#i dunno how i blazed through this one but it happened

[kithtaehyung]

friends (3tan) (m) | myg

title: friends (the week, pt. 1) pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | fireworks | house party | basketball | stay | sidewalk talk rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: the week you get with yoongi has a few surprises. and one of them presents itself in the form of a phone call. warnings: cursing, tension, oc’s are introduced!!, oral (m rec), degradation, the amount of kiss scenes wow lol, power dynamics (cmnf), fingering, angst yeah i know, throat fucking, choking, rude yoongi :))), multiple orgasms, breast play, cum swallowing, the chains stay on😀😀😀, cunt slapping, sl*t/wh*re mentions, dirty talk, yoongi’s mouth in general, overthinking, doubt, head/hair pulling, body worship, praise, restraining via headboard a ha ha, this one is p angsty y’all😭 note: thank you to @sugakookitty​​ for being an angel beta !! i know this was super last minute i am so so sorry. i owe you some tangerines! note 2: and here we are again. i hope you all like this installment, and i wanted to thank everyone for being so patient and supportive. it truly means so much to me! if you haven’t gotten around to three tangerines yet, i highly encourage you to read the series first since this is from the same universe :D it would make more sense! word count: 15.6k drop date: april 26th, 2022, 7:17pm est

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“Long weekend, huh?”

On instinct, you nudge Taehyung with your shoulder, hearing him laugh into his tea straw while the both of you amble down a dilapidated sidewalk. 

Despite its rugged form, the concrete path remains one of the cleaner ones in the city, hugging the longer side of an old shopping center filled with newer businesses. 

It’s one you remember walking down many, many times.

“I said shut up,” you emptily huff. “I’m not telling you shit.”

“You don’t have to, dude. The way you look tells me everything.” 

Afternoon traffic reaches your ears as you toss intrigue your friend’s way. “And what does that mean?” 

“You outshine the sun right now.” 

“Wow.” Taking a sip of your usual boba selection, you clear your throat to relieve yourself of the bits of embarrassment caught inside. “Shakespeare is quaking in his grave.”

Taehyung snorts. “Please. I’d run circles around that old man.” 

“Wouldn’t doubt that. You’re both lame.” 

“And you’re glowing but won’t spill. I dunno why you’re acting.” 

“Huh?”

A fiendish smile slips between you before he replies, “I know you’re dying to talk about it.” 

Fuck Kim Taehyung for being so right all the time. 

Because screw it, you really are. So much happened between you and Yoongi that you’re almost bursting at the seams with giddiness. The only thing dampening your mood is the fact that you can’t possibly let this secret out, as much as you want to shout about it from the rooftops. 

If you release whatever you have out in the world—even if just to one person—it may have a way of traveling a lot further than you planned. And with that comes certain risks. 

Like the risk of your brother finding out.

However, the person wanting to know is Taehyung. And he already knows the juiciest part. 

“Okay, fine,” you blurt, hiding your smile with another sip. “But not out here.” 

Your annoying best friend slowly scans around the empty area with intention, his gaze landing on a patch of shrubbery next to his knees. “Right. I would hate for these bushes to know your dirty little secret.” 

“Ugh! Just not in public. Let’s go to your place.” 

“Ah… Let’s go to yours.” 

Quirking a brow, you watch his steady features before relenting. The excitement to tell anyone outweighs your curiosity—for the time being, at least. 

“Fine. But let’s get food first.” 

“Oh my god, you’ve got it bad.” 

“Hey!” 

“Don’t rag on me for telling the truth!” 

You roll your eyes as you take another bite of your takeout. “You weren’t supposed to be so judgy.” 

“I’m not being judgy,” Taehyung laughs. “Just observant.” 

“Well, either way. It’s not true.”

Even though his mouth is full, you can clearly tell he calls “bullshit” through black bean noodles and meat. Watching the television in front of you, you decide not to offer any replies, simply observing the drama switch to another scene with telltale heart-filled filters. 

Admittedly, your vision seems to have that same effect. 

Because you can’t fucking stop thinking about Yoongi and the week you get him to yourself. 

You haven’t felt like this in ages, like your stomach can’t settle but your heart has it far worse—buzzing, tingling, fizzing all over. Thousands of butterflies occupy your chest, fluttering and beating so loud that they kept you up all of last night and carried you throughout your entire, otherwise shitty workday. 

Fuck, you wanna see him. 

“Like I said.”

Damn it.

“You got it bad.”

“Okay, okay,” you groan, setting your food down with a pout. “I may be into him a little bit.” 

Taehyung looks so affronted that you laugh, cheeks a little tighter than usual. 

At this, your friend regards you with scrunched brows and a grin, getting up from the floor to sit on the couch next to you. Cross legged and all. “Look at you! Okay, you’re hiding something. Spill.”

“I told you everything!”

“Liar.”

“I swear.”

“Get real.”

You start to vacate your seat when a large hand shoots up and grabs your wrist.

“Ah ah. Tell me, miss guilty. Whatever you’re hiding from me is huge.”

Plopping back down, you think about exactly what you want to say, knowing that you’re not giving that secret up. You divulged pretty much everything else that happened over the weekend: the way Yoongi came over, the way he took you back to his place, and everything that went down while you were there. 

But there’s one thing you are not going to uncover. 

And it’s safely hidden away in a jewelry box in your room. 

“I know what it is.”

Cocking your head, you observe your friend with narrow eyes, horrified for a split second that he’ll be right yet again. “What then?”

“He asked you out.”

And Taehyung finally misses by a longshot.

“Hell no!” 

“He did, didn’t he! I knew it. He has it even worse than you do.” 

A laugh leaves your throat before you can stop it. Your friend can say whatever he wants but that is certainly not the case. There’s no way.

Besides, the dating stage is a pipe dream, so there’s no need to even entertain that. 

This week is just… a separate timeline. Broken off from the normal passing of things and sectioned off for the two of you to play pretend.

“He does not have it worse than I do,” you finally sigh, placing your chin in a palm and watching a love confession unfold in countless pixels. “And he did not ask me out. You said yourself he doesn’t do relationships.”

“Technically, no. But it’s not like he hasn’t been in one before.”

That’s true. You remember Yoongi had a couple more-than-flings, or regulars as all your brother’s friends referred to them as. But even then, it seemed he kept his options open. At least, from what you somewhat gathered by passing rumors on the sidewalk and in several cramped garages. 

But him? With you? 

Fairytales aren’t real. 

Opportunities are. 

And the both of you just happened to seize this particular one by the throat. 

“I know, Tae,” you sigh as you turn away from the screen. Love confessions aren’t exactly real, either. Not like the ones in shows that seem to be perfect and timely and precede a happily ever after. “But you know how he is.” 

“Apparently not really.”

“What do you mean?”

“He cooked with you.”

“So?”

Taehyung shoots you a look that screams for you to get his point. “That’s some married life shit!”

“Stop!” you gasp, burying your head further into your hand. “It’s not a big deal!”

“When have you ever heard of him cooking with someone, let alone letting you stay after fucking?”

“I don’t keep tabs on him, Tae.”

“You should now. But ignoring that.” He flops his legs down on the ground and shifts himself forward, his turn to watch the aftermath of the confession. “I’ve never heard him do that with anyone ever since his last relationship.” 

“So?”

“I dunno. I just…” Biting a nail, Taehyung keeps his eyes unblinking. “It’s interesting. Since he practically swore off them since then.”

Ah. 

You didn’t know that.

You also weren’t exactly privy to his last real relationship anyway, since it happened while you were still in university. 

But you do remember your brother getting irritated and slightly annoyed that he barely saw him once he was in one. 

You wonder what Yoongi’s like with someone he’s willing to commit to. And you wonder if it’s even better than what you experienced yesterday. 

Fuck. Your heart starts to hurt at the prospect of that being true. 

Because yesterday was one of the best days of your life. 

“You look happy,” Taehyung continues, snipping your thoughts in two. “I won’t deny that.”

And you turn back to face the television and admit, “I am.”

“But I’m also trying to stay realistic.” 

“Yeah.”

“So if you ever feel like the ride’s too rough, get off.”

“…Yeah.”

It’s nightfall when you finally decide to flip open the jewelry box in your room, taking out the top layer to reveal its hidden section underneath. 

And the key that you were given twenty-four hours ago.

Your stare is long before you finally decide to fish it out, feeling all the possibilities that come with it in your fingers. All the doors that have been opened with this one gesture alone.

The spare is heavier now than when you first took it.

Gnawing on your lip, you bring it all the way to your bed, halfway sitting on the edge and contemplating whether to even use it or not. 

Do you give in the first night? Is that being too eager? Too clingy? It’s possible that Yoongi would think so even if he never said anything. Even though you were able to get to know him a lot more than you expected, that man is still a walking enigma. You still don’t exactly know how he truly operates.

…But what if you don’t use it tonight and he takes it the wrong way? 

That’s also a probable case. Maybe he expects you to use it already and, if you prove him wrong, he’ll come home to an empty apartment. How would he feel then? Would he even care? 

Frankly, would Yoongi even care whether you used the key or not? 

Fuck! 

A loud groan flies out of your throat and shoots through your ceiling, and you flop back onto your sheets, weighed down by the mountain of thoughts in your head.

There’s another reason why you haven’t reached a solid decision yet. 

Yoongi hasn’t texted or called since this morning. 

It was a quick conversation between the two of you, and the content wasn’t anything major. However, that was the last time you heard from him, even after you texted him to see how work was going, wondering if it was a hell of a lot better than your day.

And still, hours and hours later, nothing.

What Taehyung said earlier flashes in your mind with blinking red letters, but you shoo it away before you let it permeate further into your thoughts. Your week with Yoongi has only just started. No reason to get overworked with stress already.

In any case, maybe it’s best for you not to go over there until he texts back. Like he said before handing you his spare—though, you can only speculate because the entire night turned fuzzy after that—he didn’t know how the week was gonna go.

So it’s highly possible he’s just neck deep in work and can’t talk. And who are you to bother him?

You slowly get up to grab your phone before putting the key back in its hiding spot. Typing away, you create and delete and create and delete and finally decide on a message to send before getting ready for bed.

You [typing]: Next time!

You: 

You [typing]: You got this !!

You:

You:

You: 

You [10:33pm]: 😴

Tuesday hands you yet another rough day at work. 

Nothing seems to move in a positive direction; the leadership decisions make no sense; people are getting snippy. Everything is puncturing your brain to find its breaking point and quite frankly it’s gonna be found soon enough. 

What’s worse: none of your texts to Yoongi have been read. Not the text from last night, nor the short ones you sent this morning. 

Essentially, everything sucks right now. 

The last few hours of your workday crawl by, and you’re practically bolting out the door when it’s finally over. Hoping that you hear back from any of the jobs you applied for over the weekend. 

Thank god Yoongi told you to—

Yoongi: Incoming Call

Staring at your phone, your heart leaps out to get to your car before you do. 

What the hell? How does he manage to catch you at the most ideal times? You feel incredibly relieved just to see his name. 

As you answer the call, you wonder if you could ever have that same effect on him. 

“Hi.”

“Hey. Finally leaving the fucking studio.”

Oh, shit. He sounds downright pissed. 

Body alert, you open your car door and get inside. “Damn. You okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Hold on. “When you say finally…”

“We’ve been in there since yesterday. I would’ve called you but Kook snatched up all our phones.” 

Holy hell. That explains the complete radio silence, at least. Your shoulders feel much, much lighter, despite your concern for Yoongi and all the crap he’s going through himself. “Oh, shit. You let him do that?” 

“He’s just lucky you picked up.” 

You laugh while feeling a strange bubbling in your stomach. “He’s also lucky I’m a forgiving person.” 

“So am I.” 

“But damn, I’m sorry—” Words die on your tongue. You almost said baby at the end of that sentence. Oh, fuck.

Tae was right. You’ve got it stupid bad. 

Your eyes squeeze shut at the thought of actually saying that out loud, embarrassment from something that didn’t even happen coating your entire body. Recovering as best as you can, you look to humor by default. 

“I should’ve gone over and made food again,” you joke after clearing your throat. “Then you’d never win against me.” 

“Maybe I don’t want to.” 

“Giving up already?” 

“I do that a lot.” 

You blow air out of your mouth as you pull out of the parking lot, relishing the orange and purple hues of late afternoon skies. “Lazy!” 

“Less work. And more food.” 

“You know what, you can make your own damn dinner. I’m tired of you.” 

A light chuckle fills your car’s speakers before Yoongi responds, 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Mm. I was gonna come over but now I think I’ll just stay home.” 

“Is that right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Then I’m coming over.” 

Your fingers immediately grip your steering wheel. “Wait! People could see.” 

“It’s one or the other, doll. Better choose quick.” 

“Okay, okay,” you rush out through a growing grin. “I’ll come over for a bit.” 

“A bit?” 

“Yes, for a bit.” As you make your way through intersections, you shake your head at how easy it is for Yoongi to make your day. You feel like someone shouldn’t get to have this power, and yet you are nothing but grateful for him. 

On your way past a line of restaurants, an idea comes to mind. “Did you eat yet?”

“Nah. You?”

“No, I’m starving,” you sigh, starting to suggest that he meet you somewhere before realizing that you can’t quite do that. Damn. “I can get food then head over.” 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You got it last time.”

“Suit yourself.”

Swallowing the slight sadness you feel, you tell yourself to stay in the moment. Take advantage of this time you have with him without muddying it with future worries. Your voice comes out quiet when you let him go, 

“See you soon then.” 

And his comes out just as soft. 

“See ya.” 

It’s stupid. 

But you wanted to do it anyway.

Holding his spare key in your fingers, you rub its metallic surface, shaking your head at yourself for going all the way home just to get it before grabbing food. Doing so made the whole trip much longer, but at least it also gave you an excuse to change out of your work clothes and freshen up a bit before coming. 

Besides. When else will you get a chance to do this? When else are you ever going to get this opportunity again? 

Plastic bags rustling under your determined wrist, you slide the key in his lock, twisting it and hearing the mechanisms click.

Strange. 

Unlocking Yoongi’s door feels so significant, even though it’s such a mundane, everyday thing on its own accord. People do it all the time, and yet… Doing so gives you a feeling you can’t quite place. 

Swinging the entrance open, you expect to see it lit and have at least something happening. 

But you’re greeted with nothing. 

It’s enough to make you worry.

Were you gone for that long? Did he assume you weren’t coming anymore and already go to sleep?  

“...Yoongi?” 

No response cuts through the dark of the living room. In fact, there isn’t even a hint of activity following your question. For a moment, you think he didn’t even make it back—until the faint light and sound slipping under his bedroom door pull you in. 

Your bags shift as you tiptoe across the front area and, with each ginger step, you’re hoping that whatever greets you behind that wooden barrier doesn’t make you flee. 

But when you finally near the blocked entryway, you freeze with your hand on the knob.

Because the muffled sound you hear is not just noise.

But a recording.

It’s him.

In all the times you wondered about Yoongi’s music equipment and from what he told you about his job, you rarely thought about him doing anything other than production. Sure, you entertained the idea of him on a mic, but nothing you imagined sounded like what you’re hearing now.

Do you even go in there? 

Honestly, it feels like you would intrude if you did. 

But, knowing Yoongi, he would probably tell you to do it anyway. Or at least try to. 

So you set your stuff down on his kitchen table before going back to the door, slowly opening it and peeking your head inside. 

Oh.

Adorable.

Instead of seeing him tapping away in the dark on a keyboard or clicking buttons, all you see is his head buried in the crook of his sleeved elbow, his sleeping form faintly outlined blue by the light of his monitor. 

How long did you actually take?

Moving toward him, you try not to take in the looped recording too much to preserve that privacy he wanted. But damn it, the piece sounds incredible and you can’t help but feel proud of him for this one soundbite alone. 

When you approach Yoongi’s side, you swallow your selfishness and pause the music. 

And you already wanna hear him again.

Suddenly coated in silence, you lightly place a hand on his arm before whispering his name. After he doesn’t move the first time, you give him a gentle shake. “Yoongi?”

A deep inhale comes out of him before he lifts his head, and your brain practically resets when you notice he’s wearing the same glasses you saw months ago. 

He turns to regard you with sleepy eyes. “Hey, doll.”

“Hey,” you whisper, melting on the inside. “Come eat for a sec.” 

“Mmph.” Slowly, he turns his gaze to his monitor before squinting, bringing both hands up to rub his face afterwards. 

Giggling, your admiration for his groggy state comes through in your teasing, “Sleepyhead. Come on, it won’t take long. Then you can pass out.” 

Yoongi still doesn’t move, though he does offer you a nod. 

Looks like you gotta do this the hard way. 

Softly, you wrap your hand around his arm and pull upward, giving enough strength until he obliges and stands with you. 

And you don’t know why you do what you do next—the cute way he looks, the fact that it’s something you’ve been wanting to do for awhile now, whatever—but you do it without much thought. 

You slip your fingers down both his sleeves to take his hands in yours, telling yourself that you’re just doing it to get him across his room. 

From past experience, you know his palms are rough. But when you have them cradled in yours, you don’t expect them to also be warm. Maybe it’s all those hoodies and long sleeves he always wears. 

And it’s almost awkward to hold his hands, but a good kind of awkward. Just… different. New. 

With all these thoughts swirling around your head, you get thrown completely off guard when Yoongi takes your fingers in his and pulls you in and oh fuck his lips are on yours now what the—

Your surprise comes out muffled as you’re slowly backed up all the way to his open door, jumping a little in shock and something else when your shoulder blades hit.

But he’s undeterred. Yoongi’s deep, slow, determined kisses keep coming, even while he closes his fingers around yours and languidly pins a hand next to your ear. Breathing through your nose, you feel his beautiful weight on your chest and stomach, matching his lazy but full licks and sucks as best as you can muster. 

Why does this feel so good? Kissing had never felt this magical before. Every motion bends time itself and melts your legs into mush; heat and sparks erupt under your skin, your veins hot but never as molten as his. Smell, taste, touch. All of these are heightened and yet drowned in seconds. 

What is this feeling? What is this burning hearth in your chest? It’s nothing like you’ve ever experienced, and you know this is a moment you’ll remember for a very, very long time. 

But as all other good things do, this kiss comes to an end, surrendering to heavy breaths and a forehead pressing against yours.

“I’m so exhausted,” Yoongi murmurs. “But I can’t stop kissing you.” 

Fuck. 

Don’t give in. 

You just know it’s something he would say to anyone in your position. You can’t think you’re special. You just can’t. Not when your emotions are at their absolute peak after that stunning, incredible… 

Screw it.

“Then don’t.”

You initiate this time, capturing Yoongi’s lips so suddenly that he jerks back before gripping you harder. 

Whatever he attempts to say comes out in a groan instead, but he recovers to lean forward and pin you right back against his door. 

And the intensity jumps tenfold. The swipes he drags against your tongue, the thrust against your hips, the growls he slips into your mouth—all of them juxtapose how tired he looks. And you are absolutely caught in an inherent magnetism that only he can possess even on the verge of exhaustion. 

It feels like an eternity can pass and you would still be fine staying exactly where you are: right here, in his embrace, lips locked as tight as your hands. 

But reality starts to win as you both come down from your high—lowering, and lowering, and lowering—and Yoongi dips right back into his sluggish demeanor. 

Feeling his head droop onto your shoulder, you offer him a smile he can’t see as you pat his arm. “Eat. Then you can sleep.” 

“Mm.” 

“Come on,” you encourage through a whisper, and you once again guide him out of his room and to his kitchen table. 

Silently apologizing, you go to flip on the stove light to illuminate the area enough to see. As warm yellow spills into the small dining area, you walk back over to see Yoongi inspecting what you brought.

“I hope what I got is okay,” you say with little confidence.

You decided on a popular local chain, but you had to guess at what Yoongi would order there. Judging from the way he nods before digging in, you made the right choices. 

That’s enough for you. Smiling to yourself, you take a seat in the middle chair before unboxing your meal. 

“This is actually what I get from here.”

“Really?” you chirp as you smell the aromas coming from both dishes. “Dope. It’s what I get, too.” 

“You got good taste then,” Yoongi responds with a lift of his mouth, and you both huff out tiny laughs. 

At least a few parts of your day are going well. The kiss was enough to last you a lifetime, but getting Yoongi’s preferences right? Which happen to also be yours? You’re floating. 

But after a few minutes of silence go by, you start to sink back down to earth. Not because of the lack of conversation—it’s quite comfortable. You just start to move your food around more than eat it, thinking about your job and how you really don’t want to go back tomorrow. 

Normally, you would rant about work woes with your friends, or Taehyung. But can you do the same with Yoongi? Would he care to really listen to boring stuff like that? 

“You good?”

Snapping your head up, you see a concerned stare resting behind thin specs, fiery hair a bit dulled in the low lighting. 

“I’m good now,” you admit. “Work was just stupid.” 

“I feel that.” 

Nodding, you sigh before adjusting yourself in your chair, ultimately deciding to spare him all the dumb details about your day. 

Besides, he’s clearly tired. You don’t wanna give him more things to deal with. So you settle on something he already knows about and let it end there. “I just hope I hear from one of those listings soon.”

“You will,” Yoongi assures. “Give’em time.”

Not expecting any response from him at all, you trudge on before holding back. “Okay. I just don’t wanna be stuck, you know?” 

A small snort leaps from his seat. “Out of everybody I know? You wouldn’t let that happen.”

You can only stare at him before looking away. 

How is Yoongi able to quell your worries so fast all the time? Is he like this with everyone? If he is, no wonder he’s gotten so many people in the palm of his hand. No wonder every person on the planet wants to steal a bit of his heart. 

It’s one thing to be attractive physically. But Yoongi’s mental? It makes you have to stop yourself from launching across the table to attack him again.

Guarding your heart from getting ahead of itself, you put your chin in one of your hands. “Everyone should pay you for making them feel better all the time.” 

“Huh?”

“You always know what to say to people.” 

Without missing a beat, Yoongi responds. 

“I hate people.” 

“Liar!” you laugh out, inwardly sighing at the shit grin he beams you with. “You can’t be this nice and not like anyone.”

He simply shakes his head. When he starts to explain, his voice seems to drag across the ocean floor, 

“I don’t think you get it, doll.” 

“Hmm?”

“I’m not like this with just anyone.” 

Ah.

Roaming your eyes over his sure features, shyness quickly takes over and you become quite interested in the scratch marks in his table. 

“But I mean it,” Yoongi says. “Someone will be gunning for you any day now. Don’t worry about it too much.” 

A rueful smile slowly carves itself into your face. For someone that tends to overthink and wonder about every little thing, hearing things like this mean the world. 

Before, the only person that could really talk sense into you was Taehyung. But it didn’t even take a handful of times for Yoongi to fill that same kind of role, whether it’s been hours or months between the times you’ve seen him.

Frankly, it’s scary how quickly you’re able to feel this connected despite your different walks of life, and the overall feeling lodged in your chest is hard to describe. 

It’s like seeing a long lost friend that you were meant to find again.

Overcome with a swell of emotion, you stare at your finished food. Because there’s no way you can look anywhere else. The only thing you can get out of your slightly clogged throat is a tiny, 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s true,” Yoongi responds through a sudden yawn. Covering his mouth before rubbing the bottom half of his face, he exhales. “Honestly, I’m shocked you came back.” 

You regard him again. “Like this town?”

He nods, eyes already shutting.

And you hum in return, all the decisions you made in the past washing up in the forefront of your mind. 

You don’t think he’d want to hear any of that, either. So you simply sum it up with a much more succinct, 

“Me, too.”  

Closing your box, you put all the trash in one of the plastic bags, mind filled with your day and all the feelings you can’t come to terms with. So much is clouding your thoughts that you don’t realize that he’s dozing off in his seat until seconds later. 

Pausing in your movements, you whisper, “Yoongi?” 

“Mm.”

Technically, it’s not late, but you know he still has to wake up pretty early. And it doesn’t help that he probably didn’t get much rest while camped in the studio. 

Concern laces your voice as you ask, “You sure you can wake up on time tomorrow?” 

He inhales before sighing. “I dunno. But I gotta.” 

Damn. 

Whatever they’re working on must be incredibly important if he’s this determined. The late nights, the lockdowns, the taken phones. All of it must be weighing on his shoulders and yet he is the one making you feel better?

Maybe you can help him out. You can be his strength just as he can be yours. 

“I can stay. I just need to go home and get my stuff.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, hair slightly parting in the motion. “You don’t have to, doll.” 

“I have to get up early for work anyway. I’ll just leave from here.” 

Silent, you plead him to let you help. You’ve done it before to make sure your secret wasn’t blown, but this time is purely out of selflessness. 

And Yoongi grants you your wish when he sighs out a faint, 

“Okay.” 

The plan was to simply go home, get your stuff, then head back.

You did not plan to get a call from one of your friends on the way there.

Cursing at the caller ID, you compose yourself before accepting, eyes back on the road when not one, but three of them answer your greeting.

“Hey, babe!”

“Where are you? Come out!”

“We haven’t seen you in forever, bitch!”

Oh, shit. 

You tense, hoping they aren’t in a car and can see you driving back to your place. “I can’t tonight,” you finally remember to respond, mind whirling with possible escape routes because—

“Why not!”

“Where have you been!”

“You don’t have shit to do!”

Damn it, damn it, damn it. Gripping your wheel, you dart your eyes along the streets before swallowing your truths. 

If it were any other night, you would keep your secret under wraps and let Yoongi know the change of plans. You’d go out with them and make it up to him later. 

But not tonight.

Damn, why did they have to call now! 

Purposefully lowering your voice, you groan, “I’ve been sick. Stomachache… I’m sorry.”

“Awhhh, babe.”

“Wait, you sound like you’re in a car, though…”

Fuck! 

“Yeah, just getting stuff from the store. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

The line has a bunch of hums and groans, and you know that some of your friends don’t buy it. But thankfully, they don’t pry tonight. 

“Alright, well let us know next time so we can get you soup or something.”

“Yeah, you know we got you!”

“Feel better soon, kay?”

You love them.

You hate lying to them.

“I’ll make it up to y’all, okay? Promise.”

“Oh, you’re good!”

“Feel better!”

“I’ll hold you to that, shit, forget about them.”

The laughs on the line welcome yours as you join them, and you thank everything out there that they let you go this time. 

But as you say goodbye and the line cuts out, your heart drops with a thud. 

This. 

This is what it would be like if the two of you keep seeing each other on the regular. 

You somehow avoided it for a couple days, but now reality is coming back to play. And next time, your friends may start to suspect something’s up. 

Which is why you need to make the most of this week while you can. 

Being in Yoongi’s bathroom a few times now, it’s a lot different when you’re in there to get ready for bed. 

After your friends gave you mini heart attacks, you were so frazzled that all you did when you went home was gather clothes and all your toiletries before hauling ass back out. 

Which lead you to having to get ready at the same counter that Yoongi uses everyday—minus the times he’s forced to stay in studios. 

But you go through your nightly routine, head filled with several thoughts and worries and feelings, the most recent being the way your chest constricted when you unlocked Yoongi’s door to find him sleeping in his bedroom. 

What would it be like to have that as your normal? 

How are you in this position at all?

Looking back at the very first time you trembled for minutes on his rude welcome mat, you cannot fathom how it went from that moment to this one. 

He gave you a key to the door that you were terrified to knock on. 

You still can’t believe it. 

Brimming with butterflies, you finish up and vacate Yoongi’s bathroom, rounding his bed to gently nestle into your side—moreso the least amount of space that you can muster. Setting your alarms, you rest your phone down before slipping your eyes shut.

You almost think about settling in closer, but you don’t want to cross any other boundaries that he could have. Accidentally hearing his recording was egregious enough.

But Yoongi’s croaky voice startles your bones.

“You didn’t have to do this.” 

“I didn’t. But this is much better than calling you.” 

He huffs out a low laugh. “True.” 

And you think that’s the end of your conversation.

Until he speaks again. 

“You gonna hang off the edge like that all night?”

“I…” 

“Come here.” 

Oh.

You turn under the covers to see faint moonlight reflecting in his drooping eyes, and you wonder how someone like him should even be allowed to exist.

Shifting forward, your chest rattles when Yoongi lifts an arm to bring you close, and he plants the softest kiss on your forehead before whispering gratitude again.

“No problem,” you sigh into the warmth of his covered chest, inhaling the scent around you that is purely him. 

Quickly after, Yoongi is lost to slumber.

So you couldn’t tell him how you just lied to your friends.

Goddamn, your alarm is annoying.

But it works like a charm.

Sleepily tapping it off your screen, you twist in place. “Hey,” you whisper with eyes half-closed, “You awake?”

“Mmhmm.”

The power of your obnoxious alarm. You’re actually embarrassed to wake another person up with it, but you chose to do this in the first place. 

“Good.”

Both of your voices are heavy with sleep as Yoongi rubs his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

“What time you gotta leave?”

“By six,” you yawn, unwittingly snuggling into his chest and hearing him softly laugh through his nose.

You feel a hand on your thigh before Yoongi lazily slings your leg over his, and your brain lights up at his admittance,

“I like you like this.”

“Mm,” is all you manage before your post-sleep brain rebels and says something else. “What else do you like…” 

“Hmm?” 

“You’re always asking me…” You breathe through your nose. “What do you like?” 

You only get silence, and it goes on for so long that you figure everything just happened in your own head. As you start to doze off again, Yoongi’s raspy vocals rumble under your cheek,

“Kiss me.” 

Lifting your head, you blink slowly before pushing up far enough to press your lips down onto his, breathing in deep through your nose. 

The same hand resting on your leg slips down to the curve of your ass, and you quietly hum before Yoongi pulls away slightly. 

“Kiss my neck.” 

Staring down at his lidded eyes, you nod before lowering your lips, feeling his heartbeat beneath your chest. As you latch lips onto his column, you shut your eyes and preen at the deep groan Yoongi releases. Its vibrations scatter across your covered skin, forcing your hand to come up and lightly clutch the front of his shirt. 

He cocks his head to the side to give you more room, humming low, “Mm. Just like that.”

His praise makes you bold, and you sleepily swirl your tongue over a vein before pressing deeper into his smooth skin. When he tenses, you keep swiping over that same spot, becoming more and more awake with each hiss he lets out. 

Suddenly, your hand is clasped before he lowers your fingers, and you flinch when you feel his hard-on confined by sweats. Your breath whooshes onto the expanse of his neck, and before you can grab at him, Yoongi guides your hand somewhere else. 

Somewhere much higher, and a lot more surprising. 

Pulling away entirely, you watch him with intent from above. At your curiosity, he simply explains,

“Choke me.” 

What?

Did you hear him right? Or are you still sleeping and all of this isn’t real?

With your fingers resting on the silky base of his neck, you blink. “You like that?” 

“Uh huh.” 

Well. You didn’t expect him to admit anything close to that, and his matter of factness is frankly attractive. 

Instead of obliging right away, you slide your hand down to rake your nails over his nipple first, offering a tiny, miniscule, sleepy smirk of your own as Yoongi does the same. 

Biting a corner of his lip, he warns, “Careful, baby girl.”

You chuckle as you bring your fingers to the base of his throat. “Or else what…”

“Or else—Fuck,” Yoongi groans with a sharp tilt of his head, feeling the sudden press of your fingers around his neck. 

You don’t choke him completely, having never done this before. But the pressure you give seems to be more than enough for him, and your eyes blow wide at the way his eyebrows knit in pleasure. 

Goddamn, he looks absolutely incredible like this.

Shrouded in sleep and lust, you swoop your head down to lap at his column again, letting instinct take over. 

Curses and hisses fly out of Yoongi’s lips, and you drink them in until you feel legitimately drunk on his reactions alone.

You didn’t expect to enjoy giving him pleasure this much. If you are truthful with yourself, you don’t want to stop. You almost want to keep him here and never let him go. 

“Fuck, hold on,” he hisses, suddenly gripping your wrist in frustration. And you relent. Though you aren’t happy about it. “I gotta go soon, doll.” 

As much as you want him all to yourself, to explore this new territory he allowed you to have, there’s no way you can keep him from what he needs to do. 

So you pull away, reveling in the angry, flushed appearance of his upper chest. You sincerely wish you tore off his shirt before everything started. 

If you get the chance to continue…

Smirking again and wondering if he’s rubbing off on you, you airily joke, “That’s too bad.. Looks like you’ll have to wait for the rest.” 

“What a tease.” 

“Learned from the worst.” 

You smile and he curves his mouth up in return. A squeak leaves you when he turns the tables with a flick of his hand, grabbing the back of your head to kiss your entire soul out.

Your eyes are still swirling when he pulls away, and you rise into a sitting position as he gets up with a laugh. 

Grabbing a necklace from his nightstand, Yoongi looks at you taking up the middle of his mattress. But he doesn’t say anything before heading to his bathroom. 

As soon as he’s inside, you expel all the air that you had been holding. All the pent up adrenaline that built while you were caught up in whatever just happened. 

You want more of that. So, so much more of that. 

And you also wanna stay in his bed, but you know that would be a little too much. Too domestic. So you scoot to the edge of his sheets and start to get ready for your own day. 

As you reach for your phone, you gnaw on your bottom lip out of pure giddiness, thinking about when and how to continue what you both just started.

Until you see the onslaught of notifications on your lock screen.

jackson trash [12:30am]: open the door !!!

dpr doormat [12:30am]: biiiish r u home? u better b alive

bibi’s whore [12:34am]: we brought u stuff<33 

Taeee😪[12:57am]: You at home?

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (3) 

Taeee😪[1:30am]: Pick up!

Taeee😪[1:32am]: Where are you??? 

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (3) 

Taeee😪[1:51am]: Bro pick up ur phone

Taeee😪: Missed Calls (2) 

Taeee😪[2:50am]: You owe me :|

Stare burning into your screen, your jaw hits the floor as your shoulders push upward in fear. Immediately, you lock all the way up, your reaction whooshing out in a low, sharp,

“Oh, shit.” 

“You good?” 

Snapping your head up, you see Yoongi standing just outside his bathroom, scratching one of his elbows. 

And you almost say that it’s nothing, that there isn’t anything wrong.

But then you remember the countless times he’s told you that you can tell him anything. And in your panicked state, you decide to take the plunge and finally give into his wishes. 

“Well, uhh. No, actually. It’s my friends.” You look back down at your phone, gnawing your lip. “I’m a little worried.”  

Yoongi crosses the room, rounding his bed while swiping a hoodie from his desk chair. “About?”  

When he walks right up to you, all you can do is stare. Just for a bit. Because even minutes after waking up, he looks so handsome. 

And looking at him is enough to calm you down.

But suddenly, he tosses his jacket onto the bed before bringing both hands forward, holding your hips and bringing you closer. “About what, doll?” 

Fuck. Get yourself together, get your thoughts back in order. Clearing your throat, you let out the rest of your problems, hyper aware of the way his fingers rest on your sides, “They might think I’m dodging them. I said I couldn’t go out last night.” 

Instead of pulling away, Yoongi simply leans in, latching velvety lips onto your neck and kissing your tension away. Small breaths leave your mouth before he mutters, “What did you say?”

“That I felt sick.” 

Huffs of small laughter tickle your column. “Guess they didn’t buy that.”

You sigh as he keeps lapping at your throat, tilting your head to prolong not feeling so shitty. If it wasn’t for the hands gripping your sides—or the arms you clasp around his neck—you definitely would have collapsed to the ground by now. “Guess not... I wonder… if they tried the house.”

The moan you release spurns Yoongi to press your body back, and you feel the cool spackle of his wall instead of his door this time. As your back makes harder contact with the rough surface, you grunt into the kiss he plants on your lips. 

You don’t know exactly why he’s all over you like this. Is it to distract you from worrying like you assumed? Is it because you’re finally doing what he’s been asking this whole time? Or is it because he wants to continue where you just left off because you sure as hell want that same exact thing. Anything else be damned right now.

If only it were that easy.

Yoongi’s voice still has a hint of sleep as he continues to question you, and you appreciate his willingness to help in any way. Especially since his way involves wrapping his arms further around you and resting them on your lower back. “You park inside, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“How would they know you weren’t home then?” 

“Maybe they knocked? I dunno...” 

Yoongi pulls away. When his eyes roam your face, you wish you had some semblance of normalcy in your features instead of the sleepiness and stress you feel creasing your forehead. “You okay?” 

“I… No. But. We can talk about it later. You gotta go.” 

“Fuck, I do. But hey.” He gives you another kiss, as if he has all the time in the world. “Just tell me what you want. Okay?” 

Your vision remains cloudy from the pillowy soft touch of his lips, and your words float off your tongue, 

“What do you mean?” 

You can tell that Yoongi doesn’t respond how he wants to, but he’s already backing up and heading out. 

“I meant what I said.” 

“Okay,” you call out to his back, and you watch him make his way through his apartment, looking at you one more time before clicking the entryway shut.

The rest of your day is slathered in anxiety and worry. 

You manage to make it home without falling apart, though choosing to leave your stuff at Yoongi’s for just a bit longer.

To combat the impending calls you have to make, you breathe. Focus on quelling the storm in your stomach. Latch onto anything that grounds you. 

The first thing you think about is being a kid again. How things were so simple, the only drama you encountered being playground fights. Then you think about other things, like memories and accomplishments and book quotes you’ve stored for safekeeping.

But slowly, the only thing that appears in your mind is a tidy apartment, with a kitchen filled with laughs and cold water all over the floors.

You can’t deny how at ease you feel when you’re in his place. Even when you were there alone, it was peaceful. It felt… 

Clearly, you don’t want to let go of whatever feelings you have harbored in your chest. You want to make the most of them.

Before things have to reset.

Of course, the dark side of this week presented itself like a bright red spot on a blank canvas. Taehyung’s texts and calls could mean a thousand things, and the only thing that kept you from outright panic was him saying that you owed him. 

Whatever happened was resolved. For now.

But nothing can stop you from feeling the guilt. The icky jitters in your stomach. The slight bit of shame from needing to tuck secrets away and wondering how to go about things. 

What’s worse: knowing that it can’t ever be real with Yoongi unless something drastic changes. Which is why you can’t let yourself feel this way for much longer.

But the fact of the matter is that the two of you have barely started whatever this is. It’s not like you have a hold on him at all, even if he confirmed that he wasn’t seeing anyone else. 

Maybe he operates differently now than he used to? You don’t know. 

Whatever. Right now, you have to figure out how to get your friends off your back because things can get sticky real quick if they decide to snoop.

But first: call Taehyung.

It has to happen eventually. Even if you text him, you’d get an incoming call before your message even gets through. 

So on the way to work, you brace yourself and do it, which turns out to be a loud mistake.

“You owe me big!”

“I know, Tae, I’m so sorry—”

“You know how hard I had to cover for you?”

“No… What happened?”

You hear him sigh before he questions, 

“You told them you were sick, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you were just gonna stay home?”

“Yeah.”

“But you weren’t actually there, were you?”

You wince as you roll up to a red light. 

“No.”

“Mm. Guess who had to lie and say you were at their place.”

Shutting your eyes in shame, you exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“Lemme finish. Guess who also had to weasel their way out of a videocall since people didn’t believe them.”

“Shit.” You feel so bad. He didn’t have to do all of that for you. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I’m not giving up my secrets to a sneak!”

“Tae!”

“Like I said: you owe me.”

Your building comes into view as you agree, “I do. I’m really sorry.”

“Just let me know next time so I’m more prepared, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“And you’re buying me lunch and dinner.” 

“I will. Promise.”

There’s a big sigh on the line, and you bite your lip in anticipation. You know he’s not done with you yet. 

But all Taehyung says is a soft handful of words, and your heart caves inward just a tad.

“We can handle your friends.” 

“I know.”

“But it won’t be the same with him.”

You are fully aware of who he’s referring to. Because you already thought about the same exact thing. 

As you park, you stare at your steering wheel but don’t quite look at it. 

“I know.” 

The only good thing about the mountain of worries you have to deal with? 

They’re enough to dull your senses at work, and that’s saying something. 

Somehow, you also request to take tomorrow off. And somehow, your request is accepted. Whether it’s the fact that you almost never ask off, or the wound-up way you look, you’ll take it. 

After you make it back home, you carry your tired bones to your bed, flopping down and forcing yourself to clear your head as best as you can. 

Fuck, you hate feeling this way. 

You gotta fess up to your friends. 

Of course, not everything. But you have got to tell them some of the truth so that their concern doesn’t dissolve into suspicion. 

So you’ll confess a thing or two. You’ll just leave Yoongi’s name out of it.

After you take a nice, needed, absurdly long nap. 

Taeee😪: Outgoing Call

“Come to grovel at my feet again? Or are you paying up?”

“Neither.” 

“Oh. Bye then.”

“Wait!” You shift under your blankets, sitting up and hunching over. “I’m gonna tell them.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna tell them.”

“About him?”

“No, no. Not everything. Just… that I’m seeing someone.”

There’s a quick pause before Taehyung slowly questions,

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I feel queasy.”

“Ah. And that’s what we call a self-fulfilling prophecy, miss stomachache.”

“Shut up,” you groan. “But I just wanted to tell you first, since you worked so hard to cover for me.” 

“Be my guest, babe. I just look like a ride or die. And you already agreed to get me food.”

“Okay.”

“Good luck.”

You hang up before looking at the threads you hastily apologized in earlier, wondering which one of them to call. Anyone would be a good choice. But anyone could also be a terrible one. 

Ugh. 

Your fingers flex and curl, and you start to play with your nails while lost in thought.

But you finally decide and click on the top message to fake fairness, turning to bury your head in your pillow and hide from possible horrible outcomes. 

bibi’s whore: Outgoing Call 

Your name immediately crunches through your receiver. 

“Oh my god, are you okay? We were so worried!”

Lifting your head, you groan, “I know. I’m so sorry.” 

“As long as you’re all good.” 

“I am.” 

“Okay, good. Tae told us—”

“He lied.”

“What?”

A swallow lodges in your throat. This is harder than you expected, but you keep pushing through. “He covered for me.” 

“...The hell does that mean?”

Well. It’s now or never. Hopefully she will understand. Or yell at you. Ugh. 

Sitting up, you confess to your phone screen, “I… I may or may not be seeing someone.”

A screech on the other line makes you jump, and you fight a wide grin of surprise. 

“Bitch! I believed you and everything!” 

Why were you so worried? Of course they would be elated. Your friends have been encouraging you to get around more anyway, so this reaction is one you should’ve expected. 

The taboo of it being Yoongi just kept you from thinking anything positive would come out of this. If you weren’t so giddy you would be gritting your teeth in pure frustration.

Pleasant shock pumping through your veins, you cover your forehead. “I know, I’m sorry. I just froze!” 

“I get it, I get it. Did you tell the others yet?”

“No, but don’t tell just anyone. Only you three can know. I’m just too tired to do this two more times.”

“Who is it? Do we know them? Is it J—”

“It is not him, but. This is all you get for now,” you lie while doused in a strange cocktail of relief and embarrassment, sticking with your earlier decision. You feel a lot better about this fib, since they’ll know part of the truth. “Just in case it falls through.”

“Mmm, that means the sex is fucking fire.”

“Reia!” 

“What! I can hear it in your voice, babe. Shit, you might be in love.”

You scoff at your window, noticing that it’s way past sunset already. “As if.” 

“But I get it. Sorry if we pressured you into spilling.”

“Are you kidding? I felt guilty the entire day. I love y’all too much.”

“Awhh… Don’t even worry about that. We’ve all been there. Yuri’s still sneaking around with that one guy even though she won’t admit it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. And you know Dom and I are leaving our options open. Everyone’s got their own shit to deal with. So you do you.” 

Sighing, you play with your comforter, noticing how it’ll never be as soft and comforting as Reia. You can’t believe you worried all damn day for virtually nothing.

This whole overthinking thing is starting to get terribly old.

Huffing, you don’t know how else to express your gratitude other than a sincere, “Thank you.” 

“Of course! Are you seeing them again tonight?”

“…Maybe.”

A giggle punctures your phone. 

“Just say yes, you sneaky bitch.”

“Yes.” You pause with a smile. “And yeah, it’s fucking fire.” 

“I knew it! Is it the same guy from last year? Fuck you!” 

“I’m not saying anything!”

“Gotta be. You didn’t say who that was, either.”

It’s true. While you told them about your mind-blowing encounter with Yoongi, you never disclosed a name. All they know is that you practically got your back blown out, and you won’t forget their shouts and praise and scoffs at your implied decision to keep it a one night stand. 

If only they knew that decision wasn’t exactly yours.

“About time you got another proper dick down. Wait, it is a guy, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“Ha! That narrows it down.”

“Damn it.”

“I’ll find out eventually love you bye!”

“Bye,” you say through a grin, feeling multitudes lighter than you had in awhile. 

Thank god. Or whoever or whatever’s out there. You owe them a drink. 

Exhausted, you flop back onto your pillow with a whoosh.

Two calls is more than enough to drain your social battery, but you wanna make one more. 

After all, you feel a hell of a lot better about seeing Yoongi again. The urge is so strong that you feel like calling him just because.

But when his phone rings a few times without an answer, you hang up and watch your ceiling, awake and cocooned in your blanket. 

You can wait however long. Your mind is so much clearer now.

To your immediate surprise, Yoongi calls you back within minutes, voice wary after you greet him.

“You okay?” 

You smile. Of course that’s his first concern. If you hadn’t confessed just a few moments ago, your answer would have been completely different. “Much better. But you’re busy so I can wait.” 

“You sure?” 

“Ah, yeah. I’ll just be in bed.” 

“Yours or mine?” 

…What did he just ask?

“Oh,” you stutter out. “I’m at home.” 

But are you really? Where is home lately, if he isn’t there? 

And why did you just ask yourself that? 

“You threw away that key, huh.” 

“No!” 

“Liar.” 

“I have your key! I just.. I dunno. Using it when you’re not there is weird. Still feels like I’m intruding.” 

A laugh. 

“Then give it up.” 

“What?” 

“Gimme the key back. I’ll come get it tonight.” 

You can practically feel his stupid grin on the other line. There’s no way he’s serious, and yet you’re affected all the same.

“…Damn you, Yoongi.” 

Another laugh puffs out of him before he keeps teasing,

“What?” 

“You’re so… Ugh! Fine. I’ll keep it.” 

“It’s all up to you.” 

“Yeah? Then I’m going over there just to lock you out.” 

More hissed laughter crackles through, and you nestle into your comforter with a curve of your mouth.

“God, I love it when you’re—” 

“Yoong! Hurry up, man!” 

Oh, shit. That was Jungkook. He sounds… 

“Yoongi!” 

“Yoongi! Come back!” 

You freeze. 

Those voices were definitely higher in pitch. Truthfully, they were more like whines than anything.

Interesting. 

There’s a muffled “Yeah, one sec!” before the receiver gets uncovered again.

“Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll be back tonight.”

“Okay…” 

“Am I gonna see you?” 

Well. That’s even more interesting. Your question is timid before tiptoeing out. “…Do you want to?” 

“Course I do.” 

You already knew what your answer would be. After all, you had left all your stuff at his place, so of course you were gonna go back at some point. But after hearing what you just heard, you needed to be sure of Yoongi’s answer. You needed to be sure if you were staying.

Appearing as unbothered as you possibly could, you respond, “Okay. I’ll be there.” 

“Thank fuck.” 

Damn it. You can’t help but puff at the relief in his voice. “Such a guy.” Deciding to cake on more encouragement, you fight the dark emotion in your belly while continuing, “But don’t leave until you’re done!” 

“K.” 

He’s there to work. Right? Yes. He wouldn’t be trying shit. 

…Right? 

Mind in another frenzy, you whisper, “I believe in you. You’ll finish.” 

“I dunno about that, but.. Thanks, doll.” 

It’s later, when you rest in a bed that’s not yours, that you busy yourself with anything to distract you from rogue thoughts. Checking for emails from the job postings, flipping on Yoongi’s television, responding to the second text your brother sent asking if you were good. All of these are temporary buffers. 

But they aren’t enough. 

You think about calling your other friends, wondering how Yuri or Dom reacted to the news when Rea inevitably told them minutes after getting off the phone. But you don’t wanna deal with more of that, lest you have to make up another lie. 

So you decide on the ultimate distraction, a way to time travel without lifting a finger: sleeping.

Because Yoongi doesn’t show for hours. 

And hours. 

You don’t remember when you fell asleep, but you know that something is pulling you out of your slumber. Something warm, and soft, and feeling like you’re coming home.

With a sharp inhale, you fling your eyes open to see that Yoongi’s kissing you awake, one of his hands cradling the back of your neck and his body warmth seeping into your side. 

Is this a dream? 

“Yoon—” 

Your quick break is cut by another kiss, and you taste alcohol and citrus on his tongue before he pulls away. 

“You gotta be my good luck charm or something.” 

Eyes still adjusting to the dark of the room, you question, “Hmm?”

“We fucking finished.”

“Oh my god. Everything?” 

Yoongi nods, his hoodie sweeping the top of your head as he leans in close. 

One foot still in dreamland, you offer a smile of pride. 

Holy crap, they did it. Whatever hard work they poured into that project paid off. You can already see it. “I knew you would,” you sigh, loving the way it feels surrounded by his strong embrace. 

If only he didn’t smell like scents you know you can’t afford. 

Remembering the voices you heard earlier, you crash back down to earth and end up six feet deep in worry. 

Right. You wanted to distract yourself for a reason. You wanted to sleep away the anxiety for a reason. Because even though you and him don’t even have a solid label, you wanna know his stance. And Taehyung would tell you to figure that shit out right away, whether you’re keeping tabs on him or not.

“I dunno how,” Yoongi responds while you muster up enough courage to talk, “But you were right.” 

“Naturally,” you whisper. 

Say something.

Keep being brave enough to tell him what’s bothering you.

No overthinking this one.

As he leans in again for another kiss, you press a hand into his chest and take the first step. “Wait.”

Yoongi stops on a dime.

Unblinking and hoping his answer is one you can take, you sigh, “Can… Can I ask you something?” 

“Always.” 

As you speak, you watch his eyes dart across your face in concern. “This is so stupid. But. I heard… people, on the phone. And I smell… perfume. I know we aren’t a thing, but. I don’t think I can do this if—” 

You’re lucky that Yoongi cuts in before you can finish. 

“Hey. Listen.” He sits up before telling you to follow suit. When you do, he looks toward his window, expression indiscernible as he watches moonlight seep through his blinds. 

Breathing in, he lowers his head before looking at the hands resting in your lap. “I don’t do that shit anymore. If I’m seeing someone, that’s it.” 

You let those words coat shoulders that drop with relief, wondering if he meant that in a general way or if—

“And even if I did…” Yoongi gazes into your eyes then, and you stare at his determined pupils hiding behind dark orange bangs. “I wouldn’t do that to you. K?” 

Oh. There’s a hummingbird in your ribcage, its fluttering wings stealing all the words from your mouth. 

You can only nod.  

“And,” he says, straightening to prop up your chin. “It’s not stupid.”

Ah. The hummingbird now has friends. Many, many friends. 

“If it helps,” Yoongi continues while fighting a guilty smile, “I kinda pissed’em off.”

“Huh?” Something like a half-laugh, half-scoff shoots out of your mouth. “What did you do?”

He aims a smug look your way before reminding you why people love to hate him.

“You ever been called your friend’s name before?”

Your jaw drops before you playfully nudge his shoulder with a gasp, and Yoongi grins with his nose scrunched. “Asshole!” His breathy laughs are unbothered by your affronted, droning, “Wow.”

“I know. But it works.” He winks before moving on to another, more favorable subject. “What time are you leaving in the morning?” 

“Whenever you need me to. I took tomorrow off.” 

“Then stay. I’m off, too.” 

Excitement bubbles up to join the adrenaline in your veins. You were hoping that was the case ever since he said they were finished, but you weren’t positive. “You sure?” 

“Yeah. Why?” 

Blinking, you wonder why you even asked in the first place. 

But then you remember: as much as you want a whole day with him, you think back to seeing him at his desk. How he used even a sliver of his alone time to work on his own music. If he wants to do that instead, you don’t want to stop him. 

However, you also don’t wanna catch him off-guard again by mentioning his private business. Maybe he even forgot that you could have heard his track. So instead, you joke, 

“I dunno. Thought you’d be tired of me by now.”

Yoongi regards you with a smile of disbelief, like he knows that’s what you weren’t originally going to say. But he plays along. 

“Not yet,” he teases. “Lemme shower.” 

With running water serving as the background to your thoughts, you psych yourself up for everything that you want to do.

Whether this is something you can pull off or not, you aren’t exactly sure. But there’s no way to know unless you try. And you want to try very, very hard.

Because Yoongi damn well deserves it. 

He’s been nothing but accommodating ever since the weekend started. From making you get work done, to reassuring your chaotic mind at every pass, he’s made an impression unlike no one has before. 

And honestly, he’s been this way with you long before then. 

So you want to be the one to please him this time. In a way that you never have for anyone else. It’s just daunting when you know you’re about to step out of your comfort zone. 

But to hell with it. You wanna do this. 

Getting up, you swipe one of the shirts Yoongi left on his chair, changing into it before taking everything else off. The soft but thick material drapes over your body, and you wonder if every single thing in this apartment is just made to be as comforting as its owner.

Maybe you should spend more time wearing his baggy clothes. 

Never mind all that. Focus!

Inhaling, you start to visualize your plans. Plans that were put on hold ever since this morning. With all of your day’s worries and fears resolved, the fog in your brain dissipates, allowing you to finally picture what you really want.

Hopefully it’s what Yoongi really wants, too.  

Light juts in front of your feet as the bathroom door swings open, and you stand in place as he notices, “Digging through my shit now, huh?”

“No,” you assure him, bones already vibrating with anticipation at the sight of his wet hair. 

And fuck, is he still wearing jewelry? 

Stop! Self-control. Patience. 

“This was on your chair.”

“I don’t—”

Self-control and patience be damned. 

Rushing forward, you catch Yoongi off guard with quick hands to his covered chest.

“What—”

Backing him up one two three steps, you shove him onto his bed, blood pulsing at the sight of his wide eyes. 

Don’t stop, keep going. You can do this.

Heart skipping beats, you tug off his shirt before you can chicken out, and Yoongi groans when you reveal that it’s the only thing you had on.

And you almost catch the way his expression switches from desire to shock, but you mount him and dive right onto his neck before you can do so.

“Fuck!” 

Something stronger than adrenaline comes over you then. Something dark, and primal, and absolutely divine. Breathing in the woody scent of his body wash, you lap at his column while your hands travel everywhere. You’re so focused on attacking him that you barely register the hands gripping your ass.

“Oh, fuck, doll,” Yoongi moans as you scratch down his chest, jerking his head back with a hard hiss when you pinch his nipple. 

Enveloped by lust, you let instinct guide your actions, pushing up to nip his ear while clutching his throat. A suck here, a tug of his hair there. Pinching, whispering his name, squeezing your thighs—every single movement seems to break him down while lifting you up.

And you finally get the chance to tell him what’s about to happen. 

“Lemme get a cond—”

“Uh uh.” 

When he stills underneath you, your bare chest slides down his front as you explain, 

“My turn.”

It’s simple. It’s concise. 

But Yoongi is smart enough to get what you mean, and a rough hum rips from his core as he watches you slowly sink between his knees. 

When you hit the floor, you realize. 

It’s almost been a year since you’ve been in this position. 

You want to show Yoongi what he had been missing.

But as your eyes shift up to see him already watching you, you’d like to think he already knows. 

Propped up on his elbows, Yoongi leers down at your determination, wet locks still dripping water onto his smooth cheekbones. Underneath his shirt, you can see all the little tics of his pecs, his abs—tiny jolts in the aftermath of your storm.

As much as you want to keep playing with the upper half of him, you continue in your quest, mouth salivating when you slip his sweatpants down bit by agonizing bit.  

God, how you want to be able to watch his reactions while you have him shoved down your throat. But you’ll make do with one pleasure at a time.

Starting with the cock that springs in front of your face. 

Damn.  

Impatient, you don’t waste time in taking his velvety girth in your palm, missing how it felt in your fingers and wanting it buried deep inside you for hours. 

Fucking hell. Out of all the dicks you’ve held in your lifetime, his is undoubtedly your favorite. In fact, you vaguely remember being upset at its perfection, hating how every part of the one man out of reach has the power to destroy you.

You want that power, too: bringing Min Yoongi to his proverbial knees.

Well. You’re sure as hell gonna fucking try. 

With one full, wet swipe along his length, you already see him thump back onto his mattress, hips flinching and fists gathering bunches of his sheet. 

Pleased, you take his tip in your awaiting mouth, lifting your head mid-suck to tug on him more. Intentionally, you release him with a sound you’ve perfected by watching videos you will never disclose. 

And it seems to resonate with Yoongi, for a dark laugh rumbles between sealed lips as a large hand palms the top of your head. 

“You nasty girl.”

Licking around his tip while squeezing the base, you give him a teasing suck before releasing with another perfect pop. Sliding your fingers to gather your saliva, you coat the rest of him before lapping at his balls.

His control. 

It’s slipping. 

You can tell from the breathy laughs he puffs to the ceiling. A slew of incoherent words tumbles after, and you decide that you quite like him like this. Like he finally doesn’t know what to say. 

Mirroring something you remember Yoongi torturing you with, you admit, 

“You taste so fucking good.” 

A deep hum is your only response, and you take that as a cue to keep going, tilting your head to swirl around his cock. Your own essence coats your cheeks as you feast, alternating between slurps and licks that travel along his veins.

From experience, you’ve learned how to judge reactions, how to tell what guys prefer or not. But all of those other times? You were never invested enough to truly care. If they never cared to pay attention to what you liked, then why bother?

But Yoongi cares. Sometimes, you wonder if he cares more than you do. 

So you pay extra attention to how he reacts, and you make sure to understand enough to heighten his pleasure to its zenith. 

Immediately, you pick up on the fact that he likes when you squeeze his sack. But also, it seems that he’s aroused by all the sounds you’re making in general.

You almost laugh. While you aren’t normally loud unless Yoongi wants you to be, this is where you won’t quiet down unless he stops you. 

But you aren’t the only one filling the room with vulgar noises. 

Beautiful hisses spring over your head, only to be joined by moans as you swallow more of his cock with each pass. He palms your scalp with a hand, trying his damned best to let you decide how much of him to take in. 

So you give him permission, knowing he’d catch on to the taps you make on his thigh.

When your eyes travel up his body, you can see him lifting his head to watch, and he looks to you for one more nod of consent. 

You pause your sucks to give him one, slathering your tongue around his shaft before taking him in again.

Yoongi’s groans are deep when he pushes your head down, and you feel your mouth stretch wide around his cock. When the tip knocks the back of your throat, you gag on instinct, expecting the moan that comes right after.

“Fuck, baby…”

You can go lower, so you let him push you down a little further, unfazed by the way your throat aches to accommodate his girth. Tears start to collect in your eyes, but you don’t mind those either, having done this many times before. 

For Yoongi, you’ll deal. To hear the way he slurs your name, you’ll deal.

Your breath cuts at a certain point, but you sacrifice it to prove you can take him all in. And when your nose brushes his pelvis, Yoongi’s outright moan is already worth the gamble on your lungs. 

Mercifully, you’re tugged all the way off his cock in a single motion, gasping for air as strings of saliva connect your mouth to his sex.

“You’re so fucking good at this. What the fuck.” 

Mouth coated in spit, you nod with little shame, cunt pulsing at the satisfied groan that it gets in return.

Yoongi’s voice is filled with lust and gravel when he grits out, “God, I wanna fuck that throat.”

“Do it,” you rasp with lidded eyes, smirking at the way he looks at you with disbelief. Replicating what he had said to you before, you croak, “This is about you.”

“You sure, doll?”

Heart beating a bit quicker at his concern, you hum in confidence. Your fingers tap his thigh when you respond, “I’ve done it before.”

A strange look comes over Yoongi’s face then, and you don’t know why he sits all the way up to kiss you. But you and your throat welcome the short reprieve, and he breathes through his nostrils before pulling away.

Just like that, the look vanishes, replaced by shadows and desire and impatience.  

“Then gimme that dirty mouth.”

Lost in his blown out eyes, you obey. But before he can even take over, you start a relentless pace, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks until they throb. 

It’s enough to make him stutter in his movements, and a hand pulls you up before he chuckles, “Breathe first, babe.”

Blinking, you realize, “Oh, shit. Yeah.”

Seeing Yoongi’s full grin while in the midst of pleasure? 

That has to be one of your favorite things. 

“Okay,” you nod, only slightly embarrassed. “Ready.” 

He only hisses out laughter while tilting his head back. “What are you doing to me…”

You don’t respond. Because you don’t know. But you wanna keep satisfying this man until he melts in your mouth, so you take his tip in to change the topic. 

This time, you give Yoongi complete control of your head, noticing that he starts with slow but full strokes. As he groans, you mewl when his other hand skirts over one of your breasts, causing him to quicken his pace. 

Concentrate. Loosen your throat. Breathe through your nose. All of these thoughts invade your mind as Yoongi thrusts in deeper and quicker, and your column bears the onslaught as tears roll down your cheeks in rivers. 

The sounds you make are far from innocent, and they serve as the moving line over Yoongi’s constant reactions.

You don’t remember him being this vocal.

But you’re starting to understand why he likes pleasuring you so much.

It aches like hell, but you want nothing but to keep going. You’re okay. With a hand gripping his thigh, you slacken your aching jaw and revel in the waves of curses washing over your naked back. You almost traverse into another plane entirely, eyes slitted and strings of drool slipping from your lips. 

Suddenly, you’re tugged up again, a long gasp escaping your numb mouth and eyes practically rolled back. Wheezing, you gulp in breaths like water, feeling air on the spit that accumulated on your chest.

Holy fuck, how drenched are you? You’re too dizzy to comprehend, let alone hear anything he’s saying. 

A hand makes its way to your cheek, the veiny back caressing your sweaty skin all the way down to your sore jaw. When he cradles your lolling chin in his sweaty fingers, you slowly open your eyes to be pinned by a look so dark you would think he was possessed.

And you have never seen him look so hungry.  

But you can’t mull over it for too long. Not because you feel thoroughly fucked out—though that contributes a good chunk of it—but because his wish shoots through you like lightning,

“Gonna come all over that pretty face.”

Fuck. 

Even though you want that, too, it wasn’t the plan you had in mind.

Shaking your head, you move his hand away and give him a lopsided smile. “Not this time.”

Yoongi’s new expression is adorable, but you waste no time in clarifying—not without a slight hint of shyness,

“I want it somewhere else…”

Yoongi furrows his brows impossibly deep, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “Where, baby girl.”

Lowering yourself back down, you answer,

“My mouth.”

“The fuck,” he groans, eyes shutting as you seize command again.

Your hands and mouth cover him completely—sucking, pumping, twisting. You feel him twitching with an impending explosion, and you rake your nails down one of his thighs before moving them right to his balls. 

More curses shoot from his mouth as he arches his back higher than before, and you know he’s close before he even tells you. 

With one last thought, you clutch his sack with one hand while reaching up to twist one of his nipples, wanting every bit of his pleasure to come from you and you alone. 

And you moan around him when it works like a charm. 

Nothing but your name rips from his throat as he spills into your mouth, hot and milky and distinguishable on your tongue. Spurt after spurt paints your cavern, and you love the way his cock twitches with each angry release.

It’s yours. All yours yours yours and you claim it with a possessiveness you will deny in the morning. Globs slide down your gullet, and you twirl your tongue to gather everything you missed. 

Above you, Yoongi’s body locks, fists solid and creating taut mountain peaks out of his sheets. When you suck through his orgasm, a long, guttural moan is blocked by his closed lips, and he flexes his arms forward, feline and feral. 

You already know you can never have Yoongi, no matter what.

But this Yoongi—flustered, out of control, and fucked out of his mind—is the Yoongi you want all to your fucking self.

Breathing hard and watching him come, you’re positive that he is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your life.

Finally, with one last exhale, his high passes. And a realization floods your mind. 

Holy fuck.

You just swallowed Yoongi’s cum. 

Nothing but shaky breaths fill the room, and you take time to steady your pulse and relax your aching throat. Fuck, it’s gonna be sore. Damn, you’re lucky that you have tomorrow off because—

Something causes you to snap your gaze upward.

And any breaths you were going to take cease.

Because there have been many significant snapshots in your life, some of them only involving yourself, your friends, and more recently the very man in front of you. 

But this moment? With you stripped bare and on your knees while he worships you from above? 

Something in you clicks.

And clicks hard.

Yoongi’s voice has never been hoarser as he commands, “Open that goddamn mouth.”

You oblige, tongue out and all.

“Fuck.” He snags your chin with force, and the fervor with how he growls sends sparks along your skin, 

“Come here. Get the fuck up.” 

Bubbling with mirth, you rush to mount him as he hoists you by the arms, and you kiss him square on the lips with punished knees digging into his forgiving mattress. Fuck, the bends in your legs are sore. But you’ll live. 

Yoongi seizes the back of your head and looks at you, clenching his fingers with words on the tip of his tongue. But he says nothing in the end, simply shaking his head and kissing you one more time. 

Everything you wanted to happen happened. 

And you’d like to think he enjoyed it just as much as you did, so you can now sleep peacef—

“Get up.”

“Huh?”

“Sit up.”

Confused, you wince at the sting in your legs as you’re situated in his bare lap. As your entrance rests right against his cock, both of you groan while most likely thinking the same thing. 

“What are you doing,” you whisper, watching his complete look of satisfaction at how ragged your voice sounds. The pout you make only widens his smile. 

Instead of responding verbally, Yoongi reaches behind his neck to unclasp one of his chains. And you don’t know where things are going until your heartbeat jumps ten paces. 

Because he slips the silver necklace around your neck before taking off the heavier one, admiring the view when both of them rest against your slippery chest. 

What…?

What is he doing?

This feels borderline intimate. 

It’s enough to render you speechless, and you can only breathe as he runs his fingers along the links, the back of his hand brushing the side of your breast. 

“They look much better on you.”

You still don’t know what the hell to say, feeling a lovely weight on your neck and an enchanting burden in your chest. 

“Hey,” Yoongi whispers, lifting your chin. “You okay?”

“Oh. More than okay,” you admit. “I just…” 

When you see him tilt his head and wait for your answer, you finally notice that you’re unbothered. Truly unbothered. About today, about your friends, about what you heard on the phone. 

But more importantly, you’re unbothered about being naked in front of him. You aren’t thinking about how you look, or how he thinks you look. All you’ve been focused on this entire time has been him, and you haven’t had this much fun in the bedroom. Ever. 

“I’m really happy right now,” you finally beam, and you want to bottle the feeling you have in your heart and shelve it for every rainy day you’ll ever live through. 

Right next to the bottle that keeps the look in Yoongi’s eyes.

You yelp as he suddenly tugs on his chains to pull you forward, and your lips are captured in a way that has your toes curling. 

Before you know it, you’re being lowered onto rumpled sheets, and a pair of fingers between your legs jolts you upwards. “Yoongi?”

“Who said we were done?” 

“But this was about you,” you gasp as you feel his fingers slide up your dripping folds with more pressure. 

“I know. This is still for me.” 

What the hell? You were already set on not receiving anything tonight. If anything, you could take care of yourself after he passed out. So what’s he doing? Why is he saying this is for him? “How?”

“I love seeing you like this.”

You can only blink. “...Really?”

“Yeah. And I love seeing you come.” 

“You do?“ 

Yoongi’s gaze lands on the jewelry resting on your chest. “So fucking much.” 

“Oh,” is all you can muster, lust coming back with a vengeance and twisting your core.  

And you wait until his eyes travel upwards, slowly but surely, until they connect with yours. “Let’s see how many times you got, dirty girl.” 

Oh, fuck.

“Yoongi…” 

He shifts to sit up, ordering you to change positions as he slips his sweatpants back on. “Slide up here for me.” 

Obeying, you wince at the discomfort in your knees as you make your way to the head of his mattress. 

Yoongi joins you immediately, his warmth pressing deliciously into your side. With a flick of his chin, he continues, “Hands under the headboard. Uh huh.” 

Well. You didn’t expect this. And you’re ten times more excited for what’s in store for you, especially since Yoongi decided to keep all of his clothes on. The pretty tension has you thrumming with heat and nerves.

Instead of going between your legs, he starts with fingers to your mouth. “Open up one more time, doll.”

You gladly take two of his digits in like you were built for it, slathering your tongue all over them and humming at the quick curse at your ear.

“So filthy,” he chuckles through a smile. As he slides his fingers out, he rubs them over your lips before clutching your chin. “I fucking love it.” 

You bite your lip before you can help it, knowing you won’t be prepared for anything he’s going to do to you. 

And you quickly learn how right you are. 

Yoongi seizes complete command of your body, fingering you at the perfect pace while latching lips onto your neck. Both movements cause you to tense up, your palms pressing into the bottom of his headboard and your back arching. 

Shit, it already feels so good and it’s only been seconds! 

Your legs are forced more open before Yoongi dips his digits in again, sliding up your drenched walls and laughing derisively at your throat.

“Sucking me off got you this wet, huh?”

Whimpering, you can only nod, shifting your hips to feel more of the friction he’s giving. You don’t know how aroused he looks as he watches your bouncing chest, but you do hear what he whispers. Because it emblazons itself on your neck. 

“What a whore.” 

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whine, thoroughly turned on and shuddering at the way his laughs slide down your column. Shameful, you admit to yourself that you can listen to him talk like that for hours. 

When he suddenly slaps your cunt, you lose it, feeling the strain in your body as a moan tries to escape your clenched teeth. 

Holy fuck, how are you already this close? Did you really attain this amount of arousal just by giving him head? You knew you were outright delighted but damn, his fingers see no resistance at all. 

The silver around your neck slides a little towards your collarbone. As you wonder why he decided to don you with his chains, Yoongi takes advantage and leans down, latching lips onto one of your nipples and pulling a moan from your throat. 

“Oh, my god.” 

You want to throw your hands around his neck. Dig your fingers in his angry locks. But the way your hands grip the headboard, you’re too afraid to let go. They feel permanently welded, and you can only tighten them as you thrash underneath him. 

He fucking knows it, too, taking his time to lick around your breast before nicking again. And with so many sparks filling your body to the brim, you already see the edge. It’s so close close close and you’re trying to get the right words out to tell him. 

He has the audacity to laugh, staccato puffs in your ear. “I feel you sucking me in. You can’t hide, baby girl.” 

“Fuck,” you gasp, knowing he’s completely right. But you can’t help it. Your body wants every inch of his and the friction is feeding the thrums in your core.

Yoongi suddenly grabs the back of your neck, holding you in place and causing your jaw to slacken. 

“Whose pussy is this?” 

What the fuck! You didn’t expect that. And you know how you want to answer, but your words come out ridiculously slurred from lust. 

“What was that?” 

“Yours! Oh, fuck…” 

“Mmhmm.” With one final stroke, he agrees, “All mine.”

Pure light wipes your vision as you come, groaning through your lips as your body snaps into place. Your arms are taut, straining as you squeeze his headboard like a lifeline. Over and over and over, your cunt clenches around Yoongi’s fingers, and he hums above you, long and rough. 

It doesn’t matter that you end up a panting mess, nor does it matter that your legs are yelling to be closed. Because he’s already keeping an agonizing pace on your throbbing walls without reprieve.

“Yoongi!”

“You wanna be a cumslut so bad? Prove it.” 

“Fuck—”

“Taking my dick and my fingers so well.” He slaps your cunt again, and the squelch it makes will embarrass you even days later. “Still such a whore for me.” 

Fuck! 

You don’t know why the hell that turns you on, but it does. Goddamn, it does, and he knows how much it affects you by the way you milk his fingers despite already coming. 

He laughs even deeper this time, and it sends shivers down your chest all the way to your toes. Watching the way you writhe beneath him, he goads, “That’s it, doll. Fuck, I love seeing you in my shit.”

“Yoong—”

“Almost wanna show you off.”

Damn, you want that, too. Holy shit, you want the same thing, and just imagining that being a possibility gets you frighteningly close to another edge. 

And you need the plunge. No one will take that away from you. Even him. If he edges you even once, you’ll finish your goddamn self.

“Yoongi, I’m close.”

“Then come for me, love.”

Your coil snaps again, harder than the last and making you a shuddering mess. Later, you’ll think about what he said, but your mind is completely void for now. Tears start leaking out of your ducts from the onslaught of pleasure wracking your bones, and you let out a quick sob from feeling so overwhelmed.

Yoongi’s saying things in your ear again, but you really can’t discern them. Praises, insults, anything in between—you don’t know. All you know is that your brain is exploding with lust and satisfaction and you don’t know when the high will ever subside. 

But, after an eternity and a half, you start to float back onto soft, damp sheets. Your muscles relax bit by bit, and the fingers above your head unlatch from the dark wood of his headboard. 

Fuck. Your hands hurt. But you slowly close them to combat the strain. 

With your eyes slipped shut, you’re surprised to feel Yoongi’s lips on yours, inhaling shock through your nose at the second stolen kiss of the night. Instead of your palms, you reach to place your wrists on his shoulders, twisting your body to press fully into his front. 

His heartbeat…

It might be quicker than yours. 

Softly, one of your hands is cradled in his fingers before your palm is rubbed with care. One circle, then another, and another. Voice so deep that it’s more of a rumble than a sentence, Yoongi asks, “Do they hurt?”

“A little,” you admit. “But you’re helping.” 

“Okay.” 

You don’t know what time it is, but you don’t exactly care. It could be any hour of any day and you would still banish the rest of the world from your mind. Because it only exists in this moment. With him massaging your hand while carrying tiny moons in his eyes. 

He’s ethereal.

“You don’t have to stay tomorrow.” 

Blinking hard, you struggle to comprehend what Yoongi just said. 

What? What did he mean by that? 

Your heart rushes up your bruised throat before you squeak out, “Why not?” 

Yoongi kisses your forehead. “Your friends on your case. Spend time with them. Don’t worry just cus of me.” 

Oh. He doesn’t know that you took care of that.

Why does he have to be so considerate? This doesn’t make things easy.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, reaching with your free hand to cradle his cheek. “I was gonna see them… But after this week, since…” 

He just watches you. 

“Things’ll go back to normal.” 

Yoongi darts his eyes across your face, silent. When he only nods, a piece of you breaks, but you try your hardest not to let him see it. 

There won’t be time for walks, or water fights, or waking up to his arm around your waist. Because this week reserved a pocket universe in time—a space just for the two of you to have. And it’s one you truly don’t ever want to leave. 

From the way that Yoongi claims your lips, you want to think he feels the same. It’s at least nice to keep pretending.

But you know he’s doing it to make you feel better, though it devastates you all the same. 

Because a week is quickly not becoming enough. You want more time. You need it. 

Yoongi stops with a breath, and runs a hand along the side of your head.

“Get some rest, doll.”

“You, too.”

“I will,” he whispers. “And listen. About tomorrow.” 

“Hmm?”

He stares at you just a bit longer, caressing your cheek and keeping his mouth shut. 

It’s strange. You’ve only been able to read him a few times before. But now, you’re sure that you see a thousand thoughts run across his eyes, and they remind you of meteor showers you used to watch outside when you were young. When life wasn’t complicated. When the furthest thing from your mind was a broken heart. 

But at his next words, your heart swells. 

And you don’t need to worry about it breaking just yet.

“I’m all yours.”

…Maybe Reia was right.

-

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tbc. :) 

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A/N: ahhh. so. how did it go? LOL i feel like it’s been so long since Stay, but it’s only been two-ish months. whoa! also.. typing with acrylics should be an olympic sport and if you do this regularly you have my utmost respect LOLL that shit was so hard while writing a majority of this chapter! A/N 2: as always, thank you so much for all of the support. whether you’re new, or an OG, i truly appreciate you being here and going on this journey with me and the 3tan crew. and for the people wanting angst, welp. here’s a glimpse of what that entails dkldkjdjf see you all in “the week, pt. 2!” ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

#HI HELLO!! #bts #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bangtanbathhouse #btshoneyhive #bangtansorciere #*ryenfictalk #ryenwrites #*latest #3tan6 #oh gosh i hope yall enjoy! #i dunno how i blazed through this one but it happened #bts smut

[missgryffin]

Accidental Magic 🪄

A @jilymicrofics using all of the May word prompts. Also, a special shout-out and thank you to @redrobyn285 for sending me the prompt "accidental magic 🪄" which turned out to be a perfect title for this fic 😘 2.3k words. Rated T for language. Read below & on AO3.

A soft knock on the door to the prefects’ lounge echoes around the empty room. 

“Yeah,” she grits, wand in her teeth as she pins the next month’s patrol calendar to the notice board.

Focused as she is on her task, she doesn’t even register the footsteps behind her until a hand appears from somewhere over her shoulder to hold the pesky falling corner of the parchment in place. Her skin bristles, throat closing with nerves. She’d recognize that hand—that wrist, that fucking rolled sleeve—anywhere.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, Lily focuses her attention on swiftly pinning the other corners of the calendar so she can take her wand back out of her mouth and say, “What are you doing here?” 

(It is, after all, no longer Friday night but early Saturday morning, and the prefects’ lounge isn’t anywhere near Gryffindor Tower, where she’d last known him to be helping his mates set up for a common room party with a few crates of alcohol they’d mysteriously procured.)

She has no other choice but to turn around and face him, so she does—and finds her nose mere inches from his chest. 

James quietly clears his throat and takes a small step back, hands stuffing into his pockets. “I, uh…wanted to talk to you.” 

Foreboding rises in her chest, and before she can get out a smart-arse remark about him stalking her with that damned map he and his friends made, he adds with a little smirk, “About Charms.”

Uncomfortable heat pricks at her neck—he knows—but she feigns calm aloofness as she asks, “How’s Cressida?”

He shrugs—“Fine”—and Lily makes to skirt around him, but his hand darts from his pocket to close lightly around her wrist. 

“Lily, c’mon.” 

She meets his eyes, bronze in the blazing light of the hearth. After building a sort of quasi-friendship with him in sixth and now working with him as head students in seventh, she’s learned how to read James Potter. His expressions, his humor, his moods. And though she thinks he’s a little annoyed with her just then, he also seems mostly…amused?

“What?” She nods toward the grandfather clock nestled atop the room’s random wardrobe, painfully aware of how he’s still holding onto her. “It’s dawn in a few hours. Don’t you have a date you need to be rested for?”

Fleeting surprise—parted lips, raised brows—settles into a dimpling smirk. “Actually, no,” he quips, finally dropping her hand to cross his arms over his chest. “Seeing as my date’s being kept in the hospital wing this weekend, that’s been, ah, cancelled.” 

Her mouth opens, closes, before saying lamely, “Oh.” After a beat of silence, she remembers her manners. “That’s…unfortunate.” 

He pulls his lips under with a little hum. 

She doesn’t particularly want to ask—she’d really rather leave this conversation and forget it ever happened—but she’s so uneasy that she can’t bear not knowing. 

“If, um…if she’s fine, then…why is Pomfrey keeping her?”

James fixes her with a direct sort of look and then says, with the hint of a chuckle, “Because you inflated her to the size of Hagrid.”

Her stomach drops, nerves twisting uneasily through her body. 

“You might’ve set a record,” he goes on, as casual as if he’s recounting the day’s homework as he settles on the edge of the arm of a nearby sofa. “’S far as I know, no one’s ever been ballooned that bad in class—” 

“I didn’t—”

James ignores her, shrugging as he continues nonchalantly, “Her earwax is messed up, or something—didn’t deflate properly, I dunno, Pomfrey wants to watch her—”

Guilt roils her insides. The image of elegant, graceful Cressida Clearwater, a Ravenclaw in their year, inflating like a balloon with an inhuman shriek had haunted her since it happened earlier that afternoon. And what made it all the worse was the knowledge that, the moment before Cressida started to inflate, Lily had felt her inner turmoil boil over into a spurt of unintended magic. 

“No one suspects, by the way. Even Amelia’s convinced she accidentally cast the Inflating Charm by mistake.” His brow wrinkles in thought. “Not sure how she thinks she did that, mind, the wand movement of a Bubble-head Charm’s totally different...” 

Her jaw clenches, nails digging into her palms, as her mind races and wars over how to respond to all this.

“Anyway.” James’s voice softens as he says, “You know, you went so pale, I was actually more concerned about you dropping in a dead faint than I was about Cress floating toward the ceiling.”

An entirely uncouth snort bursts out of her nose, and she hastily slaps a hand over her mouth, stifling the inappropriate giggles threatening to bubble up. 

James chuckles lightly with her before adding, “And then when you didn’t look like you were going to faint anymore, you...looked like you were trying not to cry.” 

She doesn’t know what it is. The openness on his face, like he’s more curious than judgmental. The way he’s read her, seen her, so thoroughly. The fact that it’s nearly three o’clock in the morning. The shame that’s been eating at her since class, all the worse for how she’s spent the past week mourning the possibility of a relationship she’d only recently started to hope for. The bizarrely rebellious urge, after holding her feelings in for so long, to just lay them all bare. 

For whatever reason, the truth spills out: “I didn’t mean to.”

His face betrays his surprise. 

Unable to look at him, she watches her wringing hands as she explains, “I didn’t…actually cast anything. I just—Mary and I were next to her and Amelia, and I could hear their conversation, and I was so…”  Jealous. Heartbroken. Angry. She shakes her head, refocusing herself. “I just...lost control, I guess. And the next thing I know, she was…” Her words trail off with a little wave, but he knows what happened next. 

A slight furrow creases his brow. “You were so what?” 

She blinks. “What?”

“You said, I was so, but then you didn’t say what you were.” 

Why does he have to be so fucking detail oriented? 

“Well, I—I lost control.” 

He only arches a disbelieving brow and presses, “For no reason?” 

Lily rolls her eyes, trying to maintain a cool facade despite being uncomfortably hot under the pin of his gaze, and asks, exasperated, “What does it matter? It was an accident.”

For the first time in this whole exchange, James looks genuinely irritated as he gazes distantly into the fire across the room, jaw tensing—and it twists her insides even more. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, words stumbling over themselves. “I mean it, James. Obviously you were looking forward to tomorrow, and you have every right to be angry—” 

“I’m not—” His jaw flexes with frustration, and he gives a little shake of his head. “I’m not angry that the date’s off.” 

She frowns, not following. “Then—”

He pinches the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses, eyes closing with an exasperated sigh as he mutters, “I’m angry at myself.”

Lily waits, expecting him to elaborate, and when he doesn’t—when he just watches her with that melancholy bronze stare—she prompts, “I—I don’t—”

But James only slumps forward, elbows resting on his knees as his hands rake through his hair.

“James—”

“I wanted it to mean something.” 

The words are spoken so quietly she barely hears them, yet they root her where she stands. 

He’s staring at his folded hands, resolutely not looking up in her direction, and his voice sounds like it’s on the edge of cracking as he continues, “I thought...I could tell it was you, and I didn’t know if it was a dare, or a prank, or what, but I thought—I wanted—it to mean you…” 

Her heart slams against her ribcage; every part of her body tenses, waiting. 

He shakes his head, exhales, “Never mind,” as he pushes to his feet, and then strides past her. 

She grabs his wrist with a reflexiveness that surprises herself, stalling him at her side. His skin there is smooth, warm, and the contact scatters butterflies up and down her limbs. She doesn’t even intend on telling him, doesn’t think through whether she should; her sole thought in that moment is simply, don’t leave, and the byproduct of that is her mouth spills, “Your date.” 

His stillness tells her he’s listening. 

“Cressida and Amelia, they were talking about…” She swallows, tongue thick now that she’s fully aware of what she’s confessing. “About your date. How excited she was that you said yes. Where she thought you’d go. How she planned on letting you…” She gulps again. “Erm…snog her. If you tried.” 

It had been the straw that had, quite literally, broken something in her. After months of building a rapport with him that felt like it had been skewing more flirty than friendly; after weeks spent accepting the swirl of lust and attraction that the mere sight of him stirs in her body; after the initial blow of him accepting a date with someone else (news that caused her, humiliatingly, to knock over her mug and slosh coffee all over her lap at breakfast), and then the inescapable ache that followed as the publicity of that date grained traction…

Well. Hearing Cressida subtly brag about the, ahem, action she expected to follow her date with James—after days of the hope Lily had been tending getting pummeled to mush—had snapped the last thread of self-control Lily had. 

She peeks up at him; he’s already gazing down at her, a thoughtful expression painting his face.

“And that…” he starts, eyes searching hers. “You said you were so…” 

Tears well out of nowhere, just enough to sting. She blinks rapidly, looking anywhere but his face. Really, the irony of falling for him once he didn’t have feelings for her anymore is punishment enough—he wants her to admit to them, too? For what, pride? Ego? So he can report back to Cressida when he visits her in the hospital wing later? 

His hand slides into hers. “Please,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I need to hear you say it.”

Her chest burns, heart jumping amidst the choking haze of all the shame, guilt, hurt, and confusion swirling there—and it makes her sound defensive, foolish, as she snaps thickly, “What, that I was jealous?” 

It doesn’t make an ounce of sense, but everything in his face softens just then, and that sexy little half-smile she’s come to adore is now aimed at her. 

“Yeah,” he answers, and she hears the hint of that signature James Potter smugness back in his voice; it makes the knife that he lodged in her heart when he said yes to Cressida twist for what feels like the thousandth time. 

“Why?” Her words taste bitter. “What difference does it make?” 

“Wh—” He scoffs, disbelieving, and she yanks her hand out of his. “Lily—”

“It’s hard enough,” she chokes out, the sight of him blurring through her welling tears, “to watch you go out with her and pretend like it doesn’t bother me, we really don’t need to talk about it—” 

James cuts her off—“No, we do”—and recaptures her hand, this time threading their fingers together. She looks at them, entwined like they belong to fit this way, and isn’t sure she’s ever felt her skin ache for someone like this. 

“I thought,” he says gently, “that you just wanted to…y’know. Be friends. I mean, I wondered, if you fancied me back, but…” 

Lily’s heart flips at that phrase—fancied me back—and she stares, hanging on his every word with bated breath.

A blush dusts his cheeks as he gives a little shake of his head. “It just seemed like you…only wanted to be friends, so…” 

She swallows hard. “I...thought you only wanted to be friends.” 

He peers down at her, gaze soft. “No,” he whispers, eyes lowering meaningfully to her mouth. 

Her head swirls, dizzy, giddy, from the turn this moment’s taken. She drifts closer, then tucks her wand into the back pocket of her jeans so she can slide her free hand up his chest, deliciously solid under the soft flannel he’s wearing over a thin Montrose Magpies t-shirt. His forefinger hooks gently under her chin, tilting her face toward his. This close, she can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. Wordlessly, she curls her fingers into a fist of fabric at his chest to anchor herself, and then she pushes up onto her tiptoes and brushes her lips over his. 

In her weeks of coming to terms with having feelings for him, Lily had daydreamed aplenty about kissing James: what it would be like, the different scenarios in which it could happen. The real thing is unlike every expectation.

He’s not showy, not putting on a grand gesture, not leading with the commanding authority she’s grown used to seeing him wield on the Quidditch pitch and in the corridors. Instead, he’s tender. Almost…shy. He holds her face with the delicacy of handling rare porcelain, and the press of his lips back against hers is so soft that the faint scratch of his evening shadow tickles instead of burns. She smiles against his mouth, and James rests his forehead on hers, hands letting go from where they hold onto her only to wrap her in a hug around her waist. 

Her heart swells. 

“Do you feel this?” he asks, breathless. 

She knows instantly what he means: there’s a charge between them, something fluttering hotly under her skin, like a current that swept them up the moment they waded just close enough. If she had her wand in her hand just then, she wouldn’t be surprised to find it glowing.

“Yeah,” she whispers back, arms looping tightly around his neck. “I feel it, too.”

#missgryffin writes #accidental magic #jily #jple #jily fanfiction #jily microfic

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Your choice of SPN character has been hit with a curse of Endless Chatter. Write one run-on sentence of dialogue for them (until your own stream-of-consciousness runs out!).

Hey, Sammy, how about we jump in the car & go take a drive, like, to Colorado or some place, I'm thinking mountains, but I could be convinced to find a beach somewhere, maybe somewhere warm, sand between our toes, ya know, how long has it been since we've taken some us time, because I cannot remember the last time we were able to just kick back & relax, although, hey, remember that time down in Key West when we... shit, you know what, I don't really remember much of our time in Key West, hahaha, that was a good trip, even if I did end up needing antibiotics, no, don't give me that dirty diaper look, it was a good time, a GREAT time, and you seemed to be all smiles for days too, at least all the way up to Jacksonville where we ran into that ghoul, ew remember the pit full of bodies it had hoarded, god that was disgusting, although at least they were already piled up so we could burn them all at once without having to touch them, I really surprised the fire department didn't show up because that was one hell of a blaze once we got it going, it smelled like barbeque, which was super disturbing, always is, OH and then we found that BBQ joint on the way through Mississippi and you didn't want to stop, said I was gross for even thinking about ribs, but they turned out to be, like, the best ribs and it was just this little shack by the road, which is weird because it seems like there is a direct link between the quality of food and shadiness of the location serving it, but not all the time because there was this taco place in Tucson that gave me the runs for days, but the giveaway on that was the cockroaches, which I really wish I had noticed before I ate those tacos, but a shady, rundown building in a bad part of town tends to equal great food, but if there are cockroaches... run, why aren't you eating, is your rabbit food not leafy enough or something, maybe you should order a burger, all that fiber cannot be good for you, you're a big guy you need more protein in your diet, hey, excuse me, can we get another burger over here, bacon and cheese, please, and another milkshake, oh hey, do y'all still have pie, last time we came through her you had pie, cherry I think, and it was AMAZING, so if you have pie can I get a piece, thanks, a burger will get you feeling bet... why are you looking at me like that, is there something, do I have something on my face, no, what the hell, Sam, you haven't said anything since we got here, and I know I'm the one that got hit by the whammy but that doesn't mean I should be doing all the heavy lifting conversation-wise, and you've got to know a counter-hex that will fix this, right, because my throat is actually starting to get a little sore and, I dunno, I feel like I'm running out of things to talk about like this one time, I think you were at Stanford when this happened so you may not know this already, but stop me if you've heard it before, HA, like you could stop me from talking at the moment, that's funny in a really not funny kind of a way and seriously would you stop just staring at me like that and fucking do something already, other people are starting to stare too, like that guy in the Henry Blake hat over there, what's he been fishing or something, what's up with all the fishing hooks in a hat, that's like asking to get one stuck through your finger, and anyway, so this one time I was, shit, I don't even remember where it was, someplace with, not cactuses, bu they like cactuses, you always used to correct me on what they were called when we were kids, what was that... gah, whatever, it'll come to me, but the place was dry and dusty and flat and there was this abandoned-looking gas station that, I shit you not, had the best toilets, like they weren't made of gold or anything, because they would have been stolen, but they were clean, weirdly, immaculately clean, like the whole bathroom was shiny and squeaky and practically glowed, open the door at night and you could probably see the reflection in space, did you know that astronauts have to use a vacuum to pee, they pee into a vacuum...

#did y'all know that there is a 4096 character limit per text block? #well you do now #anon asks #lol this was fun

[ohnoitstbskyen]

So I'm thinking about doing Business

I'm going to experimentally pay for Tumblr's "Blaze" on one of my posts to see what the effect is, if any. I don't plan to use it often, but if I'm using this site as part of my silly little content creator job, maybe it makes sense to advertise some things?

I don't even know what it would make sense to use that feature on, either... posts with my official video releases? Stuff like that article I wrote about the experience of going viral? ... posts about my merch store? (oh god I don't want to advertise the merch store, I haven't added anything to it in ages).

Anyway, if you see one of my posts with a "promoted" tag on it, that's why. Just figuring out if that's something that should be part of my job on here. There are some extended personal reflections on using Tumblr for My Job™ below the cut.

On the other hand, Twitter was never that much of a Business Platform for me, either. That site and app is insanely bad at driving traffic anywhere else, which is part of why its ad revenue was so low depite the huge user base. Getting people to click away from Twitter to anywhere else is like pulling teeth, even for people with million dollar marketing budgets, and so I just... kinda never tried, really. Partly because it never seemed worth the work, partly because it was my personal Twitter before it accidentally became my Business Twitter.

Tumblr in that regard is different though. Four years ago, someone posted an outtake from a shitpost video I did laughing myself half to death over an article about how millennials are killing mayonnaise. That outtake went some degree viral on Tumblr, and that virality did prompt a lot of people to go find the full video on YouTube, making it briefly the most successful video on my whole channel.

So I dunno. Maybe it makes sense to use Tumblr for Business™ in that way. Not that I think I can manufacture a viral hit, of course, but maybe paying to have my work shown to more people on here could be worth it? I guess I'll find out once that Blaze goes through the moderation.

It sorta ties in with a broader pre-post-Twitter reflection I've been having about how I use social media, though.

I don't want to be my job

My personal twitter became my business twitter entirely by accident, and while it was fun at first to have thousands of followers on my personal shitposting, it wasn't fun at all in the long run. At a certain point, usually somewhere past the 10k follower boundary (or if you had the misfortune of having a pre-Elon checkmark), people stop treating you like a person or a fellow poster, and start treating you like a brand, a celebrity (however minor), like a Public Figure. And on the one hand that's good, kinda, because if you have a larger platform, you do deserve more scrutiny. On the other hand, it means you can't be a person on your own social media.

Dark humor, in-jokes, dumb shitposts with friends, dunking on some random hot take, all of that starts to come with the danger that some stranger, who is determined to misunderstand what you post in the absolute worst possible faith, will see it and start yelling about it.

And if, as a person who has a bigger platform, you yell back at them, or dunk on their bullshit... yeah, there's a real risk that you're the one being the bigger asshole, actually. When you have a big Twitter audience, you have some responsibilty for what happens to the things you put in front of that audience. And if you have fans, they might want to defend you, and if you have a lot of fans, some percentage of them aren't going to know how to act or where the line is, and go way the fuck too far.

It's the reality of having a public profile. People will come at you in absolutely wild ways, accusing you of saying absolutely insane things that they have derived from truly deranged (often willful) misinterpretations, and you can't respond to that like a person responds, or you run the risk of being the one who does more harm.

And so you can't be a person on your social media anymore. You now have to be a Public Figure, and if you don't figure that out you're gonna get in trouble. I should have made a private friends-only account on Twitter far, far earlier than I did, I should have made an official brand account far, far earlier than I did. But the only way to know that is in hindsight.

... which leads me back to Tumblr. I've been thinking about Doing Business™ on Tumblr - Blazing my posts, doing SEO, promoting my brand and all that other shit that technically comes with the job I ostensibly have.

I fled back here when I saw Twitter start to torch itself, because I need to post somewhere, but do I need to post for myself, as a person?

Or do I need to post because I am TBSkyen the YouTuber and posting is part of my job, my brand and my online personality which I crafted as a layer of separation between myself and the audience but which has at this point become so entangled with my real self that I don't know the boundaries between them anymore?

Am I going to look back on this and realize, as I did on Twitter, that I should have made a private, friends-only Tumblr account right from the start, and not mixed the personal with the professional and with Posting? I have around 2000 followers right now and this is still fun and casual, but what happens if I manage to luck myself into a real following again? When am I going to dunk on something I think is dumb and cause the person who posted it to receive actionable threats because someone who likes my videos doesn't know how the fuck to act?

Anyway, this is the kind of shit that gets powerblasted through my brain when I pay $10 to make some more people see one of my posts on a website - how's your morning going?

#tb blog #personal post #youtube #being a public figure is weird #there is no such thing as being an ethical youtuber if i'm being realistic #but i'm still going to agonize over attempting to be one #of course i'm only posting this to make myself look good and boost my brand awareness and parasocially manipulate my audience #and then monetize that parasocial connection and use my fans as a shield from reasonable criticism #my plan to enter bourgeoisie proceeds without hindrance #are these tags contrite self awareness or just another layer of manipulation?? #seriously though don't invest youtubers with too much of your trust we will eventually let you down #listen to bo burnham: if i'm not entertaining you and giving you what you need then kick me to the curb

[woetoy]

Anon art human again, I mean finding views or just acknowledgement for you art, I'm broke and either way wouldn't feel right blazing the nsfw stuff I draw but it gets no traffic or notes. Idk leaving an ask was impulsive but I really respect your art and was curious how you got your followers, if it was more a waiting thing or you found the right areas to post.

I dunno, it probably takes patients to get attention but finding motivation to make good art and then getting nothing but emptiness and boredom at the end of the process isn't motivating lol. Anyways Im thankful for your response and apologetic cause I got this trigger instinct to just blurt my questions to the cool artist I found on tumblr, and I'm sorry for bothering you so

No worries, I just felt bad that I didn't understand ya!

Getting noticed depends on a lot of things. I've had several accounts through 12 years spent on this site, and this one is the first that kinda popped off!

Do you make art that has crowd appeal? As in, is it a little silly, cute or relatable? Does it have a story behind it besides looking pretty? Is it attached to a fandom? Are you making stuff for an underrepresented niche? I often see people make something that is technically impressive, or their personal best, but it doesn't get shared too much because it lacks that appeal. It sounds harsh, I know, but it happens to me too. Until recently, my most popular piece was a doodle I banged out in an hour - just how it is, but I'm happy it resonated with people! You can have a look around at what other people post and see which posts of theirs do better or worse as well.

I don't follow the rule of posting at specific peak times, or posting every day. But I do try to tag stuff appropriately. Tumblr only uses the first 5 tags from your post in the search function, the rest you use for categorizing for your blog. So if you're starting out, it really is a waiting game until someone notices and shares your stuff, unless you have a buddy that can boost you.

I come here to have fun, I make art for me and if other people like it - awesome! I don't really optimize that well for social media reach, I just have my characters and their little stories. I do my specific niche of porn/kinks that are fun for me to draw and talk about. It helps that I have a more solid art style now than I did when I started. Apparently I've been doing NSFW for the past 7 years, and early this year is when it took off on tumblr.

To counteract the emptiness, it helps to have friends to bounce ideas around with or to make characters together with. It's why I create, really. I do it with friends because that's what I find fulfilling. And then I feel driven to draw and post about it as well, and that's been true all this time for me.

I hope you can find fulfillment as well, I think it does come through sometimes if a piece was made for reach or from personal joy. I for sure see that in ancient fanart I've done, I hate those pieces. But the personal stuff that I did for fun is still cute to me, even if it did get at most 5 notes way back when.

Sorry if my thoughts are jumbled. But yeah, this is what I do and what worked for me. But it's always different person to person. Much luck in your endeavors!

#woetxt

[beepen]

Kiss me Kiss me, Mine Mine Mine.

GhostSoap that was just supposed to be about kissing but then it got out of control. Dunno how that happened.

This is NSFW so that means the rest of it will be on AO3 over here where there are proper warnings as well.

Summary: Soap wants to eat and eat and never come up for air ever again.

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

Kissing Ghost is different.

It’s a calling, a gravitational pull. Nothing else could ever force Soap into subordination, but those lips? He is helpless against them, wonders if maybe that’s the reason for the mask. If anyone else paid witness to that mouth, tasted even a fraction of it, would they suffer a similar bewitchment? The thought irritates him. Makes him want to lash out at anyone who stares at Ghost just a second too long, choke anyone who questions the mask and voices their curiosity. More than that, he wants to chomp down hard onto Ghost’s neck, sink his teeth in until he tastes blood, staring—wild and feral—at everyone, a warning growl clawing through his chest. 

Mine. 

Mine. 

But the kisses will do. His trust in Ghost is enough. The man is just as insane, just as possessive; Soap knows there is no one else. No one else can handle him like Soap can. No one else can kiss him, taste him, eat him, swallow him whole. Only Soap. Only Johnny.

“Only me,” Soap snarls against that hot mouth, tasting iron on his tongue. Lips are moving against his own, wet and warm and bloody. 

“Only you.” 

Soap feels the words more than he hears them, gulping down every syllable like he’s parched, like he’s been dragging his body through the desert and it’s the first drink offered to him.  

He can’t remember when he’s ever been this riled up before, or why it’s only ever been Ghost who can elicit such a response from him. His past partners have nothing on the Ghost. Soap has never wanted anyone this bad in his fucking life. 

They’re pressed so close together, like they’ll die if they separate, pulling, tugging, growling, grinding, biting biting biting. A spasm zips through Soap’s spine when Ghost finally bites him back, nearly melted out of his body from his ears when he was bit that first time. No one ever bit him back. But Ghost did, and he does now, and he always will, and Soap can’t feel his fucking legs. 

“Simon. Simon. I need—” 

I need to eat you.

Clothes are ripped off and he’s pressed against the door, then the wall, then his bed. Or Ghost’s bed. He didn’t catch the number on the door, nor does he even remember the path they took to get here. But Ghost is crawling on top of him, and Soap will always remember that, that heavy look in those eyes, blazing. Ghost wants him just as bad. Needs him. He even says so, whispers it against Soap’s jaw like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like doting on Johnny takes no effort at all from a man who has probably the worst trust issues in the world. Soap’s entire body is shaking, his own heart bouncing off the walls of his chest. 

Read the rest here! NSFW WARNING

#ghostsoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #Simon riley #john mactavish #my writings

[if-mirrormine]

homecoming (the remix)

summary: grayson's pov of the call he receives from nora in chapter one.

pairing: grayson x mc

word count: 982

based on these two posts, 1 & 2, and this ask (in this order): if its not bother uhmmmm the full Drabble for grays reaction to the call n his ya know pov when he actually got there n saw mc 😶

**unedited//it's 4 am and i tried my best :)**

traffic is slow. grayson sits in the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the other in his hair. kelsey sits next to him, fiddling with the radio.

"where are we going?" she asks as she switches the radio station, listens to two seconds of the song that's playing and switches it again.

"nora's," he replies, glancing at the radio briefly to see his partner flick through stations without even looking at what's playing.

"i don't want to go to nora's," she grumbles.

"then why did you get in my car?"

"dunno." she seems to settle on a station and sits back in her seat, though not ten seconds go by before she reaches for the buttons again.

with a grunt, he reaches over and switches the radio off completely, silence blooming in its place. "i'm not in the mood, kels."

she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "forgot i was in the presence of detective grump today."

he takes a deep breath, his own rebuttal burning on his tongue when his phone rings. glancing at the screen, he's sees that it's nora and he's quick to answer it.

"hey, nora," he says. "i'm on my way, i've just left." he glances briefly at his partner and he begins to question whether his choice to let her come along on today of all todays was the right one. "i've got kelsey with me." his phone being connected to his cars bluetooth, the sniffle that comes from the other end of the line is damn near deafening and grayson looks at the radio in concern as if faced with nora herself. "nora?"

"grayson," she says eventually, her voice cracking. "i think... i think i'm having a stroke."

"what? what happened? where are you?"

she takes a shuddering breath and for the second time in his life, grayson prepares himself for the worst. "it's... mc. they're here."

kelsey looks at him, brown eyes blown wide and he's positive his own expression of shock mirrors hers.

he pauses, taking another deep in a poor attempt to calm his racing heart. "what do you mean, nora?" he says slowly, though the underlying urgency in his voice betrays him.

"they just... showed up," she says, taking another shaky breath before speaking again, fresh tears woven into her words. "please, grayson, i don't want them to disappear again."

grayson's own catch in his throat. the day he's longed for all these years has finally come and yet he can't find it in himself to do anything, say anything, almost as if paralysed with the fear that it's not real after all. how many times has he had this exact same dream? how many times has he woken up in a panic, hope coursing through his veins, only to relive the same heart break over and over?

someone's saying his name but too far away for it to really break through to him. he can already feel that same familiar hope swelling in his chest, filling his lungs, threatening to suffocate him and he wills it away. he wants it gone, because if there's no hope, there'll be no pain when reality comes crashing down.

he's suddenly pulled from his thoughts by kelsey's voice. "we're just five minutes away, nora; we'll be there soon," she says. "i promise."

the call ends and the woman in the passenger looks at him, eyes blazing. "what the fuck, donohue? the love of your life randomly appears again and you just check out?" he looks at her dumbfounded, his lips parted but the words lost. she waves a hand in front of his face. "hello? drive the fucking car, grayson."

when she doesn't get a reply out of him, she huffs and throws her seatbelt off before climbing out the car. he watches as she stomps around the front to his side, rips open his door and pulls him out before marching him to the passenger side and shoving him in. she then appears in the driver's seat, something muttered under breath that he doesn't quite catch before she starts the car, speeding his bmw down the street to their destination.

it's only when kelsey's pulls into the driveway that he snaps out of it and he jumps out the car before it's even come to a full stop. he hears his partner curse behind him but he doesn't stop to wait for her as he bolts for the front door, jist barely knocking before letting himself in. he rushes down the passageway, stopping just short of the living room entryway when he sees them. them. in front of him, in the flesh. and the hope reaches its peak.

they look up at him and a frown immediately takes shape on their features. "grayson? what are you doing here so early?"

his legs buckle beneath him and his knees slam into the hardwood flooring but the pain doesn't even register in his mind. because it's real, they're real and he can finally stop searching.

they've rushed to his side, words that he cannot comprehend leaving their lips as they look between him, kelsey and nora. funny, since he can't stop looking at them. they're so... beautiful. exactly how he remembers them. everything is perfect, as it should have always been, and he finds that after so long, he feels truly and utterly happy.

as if slow motion, he sees kelsey's hand reach out to them from behind him, a worn and folded paper slipped between her index and middle fingers that offers to the mc. he watches them take it from her, unfold it and look it, he sees their eyes widen in shock. and just like that, reality hits after all and his perfect bubble pops.

kelsey speaks up from behind him, her words hammering the final nail in the coffin. "mc... you've been missing for the past ten years."

#listen man im running out of titles here #does this fit the bill #god i hope so #im tired besties #gn #lmao #mm: grayson #mm: kelsey #mirror mine

[iibonniee]

Pool Boy (Lee Minhyuk x Fem!Reader) [Requested]

So for the plot and who for?

Uhm . . . hummmmmmmmmmm . . . I dunno who for, but I'm a sucker for meet-spicy fics myself. Like instead of meet-cute (which is also an acceptable choice!) it's like instant attraction flirting spicy fun :D  

Pairing: Minhyuk x Reader

Genre: Brother’s Best Friend AU, Non-Idol AU

Word Count: 535

Rating: 18+

Tags: fluff, semi-nsfw (not really), sorta crack fic

Masterlist

At this point in her life, she was a professional party crasher. All she needed was the address and she’d be there. One would think her brother would do a better job keeping her from finding out about the pool party, but then again, she didn’t call him an airhead for nothing.

It was the typical setup. Music. Alcohol. People on Snap and Insta showed the world how great their lives were. But her? She was itching to get in the pool because it was simply so fucking hot out. Her eyes were on the shimmering surface where people sat with their feet in the water. She weaved through the throngs of people who stood in groups. Once she double-checked that she had nothing of value on her, she jumped into the pool.

The water bit at her skin before sweet, soothing relief chilled it. It was times like this she wished she was a mermaid or something where she didn’t have to go up for air. She surfaced slowly, using the side of the pool as a guide, savoring the cold before the blazing sun hit her skin again.

“Oh, shit.”

The voice was close and unfamiliar. She quickly wiped her eyes, only to find out she was face to chest with a stranger. Hands steadied her by her arms and she looked up. The guy’s eyes were wide as he bit his bottom lip, openly checking her out and clearly liking what he saw.

“Hello, there.” She said with a smile.

He shook off the awe and turned up the charm, loosening his hold. She noticed then that she’d come up on the side of the pool directly between his legs. To anyone else, it looked like a couple simply having a private poolside chat. No one needed to know that they didn’t even know each other’s names. “Hello.”

The way he licked his lips made her shameless. “I don’t know your name, but I do know I wanna kiss you.” She tilted her head. “Can I?”

“I have to be dreaming,” he whispered before leaning in and brushing his lips against hers. The way her body buzzed at his touch before bursting into flames with his kiss guaranteed she’d make it her life’s mission to end up in his bed.

But before she could open her mouth to put the suggestion out there, the last face she wanted to see appeared.

“Y/N! What are you doing?!” She grimaced at her brother’s tone. “Go away.” She whined. “I don’t want to hear shit about–”

“And Minhyuk! My sister?!”

Wait. She looked at her future lover’s (she promised herself it’d happen, no matter what) face and felt a vague sense of recognition. Maybe she’d seen it once or twice in an Instagram post during one of her late-night doom-scrolling sessions. She never paid much attention to her brother’s posts.

Minhyuk’s attention was solely on her brother, trying to gauge just how much shit he was in. She put a hand on his cheek and turned his attention back to her. “Hey. If we both ignore him, we can make him disappear. He can’t stay mad at us forever. How about another kiss, hm?”

#kvanity #monsta x imagines #monsta x drabble #minhyuk drabble #minhyuk x reader #minhyuk imagines

[shikonstar]

From the upcoming chapter 5 of The Art of Falling in Tandem.

Inuyasha returns to Sango and Miroku for advice. Naturally, this is a regrettable decision.

Inuyasha plopped down on the couch, and Sango curled up in the squat armchair off to the side. She was wearing black leggings and a coral moisture wicking athletic top, which meant she didn’t have plans to go anywhere. Inuyasha relaxed, knowing that meant they had time to talk.

“So how is it going? She didn’t make a beeline for the animal shelter, so you can’t be doing too badly.”

Inuyasha squirmed on the couch. “It’s…going okay? I think? Fuck, this is part of the problem,” he sighed, the force of the air ruffling his bangs.

“Wait a minute!” Miroku’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Don’t get to the good stuff without me!”

“Miroku is a natural born gossip,” Sango said wryly. “He fits in perfectly with all of the other housewives in the complex.”

Before Inuyasha could voice his opinion about that, Miroku dashed into the room, hurriedly untying the pastry patterned apron with the words Stud Muffin blazed across the chest. He didn't even bother sitting down, instead choosing to stand in front of Inuyasha with an expression of maniacal intensity.

“Tease all you want, Sango, but he’s here for guidance two days in a row and I’m not missing out on a miracle of near divine proportions.”

“So glad that I can provide entertainment,” Inuyasha huffed with a roll of his eyes.

“Ignore him. What’s the problem? Isn't Kagome being receptive?”

Inuyasha ran his hands through his hair, his ear twitching as a few strands tickled the inner skin. “I think so, but I can't be sure. I mean, part of what I’m doin’ is purely instinct, and as a human I know Kagome doesn't have that. So I dunno how much she understands, or if I’m even sending the right signals.”

“What are you worried about?” Miroku asked. “You’ve got your looks. Your pretty face. And never underestimate the importance of body language!” This last was said over his shoulder, as he gave some bizarre combination of hip wiggle and thrust.

Inuyasha stated in slack-jawed shock, his face pale and stomach rolling like the time he had food poisoning on a human night. He looked at Sango beseechingly.

“Please. Never let him do whatever that was again.”

Sango motioned for Miroku to sit down at her feet as she explained, “He helped me watch the Suzumia girls from down the hall while they had a Disney marathon. Sorry about that.”

“Even if you didn’t appreciate the delivery, it’s still sound advice,” Miroku sulked.

“Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened so we’ll have a better idea of what is going on,” Sango suggested.

Thank fuck; at least one of his friends had sense.

#inukag #inuyasha x kagome #inukag fanfic #my work

[crusherthedoctor]

Sonic’s Diary: The Night Before

Date: 08/15

Mood: Mega Hyped

It's finally happening! After putting it on the backburner for what feels like forever, me and Tails are heading off to Viridonia tomorrow for a brand new vacation, and I'm psyched! Tails is excited too of course, it’s pretty adorable.

We've been holding it off for so long. TOO long, and believe me, it hasn’t been through lack of interest. We'd been meaning to go for ages, but y'know how it is... getting sucked in a book one day, planet gets frozen in time another day... not to mention all the other places I've explored in my free time. World's a big place, after all, and I don't want to miss a single part of it. Least of all this part!

Tails told me that Viridonia is one of the biggest islands in the entire world. Maybe even THE biggest. Sounds like I would have preferred it over my home as a kid, where it was nothing but coconuts. This place though? Way more than coconuts from the sound of it. The buildings are said to glow different colours depending on the time of day, and the waves are supposedly brighter than anywhere else on the planet. And that’s just the start of it... aw man, tomorrow can’t come soon enough!

Although, as much as I’m sure I’ll enjoy this trip... I can’t help but wonder if something might happen while we're there. It's the perfect vacation spot, so it should be a slam dunk, but Tails did mention that it’s been the subject of historical speculation for decades, and it’s apparently a hot spot for scientists. Memory's a little fuzzy on it at the moment - I’ll have to ask him again on the way there - but I think he mentioned something about the makers? I’m not sure what that refers to, but it sounds interesting... and also sounds exactly like the sort of thing that a loony would be interested in for the wrong reasons... and I tend to attract loonies wherever I go. Most of them look and sound like Eggman.

To be honest, I wouldn't exactly complain, since adventure's always been in my blood. But if things do end up taking a turn for the action, the real question is whether the culprit will be Eggman or not. Seriously, that guy never quits. Don't think he knows HOW to quit. Kinda reminds me of... oh geez.

Actually, I say that, but the coot's been quiet for some time now. Longer than usual for him. Everyone's been pretty relieved about that, and yeah, it's great and all... but I'm not sure how to feel about it. Maybe he finally decided to retire. Or maybe he's working hard on something stupid that I’ll have to forcibly dismantle. Experience has taught me which is more likely. Knuckles tries to see the good in everyone, bless his heart, but personally, I know better than to expect Egghead to change his ways, with how long he’s been at it.

Anyway, the plan is that it's just me and Tails. We wanted to include the others, but we were out of luck there. Amy and Cream went off the other day on a vacation of their own. Dunno where to, though. (I forgot to ask...) Knuckles predictably had reservations about spending quality time with yours truly, though he did sound rather curious about our destination... think I might have sensed a teensy bit of jealousy from him. Poor guy. I get the Master Emerald's important, but does he ever have second thoughts about the guardian life? I wouldn't dream of being shackled like that for all time. But Angel Island is a big place in its own right, and if it works for him...

The rest? Big's on a fishing trip world tour. Heard it's going well for him, so that's cool. Blaze is over in her world, and it's safe to assume she's busy with princess duties, whatever those may be. (There's lots of waving involved, right?) I even wanted to invite Shadow in the hopes of getting him to loosen up. I know, crazy, right? But I haven't seen him in a while either, and neither of us could get in touch with him. He must be contemplating somewhere... that sounds like something he’d do. I don't know what his interests are. I think he'd have the same reaction as Knuckles, so maybe it's for the best.

So yep, it's just the two of us. Which is A-OK with me. It's always sweet when we get to hang out together, just like the old days. I think Tails has been needing some R and R anyway, I've caught him beating himself up over the Eggman thing on the Lost Hex. Seems like he's worried that he's let me down... but that's just crazy talk, isn't it? I'm proud of my bro! Always have been, and I don't want him to forget that. He's earned this time off, and I'm gonna make sure he gets the full of it just as much as I do.

Well, I better catch some Z's. Early to bed, early to catch the first day of paradise. You can bet I’ll do my best to get some awesome photos. Maybe we'll meet a new pal as well, who knows? Look out Viridonia, the fastest duo alive is coming to pick you up like no other!

(PS: Pack some chili dogs and mint candy before we head off.)

(PSS: Try not to act like an obvious tourist.)

#Crusher's Fanfiction #Sonic the Hedgehog #Fanfiction

[boyakishantriage]

I could say a lot of things. I could inspire, enrage. Give hope. Calm. There's a lot of things I could do, that would help. That would fix. That could harm. And I've had a deep thought. And I've decided. I won't. Because. You all know.

We have been hunted like wild dogs, attacked mercilessly by a group of people who simply don't care. From the Jewish, to Gays, magical. And now us. Hybrids, a name we all despite or love. Or don't care for. I chose to be here, because I am a bitch.

And no doubt some of you are angry, sad. Grieving. Shock. Or unsure. Most of the crowd is unsure. So here's what I shall do. I will do what I always do.

I will give. Options. I shall lay the cards you know we have been dealt and I will ask. Bend, or fold.

So. Our first option. We FIGHT! WE KILL THE MURDERS, THE FIGHTERS THOSE WHO RAZED VILLAGES AND BURNED HOMES. THEY SHALL BURN AND BE KILLED! THROUGH BLOOD AND DEATH WE SHALL RISE!

But of course. We'd be fighting for the rest of our lives. As will our children. Likely our grandchildren will be in peace and even then, we'd merely move this curse forward.

Then. Peace. We shall take this, force humanity to live. And we shall suffer. But we all know what happened, the Jews, Gays. Etc.

We have seen what they did, what happened and so. A third option.

Peace, is a slow death. We will burn and boil if we submit and follow. And while it is true we shall be accepted, it will come at a cost. We shall move with the curse while we follow.

Violence, action it is bloody, messy and requiring deaths beyond imagining. We will blaze and must continue to blaze until we survive. We will burn.

And finally. Neither. The Jewish were an early group who did this, we join groups. We become people and we suffer. Relinquish the curse and join within society. The problem we all face. Is that we have no idea how we do that.

How do we not push this to another group, live as people we are and have it continue?

I don't know, but I do know. I'm gonna go burn kingdoms. I and I alone shall strike those who struck down my family and friends and I will take the power they stripped from all others for myself. I will be selfish, impatient, impulsive and I will bring death to those I deem to deserve it.

I say you all to run, hide. Or go to tell for all I care. If you wish, join me. Otherwise. Go fuck yourself. This ain't a leadership speech, this is me telling you all go fuck yourself. Thank you all for caring for me and helping me get to my feet. But kindly. Go fuck yourself.

I'm leaving.

"... Is this."

"only recording of my speech. This is two centuries before we made any advancement into the starts, unified into one civilization. And I give you. A copy."

"... What do you wish for me to do with this."

"For one, to take the damn USB. And for two. I dunno. Good day Mr president. President of the Milky Way coalition. I'll see you in Hell."

And with that. Aura begins.

#tag #Triage #Ask box open #humans are space orcs

[applebandito]

100% Kingdom Hearts 1 (Day 8)

Current Target: Proud Player

I awoke in darkness once again. In game this time. I chose shield and gave up magic once again. I also chose all of the answers that allowed me to leave for my journey at dawn which gave me maximum XP gain. One thing I noticed about Proud Mode off the bat is that Sora appears to be incredibly fragile. Like a strong wind would blow him over.

The heartless in the beginning gave him a gentle back scratch and I thought he was going to disintegrate. Sadly I don’t get to juice up like on Fisher Price difficulty. I didn’t die to the beginning heartless, however. That would’ve been truly tragic. No, I saved death for later. Instead I blazed through the opening as fast as I could while keeping up with cutscenes.

I’d be lying if I didn’t say the opening of this game does pique my interest still to this day. It gives the idea of something more grandiose on the horizon. Something bigger than me that’s happening. But before we know it we’re waking up on Destiny Island and being called a layabout by Kairi, a character that seems to do next to nothing for the entire series. She wants to see other worlds along with Sora and Sora’s hetero life mate Riku.

You’re also on an island with Wakka and Tidus from Final Fantasy 10 and Selphie from Final Fantasy 8. Something I strangely realized is how these three don’t have the same clown shoes our three main characters have. Also, the amount of sand on that beach means those shoes have to be uncomfortable.

Another thing I noticed while watching the cutscenes is how decent the game still looks. Sure it’s been uprezed and smoothed out for the remaster, but even watching old PS2 footage, the game has a charm about it that feels timeless. At any rate, the scamps talk about Kairi showing up one day and making them want to leave their home which I’d forgotten about. Then Riku throws fruit at Sora and talks about it being a destiny snack that he wanted to feed Kairi in order to...I dunno, date? Sora, please, consider getting a personality. That’s better than any cantaloupe.

Now we’re hurled at breakneck speed without warning into the magical Disney castle where Donald Duck goes to greet King Mickey only to find that his majesty fucked off and left a note with his dog. Donald goes to tell Goofy, clearly the most reliable person he could find to tell him about this letter. Unfortunately Minnie and Daisy overhear things and there’s an awkward moment.

Speaking of awkward moments, while hunting for Mushrooms, Sora runs into a creeper in a cave while he’s scribbling his fantasies onto a rock. He starts talking about worlds being connected and doors and has a really rad voice. He’s super cryptic about things and definitely in no way shape or form our primary antagonist for this game.

We finish getting shit for our raft after racing Riku to name the boat, which I happily named “Porkchop” after everyone’s favored cartoon dog. Kairi talks about charms that she’s making and also tries to get Sora to leave Riku behind. I also legitimately forgot that Sora had parents in this one. Or at the very least, guardians. I forgot someone had called him down for dinner but of course he’s gone because Destiny Island is getting it’s shit rocked by Heartless.

Also Donald and Goofy are trying to find someone called a keymaster as well as some dude named Leon. Sora gets a key then goes to a door and ends up in Traverse Town. All in all, the story so far is fairly basic but despite the campiness of these two vastly different art styles existing on the same disk, it’s still a fairly interesting start that I didn’t remember. So far, Proud Mode is also offering a bit more of a challenge, though it’s feeling a little skewed towards “difficult for difficulties sake” but it could be me.

At any rate, the exhaustion from all this attention needing to be paid has left me in a fatigue so now it’s time to rot my brain with pornography and sugary drinks.

#kingdom hearts #blog #platinum #playstation #playthrough #playstation trophies #word vomit #kh1 #losing my mind

[croakings]

wip blogging <3

(there are so many words under the cut)(don't mind this i'm Marinating)

hello and welcome to me talking about the latest thing that i'm writing! this will be neither succinct nor probably either comprehensible OR (consequently) particularly informative but that's ok. as always it's extremely up in the air whether or not i'll actually ever be able to Write It but i'm having a lot of fun developing the world and dithering through the first chapter so !!! yes.

here is the summary: The Last High Healer has been dead for over fifty years. The King to the West and his empire fell soon after her passing, leaving his country in shattered disarray even decades out from his time on the throne. The people of the Sacred Sands were lost, and all their land sealed to entry, at the hands of the same evil that stole security and order from that corner of the world.

It was the end of a trove of skills and knowledge cultivated for centuries; the end of a reign historic; the end of a civilization. Everyone knows that story.

It is not the right one.

the book is kind of about getting to the bottom of what actually happened there, but also it's about a guy named lan (L-A-N, not ian) who literally has nothing to do with that whole deal whatsoever and it does not matter to him even a little bit. everyone say hi lan. and now goodbye we'll talk about him more later.

some things! facts etc.

magic is here! technically everyone in the world can do magic, but it's like, i dunno,,,, making a fire. there are many ways to spark a blaze, theoretically an infinite number depending on how strict you are about how distinct the methods have to be, but in this analogy only one of them will ever be able work for you. you kinda just have to figure out what that method is, and how to do it both repeatedly and safely for fun and profit.

the analogy i used to explain magic to myself was actually "it's like whistling!" but whistling does not realistically hold the potential to make you explode. some things you really don’t want to have to learn through trial and error

the people who actually study/practice/learn to use magic are a significant minority, if you can believe that. for some reason. really inexplicable

teachers are even rarer

^no one wants to be exploded(etc) by children (or adults)

gods and spirits are also here! only sometimes though. they kind of got kicked out. some of them are sulking about this

most of them just left!

or well, the gods did. there are only 4 of them still kicking around at full capacity

the spirits are laying low(-ish) and occasionally pretending to be/getting mistaken for gods

religion is therefore weirder than you might think for a world where the higher powers(?) are literally and demonstrably out there somewhere (sometimes)! some people are like "the gods are a metaphor! :)" and some are like "God Literally Lives In My Backyard Someone Get It Out" and both of these groups very reasonably think the other side is completely insane

many more modern religions are just "made up" (not based around gods/ around gods that are or ever have been real)(these crop up for all the usual A Religion Happens reasons), many older religions are effectively obsolete (the gods/spirits they worshipped/were based around left or simply don't care anymore), and atheism is on a spectrum between "the gods aren't and/or were never actually 'gods'" OR "gods (and spirits) are entirely fake actually," which doesn't help the confusion

this doesn't matter to the story very much (lying) but i do think that it's funny.

^what i mean by that is the whole "the gods got banished" and "there are more religious viewpoints and schisms than there are people at this point" situation isn't a big deal most of the time, and we don’t actually get too far into it.

that being said our two main dudes are very much involved with spirits and the gods respectively, so like. that occurrence as a whole isn't Super Relevant, but the points of contention Super Are

also when i say “involved with gods and spirits”--- not in a They Are Divinely Chosen way or anything, the two of them are just pals with forces beyond their control and comprehension

lan is an atheist who lives in the woods part time to feed the spirits oats(etc). the other part of the time he lives in a town full of even bigger atheists who think he's insane for doing this

he just thinks the spirits are neat

(^ lie)

on the flip side! more specific facts.

one country/group of people is the chei (or the che'i i haven't fully decided how that works yet)(i'll be using "chei" here just bc that's infinitesimally quicker)

they're "the people of the sacred sands" from the summary, but they don't call themselves that, that's not the desert's name, and no one else called them that either until they got blasted

collectively they're not around very much (surprise! ik after the "they're all dead" part in the summary this may be shocking), but one of them is the other main person.

some facts about him (etc)!

his name is ehir

(he goes by sacha when we meet him for Reasons)(not Trans Reasons, the chei don’t really have a gendered language or society)(his gender is "what are you a cop?" and his pronouns are that one sonic comic that’s like “what are your pronouns?” “stop swearing at me” “we just use he/him for him and he doesn’t seem to care”)

he's the one who killed the high healer and the king to the west and also cursed(etc) the desert

he didn't actually do any of that

except the parts he did do. don't worry about it

anyway the chei are responsible for the 4 gods still around. ehir is besties with dahi who is the sun (among other things)

this isn't at all as impressive as it may sound. she is literally just hanging out like 99.9% of the time and the .01% of time she isn't she is Not very helpful

the other three goddesses are lai, nin, and ro(not her real name)! all four of them are over many other things but mainly those 3 are water, wind, and animals(/fate) respectively.

if you're like "where is earth" that's also technically dahi

not plants though. that's nin. she's like,,, everything living kicking around that is not animals. dahi is just the dirt n rocks

anyway fun fact! hilariously ehir also technically counts as an atheist.

at the beginning of everything, legend has it that the chei were like "we recognize that you're different from and in some ways much more powerful than us, but that doesn't mean you’re divine or get to tell us what to do" and also "we will shoot you with a spray bottle if you fuck with us" and dahi who is the head 'god' was like "lol so true bestie that's fair. we love folks who set boundaries" and that pretty much set the tone for everything forever

^ that's a joke and an oversimplification but the moral of the story is everyone except ro is Just Hanging Out

in their language the word for the equivalent of "god" is just like. literally translated as "very (a) person".

conlangs are hard so don't let this trick you into thinking i have my shit together, but More Technically it's [word for person][suffix denoting a higher degree of a given adjective] so actually it's more like "some guy (bass boosted)"

most of the chei lump gods and spirits together. some of them always refer to gods with another, higher degree of ((bass boosted)), but generally speaking that's only done when they feel the distinction is significant

a rule of thumb for the world in general is that gods are tied to people, and spirits are tied to places

this has no bearing on their power or even its source, necessarily, it's more just to say that gods can and in ye olden days very frequently did travel, and unless Something (usually bad) Happens spirits stick to like their tree or their lake or their wind or whatever.

this is because gods do not at all have physical bodies and spirits actually somewhat do (it's complicated)

gods are usually but not always stronger than spirits. watch out!

anyway! that's that. back to everything else

there are more gods than just the chei four, but the only other ones that like, Matter To The Story are surprises (ish) and the rest of them are.... effectively dead. they're on vacation. they went to the great globe in the sky

spirits are everywhere all the time but most of them are hiding under rocks. the shyest bug ever has perished in secret and it was the spirit of a mountain range

so! switching gears. politics!

there are like. 5-ish main kingdoms/countries on the continent

i say "ish" because the west is still constantly imploding. everyone is like "that can just be one thing" but really it isn't.

officially they do have just the one king currently, but he's not very good at his job and there are other and far more significant powers at play there.

no one else is swooping in to try to grab any chunks of that mess because then whatever they get will be their problem, and also the (former) empire very much does still have soldiers and many of them are Very Bored

i'm also counting the chei and their lands as one of the 5 countries, but the desert is effectively Not There and the plains one of the tribes lived in is just part of The West now, so. technically there are only 4(ish) countries

two of those 4 are monarchies (the West and a kingdom on the opposite coast), one used to be many countries and has no real overarching governing body (the gods being yeeted was the result of/sort of furthered an almost-apocalypse, so this area contains the majority of the continent and is largely a loose collection of city states with the occasional lord or coalition of lords), and one is....... kind of a theocracy.

that last one is the only country with an official educational institution specifically for magic

however, it only takes adults, and you're only allowed in if you already understand and can use your magic, so calling it an "educational institution" is honestly kind of a stretch. it's really more people following the school of thought of it counts as science if you write it down! fucking around and finding out.

theoretically there are instructors and such, and there is a nonzero amount of knowledge being gained and passed on, but,,,,,.

you know how it is with spaghetti.

the chei were (i sort of mentioned this earlier) a collection of tribes. most of them (tribe-wise, not numbers-wise) were nomadic, but they had like, plenty of cities and stuff too. their social structure is Kind Of A Lot but basically if there was a problem, it got escalated through various people as necessary. and if at the last level any party refused to accept whatever final judgement, the gods or an applicable spirit got called in to be like "suck it up".

which is to say they had many people who made decisions/were authorities on various things to various degrees, or had say in a given area to a given capacity, but no one person (or entity) was like, "in charge"

currently all of the countries are more or less at peace with each other, but politically there's A Lot Going On.

don’t worry about it

those were mostly general facts! let's say hi to lan again. with more facts!

lan doesn't know a single thing about any politics so we mostly don't either

(this changes later)(rip lan)

his town does have a public school (many don't!), but he's broke and also adhd, so he has to work and didn't really enjoy going to class even when he was a kid and could. all he knows is wander in the woods make hot bread (he works in a bakery!) and lie

he thinks he can't do magic because he never really learned how or devoted any time to it at all

everyone else also thinks that he can't do magic and most of his town is in fact staunchly anti-spell generally speaking as they do not want to explode

he super can and does do magic though. mostly it just gives him headaches! the rest of what it does is revealed in like, the first couple of chapters

tangent:

 a person's magic is basically just determined in the same way their personality is, so we return to the nature/nurture debate/solution.

backing up a step: everything is cosmic soup. magic is the soup. everything else is also the soup, but also a part of the soup.

doing magic is just. moving around and making waves to whatever degree of precision you can manage.

how much of the soup you are/contain/can influence depends on how separate from the soup you are (for example: humans have bodies and therefore a higher degree of separation) and also how you perceive and interact with the soup (those are two separate factors).

so! re: nature v nurture: basically i mean there is kind of in a way a genetic component to one’s magical ability and/or capacity, but. eh. only in as much as genetics are involved in determining anything else about how a person interacts with the world

all that to say *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ powerful bloodlines ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* aren't really a thing

however lots of rich people have more time, energy, and resources to devote to fucking around and finding out, and also are more likely to risk it all for dubious returns, so (most) magic in (most of) the world is regarded as frivolous/A Wasteful Pursuit Of The Higher Classes

no seriously like ik magic is Very Cool but it takes so much time and is so risky to get the hang of that most people, if they can do anything reliably, use it for like, chores

people who try to be cool are like the dril tweet.... hold on lemme find it

this one: “so long suckers! i rev up my motorcylce and create a huge cloud of smoke. when the cloud dissipates im lying completely dead on the pavement.”

it’s just not worth it

anyway!

so lan is like. i'm not a wizard!!!! do i look rich? obviously i'm a normal completely average guy.

he is not normal. he does not look rich either, but he does spend a very large amount of time fucking around in the woods with beings beyond the grasps life and death, so. he will get to the Finding Out portion of life with the best of them

baby lan feeding a sentient slime mold his leftovers: this action will have no consequences (:

there are other people in his town who can and do use magic (his friend ris the wood carver and her cousin the baker who is his boss among them), but it's like..... obviously they don't count. they do small, neat, useful things.

"family talents" in that vein are kind of regarded more highly despite literally just being magic. i'll say again that bloodlines have diddly to do with squat, but that doesn't mean people know that

did i mention magic develops partly according to perception? it may seem redundant to say, but you exercise the muscles you use

(following that, if someone in your family Got It Together at some point, at least some of that method is pretty likely to help you some)(however no one wants to be responsible for Advice That Makes You Explode, so: also no <3)

anyway lan's dad was weird (and a carpenter)(he got eaten by a spirit) and his mom was also weird (she wove cloth)(she was also probably(definitely) eaten by a different spirit) so everyone is just like. kid. please don't be weird. stop going into the woods. if you ever try to do magic just preemptively bury yourself in your backyard because it'll probably eat you too

(they really don't believe in spirits and as revenge the spirits don’t believe in them either)(mutually assured disregard)(lan used to live in a different village but it's gone now.)

(don't worry about it)

lan is just like. rip mom and dad but i’m built different

he got adopted by ris and khea (the baker)'s grandpa which is why they're forced to associate with his erratic ass

his friends and neighbors will pry being weird in the woods from his cold dead hands, very likely literally

he does listen to the “stay away from magic” advice though (this action will have consequences.)

that’s pretty much all he ever listens to anyone about honestly. you can’t keep a short king down he keeps getting picked up by random birds

in closing he’s not dumb but he’s very stupid.

the duality of lan

so! there we have it. there’s curses! there’s wars past, present, and future! there’s secrets (*cough* the high healer *cough*) and intrigue and death! there’s THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP (and therapy). there's paperwork! i love paperwork.

anyway this got very long. supporting characters include dahi, who we already know and who is i cannot emphasize enough mostly just kind of a pest(affectionate), avëzara (aka zara), the princess and later queen of the other monarchy on the eastern coast*, hettatia (lan calls her hettie), member of That One Magic School, daya and ari, ehir's baby cousins, and then last and definitely least garus, who's mean (he's a doctor)(lan calls him gary)(he ran away from magic school). there's many more friends foes and folks of all kinds but you can meet them later or more probably never, lmao.

that's all folks! thanks for reading if you got through all that.

* just for the record, The West isn't actually as far west as you can go. that was in fact the desert; the chei take up a large portion of the actual west and pretty much had to go through the empire to get anywhere (they did have a coast, of course, but it was supremely difficult and unworth it for them to get there)(the desert is uh, Pretty Big)(and beyond that, We Don't Talk About The Ocean). zara on the other hand is on the actual eastern edge of the continent. The West just has more of a ring to it than The Northwest-ish, Like Kind Of Almost In The Corner, Yeah Sort Of Just Up And Over There

#like i said a minute ago this has been consuming me because on this one i'm just letting myself do whatever the hell i want #so there's definitely an excess of lore and such. like it's all Stuff To Keep In Mind that i need to know to Do Other Things #but soooo much of this and the monstrous Outline And Lore Doc are going to be like. footnotes at best lol #the dark side of following ''wouldn't it be funny if'' is that it can lead you off into the wilderness..... you can get lost there #double anyway #feel very free to ignore this im just having a silly goofy time #if you need me. i will be making maps #wip blogging

[indigoh4ze]

party || rafe cameron

warning- SMUT // vaginal fingering, eating out, vaginal penetration, mentions of intoxication

rafe cameron x fem!reader

a/n- so this is my first time writing for outer banks, im terrible at writing actual interactions so im sorry its so bad at first lmao. also disclaimer: rafe in this fic is nothing like he is canon, so his characterization is off. enjoy :)

also feel free to request for any outer banks characters i write for

turn on notifs here - @slvt4fakerealities-library - to be notified when i post a new fic

join taglist (add yourself to the outer banks section)

the lights were blazing, different colors zapping throughout the room as you made your way over to the couch. your head was slightly fuzzy from the intoxication, but you managed.

since the couch was empty, you took the chance to sprawl your whole body out on it, head on one arm and feet dangling off the other. you watched as everyone danced and made out and filled their bodies with even more toxins. soon, you found yourself just dazing up at the ceiling, lips opening and closing slightly as you lip-synced in a whispering tone to the loud music.

after what felt like hours, but could’ve only been a few minutes, you felt something nudge your thigh. without moving your neck, you let your eyes flash down to find the source of the movement.

hovering over you was rafe cameron. his dirty blonde hair framed his face messily, a single cross earring dangling from his left ear, a red solo cup in his hand as his free hand poked at your thigh.

“what?” you slurred, now moving up on your elbows and blinking back the haziness.

“i wanna sit,” he said, taking a sip from the cup. even in this state it wasn’t hard to notice how good the boy looked, tilting his head back and gulping down the liquid, eyes never leaving your own.

you groaned, pulling your knees to your chest and allowing rafe to throw himself onto the cushion. you were now facing his side, as his hands gripped your legs and pulled them back to their original position, except now they laid over his leg. giving him a curious look, you laid the side of your face on the back cushion and fidgeted with the bracelet around your wrist.

“shouldn’t you be like- getting shit faced or something.” rafe snickered at your words, sending you a glare before looking back down to his cup, which he was also mindlessly playing with.

“sorry, did i interrupt your little..nap?” he teased with a hint of amusement, referring to the previous state you were in, and you scoffed in return, mind clearing a bit more and making room for annoyance.

“whatever.” and then, you were pulling your legs off him and standing up, albeit wobbly as you almost fell to the side, caught by rafe’s firm grip around your arm.

“you good?”

“‘m fine,” you dismissed the boy, confused as to why he was even talking to you in the first place.

the truth was, you never liked him, he was rude and careless and selfish and way too much to put up with. but you couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards the boy, and the tension that was always evident when the two of you were together.

but you always just pushed those thoughts aside, because even the thought of anything happening made your mind whirl with a plethora of emotions, not good ones by any means.

but then, you also couldn’t deny the recurring fantasies of things that could happen. could but wont, because he’s rafe cameron, and not even you’re desperate enough to be one of his bitches.

“hey?” a light tug of your arm pulled you back to the present, and you turned to see rafe at your side, cup forgotten as one of his hands molded around your waist and the other wrapped around your bicep to steady you.

“i’m really fine-.” you pulled away from him, and right as you did so, you felt someone back up on you, pushing you towards rafe and into his chest as a cold liquid spread from the lower half of your head and down your back.

you gasped in surprise, suddenly awake and alert as you sharply turned to see a boy standing there, cup tilted and empty as all its contents spilt on your back. he mumbled a quick apology, then took off laughing with his friends about something they said that probably wasn’t even funny.

“you sure about that?” rafe inquired, eyebrow raised in amusement as you stepped away from him, this time more cautiously. “c’mon, we’ll clean you up.”

although you wanted to say no and tell him to fuck off because you could handle it yourself, you were too exhausted from the long night to put up much protest other than a dramatic groan. then, you nodded, and rafe led you away from the crowd of people with a tug of your wrist.

—//—

now, you found yourself in a bedroom, rafes bedroom, waiting expectantly as you stood in front of the boy.

“what now?” you ask, palming your eyes and yawning, looking back at rafe with glossy eyes now, which were sending waves of tingles through the boys stomach.

“take a shower,” he implied, as if it was obvious. you scrunched your brows as he pointed to the bathroom on the other side of the room.

“i don’t have any spare clothes.”

“i’ll find you something to wear,” rafe shrugged, “go on,” he urged you to the bathroom, and you followed obediently, not having it in you to put up any sort of fight or ask questions.

“i’ll be right back,” rafe said from the room as you closed the bathroom door, only to hear the door to the bedroom close as well, meaning rafe left.

your mind was filled with the thought that he just ditched you, which was a possibility, but you ignored that thought and slipped your shirt over your head. once all the articles of clothing were thrown onto the cold tile floor, along with your shoes which sat messily in the corner, you lift a foot into the tub, stepping in.

immediately, you played with the oddly fancy knobs and managed to turn them on, warm water rushing through the shower head as your tilted your head back into it. the odd colored drink washed away from your hair, falling onto the floor of the tub and down the drain smoothly. you searched for soap, quickly cleaning up and scrubbing your hair twice for good measure. the smell of the soap reminded you of rafe, not surprising considering it was literally his own soap, you told yourself, annoyed by your current thoughts.

the feeling of the slightly cold water hitting your skin was enough to wake you up fully, but you were too lost in the blissful feeling of the water to pay much attention to your surroundings.

that was until you heard the door to the bathroom open, and you peaked your head through the curtain to find rafe, setting a towel on the counter, along with a shirt and a pair of shorts.

“who’s are those?” you questioned, making rafe jump as he realized you were watching him.

“sarah, i just took some from her,” he shrugged, and now you were even more confused.

first, he started talking to you randomly. then he’s helping you stand. then he’s taking you to his room..so you can shower. then he’s getting clothes for you to wear? how much did you have to drink? you started to ask yourself, questioning if this was all you just being wasted.

but it wasn’t, you felt pretty much fine. so there had to be something you were missing.

“just hurry up and change, i’ll be in the other room.” without another glance towards you, rafe left the bathroom, leaving you standing there, wet hair dripping forward from the way you had tilted your head to peek through. you went back to getting the soap out of your hair, rushing a bit more now.

meanwhile, rafe was in his room, just outside the bathroom, sitting on his bed with his head in his hands. what the fuck am i doing? was his only thought.

he was honestly just confused as you were. it started when he saw you laying on the couch, mouth agape as your eyes sketched shapes on the ceiling. you just being there was tempting enough, but after that he just had to make his way over to you.

the two of you hadn’t had many conversations in the past, at least no genuine ones. most were just bickering, to be honest. but, just as you thought, the tension was undeniable. the feelings weren’t one sided, that was for sure.

when he caught you from falling over, you had leaned into his warmth and something almost turned in his stomach, which was quite nauseating on his side. it was annoying how fucking worked up he got around you. his mind would spin with options of what to do with you. did he want to just kiss you, fuck you or annoy you to death? he had no idea, but it was overwhelming, to say the least.

so when he invited you to his room to clean up, he wasn’t really thinking about it, because everything was happening at once. he even searched his sisters room for goddamn clothes for you.

interrupting his inner monologue, a door opened and out came your figure, except you weren’t wearing the clothes he had given you. no, you were just in your towel, actually. your skin looked slightly damp still, but your hair had been fluffed out and dried a bit from the towel.

“what are you- where are the clothes i gave you?” rafe asked, standing hesitatingly.

“dunno, wasn’t my style i guess,” you shrugged, looking around his room casually, taking in the very rafe feel it gave.

rafe just scoffed, messing his hair up and stepping closer. “well, you can’t really go out in a towel now, can you?”

this reminded you that there was still a party going on, although it was muffled and a bit quieter as people began to call it a night.

“then i won’t go out.” you stepped closer, looking up at rafe with an expression of uncertainty, trying to identify the look behind his eyes, figure out what the fuck he was up to. but you saw nothing. if anything, there were just a bit of nervousness hidden there.

“and what exactly do you plan on doing, then? since your obviously so wise.” now his guarded demeanor was back up, though he had taken a step closer so your heavy breaths were hitting each other perfectly, hands close to grazing one another’s.

“i don’t know.” then, another reminder flashed in your mind, and you looked back at rafe, “wait, why are you even here? isn’t this like- your party?”

“well, technically topper wanted a party, i wanted to go to bed and sleep for a year.” you chucked at this, figuring he had already gotten fucked up today and didn’t feel like another party. then, taking a risk, you leaned in just a bit, and rafe didn’t pull back. actually, he pushed forward, bringing his large hands to wheel around your waist, setting fire through your veins.

it was as if both of you snapped at the same time, first eyeing each others lips, then pushing forward and taking said lips between your own. the kiss was hungry and long waited, immense relief flushing through you, which took you both by surprise.

not even a few minutes of this passed by before rafe was tugging at the towel, still clinging around your naked body, droplets of water probably wetting his floor.

before letting the fabric reveal your body, rafe looked at you, pulling away for a moment and looking over your features, silently asking permission. a quick nod was all it took for the material to be ripped off and throw to the side, rafe spinning you both around until the backs of your knees hit the bed and you fell back onto the mattress.

rafe looked over you with a smirk, eyes skimming over each and every detail of your body as if savoring it. a lick of his lips was all it took for your thighs to rub together, anticipation becoming too much as you waited for him.

this obviously pissed him off, because now his hands were tearing your legs apart, exposing your bare cunt inch by inch. “don’t even try to cover this up, got it?”

his voice was demanding, and luring, enough to make you nod, eyes softening in obedience, resulting in a snicker from rafe.

he leaned back in, delving down to leave kisses along your collar bone and suck on the flesh until bruises built against your skin, making you whimper and grab his dirty blond tressed with your fingers.

the sound of your whimpers made rafe go crazy, but he tamed the need inside him long enough to work his way down your stomach, placing teasing kisses down your inner thighs, but not once touching the spot you needed the most attention in.

“please, rafe,” you pleaded, not sure where it came from but gong with it once you saw the way he looked up at you, lust blown eyes and parted lips, waiting to be against your cunt.

“please what, hm? tell me what you want me to do, baby,” rafe cooed, fingers clenching around the inside of your thighs so he could push them apart and kiss your inner thighs, resulting in your back arching and hips begging upwards.

“n-need your mouth.” your face blushed with embarrassment of having to speak the words, but rafe just tsked, one hand moving upwards as he used his thumb to draw circles around your cunt, only passing your folds, earning a cry from you.

“i need more than that, doll.”

“fuck! please, j-just need your mouth on me, rafe, need to feel your mouth on my pussy, please!”

it seems that was acceptable for rafe, his thumb pausing just above your clit, then dragging down, finally grazing over the sensitive bud and stimulating it perfectly. your hips jerked at the sensation, but you grew accustomed to the feeling once he began working in small circles.

soon, his mouth was on your cunt, tracing paths over your folds and rubbing at the nub with a flat tongue, constantly sending shivers through you as you moaned with pleasure. his hands stayed at your side, ring clad finger’s cold against your flesh as his tongue dug inside you and began fucking your hole with no remorse.

the shapes and letters his warm tongue carved into you were almost too much, and when you reached down to rake your fingers through his hair, you fought the urge to push his head down and allow him to bury himself completely between your thighs.

“f-fuck! rafe, oh god, feels so good,” you sobbed, voice becoming louder as he hummed into you, a smirk on his lips, no doubt, from seeing you fall apart for him.

rafe pulled away within a second, licking his lip and keeping his eyes on your cunt, calculating his next move. you watched as he did so, suddenly feeling exposed as he raked his eyes over the slick coating your folds and your clit throbbing painfully through them. you squirmed at the emptiness, about to squeeze your thighs together, but you were too late as rafe brought a hand up, middle and forefinger pushing through your folds and embedding themselves within your walls.

a loud gasp escaped your lips as he did so, and you bit down painfully on the cushion of them as his fingers pumped in and out of you with nonstop speed. rafe looked up at you, his own lips parted beautifully as he watched moans flow easily out of your mouth.

“you like that, baby?” came his husky voice, only intensifying your already great pleasure that ran through your body. you nodded at his inquiry, not able to form coherent thoughts under his gaze. and that was when his fingers made a hook and pressed against your most sensitive part, making you squirm.

his smirk became bigger, and his fingers fucked you harder, a desperate attempt to ruin you right there. then he was leaning down, still pumping his fingers, and began to lick your clit with fervor, flicking the bud and sucking without resistance until your thighs were clenching around his head and you were a complete moaning mess.

“oh fuck- i’m g-gonna come rafe, pleaseplease,” you begged pathetically, having no time to be embarrassed as he hummed, nodding his head while still sucking on your clit, and permitted you to let go.

the orgasm took over in a huge wave, which came surprisingly fast, and the only thing on your mind was the bubbling in your stomach that was finally freed. moans and gasps fell from your lips as you wet his tongue and fingers, and rafe didn’t let a drop go to waste as he lapped up your slick, helping to prolong your orgasm.

hands reaching for his hair in dazed motions, eyes closed and lips parted, you mumbled, “t-too much, rafe,” which was the boys que to give you a final kiss on your clit, then remove his head and fingers from your cunt.

now, rafe stared up at you, swiping a ring clad thumb over his bottom lip, which was glistening with your arousal. his thumb then moved to enter your mouth, and you dutifully took in the digit, sucking with starry eyes, and whimpering when he removed it from your grasp.

rafe rose to his full height, still in his shirt and pants, which were no doubt keeping his hard dick from standing tall. suddenly, you felt that flush arise to your cheeks from your being nude, and you bit your lip and reached a hand out to grapple at his shirt. he took this as a sign to pull the material over his head, then going in for his buckle as well. the sound of the metal clinking as he loosened it from its straps was enough to send you into a spiral of anticipation, eyeing his clothed prick impatiently.

rafe had that smirk plastered to his face still, throwing his belt aside and then his pants, making sure not to go too fast as he tormented you.

you let out a whine as he hooked his fingers around his boxers, not pulling them down fully but revealing his v line. “rafe,” you pouted, and he decided to be nice and let them fall down, now unclothed as he kicked off his shoes and settled ontop of you, marking your chest and neck immediately.

sighing with content, you held him close and let his lips suck on your flesh, until the arousal was too much and he began to grind against you, slowly. your cunt was already becoming slick again as he rubbed against your thigh.

rafe lift himself up to his knees, pumping his cock, the point of his tongue poking out from the side of his mouth in concentration. the image of your breasts on display for him, and your lips parted and chest thumping was enough to make the boy cum on the spot.

he raised a brow at you, making sure you were still okay, and once getting a quick nod, he pressed the head of his cock against your folds. in the next second, he was thrusting into you, earning a loud gasp from you, which he covered with a hand on your mouth.

“shh, ‘m gonna fuck you good, okay? just lay there and look pretty,” he teased, but you nodded, wanting nothing more than to do as he said.

the thrusts started out mild, but soon quickened tempo, hips stuttering against yours as he wrapped a hand around your leg and pulled it over his shoulder. this allowed a better angle, and you moaned with him as he repeatedly pounded into your already sensitive cunt.

you slid a hand down your bouncing breasts and stomach, then to your throbbing clit, soothing it with your gentle fingers before rafe slapped them away, as if saying “mine.”

his own hand went around your propped up leg to thumb at your clit, whilst the other made a path over your hips and breasts, fondling with the mound of flesh and pinching your nipple.

the overstimulation was rushing through you violently, his thrusts becoming sloppy, orgasm at the brink. you watched his head fly back, eyes rolling and mouth a gape, hypnotized by how pretty he looked even when he was fucking you.

“rafe,” you repeatedly mumbled, forming no other words in your clouded mind.

“hm? does it feel good? d’you like the way i fuck you, pretty girl?”

“y-yeah, so good,” you hummed, your own head rolling back onto the pillow, hips thrusting up to meet his and satisfy the hunger that once again boiled in your core.

“i’m gonna cum on your tits, are you gonna be good for me?” he said just as your orgasm was about to wash you away, and you nodded fast, once again wanting to be the best you could for him.

then, you came, waves of pleasure splashing through you before he pulled out, still thumbing your sensitive bundle of nerves, using his free hand to fist his cock which hovered over your breasts.

you held your tits in two shaky hands, squeezing them together and massaging them while rafe came, painting your breasts and stomach until he had milked out every last drop he could. he mumbled yes’s and fuck’s, along with your name until his high died down.

breathing harshly, you set ur sight to the ceiling, deep intakes of air causing the ends of rafe’s lips to turn upwards slightly. he leaned down to place one last kiss on your flushed cheek before letting himself fall onto the mattress beside you.

“let’s clean you up,” rafe said, turning to look at you, “the party’s not over yet.”

uhhhh yeah idk how i feel ab this i hope it wasn't terrible ig. reblogs appreciated :)

@o-rion-sta-r @saggyb1lls @rylynn-m @dobbysockcollection @arcaneslut @arianagreyy @el-imaskingforyourlefthand

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe x reader smut #rafe x reader #outer banks #outer banks smut #outer banks fic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you smut

[theonewiththefanfics]

Paranoid (one-shot)

Synopsis: Loki wasn’t paranoid. I mean, that was before he met the Reader. Ever since then, all day every day he can only think of her, what she’s doing, where she’s going and what’s happening to her. All because she’s a grade A dumb ass.

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe toiny bit of angst

Warnings: Reader has one brain cell and even that is not used, swearing, a lil bit of sad thoughts and general idiocy.

Word count: 3430

He was paranoid about her. Always. With every step he took. No exceptions. And it wasn’t how you might think. He’s not paranoid she might find someone better even though he thinks she deserves it. He’s not paranoid to have his heart broken and smashed into pieces because she carries it on velvet palms wherever she goes. No. It’s just that Y/N has quite the knack of getting hurt. And she’s been out on a mission for a month. Without any contact. So it was safe to say Loki was more than worried.

You could say he’s overreacting, but when it comes to his girl, it’s pretty much in the range. In fact, this is the calmest and collected Loki had been during the thirty-two days she was away, all because Y/N was finally coming home, and he could lay his green eyes upon her body to assess the damage.

When they had first met, Loki had had no idea what kind of a tornado he’d let in his life. Even the Black Widow had warned him about the woman before there had been any inclination something more than a friendship could bloom.

“She’s an absolute dumb-ass without a survival instinct,” Nat had said through a laugh, a beer bottle pressed against her rouged lips. “Honestly, I can only hope you two get put together on a mission just so you could see how big of an idiot she is. Bigger than Scott, and that’s saying something.”

In the meantime, Y/N was laughing away, head thrown back and eyes closed. “No,” she’d pointed at the redhead after nearly choking on her coffee as she pressed a tissue against the liquid that had dribbled down her chin. “I do have a survival instinct. I just don’t have a self-preservation instinct.” 

“And what’s the difference?” the Asgardian prince’s black eyebrow rose in question.

“When shit goes down, I do try to, you know, get out in somewhat of a single piece. It’s the before it happens that I don’t do.”

“You mean thinking?”

Y/N clapped her hands in excitement. “Exactly! I don’t do the thinking bit!”

That should’ve been his warning for what kind of chaos she’d bring to his life. 

It started off small with her inability to walk into the adjoined kitchen area without stubbing a toe or bruising the side of her hip against the countertop. Then it evolved into him noticing how Y/N didn’t press the button to release her toast when she thought it was in at prime toastiness level, instead, she grabbed a fork and full-on jammed it down there (DON’T DO THAT), not caring whether she’d get electrocuted or blow out the fuses in the facility. It escalated all the way to her getting trapped in an ex-Hydra base, and her first thought being not to use the window as an escape route, but rather line the sides of the room with explosives and bring the whole floor down while she hid underneath a table. He was genuinely surprised Y/N was still alive. 

But with the chaos also came serenity. She’d sneak into his room with glimmering eyes and a new book in hand, slipping under Loki’s cold sheets to lay against him and explain why the new piece of literature was ‘the actual shit’ and ‘if he didn’t read it right at that moment, she’d gouge his eyes out cause he didn’t deserve them.’

Obviously, they were empty threats, and as Loki rolled the before mentioned green eyes, he’d gently take the book out of her hands while Y/N quickly scurried out of the room to come back five minutes later with two teacups in hand.

Y/N would snuggle up against him and listen to how his voice expertly wove the words into the story, but one time it was different. The day on which the nature of their relationship had flipped upside down, had followed the same routine they’d been having for around three months since they’d become friends, but then not even ten minutes later he felt her wet tongue completely press against his bare shoulder. By that point, after everything she’d done, he didn’t even question it, simply turned the page.

“Did you burn your tongue on the tea, darling?”

“Noube,” she muffled out not letting her tongue off of his chilled skin.

“You know there’s another way I could cool it down.”

“Eah? Ike aht?”

“I could kiss it better.”

Instantly Y/N had peeled herself off from him and stared at the god, the pink muscle hanging out of her mouth like a dog’s on a hot summer day. Loki just stared at the wall. 

He hadn’t meant for those words to escape him; he’d actually always meant to suppress his feelings for the girl until the day the world stopped spinning. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing ever since she’d returned from a mission in East India seven months prior, battered and bruised and his heart had lifted to the heavens at the sight of her simply smiling and breathing.

Loki could hear her swallow harshly, and then she whispered, “don’t offer something you won’t go through with.”

His head snapped to look at her because the tone wasn’t the teasing lilt he’d gotten used to. This woman sitting half-covered by his black bedsheets was no longer the self-assured, confident and no-shit’s-given person he’d grown to love. This woman was looking at him with fear of rejection and yet unmistakable hope in her eyes. 

Slowly he closed the book, not even caring to mark the page he was left on and put it on the side of the bed before leaning over and without hesitation cupping Y/N’s cheeks and pressing their lips together and they sagged against one another at the euphoric feeling. 

Her hands in his hair felt like paradise as she cradled his head in an attempt to pull him closer, and she gasped when he did slip his tongue in her mouth, eagerly accepting the intrusion. But then she just had to ruin the moment by snorting in his face, though Loki couldn’t hide the smile that appeared on his own.

“What? What’s so funny?”

Y/N scrunched her nose. “Your tongue’s really cold.”

“It did the trick though, right?”

She looked like she was pondering it for a bit, and in the meantime slid her legs up so they were now wrapped around his waist. “Dunno. Might need another treatment. You know, so we’re sure it’s cured.”

He didn’t argue for even a second because Loki couldn’t believe his life at that moment. It was filled with giggles, and short breaths as they stole kisses from one another as much as possible, and soft caresses that sometimes turned into biting fingers that dug in the other’s sides whenever a teasing remark slipped past their swollen lips.

His heart flipped in his chest when Y/N threw her head back in a cackle, exposing her neck to him where he laid loving kisses. 

He’d never been more scared of a feeling.

He was terrified of how easily she’d gotten ahold of his heart.

But fuck him, if Loki didn’t love it and wouldn’t dive headfirst into it again.

Though now, when she’d finally returned home after the mission, he was kind of regretting it as Y/N was being wheeled off the Quin-jet on a gurney, one of the hands that had so tenderly braided his hair just a month ago now limp over the side of the stretcher as the other covered a hole in her side that was oozing blood.

White-hot fury blazed through his veins, as he saw the Captain step down the track and onto the landing pad, though fortunately for the blond super-soldier, the god didn’t get to him as he decided to follow Bruce and Tony who were taking Y/N to the med bay. But even knowing the love of his life was being treated by the best of the best, didn’t pacify him especially when they refused him entry into her room. 

“Loki, Loki, calm down,” Nat, who’d been on the mission with Y/N and Steve, pushed against his chest to keep the god away from busting through the door. “They won’t let anyone in until she’s been stitched up, but it’s nothing big… I mean on her scale. She just decided to be dramatic and passed out on her way back.”

He wanted to fight, he wanted to make each person that stood between them crumble underneath him, but he knew it wouldn’t do him or Y/N any good. Loki huffed, letting his shoulders drop and then pressing his thumb and forefinger against the bridge of his nose. “How bad?”

“Umm, Marrakesh level, so, nothing too lethal.”

“By Valhalla,” Loki dragged a hand across his face. “That woman will kill me one day. Not directly, no, but I’ll have a heart attack just because of her recklessness.”

Nat snorted and crossed her arms. “I did warn you.”

“Not enough.”

“Hey, don’t blame me! You were the one that fell in love with her.”

That Loki didn’t have a comeback for, so instead, he just huffed and plopped down into one of the chairs that lined the wall outside of the med bay.

“Our lives would be quite dull without her though,” Nat said, joining the god on the chairs and releasing a restrained groan, as she shuffled into the seat. She most likely had a dislocated hip but had practically bitten Steve’s head off when he told her to go and get checked. She, just as much as Y/N’s boyfriend, needed to know their firecracker was alright.

“Yeah,” Loki sighed. “If only she had one more brain cell in that head of hers, maybe we could live in somewhat of a peace.”

Not even two minutes later, Tony threw open the doors and allowed them to enter, but by that point, everyone had heard the arrival of their teammates, and they wanted to check on them. For example, Thor wanted to see if Loki had murdered anyone yet, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to worry about that. Instead, he needed to worry about his brother’s girlfriend.

“Loki!” Y/N squealed seeing the raven-haired god come into her hospital room. “That’s ma man!” she said to Bruce, who only rolled his eyes already used to the way the woman was while coming out of it. “It’s ma Loki Loki, bo-boki, Banana-fana fo-foki, Fee-fi-mo-moki, Loki!”

She dramatically pointed at the other god standing beside him.

“Oh, and that’s his brother Thor, Thor, bo-bhor, Banana-fana fo-fohr, Fee-fi-mo-mohr, Thor!” Her hands slapped against her cheeks as she squeezed them and wiggled them up and down making her words shake. “My-y-y-y-y fa-a-a-a-a-a-ce fee-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-ls li-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ke cotto-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-n.”

“That’s 'cause you’re high,” Tony said.

Y/N was instantly on it. It was like she was on crack and on steroids and a sugar rush while at the same time doing a hundred miles an hour. “Hello, High. I’m dad.”

Tony looked at the ceiling in despair. “That’s not how that even works.”

“Why’s she like that?” Loki asked sitting down next to Y/N on the bed, who suddenly busied herself with the reflections of the sun the golden cufflinks of his shirt sleeves threw. Especially as his face went to caress her cheek, but she grabbed his wrist in a white-knuckling grip and moved it in certain angles to create reflections on the walls. 

        The billionaire sighed. “We gave her a sedative cause when we started to stitch her up, she woke up and almost kicked Bruce in the nuts, but after a little breakdown of the situation by Steve, it turns out there was some gas involved in the mission, and I guess the combination of the two chemicals have flung her in the stratosphere.”

        That wasn’t a good word, as it turned out it was almost like Bucky’s trigger words, given how Y/N immediately screeched out, “Walking on air, living in the Stratospheeeeeeeeeeeeere!”.

        “Wow,” Nat sighed. “Mutemath would hate her.”

        Y/N stuck her tongue out at the redhead. “You’re mute math, how ‘bout that? No one likes to be name called, you bully.”

        “Yeah, okay,” the redhead chuckled as she patted Y/N’s foot. “You’ll survive. I’m gonna have a nap.” And with that she left limping on her way, Steve following so he could scold her into getting her hip put into place by a professional, not by him or Clint. 

        One by one the rest of the team did as well, knowing that they could rest with easy hearts as Y/N was safe, stitched up and sound. Well, as sound as being completely drugged up could be.

Tony checked her vitals one more time before turning to Loki, who’d refused to leave her on her own, one, because he loved her and wanted to know she was alright, two, because he didn’t trust normal Y/N to not do stupid things, let alone this version. 

“Speaking of naps,” Tony said, “if she doesn’t pass out in the next ten minutes please do your mumbo jumbo and make her. She needs rest. I’ve put in some pain meds with a sleepy side effect, so hopefully, she’ll be out like a light in no time.”

Loki sighed, as he felt Y/N rub her cheek against the silken material of his shirt. “Of course.”

With that, the billionaire left, muttering something about how her generation would be the last generation if they didn’t stop being so stupid. Not that Loki would disagree, his girlfriend being a prime example of that.

Y/N hummed Loki’s name quietly, which made him look down at the love-sick puppy dog eyes she was giving him. A gentle smile appeared on his face.

“Yeah, darling?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, snuggling against his side. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he muttered, kissing the top of her head. “Do you wanna lay down?”

She scoffed looking up at him and tried to shove him off the bed, confusion riddling his face until Y/N said, “I have a boyfriend who I love very much. I’ll cut you before I sleep with you.”

“Yeah.” Loki groaned standing up. “Alright.” Green seidr appeared to weave around his arms, and with a flick of his fingers, her eyes started to drop closed as she slid down the sheets and snuggled up in the place where Loki had been sitting.

He dragged a hand down his face and huffed, plopping his body in the armchair which was in the room deciding to sleep for a bit until Y/N woke up. Although he was a god and didn’t need as much rest as mortal people did, he’d sure as Hel need all the energy he could gather because once his girlfriend was awake it’d be chaos all over. 

Loki didn’t get much rest though when a light touch on his shoulder disturbed him from his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, mouth stretching in a smile as Y/N’s face looked down on him with a happy expression. 

        “Hey there, sleepyhead.”

        “Hello, dove,” he muttered, kissing the inside of her palm. “You up?”

        She nodded, whispering, “Yeah. But do you think you could help me with all these wires? I wanna go to our room.”

        Her words were what hit him, making Loki jump up, realising Y/N was out of the bed when she was supposed to be resting.

        Gingerly, despite all the protests from her mouth, he took her under the legs and put her back in the hospital bed. 

        “But – “

        “I will tie you down here if you try to step out again.” His voice was deep and filled with a threat he fully intended to fulfil, but Y/N in her Y/N fashion just wiggled her eyebrows and Loki handed a carton of juice and stabbed the top with a straw.

        “Kinky. I like it. But let’s leave it for our own private time.”

        Pinching the bridge of his nose had become a motion Loki was now all too familiar with. Not even after all the time, he’d put up Thor’s bullshit had he had to do that. He was quite certain his fingers had left indents on his skin. 

“What happened on the mission?” he asked, placing a pudding cup and a spoon on the nightstand.

“Dude came out of nowhere,” Y/N said sipping on her apple juice. “Like he just appeared behind me and stabbed me in the side. Talk about rude, right.”

“You need to be more careful.”

Y/N raised her eyebrow. “I am careful. ‘S not like I go out to get stabbed on purpose.”

But Loki’s tone had lost all lightness, as she exasperated. “No, I need you to be more careful.”

“I am. I –“ but she didn’t get a chance to finish as Loki racked a frustrated hand through his hair, snapping at her. “No, you’re the most reckless person I’ve ever met and you think getting stabbed and inhaling chemicals is not a big deal, but it is, and I can’t do this anymore… I can’t lose you.”

And although it was said with anger and frustration, Y/N could see the underlying pain and fear. His family had all but abandoned him, and we’re not talking about his biological one. All he had left was Thor, and Loki would never admit it out loud, he dreaded the day his brother would disappear from his life.

“Loki.” She took one of his hands and pressed a kiss to his cold knuckles. “You could never lose me.”

A bitter chuckle settled between them as he looked up at her. “But I could. You’re so carefree and fluttery while doing things that could kill you, it scares me half to death.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I have to.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t all the darkness will just settle on me, and I’ll never be able to get out of it.”

Loki squeezed her hand in encouragement, and after taking a deep breath Y/N elaborated. “I try to ease myself with the thought that I’m saving people, and helping humanity, but at the end of the day, I’m still taking lives. It’s not like they, you know, the bad guys’ think they’re the bad guys. They’re not doing it because they think they’re evil. They’re fighting for what they think is right. That doesn’t mean it is, but we’re all villains in someone else’s stories, and if I start thinking of it, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.” A shuddery exhale left her lips, and this time it was Loki taking a hold of her hand. “I need to let myself be a bit crazy. Because if I don’t, I don’t know how I’ll go on. I promise I don’t do it because of some wish to get killed in the process. It’s just that… it makes it easier to look at the world, to not think for a moment about the bad.”

“Can you just promise me something?” Loki’s tone was soft as a feather’s touch as he sighed, understanding where she was coming from. More than once his own dark thoughts tended to overcome him, but in his world, it was Y/N who brought in the light to dissipate them. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he could do it himself, so he supposed he had to at least be happy she’d found a way to fight them off herself, even if it made him fear for her.

Y/N nodded. “Anything.”

“Just – just try to think before you do anything.”

That set both of them off into a fit of giggles as she raised their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to his cold one. “I can try.”

“Promise.”

“I promise to try. Though, I’d say don’t get disillusioned. I’m still the same crazy person you met before.”

A soft smile graced Loki’s, face and he brought Y/N’s hand to his lips where he pressed a kiss to her warm skin. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. Though, as much as I doubt, you’ll heed my request, you could do one thing for me?”

“And what’s that?”

 “Stop jamming forks in the toaster.”

“Absolutely not!” she scoffed. “How else am I supposed to get the bread out?”

“You wait for it to be done!”

“It takes too fucking long!”

Although Loki would fight tooth and nail to somehow keep Y/N safe and would use everything in his arsenal to make sure she took care of herself, he’d never change her even if it made him paranoid.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue​ @im-squished​

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Hiddles/Loki tags: @marvels-queen-bee @julierousing98 @maggiesimps @horrorx570ximagines​ @luluthegreatandterrible​ @bambamwolf87​ @drakesfiance​ @artbysteph87 @beets1bears1battlestargalactica

A/N: I hope everyone’s staying home and is alright during these crazy times.

I’m back writing for ma boy Loki (I had a dream about that Loki - Tom Hiddles look-alike that is on TikTok that we were cuddling, so I’m on a Loki and Tom lovin’ wave)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. what did ya think?

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddlestone smut #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddlestone angst #tom hiddlestone imagine #tom hiddlestone x reader #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston imagine #loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki odinson #loki smut #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki angst #loki fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston fulff #imagine marvel #marvel imagine #marvel #Marvel Studios #marvel endgame #thor: ragnarok

[thefanbasewhore]

OUR GIRL.

Summary || Mob leaders Steve and Bucky are closer then what people think and they don't like when people stare at their girl, especially a meeting in their own home.

Warning/content || Bucky and Steve, poly relationship, fluff, implied smut, mob au, mafia au

Paring || Bucky x reader x Steve

It's always assumed to be rumors.

That Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, the men who own the most notorious and gruesome mafia are in fact more then just business partners. Just the thought alone of two powerful, equally dangerous men, would never work. Too strong willed and determined, one always wanting more power, asserting dominance but that wasn't the case.

Steve and Bucky had loved each other since they were kids - best friends since birth, Steve's father took care of the business, pretty much owned the whole state of New York City and even currently after his death, Steve has managed to keep it that way. And just like his father, a Barnes being his right hand man, but it was much more then that.

Then they met you, a sweet girl, filled with laugher and happiness, something they have been desperately been needing in their life. Where they work too long, you're there to remind them they're human, to eat, to sleep. When they're enraged, about to act of feelings, you're there to remind them it's only temporary, it will pass.

Business is good as ever but now instead of the drug trade, stealing and laundrying, they have decided to start a business - the goal to be one hundred percent legitimate by two years but of course some things always get in the way.

Like the fact no one can seem to do their job and their employees always seem to have sticky fingers. A huge financial loss, one that can set their planalmost a whole year behind.

Bucky sits up straight, shoulder to shoulder with Steve as he flips the data sheet over with equally displeased scowls. Bucky's the first one to look up, steel blue eyes darkening as long table of men nearly shake. "How did this happen? When we hired all fifteen of you, it was to make sure we don't loose any fucking money."

"Sorry sir, we just assumed -."

"Shut up." Steve huffs as he brings his hand up to rub his beard, leaning into the table with an elbow. "You're going to get that money back or else, I'm not paying with you fucking idiots no more. It's my money, you lost it, you go find it."

A calloused but soft hand reaches into Steve's light hair, he lets out an a hum of acknowledgment and leans into Bucky's touch. The men around them freeze but they don't seem to care; agreeing to not hide it anymore.

Bucky's concerned eyes leave the sight of his boyfriend but narrows at the wide eyed men. "Is there a problem?"

"N-No, not at all sir."

"Good." Steve claps his hands, "Tell us exactly what happened last night, not one detail left out."

Meanwhile the sun shins brightly through the slits of white curtains, adorming and glistening from the lotion on your skin. The white searing light makes you wince, claiming it's too bright, unknown that no one is listening.

"Steve, stop opening the curtains, close them!" He's always the first one up, opens all the curtains in hopes that you and Bucky will take up; you never do. There's no answer, squeezing your eyes in annoyance as you reach over to tap Bucky, he'd close them even though he wasn't much of a morning person like yourself.

"Buck -." But no one is there, the bed incredibly cold, depsite the size of the bed, it feels so small without them.

You hiss at the contact between the cold, morning floor and your feet through the bedroom and into the hall, where you found yourself jumping from area to area rug in the ridiculously long hall way.

Decending the stairs and heading right towards the direction of their home office, it had to be something work related to pull your boys away, if they left they would have woken you up to tell you.

The moment you open the large, double doors you're greeted with seventeen pairs of eyes, two pairs being got of your boyfriend's. Clearly displeased with the intrusion.

To start, they try to keep you away from the business as much a possible, sparing any details and keeping it short. You're aware of who b they are, what they do but they're trying to change.

You're completely oblivious to the fact that you stand just and only a thin white shirt, no doubt Bucky's from the night before and a very small pair of cheeky black underwear, which showed through the translucent white.

“Pretty girl, go back up stairs ya?” Steve bites his inner cheek. The crowd does a double take, eyes widening as they realize his words - were you his too?

"We'll be up in twenty minutes, keep the bed warm. Put some pants on." Bucky's words confirm it - you're both of theirs.

In an instant your cheeks are on fire, flushing at the realization you're pretty much naked. Frozen in embarrassment.

Bucky and Steve's eyes along the crowd of men, daring any of them too look again but no one has a death wish today.

“I was hungry, I’m sorry I didn’t know you had a meeting, was wondering where you went." Bucky reaches over, pressing his lips into your hand, mumbling against it. "Wait it the kitchen for us - won't be long and put some freaking pants on."

The moment you leave, Steve clears his throat. "Get me my money back, I don't care what you have to do. And bring that jerk-off to me, teach him something about stealing money."

"Are we understood?" Bucky adds. "Now go, we have other business to attend to."

**

You don't miss the way the men tip their hats to you, respectfully and not for too long as the exit the house. A gentle hand cups your hip, chest pressing against your back to sandwich you between them and the counter top. Steve's lips find your cheek, trail to your ear. "Hi honey."

Cheeks blazing hot as Bucky's gaze catches your attention, a sly smirk that makes you pout. "You know, next time a warning or a note would be nice."

"Was," Steve's lips press against your temple, "No," now to your hair, "Time."

"Okay sweetheart," Buck huffs, "Quit hogging her up, cmere, give me my morning kiss doll."

A smile curls at the ends of your lips, legs still naked despite his warnings but trail over to kiss him. With one small kiss his other hand reaches out for his other lover, "Steve - sweetheart, come here. Wanna kiss babe."

Bucky pulls you into lap with a lady grin, hands falling to cup your rear. "Next time, put some pants on."

"I dunno, maybe." You tease him, sticking your tongue out only for him to tap his finger against it.

"Brat."

"Mmm, never have to wear pants around me." Steve comments finally joining the two of you with a teasing smirk. "Like ever, ever again."

#mob stucky #mob bucky #mob steve #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers