#Moving Day | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

here2bbtstrash · 2 years

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moving day (explicit)

genre: domestic-ass smut (honestly kind of fluffy bc i am Whipped For Min Yoongi)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: you manage to entice your boyfriend into taking a break from unloading boxes to unload something else instead.

word count: 2.6k

contains: explicit sexual content bloop bloop !!! established relationship, up to you if it's idol-verse or not idk 🤷‍♀️, cunnilingus, blowjob, reader gets a facial oop, tiny bit of praise kink, long-haired yoongi with a hair tie on his wrist 🥵🥵, yoongi has domestic soft dom energy, reader is yoongisexual lmao

A/N: my water sign placements really Jumped out with this one...... that's all i'll say lmao i am lowkey embarrazzed and not responsible for any delulu feelings this may stir up 👀👀 BUT BOY IT SURE WAS NICE TO WRITE A YOONGI THAT ISN'T THE ONE FROM LDOMLT !!! even i need a break from that asshole sometimes 😂 hope y'all enjoyyyyy 💜

this is also on AO3!

~*~

“Remind me again why we didn’t hire movers?” The question comes out strained as you struggle to lift a particularly heavy box.

Your boyfriend watches you carefully to make sure you’re lifting safely– if you have to hear him say ‘with your knees, not your back’ one more time, you think you might lose it. Then he grabs another box off the truck and follows you up the drive to the house.

“I didn’t realize you had so much crap,” he says with a wry laugh. You make a mental note to get him back for that later.

A bead of sweat rolls down your temple, and when you finally deposit the box on the kitchen floor, you reach up to wipe it away with the back of your hand. The heat wave that’s been ongoing for the last few weeks is stifling, but Yoongi made a huge fuss about not turning on the AC until you got everything off the truck. Something about how you’d just be leaving the door open, and he’s not going to waste money to air condition the entire street.

Your boyfriend is such an old man sometimes, honestly. He’s lucky you love him.

Yoongi’s mouth pulls down at the corners as he struggles to read the label on the box in his arms, determining where he needs to drop it. It’s one of the many endearing faces he makes that you find so sexy, even though you objectively shouldn’t. A little thrill of excitement runs through you at the reminder that this is, in fact, really happening. You’ll get to see all of him, every morning and every night.

His face, and… You follow him down the hall, appreciating the view. His cute little butt, and…

Gingerly setting the box on the floor, he stands upright and sweeps his hair off his forehead for a moment in an attempt to cool down. His hair.

Yoongi claims he hasn’t gotten it cut because he’s been so busy with all the planning and packing required for the move, and maybe that’s true. You have also threatened to burn down any salon he makes an appointment with, and it was a joke, but god. He looks so fucking good like this. If he actually admitted to keeping it long just to make you happy, you’d probably propose on the spot.

He glances up and catches you openly staring, sticking his tongue out to indicate how overheated he is. Then he waggles his eyebrows and your core throbs a little. Fucking hell, the things this man does to you.

Your heart jumps in your chest as he walks back down the hallway to close the distance between you. Before you have time to process it, his thigh is slotting between your legs, his hips pinning you against the wall as he finds your lips with his own. It’s enough to make you gasp into his mouth, and you can feel his smug smile at your reaction.

Yoongi loves to make you come undone.

He pulls away far too quickly, and you whine a little at him leaving you unsatisfied. Not that you could ever get enough of kissing him, but you’d at least like to try.

“Come on,” his voice is quiet and low in his throat. “We’re nearly done with these boxes. Then we can properly christen this place.”

You don’t want to move any more stupid boxes. You want him to turn you around and take you right up against the wall. But you lose your will to argue when he gently strokes your arm with his hand, and you look down to see the thin black elastic around his wrist.

Since the two of you got together, your friends have relentlessly bullied you for this fact: you are insanely whipped for your boyfriend. They’ve dubbed you “Yoongisexual” at this point because literally anything he does becomes a kink for you. Including the simple act of wearing a hair tie around his wrist. It’s something you’ve done for most of your life, so when he kept complaining about his long hair getting in the way, you bought him a pack of elastics, mostly as a joke.

But then he started wearing one around his wrist, and you realized very quickly that it was no longer a joke.

You slip a finger under the thin black band and tug on it gently, and he smirks at you, because you both know exactly what he uses it for. “Soon. I promise.”

As much as you want to be good and do what you’re told, you’ve run out of patience. When Yoongi moves to head for the front door again, you tighten your grip around his wrist, forcing him to turn back to you. Then you slide his hand up your skirt and beneath the waistband of your panties so he can feel how soaked you are.

“How am I supposed to go back to lifting boxes when you did this to me?”

A groan escapes his lips as his fingers brush over your drenched folds and circle around your warm, wet center. You smile because you know damn well you’re on equal footing in this relationship: Yoongi is entirely whipped for you, too.

He presses one of his perfect fingers into your tight heat, curling it to rub circles on your g-spot, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. Your head tilts back against the wall, your eyes fluttering closed. “Ah, fuck.”

Yoongi grunts in response, and when you open your eyes again to take him in, he’s looking at you like he’s ready to devour you.

Withdrawing his hand from your panties, he slips the other between your back and the wall, encouraging you to stand up and move towards the kitchen. You follow the direction of his touch, knees instantly a little weak. When he guides you to the island in the center of the wide, sunny room, you turn back to him in confusion.

He wastes no time on explanation, arms wrapping just under your ass to pick you up and set you easily on the counter. You squeak at unexpectedly being lifted off the ground like it’s nothing: he really is getting shredded from all those Pilates classes.

Yoongi is already working to strip you of your shoes and socks, and the look on his face is so focused, with a blazing intensity that’s bordering on anger. Fuck, you love it when he gets like this. It only takes him a matter of seconds to finish the task, and then his hands are reaching up your thighs.

“What about the boxes?” You ask demurely.

“I don’t give a shit.” Yoongi says, his voice deadly serious. “The neighbors can have them.”

You lift your hips to assist as he pushes your skirt up and grabs the band of your thong, pulling it down and off of you entirely. He sends it sailing over to the other side of the kitchen, and now there’s nothing separating your cunt from the cold marble countertop. He grabs you by the hips and scoots you forward just a little more, until your ass is almost hanging off the edge of the island.

You want it so bad, but there’s still a tiny part of you that protests. You have to say it. “But Yoongi, this is where we’re going to eat.”

When he glances up at you, quirking an eyebrow, you realize what you’ve set him up for. “I know,” he says coolly. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Just as you open your mouth to argue, Yoongi reaches for the hair tie on his wrist, deliberately poking at your known weakness. Pulling it off, he places it between his teeth as his hands reach up to run through his hair. He rakes the dark strands back into a small, low ponytail at the base of his neck, then grabs the elastic out of his mouth and loops it around a few times until it's secure.

You think to yourself that you have no idea how you got so lucky, and then he brings his mouth to you and that thought is reinforced a thousand fold.

With a heady sigh of relief, you lean back, bracing yourself on your elbows and draping your legs over his shoulders. Yoongi’s already groaning against you as he slides his tongue up your dripping wet folds. He loves the way you taste, would spend hours between your legs if you’d let him– which sometimes you absolutely do. And he’s fucking good at it.

It would be impossible to make a full ranked list of all the things you love about your boyfriend, but his tongue is definitely in the top five. He traces it up to settle at your clit, flicking against the sensitive bud with short, deft strokes, and you make a mental correction as you groan and buck up into him. Top three.

He slips two fingers into your pussy this time, and your next moan is nearly a sob as he starts to press down hard with them against your front wall, matching the rhythm of his tongue. “Yes, baby, fuuuuuck,” you cry out.

“Mm-hmm,” Yoongi hums in response against your cunt, and the buzz of his mouth drives you fucking crazy, as does the satisfied look on his face that you see when you glance down. Your boyfriend loves doing things he’s good at, which certainly includes making you come.

And you’re already close to the edge, a fresh wave of arousal gushing out of you as he takes you apart so expertly. You’re sure you’ve made a mess of the counter beneath your ass.

You’re so worked up now, inches from your orgasm, that you can’t keep quiet, moans interspersed with breathless swearing and pleading.

“Fuck, Yoongi, please, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, and his pace only increases slightly, his perfect rhythm never faltering. You can hear the squelch of his fingers curled inside you, the slick slip of his tongue across your clit, flicking over and over, and your legs are starting to shake.

“Ohhh shit,” you groan loudly as you feel your core start to tighten around him. You reach one hand forward to brush a few loose strands of hair off his forehead, reveling in his absolute perfection as your climax approaches. “God fucking dammit, Yoongi, yes, yes–” your words break off with a loud moan as the wave of pleasure surges and your walls begin to pulse. Your arms tremble with the effort of keeping you propped up as your orgasm rips through you, your back arching violently.

It feels like you’re coming forever, and Yoongi gently slows his pace to ride you through it, your cunt fluttering around his fingers again and again. He waits until you give a soft whine of overstimulation, then finally withdraws, trailing light kisses along your hips and thighs.

“Oh my god, I love you so much,” you manage to gasp, and you hear him laugh a little.

“Come show me how much,” he instructs, and you don’t need any more encouragement. Your legs threaten to give out as you slip off the counter, and you sink to your knees as gently as possible to avoid banging them on the wood floor. You pull his dick out of his sweatpants and can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise at the weight and thickness of him in your hand.

You’ve never dated anyone who gets as hard as Yoongi does just from performing oral. When you think back on your exes, you usually had to coax them to attention after eating you out. But you’ve never had that problem with Yoongi. You swear he nearly gets as much pleasure from it as you do.

This thought is all but confirmed when you take him in your mouth, tasting the salt of the pre-cum that’s already leaked out of his tip, and he groans at the feeling. “I’m not gonna last long, baby,” he admits, and you take that as a challenge.

You grip his thighs with your hands and start to bob your mouth along his length, hollowing your cheeks and applying extra pressure with your tongue in exactly the way you know he likes. You swear you feel his knees nearly buckle.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses. “Good girl. Just like that.” You hum a little, pleased at the praise, and pick up the pace at which you’re swallowing him down.

Yoongi doesn’t babble quite as much as you do when he’s close, instead preferring to make heady little grunts and groans; they’re the sexiest sounds in the world as far as you’re concerned. The low timbre of his voice is enough to make your cunt flutter back to life, as is the way he squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back, hips bucking into your mouth to match your pace.

“Baby,” he groans, and you glance up at him again, not letting your tempo change. “Wanna paint your face, fuck. Can I?”

He doesn’t do it particularly often, but you know finishing on your face is something Yoongi loves. It’s one of the many, many things you had no interest in until this man waltzed into your life and pulled out all the freakiest parts of you that you didn’t even know existed.

Which is why when he asks, you don’t hesitate. You slide off him with a wet pop and sit back on your heels, staring up at him with your eyes wide and your tongue out.

“Goddamn,” he grunts as he brings his hand to his cock, pumping himself hard and fast. “So fucking good for me.” He only has to stroke a few more times before he makes a final strangled whine, white ropes of cum spilling out of him and across your waiting face and tongue.

Yoongi milks every last drop out with a few gasps of effort, and you giggle a little despite yourself. You just love him, every part, every noise.

As if he can read your mind, he says it back. “Love you. Fuck.”

You try to hold your head still to keep any rogue drops from running into your eyes. Yoongi looks around, and you see a worried expression start to cross his face as he tucks his dick into his pants.

“Shit, baby. I don’t think we’ve unpacked the towels yet.” Your shoulders shake a little in more disbelieving giggles. “Hang on, hang on,” he calls back to you as he disappears out of the kitchen, moving quickly.

It’s only for a brief moment that you have to just sit there and laugh, beads of cum trailing down your jaw, and then he returns, dropping onto his knees next to you. He’s holding the roll of paper towels you’ve been using to clear errant dust in the new house as you go.

“Should have planned ahead. Let me clean you up.” Yoongi says softly, tearing off a few sheets and dabbing at your face. He soaks through them quickly and has to grab more. “Fuck, you made me come a lot,” he says with an embarrassed laugh, and that only makes you laugh more.

He wipes the last of it from your temples, then lets the damp crumpled sheets drop to the kitchen floor, taking your face in his hands and pulling you in for a sweet, gentle kiss. You smile against his mouth in an overwhelming daze of happiness.

When you break away, he presses another quick kiss to your forehead, then murmurs against your hairline. “Well, that’s one room down. Let’s finish this up, and then you can help me decide if I should bend you over the couch or my desk first.” You bury your face in his shoulder at the mental image, and his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. “God, I fucking love you.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #moving day

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fortheloveoffanfic · 2 years

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Moving Day

Andy Barber x Reader

Masterlists Author's Note: More aimless Andy fluff. Swear I've got things with more plot coming. Series Summary: A series of oneshots and drabbles chronicling Andy and Y/n’s life together. Summary: A big step in Andy and Y/n’s relationship dredges up painful feelings……and an impromptu proposal. Warnings: mentions of loss of a child, mentions of grief

For almost five years, his house had remained hollow, a shell of what it used to be- a home. Jacob was gone and Laurie had vacated their marital home before filing for divorce, Andy though, couldn’t have brought himself to leave. It might have been painful to look at them, but there were still memories in every room, some of the best ones he’d ever made. Countless dinners in the backyard and dining room, movie nights in the living room and birthday cakes on the kitchen counter.

Some of his less favorable memories were there too; the police searching their place, sleepless nights spent pouring over Jacob’s case, the quietness after his very small funeral and then boxes of Laurie’s things packed into the foyer before the movers had taken them away, but Andy usually tried to not think of those. Of late, he’d even found that it was becoming easier to stow the bad memories at the back of his mind while keeping the better ones at the front, and making room for new ones- Y/n was helping with that. She was teaching him that it was okay to smile again at the good times; it didn’t make the bad ones go away, but it did mean that he was remembering his family the way they deserved.

He didn’t think she realized it, but she helped him with a lot of things. Andy was learning that it was okay to move on because of her, and he was also finding more and more that he didn’t need to ‘get over’ everything he’d been through to find love again, he just needed to be willing to let someone in. It was still funny to him how a routine run to a local convenience store could change his life so drastically- that night, he hadn’t been looking for anything special, just a quick dinner and a drink to help him unwind after a long week, but then he’d helped a beautiful woman reach a cartoon of milk off a high shelf, then gather the contents of her spilt purse, without realizing that it would mean that from then on out, she’d make everything better.

“Hey, where should I- what are you thinking about?” When Y/n came up behind him, touching the center of his back after she’d set down a box of linens on the dining table, Andy jumped, setting down the framed photograph he was holding on the bureau against the dining room wall. It was one from about fourteen years ago, when Jacob still liked sitting on his lap.

Andy shook his head absently, collecting the photograph again, that time along with a few other family pictures, “Nothing,” he sighed heavily, “I was just thinking that it might be time to pack these up.” He didn’t really didn’t want to put the memories of another part of his life in some box that would later be shoved in the back of the attic, but Y/n was moving in and he didn’t want to possibly hurt her by having them out. More than anything, he wanted to prove to her that he was all in.

“What?” She scoffed, “Why?” Her hand was still on the center of his back, the warmth of her palm permeating the thick fabric of his navy sweater and when Andy glanced at her, he noted her mixture of confusion and sorrow. “These are beautiful pictures babe,” with her free hand, she reached for one in a silver, reflective frame so she could study the image of a beach trip from about six years ago.

He shook his head again, “Yeah, but…..” Andy sighed heavily, meeting her concerned gaze, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, this is your home too now.”

“Yeah, it is,” she smiled softly, setting the photograph down in its usual place, “Its gonna be half me and half you-and this is part of your half. These memories, this family, its part of who you are and you shouldn’t put it in a box because you think it’ll be weird for me. It won’t be.”

Andy huffed, setting the remaining two frames down with a soft clatter so he could turn and take her in the circle of his strong arms, “You mean that?” She nodded and he lifted one hand to caress her jaw. Most times, Andy felt lucky to have her, and others, he couldn’t even believe that he did. Sweet, considerate and compassionate- she accepted everything that he came with and sometimes he felt the need to pinch himself to make sure it was all real. His second chance.

And he had to make the most of it.

“Marry me,” he said, off the cuff, as more of a statement than a question. He didn’t have a ring, they’d only been together for about ten months and marriage hadn’t ever come up between them, but still, Andy had to ask. He knew; she was the rainbow after the storm, a new beginning.

She scoffed, jaw hanging slack, “Are you being serious right now?” A breathless smile was etched on her pretty features, while her eyes had gone wide with the most stunning mixture of disbelief and wonder.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Hundred percent. I want it to be you, babygirl,” Andy stepped closer while simultaneously tugging her against his broad chest, “Say you’ll marry me.”

She giggled, looming her arms around his neck and when Andy bent his head so he could press his lips to hers, she offered in a few mumbled words, “I’ll marry you.”

“I’m not joking,” he warned, pressing chaste, close-mouthed pecks to her soft lips, his beard tickling her skin.

Y/n hummed, threading the tips of fingers through the hair near his nape, “Neither am I,” she swiped a sweet kiss off his lips, “I’ll marry you right now.”

He chuckled, “We don’t have rings,” he noted, with amusement.

“Don’t need ‘em,” Y/n countered, moving to deepen the saccharine endearment.

Again Andy chortled softly, the sound melting past Y/n’s lips, “Your parents would hate me,” he murmured when they broke for air, not yet pulling away from each other.

“I can see how that would be an issue. Maybe not today then,” she relented, and he could still feel her soft grin against his lips.

Before that day, Andy didn’t think he ever contemplated the prospect of remarrying. Up until the day she left- and even after that- he’d loved Laurie. Even if what she’d done had ripped their family to pieces, and he couldn’t bring himself to forgive her, she was still his son’s mother and they’d still had so many good years. For a long time, Andy had told himself that that was the only good he’d ever be afforded. But then he met Y/n, who was willing to explore their relationship at his pace; who’d motivated him gather the courage to start putting his broken pieces back together.

He’d done it so he could try to be the kind of man she deserved.

Andy wasn’t sure if he was that man yet, but he was trying his best, everyday. He also knew that the man she deserved would give her the wedding she deserved. “Not today.” he confirmed lightly, “But soon, honey.”

Beaming, she kissed him again, that time allowing her hands to slide forward so she could cup his face, her thumbs caressing the apples of his cheek, the roughness of his beard rustling under her gentle ministrations, “That’s good enough for me,” Y/n noted, leaning forward on her tiptoes as Andy straightened up, only for him to easily hoist her up.

Playfully, she kicked her feet behind herself. “What are you doing?” Her voice shook with giddy laughter as Andy trotted to the living room sofa, his arms, wrapped around the back of her jean clad thighs not slipping once.

“Celebrating,” he explained simply before unceremoniously onto the plush, gray sofa, “You’re moving in. We’re getting married, lots to celebrate babygirl.”

They both laughed as he sunk his knees into the cushions on either side of her thighs while propping his hands on the armrest of the sofa, practically boxing Y/n in. She reached up to tangle one hand in the back of his hair, while the other slipped under the hem of his sweater. Her eyes took on the darkest glimmer and as she urged his face closer to hers, she taunted, “Then what are we waiting for?”

#chris evans #chris evans x reader #andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #chris evans fluff #moving day

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