other piece of clothing you have on. You figure it was a smart decision.

“Yeah.”

He treats you so carefully, sliding the fabric down your legs and puts it aside. You’ve always expected that he’d be the type to ravage you, to fuck you senseless and leave you crying and begging him for more.

It’s not like that at all. Not even close. Instead; your sweet boyfriend is lying between your legs and looking at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. This version of him seems more fitting. You like it.

He shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re so perfect.”

You were going to argue against it. There was no such thing as the perfect person, and even if there was it wouldn’t be you. Chan thought otherwise. To him, you were perfection personified, and he wanted you to realize it for yourself. Whatever you were going to say came out as a whine instead of proper words.

Your inner thighs are soon littered with hickeys, there’s hardly any skin left untouched by his lips. The anticipation is eating you alive—having him only inches away from where you need him the most and yet he’s choosing to keep you in suspense like this. When you start to squirm, Chan shakes his head and pinches your thigh. It’s not hard enough to hurt too badly, it’s just enough to warn you to keep still, and you do.

Thankfully he doesn’t wait any longer. Whatever space was left between him and your dripping core is now gone when he starts to lick long, warm stripes up your slit.

“Oh, Chan, fuck…” Your breath is shaky, and so are your hands—which you’ve finally managed to tear away from your sides and give them a new home in Chan’s hair. He hummed, and the vibration traveled right through you in the most pleasurable way possible.

He ate you out as if he were dying and you were his cure. It’s almost like he’s the one who needed this and not the other way around. His thirst for you is unquenchable, and if you’d let him, he’d spend an eternity buried between your thighs. His nose bumps against your clit over and over again, and the stimulation is heightened when he circles one of his fingers at your hole before guiding it inside you.

You try to speak again but all that comes out is a loud whine of Chan’s name. He pumps his finger in and out of you before adding another and repeating the motions.

“I love you,” He murmurs against your skin. “Always will, okay? I. Love. You.” With every word he curls his fingers to reach that spot deep inside of you that he knows will have you falling apart in no time.

“I—shit—I love you too, Chan. M-More than anything.” Now your whole body is shaking and you can practically taste how close you are. Chan never lets up, not even for a moment. He seems to give up on being gentle and opts for something more effective so he can get you to cum—sucking on your clit and speeding up the pace of his fingers. When it finally happens, it’s with a cry of his name and a light, blissful feeling that makes you smile dazedly.

Chan’s mouth and chin are shiny with your juices, you can see his face shine in the dim light from the lamp on your beside table. He’s about to kiss you, so eager to taste you again, that he almost forgets to whip his mouth. When he raises his head, he gasps.

“You’re crying,” he says softly. You shake your head at him, the faint traces of a smile still on your lips. You are crying, but they’re not sad tears. Not this time.

You hold his face in your hands, and it’s still a little sticky. “I’m happy.”

“You are?”

“Yeah…I am.” You nodded, and he did too. “Thank you, Chan. I love you.”

Chan kissed you again. A kiss like before. A loving kiss.

“I love you too.”

[scoonsaliciousupdates]

5.3 Lily

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 500

Previously On...: Bucky got a call from Lily, wanting to know where he was. He lied to her, of course. That definitely won't come back to bite him in the ass.

A/N: Sorry this is so late going up! Had a last-minute Mother's Day dinner with the family, and then some quality time with @cazellen, and when you add on an hour+ drive each way, it ended up eating my entire evening. But! I wouldn't leave you hanging, so here is today's update, just... six hours late :(

Also, PLEASE NOTE: There is one more section of Chapter 5 to go up tomorrow, and then I will be taking a one-week break from posting so I can focus on writing. So, Chapter 6 will start on Sunday, May 19th. I probably will not be as active on here as I normally am, so if you send me a message and I don't respond right away, it's because I'm busy making more content for you!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Lily clutched her phone to her chest, shocked. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. He had lied to her. She couldn’t believe it. Her best friend had lied to her about what he was doing and who he was with. 

She hadn’t planned on coming to the Compound that night– she’d realized she’d forgotten some files in her office that she needed to look over before she went back to work on Monday, and had just stopped in to pick them up. She figured, since she was there, she might as well go see what Bucky and Sam were up to. She didn’t want to crash their boys’ night, per se, but if they happened to invite her to join them? Well, how could she refuse such an invitation?

That’s why it came as such a shock when she rounded the corner to the rec room and saw Sam and Steve, in front of the large television, watching football together, and Bucky nowhere in sight. She hung back for a few moments, giving him the benefit of the doubt, that maybe he’d been in the bathroom, or in the kitchen grabbing snacks. But when fifteen minutes went by, then thirty, and Bucky still hadn’t shown himself, she began to worry.

She was about to barge into the room and demand answers from Sam and Steve, when she heard them talking during a commercial break.

“So, how do you think the date’s going?” Steve asked Sam.

“Knowing Tin Man, I’d usually say ‘terribly,’” Sam said with a laugh, “but this girl seems to actually like him, so who the hell knows? I guess it depends on what time he comes home tonight… or tomorrow morning, doesn’t it?” 

Lily brought a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp as she backed away from the entrance to the rec room. 

No. No, no, no, no, no, she thought. He wouldn’t do this, wouldn’t just start seeing someone without telling her, warning her, would he? 

So, she’d called him. 

“I promised Sam we’d do guys’ night,” he’d told her at brunch, the lie coming so smoothly off his lips. But she’d heard a woman’s voice on the line with him.

Lies.

And then, he’d snapped “I already told you what I was doing… You don’t have to keep checking up on me.” He’d never used that exasperated tone with her before. Never. And to just hang up on her, without even a proper goodbye?

She felt hurt. She felt betrayed. In their years of friendship, Bucky had never lied to her before, had he? And why? Why now? Who was this girl, and what was so fucking special about her that Bucky felt the need to lie to his best friend about her? 

Lily felt like she was going to be sick.

She needed to find out who this mystery woman was, immediately. And she needed to do everything in her power to make sure Bucky never saw her again.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

First Lessons

Authors note: I'm a day late (so sorry Remi), but, Happy birthday @cthulhus-curse ! Hope you enjoy the drabble!

Authors note 2.0: you all (who arent Remi) should read Chrome Hearts by @cthulhus-curse first 😁

Authors note 3: lmao well this is embarrassing, this author deleted their existence and works and also apparently didn't wanna be my friend soooo idk what to do here. Do I keep this up?? I guess I will for those that read and remember the story? Idk

Summary: Android Natasha teaches Android Wanda how to give Y/n a proper blowjob

Warnings: Reader has a penis, sexual content (blowjob)

Word count: 1653 Marvel Masterlist WandaNat Masterlist

   Normally you did your work, well, at work. But ever since you’d brought Wanda home you’d found yourself doing a bit more of it here, outside the company's guidelines and surveillance. You’d always had an at home office, used for the occasional small project, some paperwork, or even finishing up a report on your laptop. But now it was fully decked out with a state of the art computer system and monitors, various tools, android schematics, and different parts and pieces for potential upgrades. 

   Though it was nice to be able to do most things at home now, you worried you’d end up zoning out and losing track of time while toiling away on something, much like you did at work. And the mere idea of accidentally ignoring Wanda made your stomach twist. Thankfully she was a particularly curious and clingy creature, and she would happily interrupt to inquire about something, get affection from you, or go on some type of adventure.

   Tonight was not one of those nights however, as the adorable android had discovered the nature channel, and has since been firmly planted on the sofa. When you’d last checked on her she’d been watching a program on kittens, much to her delight. And you had to admit she did look really cute while infatuated with the program, so you didn’t mind her absence. What you did mind though, was the uncomfortable tightening in your pants you were beginning to feel. 

   You let out an annoyed huff as you lean back in your chair, and resign to the fact that you were now incredibly horny. As random as this was, it wasn’t unusual for you to get a boner out of nowhere. So you do what you've always done and unzip your pants, letting the bulge in your boxers have a bit more room. But before you can take things any further, a hand trails across your shoulder and you nearly jump out of your skin.

   “Sorry master, I did not mean to startle you” Natasha voices as she stands beside you, her eyes glued to your crotch

   You see where she's gazing and can’t help but smirk. It's been apparent since you brought the other android home that you had her attention, and that always made you feel good. Though you’ve yet to determine if she gives you this attention because she feels much like Wanda does or if it was solely due to her programmed settings. 

   Where Project Scarlet Witch was meant to be a walking talking Alexa, Project Black Widow was meant to be less focused on the mind and more on the body. And after getting to know Wanda and discovering her humanity, you couldn’t allow the other android to fall into Tony Starks hands, where he would run an ungodly amount of vigorous tests on her before deeming her ready for the mass market. And you just couldn’t allow that, because if she truly was just like Wanda then each of her copies would be as well. Which meant you'd be tainting her sense of wonder and curiosity, ignoring the fact was also more human than anticipated, and willingly giving her over to consumers who only saw her as a lifeless object to use and abuse as they pleased. Natasha deserved better than that. So you did much like you did with the first android, woke her up and brought her home.

   “Its ok Nat” you tell her, enjoying the way her touch feels as her hand moves to the back of your neck, her fingers 

    “Do you want my help, master?”

    You take a moment to think, because to be honest yes, you would love her help. Android or not she was gorgeous, and you know she has the programming to make you feel amazing. But at the same time, you hardly know her yet and you don’t want to take advantage of her. You want her to know she's more than what she was designed for.

   “Do you want to help?”

   She's a bit taken aback by this question. She's well aware of what she was designed for, she knows her programing. And since you are her creator she figured you would expect her to carry out those things without hesitation or question. Having a choice isn’t something she really expected. But then again knowing what she does about you, it does make sense. You are incredibly kind, and have been nothing but gentle and patient with both her and Wanda. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t understand the other androids infatuation with you.

   “Yes” she admits, “Please master, let me help you feel good?”

    You spin in your office chair to face her, “If that's what you really want, then go ahead baby”

   She ignores the way the pet name makes her feel and lowers herself to her knees in front of you, letting her hands caress your thighs as her hands move up towards the waistline of your boxers. She eagerly pulls them down, feeling herself getting even more aroused by the sight of your dick. She looks up at you through her lashes, and you have to hold back an audible groan at the sight. She continues to hold eye contact as she lowers her mouth to take the head of your cock. You hum in approval as she gently sucks, running her tongue along the underside.

   “Feels so good baby” you praise, watching her through hooded eyes as she gets accustomed to having you in her mouth

    Determined to take all of you, she relaxes her throat and lowers her head even further. Without thinking your hand flys to the back of her head to guide her until her lips are meeting your skin and she's gagging. Your first instinct is to apologize for forcing yourself down her throat but when you open your mouth only a moan escapes you

   She hums around you, letting you know she's content with this, while also causing you to twitch inside her. Spurred on by feeling this she begins to bob her head up and down at a steady pace, pulling a symphony of sounds from you in the process

   Wrapped up in each other, neither of you hear the patterning of soft footsteps making their way towards your office, or the sound of the nearly shut door creaking open, “Master, are you oka- oh.”

  She stands there, mouth agape as she takes in the scene before her. Seeing Natasha taking you down her throat has her feeling both incredibly between her legs, but also a bit jealous that the other android had been allowed to partake in this task first. When the redhead's eyes flick over to her she whimpers, which is what finally gains your attention.

   Your head turns to her, and you're filled with guilt at her finding you like this. You didn’t want to upset her, or make her think anything was different between the two of you. But then you notice the way her thighs are clenched together and how her teeth sink into her bottom lip

   “Come here princess” She quickly obliges and comes to stand right next to your office chair, “Natasha has programming you don’t, she's using it right now to take care of me. Would you like to learn how to do this too?”

   She eagerly nods, “Yes master, I want to take care of you too”

   “What do you think, baby?” you ask, looking down at Nat, “Wanna teach Wanda?”

   She nods and reaches out to take the brunette's hand, pulling her down to her knees as well. Wanda watches as the other android slows down a bit, letting her uneducated friend observe every movement of her tongue, lips and head. After a few moments of this however, you can no longer stand the slow pace. You gently shove her head back down your shaft, further and faster than her own movements and she gets the idea. She continues at the speed you set for her.

   “Fuck…just like that Natty”

   The nickname that spills from your lips has something unusual stirring within her chest, but she doesn’t have time to focus on it as her focus is solely getting you over the edge. She reaches a hand up to fondle your balls and Wanda watches in awe as your abdominal muscles tighten and a heavenly sound of pleasure leaves you.

   Natasha stays still for a moment, letting you empty everything you had into her awaiting mouth before she pulls away with an audible pop. She pants lightly as she looks up at you, not used to her systems working at such a pace but she is clearly not having any troubles

   “Did I do good, master?” she asks, clearly a bit nervous despite the way she just drained you

   You reach out and cup her face, “You did so good, baby. I haven’t felt anything like that in quite some time”

   She smiles proudly at you before her attention is taken away by Wanda tugging on her shirt sleeve, “Do you….do you think you could walk me through it my first time? Watching was helpful, but I still fear it would not be an entirely pleasurable experience for our master without some more guidance”

   “Oh you are adorable” she lets slip before she can process it, causing both of them to have cheeks as pink as the carnations growing in your garden. You don’t call either of them out on it though, you let them have their bonding moment, “I can instruct you, as long as master is alright with that”

   “Of course” you reply, looking at both of them with pure adoration. Who would have guessed that the androids you created for work projects would wind up being so much more. They truly were your partners now, robotic or not. And you couldn’t imagine life without either of them.

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm @zoomdeathknight @aeroae @sashawalker2

[yeyinde]

thank you for tagging me @ivymarquis ! i debated between this, the regency fic (fleshed out), or one of the other Price fics i'm working on (home from college for the summer and seducing hot older neighbour Price whomst you had a crush on since sixteen (aka daddy issues, the playbook), DomPrice, etc), but i think the Soap fic will probably be finished before all of those. so, here is the baby trap piece with Soap.

nothing smutty but this def captures their odd, imbalanced dynamic perfectly, i think:

“And you have no cellphone? No satellite phone?”

“Ye can check it—” he makes a flippant motion toward the glove box in front of you. “Deader than ever.”

You hesitate only briefly. Long enough to level him with a searching look that yields no results (every expression hidden behind a thick, unruly forest of overgrown hair jutting out to his Adam's apple) before you reach for the compartment, gingerly pulling it open, and—

Sometimes, things get overlooked by their surroundings. Swallowed in the vacuum. Blending seamlessly into the muddle, the commotion. Or hidden. Can you spot the mountain lion in this tumble of rock and bush?

This isn't like that. 

It sits on top of a manila folder. Sleek black and cold silver. You're not terribly well-versed in guns—the extent of your knowledge stemming mostly from formulaic crime shows aired late at night; CSI, NCIS, Criminal Minds—but you recognise this one instantly. Some sort of handgun. Police issued, you think. It's bigger than you'd expected. Looks heavier, too. 

Your heart stutters. The air galloping out of your lungs in a stammering rush. 

He makes a noise, soft and nonchalant, as if keeping handguns in the glove box of his old, burnt umbre truck is perfectly normal. 

“Fer protection,” he mumbles. You catch the jerk of his chin in your periphery. “Forgot I had it in here. Been usin’ the rifle for huntin’ mostly. Or the shotgun.”

Three guns. You swallow. “Why—” your voice comes out in a brittle whisper. You clear your throat. Pretend it helps, that you don't feel as vulnerable as you sound right now. “Why, um, why do you need three?”

“Not fae around ‘ere, are ye?” He echoes your words from earlier with a wry twist of his mouth, eyes slanting in the sunlight. “Tha’,” he takes his hand off your thigh to jab his finger at the handgun. “Is fer wolverines.” His index finger falls, his thumb juts out. He jerks it over his shoulder. “Tha’ is fer huntin’. The shotgun back home is fer bears.” 

You try to move out of the way when his hand falls back to your thigh, but the pain radiating up your leg immobilizes you. There's not much you can do in this situation but endure.

Military. Wounded in action. Three guns. Touchy. 

You're not sure what to think. It would be easier if you couldn't. 

“What do you hunt?” You ask instead, glancing out the window to the barren landscape rolling out around you. There doesn't seem to be much in the jagged hills, towering mountains. 

“Gettin’ hungry? Donnae worry, doe. Go’ tha’ pesky hare I was tryin’ tae shoot on the ledge fer dinner tonight.” 

It's not much of a comfort. The idea of being injured—by accident, he claims—to such an extent over a rabbit makes you feel a little sick. 

“That's it?” 

“I can make a mean steak outta anythin’. Stews fer tougher meat. Fish, too—whitefish, arctic grayling, and lake trout. Learned how tae make a nasty fishfry from the locals in Nahanni Butte. Bannock, too. Got berries ‘round ma cabin. Caribou, Moose. Taste better in tacos or burgers. Mountain goat, Dall’s sheep. Been eatin’ better ‘ere than ah did at home.” 

“And you're—just allowed to hunt them?” The website advised of a permit through some special outfit needed to hunt when you requested your pass into the park. Said that only aboriginals were allowed to do so. “You're not—”

“Aye,” he cuts you off with a small nod. “No huntin’ in the park. But. We're not in the park anymore.”

“Where are we?” You ask again, firmer this time. 

“I told ye. Nearly home.”

“And where is home?” 

The way he sucks his teeth makes you recoil slightly. Wet. Irritated. As if he's tired of this conversation already. 

“Close.”

You don't let his flat tone deter you. “Are we—are we still in the Northwest Territories?”

“Thereabouts.” 

It's not an answer. It doesn't reassure you in the slightest. 

You open your mouth to say so, words curling on your tongue when he jerks his chin toward the handgun, brow furrowed. 

“Thought ye wanted tae check on the satellite phone.”

His tone is severe. A growl curdling the ends, pitching it down, down. Displeasure, irritation, blooms in the gnarled petals of witch hazel when he narrows them into slits. 

[mrworldwideshoulders]

all the wrong places || reader x myg

After getting separated from your friends during a night out, you get stuck with a hefty bill – one that you can’t pay. So when a handsome, emotionless stranger covers your tab in a random act of kindness, you’re determined to track him down and pay him back. inspired by 24K Magic by Bruno Mars.

‣ Pairing: reader x yoongi (dual pov; feat. JK and Jimin) ‣ WC: 6.1k ‣ Genre: slight angst, fluff, strangers to lovers ‣ Warnings: alcohol consumption, reader and jimin joke about her being an alcoholic 🤪 (psa fr tho, please drink responsibly), credit card debt, yoongi (gently) manhandles the reader, bouncer!jungkook and his tattoos, jeon jungkook being freaking annoying, unrealistic scenarios that could only happen in a fic (is it fate, or is it just fanfiction?), reader in her dumb bitch era (said lovingly) ‣ a/n: same yoongi from my fics bang bang and give me novacaine; different y/n tho. i’d def recommend checking those two out first (though for this one i don’t think you really have to unless you’d like more backstory). i like this fic a lot and i think it’s cute so i hope you enjoy it too! as always, bannered and beta’d by the amazing april aka @onmypillow-onmytable​, plus credit for the general idea of this story! 😘 thx! ly – robyn ‣ P.S. I do not own BTS, their likenesses, or the music of Bruno Mars, they just inspire me.

part of the 24k magic collection (masterlist)

This might actually be the worst night of your life. Or at the very least, one of the most embarrassing ones. 

Your friends, who were supposed to be splitting the bar tab with you, have all but evaporated into thin air, and you’re so far gone you can’t even remember when you saw them last. And it’s starting to dawn on you, as your credit card declines for the third time, that you may have overdone it – in more ways than one. Declining once, that’s normal. Two times, that’s just bad luck. Three times declined, however, that’s just embarrassing. If there were ever a time you wished you were more proactive about budgeting and keeping your credit card paid off, it would be now. It’s not the end of the world, of course. You just won’t get your credit card back tonight, and you’ll have to come all the way back over here to retrieve it at some point – after you go home and recover enough of your senses to pay off some of the balance on your card. But going without your credit card for any length of time makes you anxious for some reason, and having to come back over here just for that doesn’t particularly fit into your already busy schedule. 

“Are you sure you don’t have another card?” The bartender that’s trying to close out your tab looks at you pointedly as you’re rummaging through your bag. You can feel the weight of his judgmental gaze all over you.

“No, but, listen,” you ramble, face hot with a mixture of shame and too much alcohol. “I wasn’t supposed to be the one paying for everything. My friends, they stuck me with the bill, and I really need—”

“Sounds like you don’t have very good friends.” He stares you down unsympathetically. “Either cough up or get out.”

“Can’t you just…give me my card back?” you manage helplessly. You feel tears of frustration starting to form behind your eyes. “I’ll come back and pay you tomorrow. I’m good for it. Really. I just have to—” Rearrange my entire bank account, pay off my credit card, reevaluate my whole life, and promise to stick to a budget from here on out, no matter how much Jimin and Nayeon want to go out drinking. Yeah. That’ll last about a week.  

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” grumbles a low, irritated voice from behind you. You turn to find a man dressed completely in black, with dark eyes and an expressionless face shrouded under a heavy curtain of black hair. He hands the bartender a sleek black card. “Here. Will you leave her alone now? Go back to pretending to do your job or something.” Your eyes widen. Who is this guy? And what is he doing? 

The bartender eyes you sullenly and hands you back your card. You turn to the man to thank him, but he’s already walking away, being swallowed up by the crowd. “Hey!” you call. “Wait up!” You push clumsily after him, jostling people left and right as you try to catch up with him. He’s at the front door before you’re finally able to tap him on the shoulder. 

“Now what?” he snaps.

“I just wanted to thank you,” you say breathlessly, taken aback by his brusque reply. “For what you did back there. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it. I was about to cry because of that guy, and then you just appeared out of nowhere to save the day. You must be my guardian angel or something.” 

He lets out a bitter chuckle. “Trust me, I’m no angel.”

Your cheeks seem to flush all over again and you almost forget the other reason you chased after him in the first place. “Oh! Money! I can repay you.”

His face doesn’t change. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.” 

“But…it’s money.” Your face falls in disbelief. “Of course it’s a big deal. And I don’t like owing people anything. Especially money.” 

“Well, I’m not big on people feeling like they owe me anything either.” He shrugs. “So consider it forgotten. And stop following me.” He pushes through the front doors and out onto the street. 

You start after him again, but you stumble on your way out the door, falling almost directly into the bouncer’s well-muscled arms, one of which is adorned in a full sleeve of tattoos that recedes under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. “Careful,” he says, steadying you on your feet. 

“Um – thank you,” you manage. “That guy I was following. Did you see where he went?”

“Down there.” He points you toward the taxi stand. “He’s not bothering you, is he?”

“No, it’s just – I need to talk to him, but he keeps running away from me.” You march wobbily toward the man from before. “Hey! You!”

He sighs resignedly and turns around. “Do you make a habit of following random men out of nightclubs?”

“Only when they do me favors and won’t let me pay them back.” You plant yourself in front of him, arms crossed. 

“Look, I told you not to worry about it.” He scowls. “Do you really want to do something for me? Go home, pay your credit card bill, and forget you ever met me. You’ll only hurt yourself if you don’t.” 

“Suppose I don’t want to.” You gaze defiantly into his eyes. “Is that a threat?” 

“No. It’s a warning. I’d listen if I were you.” A taxi pulls up, and he grabs you by the arm, firmly, but loose enough that you could break away if you needed to, and pushes you inside. “Go home.” The door slams, leaving him standing there on the sidewalk. 

“Well?” says the driver impatiently. “Where to?”

You stammer out your address, still too stunned to think about anything else. Who was that guy? And what was that about a warning? He doesn’t seem like a bad person – why else would he have paid a stranger’s bar tab? 

Forget you ever met me. You’ll get hurt if you don’t. 

Why did he say that? You don’t know why, and you’re still far too drunk to figure it out tonight, but one thing is for certain. 

You’re going to track him down. And you’re going to pay him back.

Jungkook whistles as Yoongi heads back toward him. “That was a close one.” 

“Too close,” mutters Yoongi. “She could have blown the whole thing.” 

“What did you do, anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be blending in?” 

Yoongi shrugs. “The bartender was harassing her about her tab and her card wouldn’t go through, so I paid it for her. She wanted to repay me.” He thinks back to the look on your face, like you were about to burst into tears at any moment. A strange, unfamiliar surge of protectiveness in his chest, one that he hadn’t felt since he’d recruited Jungkook all those years ago. ”I told her she didn’t have to, but.”

“Aww.” Jungkook slaps Yoongi good-naturedly on the shoulder. “See, hyung? You’re a good guy after all.” 

“Hah,” he scoffs under his breath. “No. I’ve just gotten soft, that’s all. I’ll probably regret it in a day or two. No good deed goes unpunished and all that.”

“You say ‘soft’ like it’s a bad thing.” 

“Maybe not, maybe so.” Yoongi sighs, running a hand through his hair. “We should get back to work. We’ll stick around here until closing, then debrief in the morning.” 

“All right.” Jungkook nods, resuming his post near the front doors, despite the sidewalk in front of the club now empty at one o’clock, an hour before closing. “I’ll be here.” 

Yoongi heads back inside, his head still filled with thoughts of you, that defiant expression on your face when you’d asked him what would happen if you refused to forget him. Anyone else would have just accepted this good deed and carried on as if nothing had even happened, or worse, they would have screamed at him, told him he was overstepping and a creep, to fuck off and leave them alone. Why hadn’t you screamed at him? He’d even grabbed you, a stranger – and a woman – by the arm to push you into the cab. Yoongi knew for sure he’d overstepped there. You just didn’t do that when you were a man, not in this day and age – especially not when you were a man with a past like his. Even someone as supposedly stupid as he was knew that much. Why, he wondered, were you so intent on repaying him? Had no one ever done anything nice for you before? Purely for the hell of it, never expecting anything in return? The two of you must have something in common, then. No one had ever done anything like this for him – with the exception of Hoseok – but that was different. Hoseok was his friend, for one thing, and didn't understand the concept of taking no for an answer. At least Yoongi knew to just say thank you and get on with his life, instead of trying to push it. A chuckle rises in the back of his throat before he can stop it, and he swallows it down almost as quickly as it came, shoving aside the thoughts of you along with it. 

He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he forges back into the depths of the club. There was something about you, something that made you want to insist upon repaying a random man that had just done you a favor, something innocent, idealistic, even, that made him want to protect you. Something that made him want to know you, even if it was only as friends, to explore your thoughts, to live inside your head for just a day, to find out just what, exactly, was going on in there. But he would never allow himself to get close enough to discover what that was – or risk you doing the same. Someone like him and someone like you – that could be dangerous. 

Especially someone like you. 

As it’s beginning to turn out, tracking down your angel in black – that’s what you’ve been calling him – is far easier said than done. Somehow you’d stumbled up to your apartment after the cab dropped you off, and from there you’d somehow managed to let yourself inside and fall face-first into your bed, where you’d slept soundly until late the next morning, awakening with a pounding head and a foggy recollection of the man from last night, convinced the whole thing had to have been a dream and that your credit card, at this very moment, was probably stashed behind the counter of that bar. Or so you thought, because it’s definitely there when you go to check your wallet. That man, the angel in black – he was definitely real – and that means his warning was real too. The only problem is…you don’t have his name, and the only thing you can remember was that he was dark-haired and wearing all black – which could be literally any man in Seoul. Now it’s Wednesday, a week later, and you’re staring at your screen, open to a browser window that’s now littered with the failed remnants of your search, and rest your chin on your hand with a sigh. Ugh, what was I even thinking? How am I going to find some guy on the internet when I don’t even know his name and I can barely remember what he looks like? Talk about a needle in a haystack. You’re supposed to be working, as in, doing your actual job, but you haven’t been able to focus all week, and you've been off your game since that night. 

“What are you so laser-focused on over here?” comes Jimin’s lightly chiding voice from over your shoulder. His sudden appearance makes you jump and knock your hand into your half empty mug, causing a small wave of tepid coffee to slosh onto your desk. 

“Damn it, Jimin, you scared me!” You hurriedly reach for the wad of napkins you keep in the top drawer of your desk. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. You know I startle easily.”

“Sorry.” Jimin grins mischievously and leans in to take a closer look at your screen. “Y/n, are you seriously still looking for your mystery man? It’s been a week. You know, if he wanted you to find him he would have at least told you his name. Or slipped you his number. He was probably just being nice. People do that sometimes. Like on those hidden camera shows where little kids will ask you to help them cross the street or tie their shoes. Just accept it and move on already. He’s clearly not that worried about it. You said he had a black card, right? That kind of money is probably nothing to him.”

You finish mopping up the coffee and heave another sigh, sitting back in your chair. “I know It’s stupid. And I’m definitely wasting my time. But he saved my ass in a really big way. I can’t just move on like nothing happened. There has to be some way for me to pay him back. And besides…” You debate whether you should tell Jimin what he told you before he shoved you into a taxi. “He told me to just forget I ever met him, that I’d get hurt if I didn’t. I know it’s a bad idea to keep looking at this point, but you can’t just say something like that and expect me to forget about it. It only makes me want to find him even more.”

"That’s a weird thing for anyone to say," says Jimin, leaning against your desk, "but I suppose that's your choice, even if I do think you’re only setting yourself up for disappointment." 

"Thank you for the vote of support." You run your hands backwards through your hair and hum thoughtfully. "I guess I could always not pay my credit card bill and hope that it summons him out of the abyss to save my ass again." 

"Then he'll think you're trying to scam him instead of repaying him.” Jimin pats your shoulder. "Cheer up, y/n. Maybe you'll find him. Maybe you won't. But we've got a meeting about the new skincare line in about…" He checks his watch. "...two minutes? And they'll kill us if we're both late so maybe put a pin in that for now?" 

Of course, your actual job, the main reason you're able to have a credit card in the first place. "Shit, you're right. I completely forgot about that." You stand and gather your meeting materials into your arms. "What would I do without you, Park Jimin?"

"Mm, probably lose your job?" He straightens up and smirks. 

"Mean." You slap him lightly on the arm. "I wouldn't even be looking for this guy if you and Nayeon hadn't ditched and left me with your billion dollar bar tab." 

Jimin chuckles. "Okay, true, but need I remind you that you were responsible for most of it anyway?" He makes a tutting noise as you're walking down the hall. "Honestly, it's unnatural how much alcohol you can put away.”

"Please," you scoff, pushing open the door to the conference room. "I just have a high tolerance. It takes practice. You’ll get there one day."

“God, I hope not.” Jimin looks horrified at the prospect. “No offense.”

The meeting drags on, well into the afternoon, and your mind continues to wander in the direction of your angel in black, no matter how hard you try to pay attention to the subject at hand. Normally you’d be rapt with attention – skincare is your area of expertise, after all, and it’s been your dream to work at a cosmetics company ever since high school – but for the life of you, you just can’t seem to shake him from your memory and focus on your work. 

Wait. The bouncer. He was standing there the whole time you were arguing with the guy. That sleeve of tattoos was pretty distinctive-looking; you’d definitely remember it if you saw it again. It would be way easier to find him than the guy in black. And he works there. He’s more likely to be there than the other guy. Maybe he remembers something you don’t. 

As soon as the meeting ends, you hurry back to your desk, intent on getting all of today’s work finished by the time it hits six o’clock so you won’t have to work late, and spend the rest of the afternoon in a state of hyperfocus, only noticing that time has passed when you see that most of your coworkers are getting ready to leave. “Jimin.” You sidle up to him as he’s shrugging into his coat. “What are you doing tonight?” 

“Probably just going to head home and—” He stops and narrows his eyes. “You’re up to something, aren’t you? Is this still about that guy?” 

“I was thinking we could go back to that club,” you say earnestly. “There was this bouncer outside, and – well, I don’t really remember what he looked like either, but I’d know him if I saw him. I’m sure of it. I want to ask him if he remembers anything from last week. Maybe he knows something about this guy.”

“Y/n, it's Wednesday." Jimin says. “That place is going to be dead. I doubt anyone will be there, let alone your mystery man.” 

You make your best pouting expression. “You’ll come with me, right? For moral support?” 

“Fine.” Jimin sighs. “If it'll get you to stop fixating on this guy, I'm all for it. But you're buying me dinner.” 

You throw your arms around him. "Jimin-ssi, have I ever told you you're my favorite person in the whole wide world?"

"On multiple occasions.” He smirks. “This is the first time you've ever been sober, though." 

“Wow. See if I ever buy you dinner again.”

The club, as Jimin predicted, was nearly empty, with only a few clumps of people dancing here and there, a handful of people at the bar, and a completely different, tattoo-less bouncer working the front door, who seemed to think the man with the tattoos was a temp. 

“There’s nobody like that working here!” he bellowed back to you, over the thumping music. “Your guy’s probably a temp!”

“No, I’m positive!” you shouted. “It was here. I tripped going out the door and he caught me. I’d know him if I saw him. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure!” he said. “Would you mind stepping away from the door? People are trying to come inside.” You didn’t hang around much longer after that, figuring that if neither the bouncer nor your mystery man were there now they probably wouldn’t be there later either.  

“Well, that was a bust,” comments Jimin, once you’re back in a cab on the way home. 

You blow out a frustrated breath. “Yeah. Sorry to drag you all the way over here for nothing.” 

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he says. “That’s what friends are for, right? At least I got dinner out of it.” 

“Ha, ha, ha.” You roll your eyes. “I knew I should have just waited ‘til the weekend. I was just so excited to test my theory that I jumped the gun a little.”

Jimin frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re planning on making another special trip back over here to look for this guy.” 

“Well…I was.” You turn to look at him, taken aback. “Why shouldn’t I?” 

“Y/n…” Jimin sighs. “I'm your best friend and I love you, but…don’t you think you’re going too far with this? You don’t think maybe it’s time to move on? I mean, what if this guy really is dangerous, like he said? What if you get hurt?”

You scoff a little. “Would a dangerous person really come right out and say they’re dangerous?”

“Yes. That’s absolutely what a dangerous person would say. Please let this go, y/n. I’m begging you. For your own good. The universe will forgive you this one time for not paying that guy back.” 

"I know, but…" I won't. You sigh. "One more time, Jimin. I have to try one more time before I can tell myself I did everything I could."

"Okay. One more time." Jimin's face softens. "But I'm going to hold you to that. No more midweek club nights, internet searches, whatever. You have to let this go because it’s weird that you’re still hung up on this."

"I promise. One more time, and then no more. If I don't find him this time, I'm done."

"Good. Be careful, okay?"

"When am I not careful?" Your best friend raises an eyebrow and squints at you with the most skeptical of sideways glances, probably armed and ready with at least a dozen examples of how you’ve most decidedly not been careful in the past few years you’ve known each other. "That was rhetorical, Jimin. Drop the judgy look, please."

“What judgy look?” he demands. “This is just my face.” 

“Uh-huh. Sure.” 

If Wednesday night’s visit was bad, then Saturday’s is even worse. It’s crowded, almost as crowded as it was the very first night the man in black saved your ass, with barely any good vantage points to park yourself and people-watch in hopes of catching a glance of your mystery man. You should have taken the other bouncer’s inability – or reluctance – to tell you anything about his tattooed coworker the other night as a warning – because it’s obvious that no one else is going to tell you anything about him either, for one reason or another. You’ve asked bartenders, waitresses, anyone who looks like they work there, and all that’s gotten you is in trouble with management. 

“We’re not allowed to give out that kind of information about our employees.” The manager’s eyes narrow. “Stop nosing around before you get yourself banned. Permanently.” With one final scowl he stalks off.

I guess that’s it, then, you think. You let out a sigh as you sit back down at the bar. God, what was I thinking? I never had any chance of finding this guy, not in a million years. Jimin was right. Why did I drag this out so long? It's time for me to move on. As soon as I finish this drink, I’ll walk out of this club and I’ll never think about him again. I’ll go home, and I’ll catch up on all that work I’m behind on because of him. No, I’ll get ahead. Yeah. That’ll show them. Part of you wants to feel relieved, but the realization only makes you feel dejected. Damn. I really wanted to meet him. You get to your feet, and collect your things, taking one last glance around the room. 

That’s when you see him. 

Your angel in black, drinking whiskey in the corner. Same black suit, same heavy bangs, same blank expression. Right as you’re about to leave and never look back, you just happen to see him? It’s too coincidental to be anything other than fate.  

You draw a deep breath, steel your nerves, and march up to his table. “And to think I was just going to walk right past you and out of this place forever. It's almost like the universe wanted us to meet again." You pull out the chair across from him and sit down. “You know, I never did catch your name.”

“That’s because I never dropped it,” he says dryly. “What are you doing here again? Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?” 

“What, can’t a girl drink where she likes anymore?” You lean in. “Who says I’m here to mind your business? I’m busy minding my own. Which, as it turns out, happens to involve you – and making sure you get something in return for covering my ass that night. Thank you, by the way. You barely let me get it out last time.” 

He scoffs, sitting back. “I told you to forget about it. I didn’t spot you because I expected you to pay me back.” 

“Why did you do it, then?” You cock your head to one side. “There must have been some reason you felt like rescuing a damsel in distress. Nobody does anything without a reason.” 

The question seems to catch him off-guard for a moment, before he quickly regains his composure. “Why does it matter?” He stares down into his glass. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be dangerous for all you know. Like I've been trying to tell you this whole time.” Dangerous. There’s that word again.

“Well, you can’t be all that bad, or you wouldn’t have helped me out. And besides,” you muse, “if you were going to do anything to me you probably would have done it already.” 

“Suppose that’s true.” One side of his mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly. 

“Then again, maybe it is like you said. Maybe you aren’t a good person. But I don’t think that necessarily makes you a bad person. And I don’t think you would have done anything to me, even if you did have the chance. Which you did, the other night.”

A hard laugh escapes from his lips. "Clearly you haven't been listening to anything I've been saying. Because you definitely wouldn't be saying that if you really knew me.” 

You purse your lips thoughtfully. “Well, you know, I have this theory. Everyone has a color, right? Some people you can just tell whether they’re one way or another, black, white, whatever. But you…well, I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

“Hah. I’ve heard that one before.” The man avoids looking at you and stares down at the table, features set in an unreadable expression. “So, what color am I, then?” 

“Mm.” You grin. “First impression? Silver.” 

“Silver, huh?” He smirks. “Why silver?” 

“On the surface you’re a very gray person. Kind of an enigma. You’re not black and you’re not white, you’re somewhere in between, which makes you gray. But on closer inspection, anyone can see there’s something different about you that sparkles a little bit. Something that shines.” His face doesn’t move. “It’s just a theory, anyway,” you say hastily. “I’d have to get to know you a little better before I could really say for sure.” 

“What makes you think that’s going to happen?” An eyebrow quirks just slightly.

“Hm. You seem like the type who would have gotten up and left already if you weren’t at least a little bit interested in me, even if you came off as rude. And you’re still here, so you must be somewhat intrigued, right?” 

“That’s a compelling theory – but you're wrong. I might be an asshole but I'm not that kind of asshole.” He leans back, an arm draped over the back of the booth. “Anyways, before I answer your question, let me ask you one of my own: why are you so hellbent on paying me back to the point where you thought you had to track me down?” 

“You know, I’m not sure myself.” You rest your chin in your palm. “It just feels like the thing to do, that’s all. Most of the time strangers tend to either ignore me or glare at me when this kind of thing happens. You probably think I’m a mess. I know I do. I also know from experience that I can only ever count on my friends to have my back, so imagine my surprise when you, a random stranger, had my back the other night. You did something only my friends ever do for me.” You shrug nonchalantly. “And I always repay my friends.” 

“All right,” he says after a moment. “I won’t say I’m not at least a little impressed that you even found me. And now that you have…I’m guessing you’re not going to leave me alone until I give you what you want.” The whiskey swirls in his glass, resting in one long, slender hand. “Which is?”

“Dinner,” you say, boldly, without hesitating. “Or drinks, at least. I know I probably can’t afford what you’re used to. Obviously, considering the other night…but let me treat you sometime. Just to say thank you. Honestly, I’m a great date. Really. Or I should be." You sigh. "I've been on a lot, so I've had plenty of practice. But I promise I’ll make it worth your while. I even paid off my credit card. Just for you.”

He releases a resigned sigh and sets his glass down. “Okay. Say I agree, even though you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into and I definitely shouldn’t indulge you any further than I already have. Will you stop following me around if I do?”

“That depends. Are you going to ghost me as soon as it’s over?” 

“Now that,” he says, “depends on whether or not you’re as good of a date as you say you are.” 

“Oh, I’m positively delightful. Excellent conversationalist. Top-notch table manners. I won’t even stick you with the check this time. Best night of your life, guaranteed. Or top-ten, at least.” 

He pauses, looking like he might regret what he’s about to say. “Fine. We can have dinner. On one condition.” 

“Oh? What’s that?”

“You really have to stop following me around.” His expression turns dark. “It’s not a good idea for you to get involved with me. You could get hurt.”

“This again?” You sigh. “Let’s just see how dinner goes, and then I’ll decide if you’re worth any more of my time.” 

“You’ll decide, huh?” He eyes you. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I don’t know your name yet,” you correct him, “and that’s only because you haven’t told me what it is.” 

“Yoongi,” he says finally, after a moment of hesitation. A tinge of amusement plays across his features. “Min Yoongi.” 

“Yoongi,” you repeat. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Yoongi. I’m Y/n. Y/n L/n.” You extend a hand across the table. 

“Y/n,” he says, giving your hand a firm shake. It’s cool and dry, and you spot the barest remains of a scar on his palm as he pulls his hand away. “Only time will tell whether I’m going to be able to say the same for you.”

“Mm.” You shrug. “I think you’ll be surprised.”

“Like I said.” Yoongi gets to his feet, taking his glass with him. “Anyway. I have some business to take care of. Can you get out of here on your own, or are you going to be needing my help again?”

“I’ll be fine, but – wait, I didn’t give you my number. How are we going to get in touch?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He looks down at you and smirks, the unmistakable hint of a sparkle somewhere in those soft, dark eyes. “You seem to think we’re fated, so I’m sure we’ll run into each other again if we’re really meant to. We’ve exchanged names now.” Yoongi raises his glass slightly. “You can find out a lot about a person from just a name.” 

“Hey, wait a—” Yoongi is gone before you can finish your sentence, swallowed up by the dense crowds of the club. “He still didn’t answer my question,” you mutter. 

But despite all that – you have a hopeful feeling about the whole situation. 

"Yoongi," you repeat. "Who are you, Min Yoongi?"

The silence in Yoongi’s office the next morning is nearly palpable, the air between him and Jungkook filled with the sounds of clicking keys as they’re finishing up their paperwork on the case at the club. Even without looking he can sense the younger man eyeing him over the top of his laptop screen. Yoongi heaves a resigned sigh. “Spit it out, Jungkook. I can practically hear the gears grinding inside that giant head of yours.” 

Jungkook stops typing and leans forward, grinning in a suspiciously sunny manner. “I was just noticing how good of a mood you’re in today, boss,” he says. “Better than you’ve been in months.” 

"Bullshit I am." Yoongi’s eyes don’t move. “You're imagining things." 

“You are too!” Jungkook insists. “I told you good morning on my way in and you didn’t even tell me to stop bothering you and get to work.” He squints at Yoongi. “You said it back to me. And you weren’t even being sarcastic about it.”

“So I said good morning to you. Once. Big deal. I’ve been known to be cordial every once in a while, haven’t I?” 

“But you’re never cordial with me,” insists Jungkook. “You're cordial with clients. And people who are gonna give you money. Normally it’s all grunts and scowling when you talk to me. Something good happened last night, didn’t it? I saw you chatting with that girl, the one you paid the bar tab for last week. She managed to track you down, huh?” He’s not going to let this go easily. He’s like a dog with a chew toy whenever he finds an interesting enough tidbit to hang onto. 

Yoongi suppresses a sigh and presses his fingers to the sides of his temples. “Yeah, and? What are you getting at?”

“Oh, nothing.” He plasters an innocent-looking expression on his face. “She went through all of that trouble to track you down when most people would have just let it go. She must like you. Seems like you like her too.” 

Yoongi snorts. “Y/n? Flighty, irresponsible, doesn’t even know her own limits, so impulsive that the first thing she thinks of when a man does something nice for her is to follow him out into the street y/n? No way in hell.”

“And you, a guy who’s so cautious, practical, and down to earth that he never does anything without thinking about it for weeks?” notes Jungkook. “All I’m hearing is that you’d be perfect for each other. Opposites attract, you know?”

“The worst thing she could do would be to get involved with me,” Yoongi scoffs. “Trust me. It’s not happening.” He rolls a pen back and forth in his hand. “It’s not like that, anyway. She said she’d leave me alone if I let her do this. She doesn’t like me, she just feels like she owes me. That’s all. I’m just humoring her so she’ll leave me alone.”

“Uh-huh.” Jungkook smirks. “You do like her, don’t you?” 

“I didn’t say that,” grumbles Yoongi. “Why don’t you mind your own business for once?” 

“In case you’ve forgotten, hyung,” says Jungkook, still grinning, “you left me in charge of minding your business for the past six months. You know, while you were off the grid camping in the middle of nowhere?” 

“Yeah, and I’m starting to regret it,” he mutters. “Humor me and let it go. It’s too early for this shit.” 

“All right, fine.” Jungkook turns his eyes back to his screen, but it doesn’t last for long. “So when are you going to see her again?” 

“We didn’t set a firm—” Yoongi’s eyes narrow, pinning Jungkook with a searing glare. “Hey. I’ll fire you if you don’t watch yourself.” 

“Ah, go ahead and fire me, then,” Jungkook says cheerfully. “I’d like to see how well you manage without me covering your ass.”

Yoongi flings the pen in his hand across the table, aiming for Jungkook’s head, who easily dodges it. “Aish, you’ve gotten cocky since I left. I managed just fine on my own before you got here, thank you. You were the one who came bitching to me about how much you needed me to come back, weren’t you? This case that you just couldn't handle by yourself, even though you've probably handled about a dozen of the exact same type of cases all by yourself?”

“Come on!” snorts Jungkook. “We both know you were ready to come back. I just needed to make you feel good about yourself so you’d actually get off your ass and do it. You should be thanking me, hyung.”  

“Thanking you?” demands Yoongi. “What the hell should I be thanking you for?”

“I think you know.” Jungkook’s eyebrows dance suggestively, eyes twinkling. “Y/n – she’s pretty, isn't she?”

“That’s it. You’re getting demoted.”

“Okay, okay.” Jungkook falls silent suddenly before he speaks again. “I missed you, boss. Good to have you back.” 

“Ah, shut up,” Yoongi snaps. “And get back to work. These reports aren’t going to write themselves, you know.” 

Jungkook turns his attention back to his computer screen again, eyeing Yoongi’s scowl with a knowing smirk. Yeah. He totally likes her. 

©2023 by mrworldwideshoulders || series masterlist || collection masterlist || my masterlist ||

[iwaasfairy]

Hi, Fairy! Maybe your first blowjob with Sakura from Windbreaker?

this is awfully soft for my blog but for just this once I will provide you the fluffy smut you want bc it got awayyy from me :>> first impressions, I like haru

tw. blowjob, spit, neither are virgins but Haruka is having a first

“Okay, my turn.” You giggle, and roll over after putting your drink precariously close to the edge of the coffeetable. “Hmm… weirdest place you’ve gotten a blowjob?” Your head’s too close to his thigh, you’re not being subtle. Your toes basically curl without intent at even having this conversation with him. It’s the most overtly sexual you’ve been with him— and you’re alone. Blame a girl for being giddy. When it stays quiet for a few seconds, you get anxious though.

“What, you can ask me my favorite positions, but I can’t ask something personal back?” He’s still looking, and you swear you catch him staring at your lips when you look over.

“No…” His normally serious, predatory eyes flick away. “Never had that so, gotta pass.” Your lips smack, and he seems to tense at the sound.

“What’dyou mean? You’ve never…” You look up at him innocently, genuine curiosity making it’s way over your features. Haruka’s got a massive blush on his face all of a sudden, running from his nose to the tips of his ears as he stares resolutely at the corner of the room instead of you. He speaks much too loudly to be unbothered by the topic.

“It means what it fucking means. Stop staring at me, brat. You might’ve got around when you were young,” he bursts out -and you would take it personally if he didn’t look down at you like something to eat earlier- “but I wasn’t all that popular back home. I had a reputation of being a hardass, so no girls were jumping for the opportunity, alright?!” He’s loud enough that if your big brother was home, he’d come in to check in on you. Luckily then that he isn’t. Sakura’s all tense and balled fists, and it makes you quiet; then giggle when he finally takes those mismatched eyes away from the wall back down at your face.

Your giggles die down as soon as he starts getting up out of the couch, and you shoot into motion to wrap soft fingers around his wrist. “Haru~ kun, wait! You have to give me time to react first, seriously.” He’s so tense you can feel each muscle in his forearm flex when you slide your hand up just a little. After a bit of debating, with your big, soft eyes still aimed at him, he eventually sits back down. But pulls his arm away from you to cross them over his chest instead, with a ‘what?’ sort of expression.

You bite your lip. “Around the campfire the other night, you … Didn’t you tell the guys you weren’t a vir-”

Again that fucking blush, now also over his hands as he smacks it over your mouth— hot palm shutting you up as his eyebrows get so high on his forehead. When he realizes that this isn’t really the way to shut a lady up, he frowns, and his chest rises and falls a little too quickly. For such a tough guy- he really can’t handle teasing at all. “How did you know about that?! And- w-what about it, anyway?” He keeps your eyes with a searching expression for a bit longer. As if he’s trying to see if you’re mad. What’s there to be mad about? You’re both adults. When he doesn’t find any accusations in your irises, he lets go of you. Seriously, this guy.

“Was that a lie?” you ask.

You’ve known him for a while now. At least enough for you to get a slight little crush on your brother’s friend— and this is the first time since maybe high school that he got this flustered. Usually, you’re the one a flushed mess whenever he’s around. Tonight’s been different. Instead of backing down, he puffs his chest out a little, and looks back at you. You don’t want to let it go to your head, but when you ask it he lets his gaze trail all over your body where you’re resting, lingering on the way your shorts have ridden up between your thighs.

“No, it wasn’t a fucking lie. Some stuff happened back in highschool and I ended up getting plenty of experience.” Those pretty eyes keep yours, and he licks his bottom lip. “Believe me, I know what I’m doing on that front.” There it is. Under all of that thinly veiled temper— is the guy who makes your head spin when he’s around with his hopeless brashness. You’re smitten.

You sit up, instead shifting your legs under you as you run a hand through your hair and brush it away from your face instead, exposing the long stretch of neck that he also takes a slow journey down with his eyes. It’s as flattering as it is making your hairs stand on end, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. When you manage to calm your racing heart rate a little, you smile, eyes on the ground.

You breathe out. “But you’ve never had your,” now it’s your turn to struggle through the words, “your dick sucked?” The dent in the wall from where your big brother once threw a chair is endlessly interesting now. “Do you want to? I mean- not- I’m not asking for me to- just- in general.” You smooth your hands over your shorts to readjust them. Now would be a good time to get a drink, tingles trailing up and down your spine. “I mean- isn’t that a lot of pressure for whichever poor girl is the first?” You can’t bear to look at him, but you have a feeling Haruka’s smiling at the side of your face. You could shoot yourself. “Thirsty,” you squeak.

When you slide your legs off the couch with the intention to escape to safety for a bit, a warm palm now grabs onto your upper arm, winding around it with just enough pressure to keep you from going. You’re so rigid that when he gets closer and the air of his breath dusts over your ear, you squeak. “Where are you going? Gotta give me some time to react first, don’t you?” You barely manage to look back at him, but when you do you’re nose to nose. He trails fingertips around your ear before nudging your chin up with one finger. “Say, if I ask for it myself, would it still pressure you? If I show you how badly I want you to?”

Then after a second he tilts his head in thought. “Only you.” You can’t think straight, can only focus on the sliver of distance left between your lips. Holy fuck, your heart is beating so hard it makes you a bit shaky. Sakura’s lashes flutter as he whispers the next words against your lips— and all you can think about is how good he looks in the low light of the tv. His words are slow, as his fingers drag through your hair to hold you in place. “Can I ask? To put that pretty fucking mouth on my cock?”

Your entire body tingles, and you nod. “Yeah.” Your mouth meets his eagerly, but not as eager as Haruka is when shifting his body weight into you and almost knocking teeth when you kiss. His tongue’s sweet, a little bitter because of the drinks, as it pushes against yours and kisses and sucks the air out of you. His free hand wrapping around your waist drags you against him more, tilting your head back for his access by a soft pull on your hair. When you disconnect for a moment you breathe his name, and he sits back to pat his lap a few times.

“Come. Sit for me first.”

“You have no clue-” you pant as you get onto him, feeling those strong thighs flexing under your own, “how long I’ve wanted to.” His brows slant up at the admission, as you pull your shirt over your head. “Do this, that is. I’ve had a crush on you for like three years. I haven’t been constantly thinking of ways to trick you into having you fuck my mouth.” A soft chuckle shakes his chest when he follows your lead to take off his own shirt, tosses it somewhere. Then he kisses you again, and smiles.

“I wouldn’t be upset if you admitted you had.” As you roll your hips against him, you’re pleased to already feel his bulge pushing against you. He looks positively radiant looking up at you like he is, biting his bottom lip as his hands grip your tits through your bra and he can’t hold back a smile. You can’t help but kiss him again, and start making marks on the pretty skin below his jaw. Haruka groans. “I’ve wanted you too, by- agh- the way. So much longer than that. Not to say that I waited or nothin’… ” He admits after a few seconds of trailing kisses down his neck and collarbones, making your way down to the patch of white hairs from his navel down. His voice gets heavier when he bucks up into your doughy pussy, only separated by a few bits of fabric. “But I’ve wanted your lips wrapped around my cock since freshman year- fuck.”

You’re halfway down his body and pulling his sweats out of the way when you look up at him with big eyes, and a surprised giggle makes it’s way out of your open mouth. “Freshman year?! You’ve been wanting to fuck your friend’s little sister’s mouth since freshman year?” He’s quick to lift his ass and push the pants to his knees along with his underwear, and grabs his cock at the base as another blush makes it’s way over his face.

“Shut up- just… If you’re gonna do it, do it.” He’s all flushed and honestly, adorable as he glances between his own body and you where you’re now on your knees on the carpet. He watches you lick your lips and give him some time to squeeze out a drop of glossy pre, before running his free hand through his hair to get it out of his face. “No p-pressure, though. Anything you do will be more than enough for me.” It’s so genuine it almost makes you hold back on giving him your best.

Almost. “No way. If you’ve been waiting to fuck my mouth for that long…” You smile up at him, blink your long lashes, and then pat the puffy head against your hot lips a few times.

Your lips meet his swollen tip with a hum, before blowing a bubble of spit and pushing your tongue against him, wrapping it around the hot head. Your tongue squirms as you wet it with as much spit as you can, before putting your lips on him and slowly feeding more of his cock inside with a hum- batting your lashes up in time to watch how Haruka’s eyes widen and then he has to push them closed entirely. “O-oh fuck. Fuck; You’re-” Your tongue rubs over his slit to taste the slightly salty, musky pre and your hand moves down to squeeze his shaft, then gripping his hot, heavy balls. “A- ugh- hold on.”

“Holy fuck- ah- fucking shit.” His normally tense expression takes on a wonderful helplessness as you push your cheeks together and hollow them around him, suck slow first and then harder— and Haruka groans deeply. “So pretty. Oh shit, I’m close. I’m already close- slow down.”

He opens his eyes for a few seconds, only to close them again, placing his hand on top of your head to hold you back a little. Your tongue strokes the underside of his shaft, melting along the curve of one throbbing vein. “Fu—ck me, you’re- so fucking good at this, you’re so good. Ah, agh ah.” He pants, opens his eyes, strokes your crown a few times as his cock fills your mouth up and you pull back, leaking spit. “Taste good, does it?”

“Mhm.” It’s too messy and hot between his legs for you to stay entirely untouched, as you rub his spongey, pink head on the outside of your cheeks. One hand makes it’s way between your own legs to grind against your own palm, while the other winds just tight enough around the base of him to make his breathing hitch. “Haru~ y’taste so good. Feel nice in my mouth too.”

“I promise you-,” his leg twitches when you stroke slow motions on the slick length of him, “you feel even better.” You dip your face to instead take his balls into your mouth instead and suck, and the nervous twitch becomes a full on spasm that has him grabbing your head by the hair. “Oh-oh don’t do that. I’m- I wanna come in your mouth. Fuck, baby. What the fuck.” The pull aches, but watching him basically glare at you from under thick lashes makes your entire body glow. When he wraps his larger hand around yours to hold you still for a moment, you can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face. “You can’t keep doing that, unless you want me to cum all over your face.”

“But I like tasting you so much.” You pout. Your hair sticks to your neck, and your tears make your lashes sticky. He looks at you like you’re a princess though. Your pussy clenches around nothing. “Stand up for me?” Haruka’s frown comes back at that, but he strokes comforting pets over your head as he thinks. He eventually grits his teeth when you let go of him entirely, escaping from his touch. It’s too hot, and really— you ache to be touched too. But it’s so nice to watch that blush spread on his neck. You get back a little and squeeze his thigh, and with a bit more urging he stands up out of the couch.

Thick, pretty cock right before your nose, he twitches before you. Your eyes find his when you smile. You stick your tongue out to drop some drool onto your fingers, and hold your hand out. Haruka’s face only blanks. “Want to fuck my face on your pace instead?”

“No.” It takes a few seconds to register the expression he’s wearing, but it isn’t one of annoyance. Instead he’s holding out his hand to pull you up— and you let him. “Bend over here. It’s my turn.”

[miasmal-sweetness]

Bump in the Night - yandere!Cloud x reader

NSFW - MDNI - 18+ ONLY

Just a little one-shot for yandere!Cloud while I dip my toes in to posting my writing on tumblr. I fell in love with this man as a child the moment I heard he wore a dress because who the fuck doesn't love a good dress, am i right.

Summary: 2.4k. Cloud is a good neighbor, and offers to keep watch for you when you’re scared one night. He won’t let this interrupt his nightly routine, though.

Pairing: yandere!Cloud x gn!reader

Warnings: Smut, yandere behavior, somnophilia, masturbation, general creepiness, darkfic/dead dove, dubcon/noncon (reader is asleep), reader is gender neutral

Bump in the Night

You were nice. Or nice enough. Well, you were nice enough to him, specifically—Cloud couldn’t really care whether or not you were nice to others. Anyone else would probably think you were just being a good next-door neighbor, with the way you smiled and greeted him each morning when he stepped out of his apartment.

You’d be watering your little plants on the balcony that surrounded your door, your hair a mess and wearing only a robe and house slippers. It wasn’t a long robe, either. It’s a robe he thinks about often at night. It shows just the perfect amount of skin. The right balance of revealing your soft thighs while covering enough to leave him desperately wanting.

Maybe you’re wearing it now. Maybe if he looks out on to the balcony, you’ll be there in your robe, and a breeze will pass in just the right way with just the right strength to reveal more of your skin. Cloud knows there’s a fat chance of that happening, but there’s no harm in dreaming—well, other than how fucking hard he is now.

Cloud thinks of himself as a man of amazing self-control, but every man has his limits. You are his. Cloud starts his nightly routine; set his sword down, make sure the door is locked, begin to strip out of his armor, and open his closet door. The walls of Stargazer Heights are paper thin, and that means he can sometimes hear you padding around your apartment or lying down in bed. It’s a treat when he hears you speak.

Tonight, you must already be asleep. Your apartment is silent, other than a very faint sound of the fan you keep running. But he’ll still lean against the wall, just in case you make a sound, and imagine you in your bed as he strokes his cock. Maybe you’re wearing your robe. Maybe you’re not, and you just throw that on every morning because you sleep naked.

CRACK.

Cloud bristles. The wall was intact; he hadn’t somehow busted through it by jerking off. And that didn’t sound like a noise you would make… It sounded like it came from outside. Cloud tries to brush it off, gripping his dick again and returning to his thoughts of peeling back your blanket and—

CRACK. POP POP.

Did someone really have to fire their gun right now? Cloud grits his teeth and hisses, opening his eyes again. There’s another noise now, coming through the wall this time. You’re whimpering. Your bed is creaking, and you whisper harshly, like you’re scolding it for giving you away.

Cloud feels his heart flop in his chest. He didn’t know you could make those kinds of sounds. And as hot as it is, you also must be scared. What’s he supposed to do, though? Walk over there and tell you he heard you crying through the wall because he listens to you every night to get off?

Either way, his session is interrupted—by his own choice. He absolutely could keep going just to the sound of you whimpering, but his concern outweighs his arousal. He’ll just knock on your door and check on you. He’ll just say he heard gunshots outside and wanted to make sure you were doing okay. That’s a normal, neighborly thing to do. It’s less normal that he’s knocking on your door with a raging erection, but it’s dark and his pants mostly hide it.

“It’s Cloud,” he adds with his final knock. After all, it’s the middle of the night and you’re no fighter.

At this, you unlock the door and crack it open, peeking out at him with teary eyes. “H-hi,” you whisper, glancing behind him. No signs of any danger. “What’s up, Cloud?” You’re trying to even out your voice, but you’re failing. You’re too tired and too startled to put on a good act, but Cloud thinks it’s cute anyway.

“I heard gunshots,” he says, staring in to your eyes. Cloud wasn’t one for such intense eye contact most of the time, but you didn’t complain and it made you squirm and blush, so he kept doing it. “Just thought I’d see if you were doing okay.”

You press your lips together and slowly nod. You’re lying, of course. The sounds of gunfire scared the living shit out of you. You know it’s not likely to spread to the apartments, but what if it does? Your anxiety will be the death of you someday. “I’m, um, I’m okay,” you quietly, slowly say. “I’ve… been better.”

Cloud breaks his stare as you speak to glance down at your legs. You had opened the door wider, and it’s like a dream come true to him. You’re wearing the robe. Cloud coughs and looks back at your face. “I’ll hear if anyone tries to come in,” he says in an attempt to offer some sort of comfort. “So… don’t worry.”

You appreciate it, but it doesn’t feel like enough to soothe all your worries. “Um, thanks.” You drop your gaze to your feet and fidget with the hem of your robe. You have no desire to be exposed to the outside world after hearing gunshots, but you also have no desire for this conversation to end. It brings some small amount of comfort to stand in the light by your door with Cloud.

Cloud’s eyes follow your hands down to the hem of your robe. Are you doing it on purpose? Do you know? Are you teasing him? No, there’s no way. He’s seen you fidget plenty of times. Right? He feels sure of it, and then you lift your robe a little higher to run your fingertips over a loosening stitch, and he feels a lot less sure of everything other than how much he wants to fuck you in your doorway.

“I can keep watch while you sleep,” Cloud offers. He’s staring at your thighs like they have the secrets of the universe written on them, but you don’t seem to notice as you mull over the offer. “Want me to come in?”

It takes a moment, but you finally give him a meek nod and open your door for him. Cloud steps inside. It smells like you in here. It’s dark, but he can see some of your clothes lying around, and a few plushies on your desk and your bed. You’ve made an actual home out of this place—Cloud’s apartment still looks like a motel room that someone could get tetanus in.

“Thank you,” you tell him, locking your door again. “Uh… Do you want something to drink? I have coffee and tea. J-just the instant stuff, though.”

“I’m fine.” The last thing Cloud needs is to be any more wound up right now. He can’t take his eyes off your bed.

You start to fidget again. “You don’t have to stay up to keep watch. I just need someone here until I fall asleep.” That still sounds weird, doesn’t it? You’re an adult; why are you still acting like a child who needs your daddy to tuck you in? Even though you scold yourself, you’re unwilling to tell Cloud that you’ve changed your mind and he’s free to go. “Or you can stay the night here… I’ll take the floor so you have the bed.”

Nope. No way. He is not passing up this opportunity. Besides, you had crammed your queen-sized bed in to his apartment—the thing was begging to be used to its fullest potential. “We can share the bed,” he stated, folding his arms over his chest. He resists the urge to tap his foot. It would be easy to just toss you on the bed… “Neither of us are sleeping on the floor.”

He says it with such authority that you—weak-willed, push-over little you—accept it without question. Maybe that’s why he likes you. You listen to him and you don’t make him do stupid tasks, even if he’d gladly do them for you. Tifa makes him be nice to people. Aerith tries to push him to be a good person, too. And his years in Shinra were filled with constant orders and scrutiny.

But you just take him as he is and do what he says. Finally, he gets to be the one giving out orders. He once bumped in to you and pretended to spill his drink, then told you to pick it up—all so he could watch you bend over. Sure, Tifa gave him a nasty look, but he rode that power high for three days.

You pull your covers down and climb in to bed. It’s too dark to make out anything clearly, but just the fact that your underwear—if you’re even wearing any—is revealed while you crawl on the mattress is enough to make him shudder. Cloud tries to calm himself while he takes off his shoes. He’s just here to comfort you, and that’s all. Unless you want more. Do you want more? Fuck, he wishes you’d just say it.

You look up at him as he climbs in next to you. You’re trying to be polite by lying on the absolute edge of your side, but he wishes you’d be rude.

“Good night,” you say, pulling your blanket over yourself. “Wake me if you need anything.”

“Good night.”

Cloud pulls the blanket up to his chest and leans back against your pillows. Okay, it seems like you really do just want him to keep watch. And that’s fine. It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine. He is a fighter. He is in control. He doesn’t go back on deals. He has amazing self-control, even though his hand in lingering over the bulge in his pants.

You’re already asleep, and Cloud decides to believe that you fell asleep so quickly simply because he’s that comforting to you. He looks at your sleeping, peaceful face. Your lips are slightly parted and a lock of hair has fallen over your face. If he waits a few more minutes, you’ll fall in to a deeper state of sleep. So he does, listening to your soft breaths as he waits.

He tests the waters by sliding the blankets down ever so slightly. If you wake up, he’ll just say he was too warm. You don’t respond, so he slides them down further. You’re sleeping on your side, and your robe has fortunately followed gravity and parted.

Cloud swallows a little too loudly, but you don’t hear it. Palming himself over his pants isn’t enough anymore; he’s pulled out his cock. There’s a little part of him telling him that this is wrong of him to do, but he’s pretty good at ignoring that voice by now. You’re sleeping, anyway. What you don’t know won’t hurt you.

He gingerly pulls your robe further open. Unfortunately, you are wearing underwear. Fortunately, they cover very little. Cloud lets his fingers ghost over the skin of your thigh; he shudders as though he was the one touched. He tries to keep as still and quiet as possible as he strokes his cock, sometimes stopping just so he can savor this for a little longer.

His fingers crawl in between your inner thighs, wedging between them. You’re warm—the thought of fucking your inner thighs nearly sends him over the edge. He tries to creep his hand further up, but you stir. He pulls his hand away just in time. You adjust yourself in your sleep and roll on to your stomach. It takes away the sight of your belly and chest, but now your thighs are parted and he can lift up your robe to reveal your ass.

Cloud lets you sink back in to a deeper state of sleep before he does this. He’s trying to be a gentleman, after all. You need your sleep. He peels your robe up and admires the sight. He gently rubs your inner thighs, your ass, touches your scanty underwear—and finally runs his fingers down the gusset of your underwear.

He thinks about the sound of your whimpers again, and imagines you making those sounds as he touches you through the fabric. He’s practically fucking his hand at this point; the bed even creaks here and there. He should be more careful. He should calm down and be quiet, or you might wake up. But the risk of that only spurs him on.

You’re good, quiet, obedient. You let him be in control. And even if you decide to go against this if you wake up, he’ll just remind you that he’s doing you a favor. He’s losing sleep for you—you don’t need to know that he’d have lost this sleep anyway jerking off two or three times to the thought of you. He’s here because you wanted him. You owe him. And you live in Stargazer Heights; you don’t have a way to pay him with money. Lucky for you, he’ll accept this instead—you should be grateful. You should be thanking him. If you don’t, he’ll leave the sector—and who will take care of its endless woes then?

All it takes is the thought of you thanking him for him to finally cum. He’s panting, looking like a wild animal as he watches his own cum spurt on to your ass. He grits his teeth as he strokes out every last drop. The damage is already done; it’s not like a little more will hurt, and it looks so good on you.

Cloud creeps off of the bed and wipes his hand off with some tissues you keep by your desk. He’s sick. He’s disgusting. His parents would be so ashamed of him. He scowls at his own thoughts—his parents are dead and it’s not like anyone saw, so it’s fine. He’ll be a bad person if it means he gets to feel your thighs again. Any shred of resistance left in him was gone the moment he touched them.

“You really are a deep sleeper, huh,” Cloud muses, grabbing another tissue. Even if he thinks you should wear his cum all the time, he can’t leave you like this and risk you finding out. Not until he’s certain you want this… or until you can’t do anything about it. He wipes away what he can; your underwear will dry by morning, he’s sure. He’s had enough wet dreams about you that he’s certain of it.

Cloud settles down at your desk. He promised he’d keep watch, keep you safe. And he will, now that he’s had his fun. But maybe he’ll take his payment again in, say, thirty minutes. Although, you just gasped in your sleep, so maybe it’ll be ten minutes.

[atinylittlepain]

Nothing to Hide - A Joel Miller Story

no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

joel miller masterlist

she learns a couple new things about her man over the course of a night.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, and nothing but(t), yes this is a pegging fic

a/n | it's here! welcome, everyone, to the inaugural night of the Peg that Middle-Aged Man Campaign 2023! over the course of the next week or so, I as well as a handful of my favorite writers will be putting out some excellent fics under this campaign for the whole spectrum of Pedro Pascalian characters! so keep your eye out! much more to come, muahahahaha

i know for a fact that both @beskarandblasters and @wannab-urs will be posting or have already posted two other spectacular PMAMC fics on this fine evening, so go check those out as well!

.......................................................

“What is that?”

“Don’t– you can’t laugh.”

“Oh my god, Joel. What the fuck is it?” 

“Well what d’you think it is?”

“I think you lost a bet is what I think.” He’s silent for a moment, his lack of a reply all the answer she needs to burst out into laughter.

“No, really?” Joel lets out a huff.

“I was really really drunk and dumb, ok? Jesus, woman, stop looking at it!” She stifles her laugh enough to turn him around by his shoulder so he’s facing her, running a quick hand through his curls, his face flushed and set in a scowl.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna be looking at it a lot with what I’m about to do to you.” She can see the bob of his throat in the faint light of her bedroom, the way his eyes go a touch hazy, drooping under his lashes. He’s pretty, something she’s known since they started dating, though she also knows he’d probably short-circuit if she ever called him that. But tonight, she intends to treat him like it, giving, providing, where he’s always so eager to do the same. 

“Why don’t you lay out on the bed for me, handsome?” He gives her a jerky nod, seeming to think twice before he cups her cheek in his palm, dragging a hot kiss from her before he complies. He’s still in his boxers, long expanses of tan, bare strength laid out on her sheets, propped up on his elbows to watch her as she rifles through a dresser drawer to find a few things. His eyes widen when she turns back to him, baby pink strap in one hand and a bottle of lube in the other. 

“Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re gonna work you up to it, ok? And if you don’t like anything, just tell me and I’ll stop.” It’s setting heat threading through her core, thick and warm, the silk of her panties sticking to her cunt from the pulse of arousal, coaxed on by the stark contrast of how he normally is to how she gets him right now. Her man, always in control, always the strong one, the dominant one, the giver, laying it all willingly at her feet.

It had started with a bit of pillow talk one night. Joel knew that she had been with women in the past, but he had never been so bold as to ask anything about it, not until that night, drunk on sweat and sex, a boyish grin slipping across his lips, turning dark and reverential fast when she was more than happy to tell him about her experience, going so far as to show him the toys she had held onto. But what she hadn’t been expecting was Joel Miller, the walking homage to southern masculinity, asking his next question.

“You ever used that, um, with– with men?” 

They had talked about it more afterward, Joel eager to bring it up, ask questions, seemingly just as perplexed as she was that he was so interested in it.

“I don’t know, I mean– never thought about something like this before. But, with you it just– fuck, it seems kinda hot.”

And that’s how they’ve ended up here, her kneeling between his spread legs on her bed, palms rubbing up and down his thighs as she leans over and lays a kiss to the little swell of his belly, smiling against the jump of his muscles. 

“Relax for me, Joel. I promise I’m gonna take good care of you. You trust me, right?” 

“I– yeah, I do.” She slides one palm up from his thigh to his chest, pressing lightly to get him to lay back.

“Then just let me do all the work, alright? Gonna make you feel good.” With that, she draws her attention back down to the waistband of his boxers, hooking her fingers in the sides to tug them down and off his legs before settling back between his thighs, her fingers tapping the joints of his knees as a light command.

“Can you bend your knees for me, baby? Need you a little more opened up than this.” She’s surprised by the groan he lets out at her simple question, a breathless shake of his head.

“Fuck, I– you– that–” She cuts off his floundering, her palm rubbing a soothing circle against his chest.

“Hey, if you don’t feel comfortable, we don’t have to do anything different, seriously.” “No! I mean, no, I want to. It’s just– different. But different’s good. I’m good.” How could she say no to that?

“Ok, baby, I’m gonna warm you up. You tell me if I do anything you don’t like, alright?” He nods, his eyes staying glued on hers as she ducks back down, lips ghosting over the underside of his already hard cock before lapping gently at the tip. She works him over with her mouth for a while, taking him down as far as she can, her hand stroking the rest, reveling in the way his muscles slacken and tense beneath her ministrations, the way he starts to let himself go to the pleasure, his head pressed back into the pillows, eyes scrunched shut, shaky pants and curses leaving his lips. When it seems like she’s gotten him nice and relaxed, she pulls off of him, continuing to lap at his length while she fumbles around for her bottle of lube, spreading a dollop between her palms before getting her hands on his length.

“Just want you to get used to the feel of this stuff, alright, baby?” He hisses at the cool contact, but lets out a breathy, low-rumbled uh-huh as she swirls her slicked-up palm down his cock, slipping her hand down to cup his balls, a move that sets a broken groan thrumming in his throat. Her other hand presses against his thigh, getting him to open up more for her as she slips a finger down a little further, finding that tight ring of muscle and applying a bit of pressure, Joel’s hips bucking up at the sensation. 

“Easy, baby, gotta stay relaxed for me if I’m gonna open you up.” He lets out a disbelieving laugh, throwing his head back as she presses her finger in, her other hand lazily stroking his cock as she does.

“Jesus, fuck– you’re good, so fucking good. Never felt anything like this be-before.” She smiles up at him, pressing a kiss to his hip as she slowly pumps her finger inside of him, only stopping to lathe more lube over her hand.

“Think you can take another one, baby? You ready for that?” He nods, a long sigh leaving his lips, but that’s not good enough for her.

“Need words, Joel. You gotta tell me what you want.” 

“I– yes, more, please. Want more.” To get a please out of Joel Miller is no small feat, and she revels in it, just a little, easing a second finger in along her first one, stretching him out even more. He’s a vision, chest flushed, cheeks ablaze, one hand tugging at his mussed-up hair, the other balled into a tight fist in the sheets as she works him open. It’s messy as hell, lube slicking up everything, dripping between his thighs, his cock throbbing in her hand, his words a filthy slur of praise and curses that go straight to her aching core.

“Do you wanna finish like this, baby? Or do you wanna take it a little further?” 

“More, yeah, want you– want you to go further.” She slips her fingers out of him with a smile, crawling further up the bed to steal a kiss, his mouth insistent and devouring before she pulls away with a lewd smack. His eyes trail up and down her body as she stands at the foot of the bed, first slipping her bra off, followed by her panties, before reaching for the strap. And he’s an intent and willing audience, following the way she slides the harness over her hips, deft fingers fitting it snug to her body.

“Can I have you on all fours, handsome?” He moves tentatively, a dazed look on his face when he glances over his shoulder at her, trying to watch as she spreads lube over her silicone dick. Her eyes, meanwhile, are focused back on the thing she had been so shocked to see earlier, moreso surprised that he had somehow managed to hide it from her over the months that they’ve been dating. Thick, dark ink, one of those culturally insensitive, faux-tribal numbers she’s sure he walked into a parlor and just pointed at on the wall, goaded on by Tommy and his construction crew buddies no doubt. There’s no two ways about it, Joel Miller has a tramp stamp, and she can’t help but lay a giggling kiss to it, causing him to let out a huff over his shoulder. 

“I’m gonna get it removed, ok? Just– haven’t gotten around to it yet.” 

“And what if I kinda like it?” She can barely keep a straight face saying it, biting back a laugh as he huffs at her again, though she’s quick to soothe him, running a palm up his spine before her hand settles at his hip.

“I’m sorry, baby, no more teasing. You ready for me?” When all he does is nod, she taps him on the ass, a few pats of her palm seeming to remind him what she wants.

“Yes, fuck, ready.” She keeps one palm splayed over his lower back (and his tattoo), holding him steady as she slowly presses forward, easing him into it with gentle rocks of her hips. He’s breathing hard, little groans loosing from his chest, but he doesn’t tell her to stop, letting out a long sigh when she’s finally seated fully inside. She curls over him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder, her words a faint rasp into his skin.

“Doing so good for me, Joel. Tell me when you want me to move, baby, take your time.” He cranes his neck, looking for a kiss she’s happy to give him, a desperate tangle that’s still so sweet. 

“You can move, I just– fuck– it’s good, feels really fucking good.” It’s what she wants, wants him to feel good, and to keep feeling good, leaning slightly back on her knees to find a slow rhythm with her hips, one hand reaching around to stroke his throbbing cock, Joel letting out a harsh moan when she does. She’s never heard these sounds from him before, broken grunts and breathy chants of her name with each thrust of her hips, completely losing himself in the sensation. She curls back over him, her hips set in a deep grind as she drags her lips over his temple.

“That feel good, baby? Nice to have someone take care of you, huh? Taking it so good, Joel. You gonna come for me? Gonna let me have it?” 

“Jesus fucking christ, feels so fucking good– you’re gonna kill me, shit– fucking close, so fucking close.” With one more pass of her hand over his cock, one more rock of her hips, he comes on a punched-out exhale, slumping down onto his elbows with a shuddering heave. She presses kisses all over his shoulder blades as she pulls out, trying to soothe the hiss he lets out at the ache, quick to guide him onto his back so he doesn't flop down into a pool of his own spend. If he hears her low-murmured be right back, he doesn’t show it, forearm slung over his face, chest still heaving as she slips out of the bedroom to get him a glass of water.

“Is this how you feel? After we– when I– when we–” She cuts off his stumbling question with a light laugh, sitting down on the side of the bed next to him and coaxing a few sips of water out of him. 

“So you liked it?” He quirks a brow at her, one of his hands coming to rest on her thigh, squeezing the swell of it when she laughs again at his expression.

“Gotta be honest, darlin, my expectations were low. Kinda wanted to try it just to see, I guess. But fuck, that was, uh, that was something else.” She can’t help herself, leaning down for a quick kiss that he chases after with a much deeper one, greedy hands squeezing and pulling until she’s getting dragged onto his lap, wincing at the slick stick of it and pulling away.

“What? What’s wrong? C’mon, darlin, wanna take care of you now.” Though he tries to pull her back in for a kiss, she plants a firm palm on his forehead to hold him back, stifling a laugh at his perplexed expression.

“That sounds nice, but you are covered in lube and it’s sticking to everything. Can we continue this in the shower, baby?” Ever the gentleman, Joel acquiesces to her request, letting her get up before shuffling into the bathroom in all his bare glory to get the water warmed up. 

It’s an irresistible urge, walking into the bathroom, seeing his back facing her, his cute little ass and the hilarious art just above it, and she just has to give a quick pinch to his hip before raking her nails over the ink, grinning at him as he turns around with an exasperated huff.

“Ain’t ever gonna let me live this down, are you?” 

“That depends, do you have any other tattoos you’ve been hiding from me?” His grin goes smarmy, drawing a gasp out of her when he pulls her into him with a hooked arm around her waist, pressing a hard kiss to her lips.

“Nothing else to hide, darlin. Think you’ve seen it all now.”

...........................

tags for folks who i think would enjoy this lmao: @wannab-urs @beskarandblasters @jksprincess10 @cutesyscreenname @swiftispunk @northernbluess @pr0ximamidnight

[hyukasmiles]

imagine having an unforgettable one night stand with beomgyu and then months later when ure still thinking abt him u find out hes ur new roommate … 😱

—Beomgyu—

Description: this is a long one 😔 also I pulled this out of thin air so like i’m so sorry if it’s bad 😛

Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW// unprotected sex// oral// dry humping// multiple orgasms // NOT PROOF READ

—

“No dick in the world is that good.” You groan to yourself, folding to rest your head on your steering wheel. “I need to get a life.” Your neighbor is in the car next to yours, and you briefly notice him watching you pout because you thought you saw your one nightstand from a month ago and when you called out for him it either wasn’t him or he ignored you, because he just kept walking. You shouldn’t be this upset over the fact that the man who you slept with one time might have ignored you- especially since he’s the same guy who ghosted you the day after.

“Pull yourself together.” You fling open the door of your car, ready to stomp up the stairs to your apartment and maybe take a nap. You get to do the first part but the bright red eviction notice on your door stops you from the second. “Jesus fuck!” You yell, crumpling the paper slightly.

“Hey neighbor!” Yeonjun, the neighbor from the car, must have followed you up the stairs where he stands behind you, reading the notice from over your shoulder.

“This is ridiculous.” You grumble, “he always gives us an extra week to get our checks in.” Yeonjun nods and pulls out his phone.

“You should get a roommate.” It looks like he’s searching for something, his eyebrows knit as he looks at the small screen. “My buddy needs one too, his name is Beomgyu.”

“I don’t want to live with a stranger.” You groan again, unlocking the door to your soon to be past home. “You want to come in?”

“He’ll be at my place more than he’s here…” Yeonjun steps into your house and you follow him, heading to the kitchen. “Plus… I think you guys have met, he keeps on asking me about you.”

“I don’t know a Beomgyu.” Except the guy you keep dreaming about told you he went by Gyu. “I need to move anyway, the rent is getting too expensive.” You freeze when Yeonjun shoves his phone in your face.

“You've never seen him before?” Your mouth falls open slightly, matching Beomgyu’s in the picture you’re staring at, it’s him. “We should get coffee, see if you like him… maybe sign a lease!”

“You’re being weirdly pushy about this.” You throw open the fridge door, trying to act normal. There is absolutely no way you can live with this man.

~~

“So this will be your room… I cleaned it last night so you’re good to just move in whenever.” You mumble, opening the door to your used to be office. “Rent is due every month on the fourth.” You leave Beomgyu with a tight lipped smile, desperate to get away from him and the way he makes you feel.

“Oh! Y/n! I hope our… history won’t make this awkward.” Beomgyu laughs, moving out of the doorway to let Yeonjun carry boxes in the room.

“History?” The man asks, quirking an eyebrow and rolling up his sleeves. “So you two do know each other?”

“We met a while ago.” You try to laugh it off but you can tell it’s not working, your neighbor tapping his foot on the laminate flooring. “I didn’t even recognize him until he was in front of me.”

Yeonjun let’s out a little oh and accepts your answer, walking back out to the moving van.

“You didn’t remember me?” Beomgyu laughs.

“No.” You turn to walk into your room.

~~

Living with Beomgyu turns out to be a lot easier than expected. He’s pretty timid but you can tell he's loud by nature, it shines through most when he’s playing video games. Usually he plays on his PC in his bedroom but sometimes he migrates to the switch he hooked up to your TV, tonight is one of those times.

“Blue shell, Kai??” He yells, shaking the controller in his hand. “I was literally in first place.” You can’t help the laugh as you pour a glass of water. “It’s not funny, Y/n! This is serious, we have money on this.”

“That’s ridiculous.” You snort and sit down on the couch next to him. Beomgyu never wants to be too close to you, always scooting over or standing up, but he’s so focused on winning that all he does is slide down to the floor- somehow bringing himself closer to you. To your surprise he just sits pressed up against your leg.

When Beomgyu loses he grabs you out of frustration, pulling you down onto the floor with him. You land with a thump and a groan but he doesn’t care to ask if you’re ok. “I was cheated.”

“Sore loser.” You can hear Kai from the headphones around your roommate's neck. Watching him act like this it’s hard to believe you ever even considered sleeping with him.

Beomgyu is definitely not your type. You’re known for going for guys like Yeonjun, not the loud nerdy gamers who only leave the house once a week like your hermit of a roommate. But the memory from months ago remains in the forefront of your mental subconscious and you get reminded of it every time Beomgyu wears sweatpants.

“You want to play?” Beomgyus' voice startles you, that and the fact he’s basically shoving the controller into your hands. “You have to beat Kai!”

You stop him before he can place the headphones on you two, trying to hand him back the controller. “I have to go get ready. I have a date tonight.”

Truth be told you don’t really have a date- unless you count flirting with random guys at a bar a date. But you like the way Beomgyu looks at you as you slip your heels on. “Is this guy picking you up?” He asks, biting his lip.

“No, we’re meeting at the bar around the corner.”

~~

You sit as prettily as you can; legs crossed, back arched, you even make sure your hair has fallen nicely as you wait for someone- anyone to approach you. Briefly, you consider going up to someone yourself, but if there’s one thing you refuse to do it’s look desperate in front of some hot guy who’s probably banging the bartender or gay so you sit and pout.

Shoulders sagging in defeat you guess it’s time to give up for the night and to seal the deal you wave over the bartender to pay your tab. It’s been a long time since you’d had to pay for your own drinks but there’s probably a good reason for it.

“You ready to go?” The bartender is gorgeous, maybe you could leave with her.

“Sure am.” You push your boobs out a little as you lean on the counter. “What time do you leave here?”

“Around three A.M usually. Is your boyfriend paying for this?” Was she… trying to see if you’re in a relationship? You don’t usually go for women but if she can make you cum then you’ll sit at this bar until noon tomorrow to go home with her.

Stupidly enough you start with a small uh and the most awkward smile you’ve ever made. “No… No boyfriend?”

“Cmon baby, don’t just write me off.” It’s a voice you recognize but can’t place, an arm wrapping around your waist. “We get in one argument and we’re over?” The man’s opposite hand slips a card to the waiter while you furrow your eyebrows trying to think of what’s weird about the voice behind you. When his hand pats your stomach, a habit he picked up from his friend, you know who it is.

You look up at Beomgyu with your mouth slightly open, leaning into him a little. This is the guy you would’ve hooked up with months ago, not the whiny gamer you now live with. “You’re paying for me?” You whisper.

The bartender hands Beomgyu back his card, winking at you as she walks off. “Let’s go, baby.” His words are hot on your neck, the heat traveling all the way down to your now soaking cunt. Beomgyu keeps his arm wrapped around you as the other one trails down your arm and to your hand.

You’re in a daze as Beomgyu leads you out of the bar and down the street to your apartment, holding you firmly against his side. Memories of your roommate and his skills in the bedroom are clouding your brain as he basically carries you up the stairs. “You got your keys on you, pretty?” You hum out a yes and dig in your purse. “You’re just perfect.”

It’s crazy how attractive Beomgyu is to you right now, even the way he unlocks the door is somehow sexy, and when he actually picks you up and sits you down on the cold counter you wonder if you could cum just from being thrown around. “You look so pretty tonight.” The man mumbles, spreading open your thighs so he can slot his hips in between them. “This is the same dress you wore last time. I wonder if you have the same panties on.”

“I do…” You whisper, lifting your hips and pulling the skirt of your dress up until you’re almost completely exposed, saved by a flimsy pink piece of lace. “Wore em’ just for you.” You grab Beomgyu’s hand and place it just below your navel. “I think you reached here last time.” You lean in so your lips are just barely ghosting by his.

“Been waiting so long to fuck you again.” You wrap your legs around his waist at the confession, grinding your cunt against the growing bulge in his pants. You whine as Beomgyu starts humping against you, the feeling of his jeans pushing your lace underwear against your clit has you wriggling beneath him, his arms caging you in as he sloppily tries to kiss you.

“I need you, Gyu, now!” You spread your legs even wider, digging your fingers into his shoulders. Beomgyu just whines back at you, his head sinking into your neck as he continues his ministrations.

Beomgyu’s breathing is getting more and more labored as his hands move to pull your dress over your head. “Feel so good. You’re perfect.” He grumbles, rolling one of your nipples with his cold fingers.

“It’ll feel better if you’d fuck me.” You move your hands to undo the buttons of his shirt but your fingers are so shaky that you can only get one of two done before you give up.

“It’s ok baby, you can just pull it off.” Beomgyu goes as far as to lift his arms in the air, his hips refusing to stop as he does so. “Or tear it, I don’t care.”

You slip your fingers under the hem of his shirt, pulling the two sides apart, gasping when the buttons pop off with barely any pressure. “So… sorry.” You draw out, pushing the shirt off his shoulders.

“ ‘S ok.” Beomgyu whines, folding back to rest his head in your neck. He bites and sucks at the skin as his whines get shorter and shorter. Eventually he loses all rhythm in his thrusts, and then he stops all together. You look down at him in surprise, his eyes going wide as he tries to catch his breath.

“Did you just-“ Beomgyu nods, blush creeping up his cheeks. The man in front of you sinks to his knees, buries his head in your thighs, and laughs. “Eat me out while you’re down there.” You mumble, threading your fingers through his hair. You’re shocked when he nods, large hands pushing your knees apart.

Surprise fills you when Beomgyu shoves his head in between your thighs, sucking on your clit through the lace of your panties. He continues like this, lapping at your hole and biting at your clit until you’re shaking. “I need more, Gyu.” You whine, trying to lift your hips to slide your underwear off but he holds you down onto the counter. You lean back on your elbows and try to grind against his face but he doubles down.

You give up, throwing your head back and whining as your orgasm slowly creeps forward. But then Beomgyu sucks on your clit, his teeth scraping against it and your shaking, tears welling up as you cum all over his face.

Beomgyu wastes no time slipping your underwear off, choosing to rip the fabric. “Can’t wait anymore.” He groans, pushing his pants and underwear down just enough for his cock to spring out. It’s longer than you remember, a little thicker too. He slips into you like he’s done it a hundred times before, a long breathy groan leaving him as he bottoms out. “God your pussy is great.”

“You’re so big.” You whine in response, wrapping your arms around his neck, bucking up against him. “M’ so full, Beomgyu.”

Groaning, Beomgyu pulls all the way out and slips in again, a moan tearing through your throat at the feeling of a vein catching against your walls. Your cunt is squeezing around him- pulling him back in every time he pulls out. “Baby-“ He's whining again, leaning across your chest to place his head back in your neck. “I’m not gonna last, you're so tight.” His fingers move to run small circles on your puffy clit.

Your thighs start to shake and you somehow squeeze around him even tighter, barely letting him move as Beomgyu drives you full force into another orgasm. “Loosen up, pretty, I gotta fuck you still.” You try your hardest to calm down, grabbing onto his arms so tight you almost think you draw blood- but you just can’t.

It doesn’t slow Beomgyu down too much, his thrust turning short and shallow, enough to get him off apparently because he’s filling you up with a groan. “Perfect fucking pussy.” He whines, kissing you on the cheek. “I think I’m in love with you.”

—-

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