#it doesn’t count for bury your gays bc it’s me. a gay writing this

[ugh-yoongi]

she, by proxy | myg, kth

(or, the one where yoongi gets what yoongi wants, even when what he wants is taehyung. especially when it's taehyung.)

✤ pairing: yoongi x reader; taehyung x reader; yoongi x taehyung ✤ genre: est. relationship (yoongi x reader), pwp ✤ rating: explicit; minors dni ✤ warnings: a lot of swearing, drinking but no one's drunk, a friend group in which everyone is queer and has fucked at least once probably, taehyung is a messy hoe but yoongi's an entire disaster, pining, open relationships, polyamory that is discussed briefly, i have been told there are some feelings involved. the most important: there is gay stuff in here!!! i repeat, some of this is VERY GAY! please do not read if that isn't your thing! ✤ smut warnings: girls making out, a threesome, dudes kissing, oral sex (m. receiving), anal fingering, vaginal fingering, taegi get pegged, dirty talk, dudes touching themselves a lot, come as lube (but there's also real lube dw), come eating, voyeurism, a lil slapping (thighs/clit), the dom/sub dynamics shift throughout the fic but mainly dom!reader, very mild degradation, a lil begging, taehyung cries, fingers always seem to wind up in mouths, hair pulling, frottage, yoongi accidentally gets edged, praise, protected sex, dp (fingers & piv at the same time). i think that's it :') but let me know if i forgot anything. ✤ word count: 8.3k ✤ credits: thank you to @effortandmore / @the-boy-meets-evil / & @here2bbtstrash for beta'ing this for me. my personal porny fairy godparents. i appreciate you all a whole lot. ✤ author's note: can you believe my degenerate brain dreamed this up and then i wrote all of it in two days in a delirious haze, opened the doc this morning to make final edits, and added almost 2k more. idk who i am anymore. if i missed anything it's bc i finished & edited this during jk's live and i was distracted, to say the least. anyway this is embarrassing i feel like a prude so i'm gonna go hide. pls come scream in my inbox with me unless it's to yell tired shit at me abt writing mxm/pegging/whatever else i warned you this is gay.

You hadn’t been surprised the first time, and you’re not surprised now, countless times later.

A girl slides into Taehyung’s lap—long hair, bubblegum pink, almost certainly a wig—and his hands immediately go to the small of her back. Large, nearly swallow her up, and they move to rest possessively at her hips, his grip tight as he pulls her closer. Her top is cropped latex and leaves very little to the imagination, which isn’t an issue for you or Yoongi because she’s not what Yoongi’s looking at. His eyes are locked on Taehyung’s hands; locked on the way the tendons flex as he manhandles the faceless girl in his lap, hikes her over one thick thigh.

Ten more seconds of this and all of you will be looking for a new club.

The air is hazy and thick, the floor sticky with god knows what, and Yoongi reaches for you beneath the table. His own large hand finds your smaller one, those knobby knuckles almost uncomfortable when he twines your fingers together. He’s still staring at Taehyung, and you want to do something, say something, it’ll be someone else soon, stop watching, you’re only gonna hurt yourself, but you know him, and you know when he gets like this it’s best to just let him ride it out. Suffer a little.

(Right now, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be tortured as last time, at least—when all of you had gone someplace else, some seedy spot in an Itaewon basement, and Taehyung had some girl pressed against the wall outside the bathrooms, fingers buried deep in her cunt as she shook and came. And Hobi, smarter and sharper than any of you but still so fucking stupid, had just—

“Fuck, man, they’re gonna need a mop and bucket for that. I mean, shit, it was so much? The sound when it hit the floor—”

Jeongguk had pulled a face. Half doe-eyes, half mortified terror. “When what hit the floor, hyung?”

“Her fucking squirt, Jeonggukie, what the fuck do you think—”

And Namjoon, just as wide-eyed and terrified as Jeongguk but for an entirely different reason, had laughed awkwardly and said, “Haaa, maybe we should talk about something else?” as he looked between Hoseok and Yoongi.

That night had been shit-tier, nearly unsalvageable, so at least it doesn’t seem like Taehyung’s in that kind of mood. At least the girl in his lap still has her clothes on. At least his hands are someplace you can see them. At least Yoongi’s still beside you.)

So you bide your time. Take stock of who’s still here and where they are, because the girl in Taehyung’s lap has her lips on his neck and things might go south faster than you’d originally anticipated. Hoseok and Jimin are on the dance floor, hips doing something sinful and too much; Namjoon’s at the bar, jaw clenched as the bartender passes him over for the fourth time in a row; Soyeon and Hyungseo are in the other side of your booth, tongues sloppy as they kiss just because they feel like it; Jeongguk, shoved in the corner on Yoongi’s other side, is slack-jawed as he stares at them, and Jeongguk is a fucking pervert so you know he’s hard.

“Put your dick back in your pants, Jeonggukie,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you over the music. The bass is heavy as it drops, feels like it’s thrumming through your veins, and Jeongguk startles. Bangs his knee on the underside of the table in his panic, and Soyeon and Hyungseo don’t bother breaking apart to look. “You want another drink?” you ask Yoongi, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

He shakes his head, finally drags his attention away from Taehyung. There’s someone new in his lap: chin-length silver hair, thin legs that go on for miles, tan skin covered in boldly-colored tattoos, could be anyone. Yoongi isn’t looking anymore, but you are, so you catch it when Taehyung looks up. Looks right at Yoongi, wants to see if he’s watching, but instead he just finds you. “Gonna go smoke,” Yoongi answers, and you slide out of the booth to let him leave.

“Is hyung okay?” Jeongguk asks when the two of you are pressed back together. He sips leisurely at his drink, trying to make it last until Namjoon makes it back from the bar with another one. Something baby blue and shockingly green, a little umbrella on top. Two cherries. “He seems sad. Hey, watch this.” Jeongguk pops one into his mouth and presents the knotted stem to you seconds later.

This is the part you never know how to explain: that Yoongi loves you but sometimes he wants someone else. Not instead, but too. That you love Yoongi and want him to have whatever he wants, and that jealousy is foreign to you. That you and Yoongi love each other but do things a little unorthodox, which is not out of the ordinary for a friend group as ran-through and commingled as yours, but still takes patience and care to explain.

So you just ruffle Jeongguk’s hair, laugh at his squawking protests, and wrangle him so you can press a kiss to the top of his head. “Don’t worry this pretty little head about your hyungs, okay?”

Jeongguk surfaces with a glare, surface-level because you’ve embarrassed him in front of two hot girls that are still making out, and hides his flushed cheeks behind his drink. “Is it about Taehyungie-hyung?”

“What’d I just tell you?”

He pouts, but you’re saved from another interrogation by Namjoon’s unceremonious return to the table. He’s so flustered by his one-sided feud with the bartender that he slams the blue-green drink down a little too hard, spills half of it in Jeongguk’s lap. “Move over,” he says to you, and you cock an eyebrow in return. “Please,” he amends, like that’s what you’d been looking for, but when you still don’t move he gets a little whiny and panicked. “They’re relentless,” he says, pointing his thumb at Soyeon and Hyungseo like you can’t see them. “Don’t make me—”

“What about me!” Jeongguk wails, pressing his hands pathetically to his groin like he’s trying to stem bleeding, at the same time you roll your eyes and fire a, “Says Mr. Eight-gigabyte Porn Folder,” at Namjoon.

You receive another glare, this time from Namjoon, and he doesn’t hesitate to steal Jeongguk’s spot against the wall when he goes to the bathroom to deal with his soaked pants, only to start swearing when he realizes the seat is wet, too. “Jesus fuck—”

“That’s what you get.”

“Fuck off,” Namjoon fires back. “Where’s Yoongi-hyung?”

“Outside smoking.”

“Smok—why is he smoking?” At your silence, he jerks his head up, intent on getting an answer out of you. Instead, his question dies on his tongue as he follows your line of sight. Another new person in Taehyung’s lap, sucking Taehyung’s fingers into their mouth. “Ah, yeah. That fucking guy.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Be nice, Namjoonie. You know Taehyung would hook up with a microwave if it gave him attention.”

“What number is that, then? Hasn’t he gotten enough attention?”

“Third I’ve seen. The first one was cute. I thought for sure he was gonna leave with her.”

Namjoon huffs, shakes his head. Takes a long pull of his beer. “He’s not gonna leave with anyone. He just does this to piss off hyung.” Then, like he’s coming to a realization, he turns to look at you with a quizzical look. “Wait, where’d Seokjin-hyung go?”

You stare back in disbelief. “How long were you at the fucking bar? He left hours ago.”

“Did he?” Then, quieter and to himself, “How long was I at the fucking bar?”

Whatever game Taehyung is playing, Yoongi is woefully inept at playing along.

Doesn’t know when it’s his move or when it’s time to sit and watch. Doesn’t know the rules. Doesn’t really listen when you try to explain it to him; probably doesn't want to hear it. Yoongi seems to think he’s at his best when he’s a little sad, a little miserable and yearning. At its core, that’s what the game is, and as much as he keeps touching the thorns to see if he’ll bleed, you know he still enjoys it.

(Know he gets off on it, too.)

Yoongi reaches for you. Steadies himself with his hand on your shoulder, pupils wide as saucers—dark dark dark in the corner of this grimy club—eventually breaking into a smile when you grab his sweat-slick hands and guide them to your waist. Your bodies move together like waves, pushing apart only for Yoongi to continuously pull you in closer, dazed from the feeling of you pressed against him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, words impossible to hear over the music, “look at you. So fucking pretty.”

He threads a knee between your legs, the sound of his groan drowned out as you roll your hips against him. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t know the rules to this game, but you do, and you make sure Taehyung’s watching when you drag your core against Yoongi’s thigh. He groans again, and his hands grip your hips tighter, moving you back and forth on him the way he does when you ride him.

You watch as he drags his eyes upward, see the exact moment he spots Taehyung across the club. His profile is lit up by the strobe lights, filling in the contours of his bone structure with greens and blues. He’s with Jimin and Hoseok now, dancing with the girl from earlier with the pink hair, her back pressed to his chest. He leans down and whispers recycled filth into her ear that she seems to buy. You watch as Yoongi closes his eyes tight; watch him pretend it’s Taehyung dancing with him; it’s Taehyung’s hips he’s gripping onto; it’s Taehyung who’s moaning and desperate for him in this moment.

You watch as his eyes snap open again.

You watch as he realizes he’s in this daydream alone.

And you wonder, briefly, if this should bother you. If this is fucked up, that Yoongi’s hard against you because he’s thinking about someone else, and you find that you don’t care. What you and Yoongi have doesn’t need to make sense to anyone except the two of you.

“Wanna go home,” Yoongi slurs into your ear, fucked up from the feel of you, the thought of Taehyung.

You smirk, tangle your hands in his hair and tug a little just to fuck him up even more. “Yeah? What d’you wanna go home for? It’s still pretty early.”

“Wanna fuck you,” he whines. Tries to hold you in place to grind harder against you and whines again when you move just out of reach. “Baby.”

“You know the rule.” There’s a drop of sweat that rolls down the side of Yoongi’s neck that you chase with your tongue. “Tell me what you actually want and we can leave.”

The breath he sucks in is harsh, fractured, like your question is a special kind of torture. You know it is. Unlike with Taehyung, this is a game both you and Yoongi know the rules to. Unlike with Taehyung, this is the game Yoongi plays to win. The song changes again, this time to something filthy and slow, and Yoongi fits himself to your back, moves until both of you are facing Taehyung. “Want you both,” he says into your ear. Nips at the lobe. “Want to watch you fuck him the way you fuck me.”

“Don’t wanna fuck him yourself?”

You feel him shake his head. “Not this time.”

“What are you doing, then? In this fantasy of yours?”

Yoongi presses closer, the outline of his hard cock pressing into the small of your back now. “Watching, at first. Wanna see you ruin him.” His hands skim along your skin, dip beneath the hemline of your shirt, dance across your stomach. “Wanna watch you make him fucking cry.”

“Are you telling me how?”

Yoongi’s laugh is low, a little caustic. “I won’t need to. He’s so fuckin’ easy.”

“And yet you want him this bad,” you taunt. “Someone easy like that—doesn’t seem to be your type.”

He bites along your neck. “Watch yourself.”

“I’m not the one all fucked up over Kim Taehyung.” You make eye contact with the man in question. Watch as the look on his face fades into a smirk, syrupy and slow. Sleezy, you think. He probably is as easy as Yoongi says. “I should tell him how fucking hard you are. Should tell him you’re gonna take me home and fuck me and come thinking about him. That’s pretty fuckin’ dirty, Yoongi.”

It’s nothing you haven’t said before. Sometimes you press even harder, humiliate him a little when he seems to be in the mood for it, but this time he goes stock-still. Silence stretches between the two of you, the only people standing still on this dancefloor, and you’re halfway turned around to see if Yoongi wants to fuck or cry when he says, “Do it, then.”

You laugh. All part of the game. But then Yoongi grabs your hand, moves it to his cock, straining against his skin-tight jeans, some kind of message that’s gotten fucked up in translation. “Yoongi—”

“Tell him,” he says, expression shuttered and serious.

“You wanna think about this for more than ten seconds? You haven’t talked to him since the last time you guys hooked up and you want me to go tell him you… what? That you want to have some weird cuck threesome with him?”

That’s exactly what you told him.

(Because you know Yoongi, and you also know Taehyung. Your dig at him to Namjoon was very much based in truth, and with how fucked up the dynamics of your friend group are, it hadn’t taken much more than sending Yoongi out into the cold to order a taxi, swaying your hips a little, re-glossing your lips, and disposing of the girl with the bubblegum pink hair. No one had batted an eye.

“I’m going home to fuck my boyfriend,” you said, leaning into Taehyung’s space. He was draped on the couch again, legs spread in a way that was frankly obscene. “Would you like to join us?”

“That depends, angel. How do you fuck him?” he asked, spreading his legs wider.

You stepped closer. Cupped his cheek, dug your nails into his skin a little, and said, “Better than you ever did,” all condescension.

Taehyung had just laughed. Pressed his tongue into the fat of his cheek. “I guess we’ll see about that.”)

And now you’re here, Taehyung sprawled on the bed beneath you. You can see why a sight like this would have Yoongi fucked up as long as he has been: Taehyung’s golden skin contrasting against the crisp white of the sheets, dark hair fanning against the pillows, curls falling into his eyes, chest heaving. Each time he throws his head back you’re torn between sinking your teeth into the column of his throat and wrapping your hands around it. It’s easy to ruin him when he looks like this; easy to give Yoongi what he wants.

“What should I do with you?” you think out loud, and Taehyung’s responding whimper draws a laugh out of you. “Yoongi wants to watch me fuck you,” you continue, hands teasing toward the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. You pinch, slap away the sting. “Would you like that?”

Taehyung’s cock—long and thick, still glistening with spit from when you sucked him off—twitches at the thought. “Y-yeah, fuck, want that,” he answers, hands moving to fist the sheets. He’s been so good. Has done exactly as you said. “Wan’ you to fuck me.”

“Should I fuck you the way you used to fuck your hyung?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi moan at the same time, and it’s so stupid, you think, this game they’ve been playing. Cat and mouse, as if the conclusion hasn’t been inevitable this whole time. “Use your words, Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” he says again, Adam’s apple bobbing heavily in his throat. “Y-yeah, like that.”

You hum, reach behind you for the bottle of lube. Yoongi mutters a quiet shit from the other side of the room and you glance over. Mouth hung open, lips wet; jeans pushed halfway down his thighs, the outline of his cock visible through his briefs, hand squeezing at the base. Cheating a little, but still not touching himself the way you know he wants to. He’ll be the first to cry, at this rate.

Eyes back on Taehyung. You wonder if he’d normally preen, put on a show. You wonder if he did that with Yoongi, some whole thing. “He’s told me about it, you know,” you say, clicking the lube open. Sounds more like a gunshot in the small space of your bedroom, where the only other sounds are labored breathing and the city outside. “Told me all about how you used to split him open with that big cock.” You tip the bottle sideways, let the lube dribble out and over Taehyung’s balls. He hisses at the cold, mutters a swear. “Told me he’d struggle to take it sometimes.”

“You two are—fuck.” Whatever Taehyung was going to say is cut off as your finger follows the lube, trails down to his hole. You circle it there, make sure it’s wet, press a little just to watch his hips jerk. “You two are fu-fucking weird.”

“Mm, maybe,” you concede, “but you should see how hard he comes when he’s thinking about you.”

You gather more lube on your finger, then, and press it inside. Just to the first knuckle, just enough to make Taehyung whine. “I guess you already know that, though,” you continue. Pour a little more lube on Taehyung’s skin. Pull your finger out enough to slicken it, push it back in a little further. “Was it good for you?”

His moan is broken and low, deep and heady. A sound that makes the world feel like it’s tilting; a sound that makes you want to chase it. “Yeah,” Taehyung answers, and it could be a response or a declaration when it’s followed by, “so fucking good.”

“Yoongi is good, isn’t he? He listens so well.” With your free hand, you grab Taehyung’s face roughly, turn his head in the direction of where Yoongi’s sitting. “Look at him,” you instruct. He already looks fucked-out. Cheeks flushed, breathing hard, knuckles white where he’s gripping onto the arm of the chair. “Look at how good he’s being, not even touching himself.”

And Taehyung… Taehyung almost looks ashamed. Won’t meet Yoongi’s gaze, now that they’re so close, now that it’s real, and this won’t do, will it, so you dig your nails in a little harder, drag them down his cheek, tell him again to look at his hyung. Then—

For the first time all night, their eyes meet at the same time.

Yoongi’s whimper is loud. The loudest you’ve ever heard him outside of actual sex. You work in a second finger alongside the first, build up a steady rhythm, and Taehyung isn’t faring much better. Little by little he opens up for you and you’re thankful for the way he sucks you in, adjusts. It’s getting harder to ignore the heat between your own legs, watching two beautiful men fall apart in vastly different ways, even though you want to drag this out, want to make Taehyung cry and give Yoongi exactly what he wanted.

And, god, Taehyung is so fucking pretty.

You tell him as much, and his smile is greasy, looks even more lewd when you crook your fingers and his eyes roll back. He’s still tight around you when he asks for a third so you shake your head, tell him no, tell him he’s greedy, and you think people must not make him beg much, the way he’s pouting. Taehyung has a face that gets him whatever he wants and a cock to match, and you’d understood it before, why Yoongi couldn’t really let it go, but it’s different when it’s right in front of you, making a mess of your sheets.

“I must be going soft on you,” you tell him, working in another finger the next time he asks. “Yoongi wanted me to make you cry and here I am, giving you whatever you want. Maybe I should let him decide what you get.”

Taehyung shoots a hand out, grabs at your forearm. “Don’t,” he says, voice hoarse, bordering on pleading. “Please. He’s still mad at me, won’ give me anything.”

A huff of breath escapes you. “He doesn’t look very mad to me. Looks like he could probably come on command if you told him to.” It’s not an exaggeration, not really; Yoongi is gone, looks like a stiff wind could have him spilling all over himself. “But maybe that’s what you deserve.”

You nail Taehyung’s prostate the next time you crook your fingers and he sobs. You do it again, then a third time. Precome oozes out of his cock, deepens the pool on his belly. You keep it up until tears pool on his waterline, until he’s reaching for you again, begging you to stop, words cracking as he tells you desperately that he’s going to come. “Angel, fuck, please, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him, all authority. “You’re not going to come, are you, because I haven’t told you to. Yoongi hasn’t told you to.”

The first frustrated tear streaks down Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh my fucking god,” he chokes out, forcing his hips flat to the bed, tries to force you to stop moving. But your rhythm is steady, confident, three fingers working with the space he’s left you, and it isn’t until you watch his balls tighten that they slow. Taehyung’s sweat-slick, looks even more golden under the amber lamplight, and it’s dizzying, the way the color shifts as his chest heaves with his ragged breaths.

There’s only enough time for you to slip your fingers out, grab the lube, slick up the strap-on that’s fastened around your hips, before you’re pressing the head against Taehyung’s hole, still dripping wet. “It’s so big,” you muse, grinning wickedly at the man beneath you, “I don’t know if it’s going to fit. What do you think, Yoongi? Is this how you used to feel?”

When you look over this time, Yoongi has his cock out, briefs tucked beneath his balls, stroking fast. Clicking your tongue, he looks up through half-lidded eyes, hand stilling immediately. His nod is almost imperceptible, too disoriented to answer, and you’ll give him this one. Won’t push it. What you will push, though—

“Shit.”

You’re not sure if it comes from Yoongi or Taehyung. It might’ve even come from you, because you’re transfixed, can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of your stupid flesh-colored dildo disappearing into Taehyung’s body. Fucking greedy, you think, mostly at yourself, because if this sight is good you can only imagine what you’d see if you were watching his face. Brows furrowed, mouth pinched. A look not far off from that night in the club, the determination on his face as he fucked that girl with his fingers, uncaring who heard or saw.

But this is your show. Yoongi’s fantasy. Whatever girls—people—Taehyung has fucked in seedy clubs across Seoul are of little importance here. All that matters is the steady push of your hips, the slow roll once you’re fully buried, the pleasure that jolts through you when you’re able to grind a little against the toy, the way Taehyung thrashes against the sheets, incoherent as he babbles, stuck between more and too much.

“Okay?” you ask, hands skimming along his warm skin. Goosebumps trail in their wake, and you settle them on his thighs. Press them up and to the side as he nods, giving yourself more space, and Taehyung’s moan is loud, unabashed. His cock lies neglected against his stomach, begging you to reach out and grab it, stroke him, make him come too fast so you have another bruise to press on, some way to embarrass him.

But this is your show, Yoongi’s fantasy, and you don’t have to look because you can hear how close your boyfriend is to getting himself off. Can hear the way his breath hitches, can hear when his rhythm changes. Quicker, now. More insistent. If Taehyung looked over at him, it’d be all over, and you almost tell him to do that, too.

“Stop touching yourself,” you say to Yoongi. A second time when he disregards the first, too far gone, too close. “Yoongi.” He whines but he listens, shoves his fingers in his mouth to stem the urge, and Taehyung watches it all.

You’re still thrusting, thighs burning, sticky where they meet Taehyung’s, and it won’t be your lengthiest performance, that’s for sure. So you call Yoongi’s name again, beckon him over, and he hesitates, looks so unsure. But it’s so stupid, the way he and Taehyung dance around one another—and you know, you know Taehyung wouldn’t be shaking like this if it were just you, if Yoongi wasn’t in his head, wasn’t watching—so you’re insistent. “Come here,” you tell him, and you make sure your voice is spun sugar when you say it.

Yoongi listens. Stumbles over on unsteady legs, knees nearly buckling when he gets close enough to also watch the way the strap-on fucks into Taehyung’s hole, the way it stretches obscenely to accommodate it. “Baby.” He threads his hands into your hair and kisses you hard and messy. Taehyung moans beneath you so you know he’s watching, and you will your body to move faster, fuck him harder.

When Yoongi pulls back, it’s obvious. The longing in his eyes. “Tell him,” you say, and he looks caught-out, would almost look angry if he were capable of it. “This is your fantasy, isn’t it? So tell him.”

“I—” He looks down at Taehyung again, meets his gaze again, and he must see something there you can’t, because all the hesitation is gone when he says, “I want to kiss you.”

And you know what it means.

Because that had been the rule between the two of them. No staying the night, no kissing. You know what it means for Yoongi to ask for that, what it’d mean if Taehyung allowed it, and it nearly cracks your heart in half that it’s the only thing he’s willing to ask for when his wants are endless when it comes to Taehyung.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung moans. “Fuck, hyung, yeah—yeah, c’mere, kiss me, please, fuck.”

Yoongi looks like he’s been punched in the gut. Looks overwhelmed, given this kind of permission, so he goes about it all wrong. Starts to kneel at the side of the bed before you tsk and grab him by his own hair. “Do it right,” you instruct.

He moans. Aborts whatever he was about to do and climbs over Taehyung on the bed, straddles him, fitting in between both of you perfectly, close enough for his cock to slot against Taehyung’s. They both moan, and their game had been so fucking stupid it sends a lick of anger through you. Yoongi ruts his hips once, twice, and then he’s leaning down and cupping Taehyung’s face and pressing his lips—still wet from you, still wearing your spit—to Taehyung’s.

And Taehyung comes immediately, nearly untouched. Spills all over himself with a loud, broken sob.

“Holy shit,” you say, hips slowing until they’re still. “Holy shit, that was fucking hot, what the fuck.”

Taehyung trembles in the comedown and Yoongi presses in closer, kisses him through it. Can’t seem to stop now that he’s allowed. He’s still rutting, has Taehyung teetering on oversensitivity, so you grab Yoongi’s hips to slow him. “Careful, baby,” you say softly into his ear. Press a kiss to the nape of his neck. Give him a minute to back away from the ledge again and get himself under control, let Taehyung catch his breath. “Are you okay, Taehyung?” you ask, hands once again touching any of his skin you can find. You knead at the muscles in his calves.

There’s some garbled response. Something you think is supposed to sound like an affirmation. “Words, please.”

“Y-yeah,” comes his response.

“Okay. I’m gonna go grab something to clean you up, all right?” You press another kiss to Yoongi’s shoulder, turn your attention to him. “Then we’ll finally give you what you want, yeah? Finally let you come.” A shiver runs up his spine and he nods weakly. “Can you prep yourself while I’m gone?” Another shaky nod. “Good boy. Gonna pull out now, Tae.”

You do so slowly. Taehyung hisses, sucks in a breath through his teeth. Hisses again when you replace the toy with your thumb, try to ease the discomfort of being so suddenly empty. With another kiss pressed to Yoongi’s shoulder, you mumble an I love you into his hair, and then you’re gone.

There’s always been something about the way Yoongi touches himself.

Like the goal is more than simply getting off. Like there’s reverence in it, something beyond purpose. Yoongi touches himself the way other people drop to their knees at church and pray.

Sometimes it’s long and drawn out. Sometimes his hands skirt over every inch of his own skin before he finally brings them to his cock. Sometimes he rests on his haunches in the middle of the bed and angles himself toward the mirror and watches, his cheeks aflame the entire time because he’s embarrassed to see himself like that, three of his own fingers fucking himself, but the embarrassment almost feels just as good. Sometimes he has you beneath him, raining down praise as his fist works the length of his cock.

Sometimes he does it entirely wrong, like now.

Two pale, lube-slick fingers work in and out of his hole. His own, then, and not Taehyung’s. Just like you’d asked. You’re a little surprised, thought maybe Yoongi might panic and retreat with you gone, but they’re both where you’d left them. Taehyung’s talking all the while, saying god knows what in that deep timbre, and it’s straight up pornographic the way his large hands rest on the cheeks of Yoongi’s ass, pull them apart.

The damp cloth in your hand feels useless. Is useless, you think, because Yoongi had told you something, once, deep in the throes of another cerebral fantasy—

“I can’t believe I have to keep telling you this,” you say, and everything immediately goes still at the sound of your voice, “but do it right, Yoongi.”

Taehyung lifts his head, stares at you skeptically. Probably mirroring the look on Yoongi’s face that you aren’t privy to with his back to you. “We’ve talked about this,” you continue, stalking closer. All eyes on you as you drop the cloth to the floor. “Are you clean?” you ask Taehyung, and he nods, expression still dubious.

And then you’re reaching between both of them, swiping your fingers through the mess of cum on Taehyung’s stomach, and he understands immediately. “Are you gon—fuuuck. Fucking christ.” The first swipe goes to Yoongi’s mouth, and there’s no hesitation as he sucks your fingers clean. Your free hand finds Yoongi’s, the one he’s working himself open with, and pulls it away. Replaces it with your own, your two longest fingers covered in the second swipe of Taehyung’s cum, and you fuck them in and out faster than Yoongi had been.

“Filthy,” Taehyung chokes out, clearly overwhelmed; another groan when Yoongi starts sucking at his neck, biting, claiming.

It’s primal, the way Taehyung reacts, the way Yoongi embeds himself under his skin, tries desperately to make a home there. Something permanent this time; or, at least, a home that won’t burn down like the last one. Won’t be reduced to a smoking heap of bitter ash. And you wonder, as you watch the way these two beautiful men fit together, if Taehyung will be holding the match or the key this time.

You press slow, open-mouthed kisses along the knots in Yoongi’s spine. Drizzle more lube on your fingers, work him open more. Whisper I know, baby, I know when he gets impatient and a little too demanding. Swap the condom on the strap-on and slick it up, just like last time, and then you’re pressing into Yoongi instead of Taehyung, the way you’ve done so many times before.

Everything is familiar and different: the drag, the pull, the noises spilling out of Yoongi’s mouth. Those staccato whines varied in pitch, sometimes drawn out and sometimes punched and short. This is what you know. This is your home, and you think, as Taehyung looks at Yoongi, so fucking endeared, as he gently cups his face, as he says—

“Hyung, you look so pretty. You’re doing so well, hyung, fuck, I didn’t think I’d ever see you like this again.”

—you think your house might look nice with an addition. An extra space carved out only for Taehyung. A room where Yoongi can exist in endless adoration.

“Make yourself useful, Kim Taehyung.”

Because Taehyung listens. Because Taehyung is good in all the ways that Yoongi is good, and he doesn’t have to be told twice when the order deals in Yoongi’s pleasure. So all of you adjust until Yoongi’s on his hands and knees, gripping tightly onto the headboard, and Taehyung shuffles down the bed until he can get his mouth on Yoongi’s cock.

“Fuck, yeah, just like that,” you say, and Taehyung moans at the praise, the vibrations making Yoongi gasp and jerk.

You know when you hit his prostate, too; know this is going to be over soon from the way he buries his face in the crook of his elbow and screams. You know it from the way he starts to shake. From the unintelligible filth that pours from his mouth as Taehyung swallows him all the way down. From the way he stutters out a, ba-baby, wha’bout you, gonna come like this, and you pet his hair, voice soft again when you say, this is for you, Yoongi, you can come, I know it’s so much.

There’s a final husky, drawn-out moan, and then there’s quiet.

Lucidity returns slowly.

The heat kicks on. A police siren wails in the distance, seven floors below you. You re-wet your cloth and do your best to clean the dried cum from Taehyung’s skin, your smile fond as he whines at the cold, tries to squirm away. Yoongi doesn’t move an inch, just collapses face-first onto the mattress and lets everyone fuss over him. Starts snoring a few minutes later, after you’ve pulled the duvet up to his ears and he’s tucked in and warm.

You move to the dresser. Pull out two t-shirts—oversized on you, tight in the shoulders on Taehyung—and clean underwear. And then you pause, because Taehyung’s already plucking his own clothes off the floor, already has his fucking socks and briefs on, and it’s… it doesn’t feel right, is the thing. Doesn’t feel like he should be leaving. Not tonight, maybe ever.

“Where are you going?” you ask, and you do a good job of keeping the hurt out, at sounding normal.

Taehyung doesn’t get it. Looks at you like you’re a little stupid and a lot crazy, because he looks at you, then at the world outside the window, and finally at Yoongi before answering. “I—leaving?”

“Why?”

Taehyung looks at you like you’re a lot stupid this time. “I don’t…” Pauses. Tries to sink into the floor to no avail. “Look, I think maybe this was a mistake? Hyung and I—I don’t think this is what he wants.”

“And how do you know what he wants?”

“Because we’re here,” he answers, anger seeping in. “Because I’m standing in your apartment. His girlfriend, and—”

You sigh. “If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you, but I think it’d really hurt him if you left.” You leave off the again. It’s not your trauma to dredge up. Yoongi wouldn’t want you to, and that’s reason enough. “I would like it if you stayed, if that means anything.”

“The two of you are fucking weird,” he says again, but he looks less torn. Looks less like he would plow you over to get to the door, and it’s… progress. It’s good. You can work with a halfway thing. “Hyung would really—you think he wants me here?”

It’s spoken about in the way a broken thing always is: delicately, hesitantly, like Taehyung’s afraid of the answer, afraid to find out the results of this stupid game of his own design. “He does. It’s not my place to say much more than that, but I think the two of you are overdue for a conversation, if nothing else.”

Taehyung nods. Starts looking less and less like he’s out of place; starts looking like object permanence, takes a corporeal form within the four walls of your bedroom. “There’s space here for you,” you say, with the amount of care words like these require, “if you want it.”

“What does that mean?”

“Whatever you want it to. Nothing has to be decided right now, but I know Yoongi. You know him, too. I just don’t want to see him hurt again.”

Taehyung nods again. Peels his socks off. “You’re sure?” he asks, and when you nod, he climbs back into bed, seems to somehow know which side of the bed is Yoongi’s, two magnets drawn together. Something inevitable.

You breathe out a sigh. Finally slip the t-shirt and underwear on. Flick the lamp off and let yourself have a minute to enjoy the calm, Yoongi’s body heat next to you, still snoring softly between you and Taehyung. And then, because you can’t resist—

“You two are really fucking stupid, you know that?”

You hear Taehyung swallow. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, sounding the part of a scolded child, and as much as you try not to, you’re smiling again, fond and endeared, into the dark. “I know.”

“Okay. Go to sleep, Tae. I expect a very nice thank you gift in the morning.”

It doesn’t happen in the morning. Not really.

It happens sometime in the middle of the night. The light streaming in through the sheer curtains gives away nothing more than silver-amber light, the moon and the city. Could be minutes since you fell asleep, could be hours; all you know is Yoongi’s at your back, arm slung possessively over your middle, and his heat is stifling.

“Yoongi,” you hiss, because it’s not just his heat. He’s hard again, cock pressing against the swell of your ass just like it was in the club, and you feel him smile against your neck when he realizes you’re awake. Feel him rock his hips, just a little.

He nips at your lobe, your jaw. “Hi, baby,” he says, like this is just another morning. Like he’s about to present your favorite mug to you, coffee fixed exactly how you like it. “Why didn’ you wake me up?”

“For what?” you breathe out, voice already wavering. All Yoongi has done is skim his warm hands under your oversized t-shirt, swirl a finger around your navel.

Yoongi tuts. Feels weird to be on this side of it, the illusion of condescension. “To fuck you. Make you come. You didn’t earlier.”

“I meant what I said—”

“I know you did,” Yoongi interjects, “but I don’t find that to be a very acceptable excuse.”

You roll your eyes, no heat in it, but then Yoongi’s hand moves to the hem of your underwear and slips inside. Your hips jerk when he moves two fingers lightly over your clit, jerk again when he finds you already wet and groans deep and husky into your ear. And it’s not loud, but it’s loud for this room at whatever-the-fuck time it is. “Gotta be quiet,” you whisper to him, and he laughs, thinks you’re joking. “I’m serious,” you say, and you want to sound authoritative but it comes out as a whine when he sinks those fingers into your cunt.

“Why would I need to be quiet?” he asks. Crooks them as best he can from this weird angle, you on your side with your back pressed to him, Yoongi halfway on top of you. “Shouldn’t I be loud?” He hits a spot that whites your vision. “Shouldn’t everyone in this fucking place hear it?”

Usually you wouldn’t care. Your apartment building has heard worse, including whatever debauchery the three of you had gotten up to mere hours ago, but—“Taehyung’s asleep.”

Yoongi startles, goes still. “What?”

“What.”

“What d’you mean Taehyung’s asl…” You feel him turn. Feel him realize, for the first time, that there is a very-asleep Taehyung on his other side, and you want to ask how he hadn’t noticed before, want to say didn’t you realize how cramped this bed is, it’s not big enough for three people, we’ll have to get a new one, but. Yoongi hadn’t expected him to stay, hadn’t expected it to even be an option, so of course it would’ve been a blind spot.

Your heart cracks in half again.

“What’d you say to him?” he asks. Not accusing, almost awed, like you knew a code, the secret passcode to getting Taehyung to stay that Yoongi hadn’t had before.

You reach back, find Yoongi’s hair. Scratch gently at his scalp. “Just that I thought you’d like it if he stayed. That’s it, nothing else. I wouldn’t.”

“I know, I wasn’t…” He sucks in a deep breath, holds it, lets it go. He’s okay. “This is okay with you?”

A laugh spills out of you. “You’re asking me that now? I was nearly fist-deep in his ass a few hours ago but him sleeping in our bed is crossing some kind of line?”

“Sex can be different,” Yoongi argues, “and it’s me, you know, like it’s my hangup, not yours—”

“I want you to be happy,” you answer honestly. “Whatever that looks like. I told him there’s room for him here if he wants it, but they’re not my knots to untangle. If he wants to stick around, if you two can get your shit together… we’ll figure it out. It only needs to make sense to us.”

Silence. Then—“I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my fucking life,” Yoongi groans. “Jesus Christ.”

“I should’ve known hyung was the type to get a boner from open and honest communication.”

Yoongi startles again at the low rasp of Taehyung’s voice. “And that’s exactly why I said I fuck him better than you,” you fire at him, deadpan. He laughs. You don’t have to look at Yoongi to know how red he’s turned.

“You said that to him?” he chokes out, all mortified disbelief, at the same time Taehyung says, “Maybe you’ve got a point, angel.”

The mattress sinks under Taehyung’s weight as he shuffles closer to the two of you. Must touch Yoongi somehow, because there’s a high-pitched whine from the back of his throat, so loud in your ear, has heat coursing through you. “Finish what you started, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Yoongi’s nod is jerky, his hands uncoordinated under Taehyung’s watchful stare.

Yoongi moves over you fully, wastes no time before he’s working his fingers in and out at a steady rhythm, sucking at your skin. Taehyung groans quietly, doesn’t need to be told a goddamn thing; rids you of your shirt so Yoongi can mouth his way from your jaw to your neck, collarbones to chest, one nipple and then the next. Pleasure licks up your spine, outweighs how overwhelming it is to have Yoongi this geared-up, wound this tight; to have Taehyung’s hands roaming over every inch of skin his hyung doesn’t have his mouth on.

“Yoo-Yoongi,” you choke out, because this has really gone from zero to a hundred and he’s been pressing incessantly on your g-spot for too long to remain unaffected.

It’s building, building, building, and you’ve fully lost control of your hips, grinding against the heel of Yoongi’s palm like you’re desperate for it. (You are.) And Taehyung just laughs darkly, says, “Think she’s gonna come, hyung,” just to get under your skin.

“Mm, yeah. Might make a mess.” He slaps at your clit and that’s it, that’s what does it.

And Yoongi knows you, doesn’t he, because he knows how you like to get fucked. Knows to click his tongue at you, give you that disappointed look; knows to wipe your release on your thighs. Knows to barely let you catch your breath before he’s slipping on a condom and pushing inside of you.

After his fingers, the stretch from his cock feels dizzying. Feels on the edge of too much, and Taehyung’s commentary is doing fuck-all to help you come back to earth. Keeps saying shit like goddamn, hyung, yeah, fuck her like that. Maneuvers you so your back is pressed to his chest, now, your head on his shoulder, so Yoongi can slip his tongue into Taehyung’s mouth while he ruins you. It’s filthy, it’s so fucking filthy, and you think, selfishly, that a room won’t be big enough. You’d build Taehyung an entire goddamn house to keep it like this, to keep the three of you safe in this bubble.

“Imagine, hyung,” Taehyung starts, and you know what comes out of his mouth next is going to be nasty. Yoongi knows it, too, eyes starting to go glassy. A million constellations reflected as he looks at the two of you. “If we fucked her at the same time. Both of us in that tight pussy. Our cocks togeth—”

You’re not sure if the deafening moan comes from you or Yoongi. Either way, his hips falter, cadence reduced to stuttered thrusts as he tries desperately not to come just from Taehyung spewing more filth out of his devilish mouth. But you want to see it. Want to see what happens when he’s pushed to the brink of horny delirium, so you say—

“Do it.”

—and Yoongi has to stop altogether. Grips your hips so hard you know they’ll bruise, and you think, for a second, that he actually did come. Everything is quiet for a second, just more labored breathing, and then Yoongi picks his head up. Looks more fucked-out than you’ve ever seen him, even more than earlier, and looks straight at Taehyung.

“Put your fingers in her.”

Taehyung breathes harshly through his nose. Waits for you to nod, give him the okay, and then his hands leave your hair and skim down your body. They’re so warm, so large, cover so much skin that it truly feels like he’s everywhere, like it’s more than just him touching you. The closer he nears to your cunt, the more overpowering it is, the harder it is to breathe.

“Is this what you want, angel?” he asks, words warm on your skin as he presses them just below your ear. “You’re a greedy girl, getting hyung’s cock and my fingers.” He rubs circles into your clit, sends you spiraling. You’re dangerously close to a second orgasm (could be a third, could be a hundredth, considering Yoongi never let you come down from the first) and there’s a split-second right before he dips his fingers into your cunt, works them in alongside Yoongi’s cock, that you feel engulfed.

Everything is on fire.

You, most of all.

Taehyung sucks his fingers into his mouth, gets ‘em wet, works in slowly. Just his middle finger at first, and Yoongi falters again, moans out an oh fuuuck that betrays exactly how far gone he is. And you aren’t far behind, the stretch from both of them unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. You can’t imagine how it’d feel if it was more than just Taehyung’s fingers, except you can, and Taehyung notices when the thought has you clenching, has you a little wetter, because he laughs at you, tells Yoongi like he can’t tell on his own. Like your boyfriend is a little dumb, like he’s never fucked you before, and that does something to both of you.

One finger turns into two. Yoongi’s a fucking mess, absolutely gone of the feel of them inside you, against his cock, can’t stop moaning. The tight fit has Taehyung’s fingers pressed snug against your g-spot, exactly how Yoongi’s had been, and it’s too much. Too much.

“I’m, fuck—I’m gonna—”

When you come it feels like the end of the world. It feels like rapture. It feels like every atom in your body has been rearranged, like the gods themselves are rewarding you specifically with the sound of Yoongi following right behind you, moaning low and ragged, spilling into the condom.

In the comedown, he kisses you—soft, tender, with every iota of love and affection contained in him. “I love you,” he says. Presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You okay?”

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. “Give me three to five business days to decide.”

Yoongi’s smile is shy, almost embarrassed. More gums than anything else. Behind you, the rumble of Taehyung’s laughter against your back, rattling your ribs. Rattling your heart, maybe, lodged safely between them.

It expands, makes more room—the one for Taehyung, that house—and Yoongi’s lips find Taehyung’s next and you know it’ll be okay. These two stupid boys, they’ll figure it out, put a cease fire to their foolish game.

Yeah, something inevitable.

as always, thank you for reading! my inbox is always open if you’d like to leave feedback. i’d love to hear your thoughts! ❤

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts smut #yoongi imagine #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #taehyung imagine #taehyung smut #taehyung x reader #yoongi fanfic #taehyung fanfic #bts fanfic #btscarnivalnet #kvanity #btswritersclub #btshoneyhive

[impossible-rat-babies]

I really went full blown tender homosexual when I wrote jericho’s backstory like Oh Geez

#it doesn’t count for bury your gays bc it’s me. a gay writing this #me thinking about jericho and his husband jonah and how happy they made each other #ALSO LIKE THE DEVOTION #jericho helping jonah as his hair started falling out and his skin became oozy and weepy to the touch #jericho being there for every day as jonah slowly became a ghoul and still loving him through every bit of that #the devotion jonah knew he could never repay because he knew it was happening and he knew jericho had every right to say #that this wasn’t what he meant when he married him #sickness and health bc those are just words but no #jericho took those as a promise he gave before his god #and it wasn’t for the love of his god that he took care of jonah #it was because he LOVED HIM #oh I’m gonna cry over my own stupid ocs and their stupid backstories #GOD jericho in nv even though it’s been like. years is still Grieving so much #I bumped up his age so that means he had even more time w jonah and I’m 🥺🥺🥺🥺 #oc talk: jericho

[generallynerdy]

Hold Him (Poe Dameron X M!Reader)

Summary: Poe lands on Ajan Kloss after destroying the Final Order once and for all with only one thought on his mind; he desperately wants to find his boyfriend and kiss the life out of him. (Y/N), however, has other ideas. Like maybe punching his beloved idiot.

Requested by Anon: Disaster bi Poe = best Poe so can I get Poe x M!reader where Poe just landed after the final battle in TROS and reader smacks him for putting himself in danger and then kisses him cause GOD does he love that idiot

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: author self-projects desperately bc he wants a relationship like this, minor cursing, author still hasn’t decided on pronouns for droid characters leave me alone, Sequel Canon exists unfortunately and is prevalent in this fic :/ Word Count: 1,153

Note: technically i fulfilled the prompt by 500 words but i’m a weak bitch and my brain worms have complete power over my fingers so. ANYWAY my dumb gay ass fell way more in love with Poe writing this but i haven’t watched the movies in a while so he may be slightly OOC, Finn might be too so that’s my bad. Also wild thing that comes with realising im bigender is that it’s so much easier to write with,,,all the pronouns AND i can self project onto every single fic

    Poe Dameron practically launched himself from his X-Wing the moment it touched down on Ajan Kloss. His heart was light with victory, with freedom from a war he’d spent far too long fighting. Too many thoughts were running through his head, almost at the same rate as his pulse, which hadn’t dropped since they took off from the base hours before.

    But the one thing that kept coming to mind was that he desperately, desperately wanted to find his boyfriend and hold him for the next 20 years.

    Pushing through the crowd of exhilarated rebels, Poe smiled and greeted the occasional familiar face, but he was really focused on finding his man. He didn’t catch sight of him immediately and, in fact, found Finn first.

    “Finn!” he cried, rushing to greet his friend with a tight hug.

    “We did it-- General,” Finn said with a fond, mischievous grin.

    Poe smiled back. “General. Hey, have you seen (Y/N)?”

    He grimaced. “Uh, no, but you’re a dead man. Threatening to come pull us off the star destroyer? You’re dead.”

    “Hey, I’ll be fine,” he said, waving him off. “He loves me.”

    Finn looked over his shoulder, eyes going wide. “Yeah, uh, not that much. Good luck.”

    He made himself scarce as soon as Poe turned around. The man was met with (Y/N), his dear, dear boyfriend, and said boyfriend’s most vicious scowl.

    Poe winced, but played it off with a smile. “Hey, hon--”

    “Don’t you ‘honey’ me, Poe Dameron!” (Y/N) scolded, storming up to him and hitting his shoulder. “You’re a karking dumbass!”

    “(Y/N)--”

    He scoffed, gesturing wildly. “Oh, I’ll just fly right up beside a star destroyer and I’ll be perfectly fine! I’ll just kill myself for the sake of three people and a droid!”

    “I was protecting you and BB and Finn and Jannah,” he said firmly. “It would have been worth it-- but I didn’t even end up doing and you’re all safe. So can you please just breathe?”

    (Y/N) inhaled deeply. Poe waited.

    A moment later, he was dragged into a kiss. He made a little happy, amused hum and pulled (Y/N) in by his waist. (Y/N) would have rolled his eyes if they weren’t closed. Instead, he reached up to cup Poe’s head and run his fingers through his hair, earning him a pleased huff. (Y/N) loved playing with his hair and Poe loved the feeling of it, so it was a win-win situation.

    When (Y/N) let the poor man breathe again, he couldn’t help smacking his shoulder. “I don’t know why I love you,” he mumbled before falling into his shoulder forehead-first.

    Poe laughed. “I’m insufferable and it’s part of my charm?”

    (Y/N) muttered something incoherent against his flight suit, while Poe rubbed a comforting hand across his back. He noted with fondness that his boyfriend was wearing his jacket, which sent a wave of affection through his chest, almost like he’d been shot. 

The weight of his mother’s ring hanging on a chain around his neck fell heavy against his heart, reminding him of the promise he’d made to himself. When this is over...Well, it was over now. It was over and Poe was free to make a million promises to this man, this man that he loved with every bit of his soul. That ring was going to be his.

He noticed then that (Y/N) had tucked in closer and gone silent.

“Hey,” he whispered against his hair. “Hey, you okay? You hurt?”

(Y/N) mumbled a muffled negative, but buried his face in Poe’s neck. “No. ‘M fine.”

Poe frowned. Something wasn’t right. “What is it, baby?”

Finally, his boyfriend looked up, meeting his gaze with something that he might call bittersweetness, though he couldn’t understand why.

“It’s over,” (Y/N) breathed out.

Poe couldn’t help a soft smile. “Yeah, baby, it’s over. But you...don’t look happy. What’s wrong?”

“I just--” he paused. “Shit. We’ve been fighting for years. Everything we’ve done, everything we are is because of this war. And now it’s just-- it’s over. What are we gonna do?”

He considered this for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted with a smile. “I have no idea. That’s kind of great, isn’t it? We could do anything we want, go anywhere we want, and I don’t even know where to start!”

“It’s terrifying!” (Y/N) cried. “We have no idea what we’re doing!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he said soothingly, caressing his cheek with his thumb and holding him close. “We’ve got each other, we’ve got money, we’ve got friends-- we’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you, you’ve got me. That’s all we need.”

His boyfriend huffed a little. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love me,” he sang, pressing a finger to his nose teasingly.

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “I do. Love you, I mean. Even though you’re a reckless idiot who doesn’t worry nearly as much as you should.”

“I already know what I’m gonna do for the next 20 years,” Poe said, leaning forward to kiss him chastely. “I’m gonna spend every single day with the people I love; exploring the galaxy, flying my ship, taking care of my droid, holding my boyfriend-- who I intend to marry--”

He laughed. “Take me on a proper date first, Dameron, and we’ll see.”

“See? We already have plans!” he declared. “Maybe a few rugrats in the future--”

“I am so not ready to be a parent,” (Y/N) said firmly.

Poe raised an eyebrow. “Honey, I hate to break it to you, but you already are.”

An indignant whirr and beep sounded in the distance. A tiny ball of orange and white rolled viciously toward the pair, making (Y/N) burst into laughter.

“Speaking of your child--”

“Our child,” Poe corrected immediately. “You were definitely involved in the raising process.”

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “Implying that the raising process is over.”

BB-8 shrieked excitedly upon approach, bumping into Poe’s legs and then rolling in between him and (Y/N), bouncing up and down as best as a little ball could.

“Hey, buddy!” Poe greeted fondly, leaning down to properly do so.

Beebee started spouting off about the mission on Exegol, father-figure listening intently. Nearby, Finn and Rey came out of nowhere, laughing and refusing to move away from each other after the day’s events. Rose and Chewie were nearby, too, embracing and, in Chewie’s case, roaring with joy. Jannah and Lando spoke in quiet tones to each other, but (Y/N)’s gaze moved away from all of them and back to his boyfriend.

“No kidding!” Poe was saying to his-- their droid-child, glancing up at (Y/N) to shoot him a desperately lovesick, overjoyed smile.

(Y/N) smiled back and, looking at his little family, couldn’t help thinking that maybe the future wasn’t so terrifying a thought after all.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron oneshot #sw #sw x reader #sw imagine #sw fanfic #sw oneshot #star wars x reader #star wars oneshot #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #poe dameron #bb8 #request #anon request #river #rivika #generallynerdy

[bthump]

I just wanted to let you know that I absolutely love the super analytical takes that you have on Guts and griffiths relationship. Its a shame that many berserk fans write off the sexual tension that's shared between these two characters simply because they're men and counting for the fact that many berserk fans are blatantly homophobic. What do you think berserk would look like if Guts chose to stay with Griffith when he became a lord? Or if guts stayed with crippled Griffith minus the eclipse.

Thank you so much!

Yeah it’s really unfortunate that a large majority of the fandom is totally steeped in homophobia bc honestly the most compelling aspect of Berserk (imo but also lbr objectively) is Griffith and Guts’ extremely charged relationship, and I think the fact that so much of fandom tries hard to downplay it is kind of itself proof of how super gay it is lol. Like they can insist it’s just platonic but the fact that they feel compelled to ignore huge important plot points like eg the fact that Guts’ sole motivation for leaving the Hawks was to become Griffith’s friend, or the fact that Griffith textually valued Guts over his dream, etc, is pretty telling. Would they need to ignore so much if they really believed they were only platonic bros?

(lol sorry think I just had to get that out of my system and you gave me an opening.)

But anyway wrt your question, I think it would depend why Guts chose to stay (did Griffith win their second duel? did some action of Griffith’s convince him that despite the speech Griffith does value him ridiculously highly? or did Guts never hear the Promrose Hall speech in the first place?), but regardless of the exact reason Guts stays, I imagine that Berserk would end up being pretty much a really compelling story about medieval politics and relationship drama lol.

Like, take the tone of Tombstone of Flame Part 2, and that would be Berserk. Cool political scheming and complicated yet intense character relationships. Actually I say “relationships” but really it’s just Guts and Griffith’s that gets the real intensity and complexity lol.

Tho speaking of, I don’t really know where Miura could’ve taken their relationship in this alternate version of Berserk. Like, I can only see them eventually getting together if the Eclipse doesn’t happen ngl. But idk I guess this version of Berserk would be shorter, and maybe Guts and Griffith would have some conflict (eg if Guts lost the duel, maybe Guts’ feelings of inadequacy vs Griffith’s feelings of rejection) that eventually gets resolved. Ooh yk the logical happy ending for them in this kind of AU would be Griffith forced to choose between his dream and Guts and choosing Guts.

So yeah how about that? Political scheming, Griffith’s rise to the throne, both Guts and Griffith filled with self-loathing and their relationship totally tanked because Griffith thinks Guts wanted to leave and he forced him to stay, and Guts thinks he’ll never be someone worthy of respect in Griffith’s eyes, neither of them acknowledging this and Guts maybe continuing to help him but beneath the surface their closeness is gone, but then plot happens, Griffith demonstrates how he really feels once again but rly decisively this time by prioritizing Guts over his dream again, and they both start to figure their shit out.

As for a no Eclipse AU, I think it’s actually the perfect scenario to force Guts, Griffith, and Casca to actually deal with their issues. Like, in canon the Eclipse is basically a giant distraction. For Griffith it’s an escape, for Guts it’s an excuse to bury all of his emotions except rage and swing his sword at monsters for 3 years (and that’s his own escape and outlet: “when I’m swinging this sword… I don’t have to think about anything”), for Casca it drives her insane and puts her entire character on hold.

Without it what you have is Griffith with no dream, his emotional dependency on Guts mirrored by his physical dependency, and no escape from either his feelings for Guts or his feelings of failure and self-loathing. You have Guts who has just realized how hard he fucked up, who blames himself for ruining everyone’s lives but especially Griffith’s, and who has just figured out how much he actually means to Griffith. And you have Casca who… idk I think maybe her biggest issue now is with Guts and Griffith both losing/giving up their “dreams” and gravitating towards each other, she’s lost her motivation. She switched from supporting Griffith’s dream to supporting Guts’ dream and she has to let both go and support herself instead of dudes imho. And okay, maybe Miura wouldn’t go that direction with her character, but idc.

But I’m going to stay vague on how these issues could be resolved and lead to a low key happy ending because I’ve had this as a fic idea on the backburner for ages and someday I might actually finish it lol.

#datonecutekid #ask #a #b #headcanons #anyway ty for the kind words and fun questions!

[fanficksandimagines]

I love your writing!!I was wondering if you could do a gray imagine where he's extremely jealous over you and a guy friend of yours BC you two are always hanging out. Then one day he loses it and gets so mad that they break up? But the reader keeps coming back to him but he's sort of a dick and ignores her, only to find out that the reader goes to her guy friend to comfort her BASICALLY GRAY STOPS BEING A DICK and realises that if he doesn't stop being jealous hell lose her entirely?

“Jealous.” -G.D

“Jealous.” Grayson Dolan.

A/N: here’s your imagine, I hope you’ll like it!

Word count: 1827.

Warning: strong language; sad imagine.

Feed back always waited!

-with love Sammy

“Is it just me, or does your boyfriend hate me?” Nathan, yourbest friend since 2 years of age, asked. “He doesn’t hate you.” You said backkicking the ball towards him. “To me, it seems like he does.” Nate kicked backthe ball. “He just gets jealous easily, that’s it.”

“Well, have you explained to him that I’m no competition?”he kept the topic up. “Not really like that, but I’ve told him not to worryabout it.” You kept talking, kicking the ball once more. “He’s a cool dude, don’tget me wrong, but he has some serious trust issues.” Nate said kicking the balltowards you. “Other than that he’s hot.” He added and you kicked the ball withmore force, it hit Nates face. “Okay. Got it.” He said holding his face as youlaughed. Your phone started ringing. You took it out of your pocked and checkedthe caller ID. It was Gray. “Hey, babe!” you greeted answering the call. “Hey!What are you doing right now?” he asked the smile in his voice noticeable. “I’mplaying ball with Nate, in the backyard. What about you?” you asked back. “I’mbored, so I thought we could get away, somewhere.” He said trough the phone. “Okay.Let’s do that. Pick me up in 10?” you asked smiling to yourself. “In 5, if the trafficis good.” He said. “I need a shower. So I kind of need those 5 extra minutes.” Yougiggled. “I don’t care I’ll be there in 5. Bye!” he laughed in the phone. “Seeyou then.” You laughed and hung up the phone. “What was that?” Nate saidstanding up and throwing the ball your way. “That was a sign for you to go home,dumbass.” You said and threw the ball back, Nate frowned playfully. “But I don’twanna.” He whined acting like a child. “I mean you can stay and watch me makeout with Grayson, but I don’t think he’ll approve that.” You joked walking tothe back door of your house. “We could plan an orgy.” Nate kept the joke going.“Bitch the door!” you shouted at him pointing to the door. “Okay, okay. I’mleaving, but tell him that his hot!” He said walking out the front door as youhad walked through the house already. “Bye, bitch!” he said walking down thefront porch and throwing a middle finger up in the air towards you. You showedone back and closed the door locking it. It was only 4pm so the house was empty;parents don’t get a summer vacation from job for up to 3 months, sadly. You ranupstairs to your room to grab some clean clothes before walking in thebathroom. You didn’t worry about Grayson, because he knew that the back doorwas left opened for him.

After the quick shower you walked out of the bathroom,making your wet hair in a messy bun. “Gray?” You shouted through the house. “Thekitchen!” you heard from downstairs. You walked down skipping to the kitchenand immediately hugging Gray who hugged back. “We can go?” he asked peckingyour lips. “yeah.” You answered smiling. You locked the door and got into hiscar, and he drove off. “Where are we going?” you questioned. “I have a place inmind.” He smiled putting his free hand on your thigh. “How have you been?” Heasked intrigued since you hadn’t spent any time together for the past 3 days. “Great.I went hiking with Nate on Monday. We got lost in the woods and couldn’t getout for like two hours. We had to call his dad to find us.” You laughed at the memory.“Also, on Tuesday, we went to get ice cream and while we were walking to thebeach, Nate fell and dropped his ice cream in the sand. That was a horrible dayfor him, because later he had to run away from a granny who thought that he wasa thief.” You kept laughing, “You should’ve seen his face.” You giggle untilyou realized that Gray was getting tensed up, and wasn’t laughing with you. “What’swrong?” you asked now calm. “Hum? Nothing.” He said keeping his eyes on theroad ahead. “Anything else happened?” he asked to get your attention off ofhim. “Well yesterday we went shopping, I got some new stuff. That’s about it.” Youfinished off. “Shopping, with Nate?” Gray asked a bit confused. You justnodded. “Well did you do anything without Nate for these past 3 days?” he askedjealousy obvious in his voice. “No, I guess.” You shrugged. “great.” Was all hesaid. “You’re not jealous, are you?” you questioned. “No.” he mumbled. “Gray,he’s my best friend. Of course I will spend time with him. Besides he livesjust a cross the street.” You kept talking knowing that Grayson was jealous. “Iknow, juts to me, it seems like that’s all you do, when I’m not around. Everytime I’m out of town or busy you spend time with Nathan.” He said, his jawclenching at times. “What else am I supposed to do?” you asked getting kind ofangry, “Do something with your girlfriends. I’m sure Vanesa would appreciate that.”He said his words coming out kind of harsh. “Vanesa is in collage on the otherside of the country. I spend every minute with her when she’s in town. What’syour deal?” you were getting pissed with every second passing. It wasn’t thefirst time Grayson would get jealous, and it wasn’t the first time you wouldhave an argument over this topic. Grayson stopped the car in a parking lot nextto forest.  You had just passed the cityborder. The argument soon grew into a shouting rage. You were done listening toGrayson complaining about your friendship with Nate, you unlocked the seatbeltand turned your body towards the door. “I dare you to get out of the car, Y/N!”he shouted at you. “Call me when you’re done with your child’s play!” You shoutedback and got out of the car, walking back to the city.

When you got home, you called Nathan, ignoring the missedcalls from Grayson. “Hey, Y/N! Wats up?” he asked. “Come over.” You said andhung up. In a few minutes you heard a soft knock on your door. “Come in.” yousaid and the door opened. “What happened?” Nate asked closing the door behindhim and walking over to you. You weren’t crying, you were just sad and hurtthat your boyfriend didn’t approve of your friend. You explained the wholesituation to Nathan, who kept you in his arms the whole time. “Mean girls?” heasked after you were done talking, you nodded in response. He put the movie onand you laid your head in his lap while watching it. The next day you tried tocall Grayson, but he wasn’t picking up. That wasn’t the only time, because ithappened the whole week. You’d try to get in touch with him, but he neveranswered. Nathan took your phone from you. “What are you doing?” you askedtrying to get the phone back. “Calling that asshole.” He said but you got yourphone. “No way.” You got a little mad. “I have his number on my phone anyways.”Nate said. “Please don’t!” you pleaded. “You need to talk to him! He needs to apologies!“Nate kept on going and pressed the call button on his phone next to Grays number.“Ugh!” you exclaimed and buried your face in your pillow, as Nate put the callon speaker. After a few rings he picked up. “Hello?” Gray asked. “Hey, asshole!It’s me, Nathan! I’m just calling to inform you that you’re a dick for beingrude towards Y/N. Also I’m really confused why you would be jealous since I’mnot into girls, but that’s just a fact. Oh yeah, and If you won’t change yourattitude, I’ll get Y/N a date and she’ll be over you in a few days, believe me.I can do it!” he said sass filling his voice and hung up. “What the fuck didyou just do?” you asked rhetorically. Before Nathan could answer your phonestarted ringing. Worry filled your head when you saw that it was Graysoncalling. “Pick it up!” Nate pushed the phone towards you. You answered thecall. “Can we talk?” Grayson asked immediately. “Sure, when?” you asked clearingyour throat. “I’ll be by your house in 5” he said and you nodded. “Okay.” You mumbledremembering that he can’t see you. You hung up the call and turned to Nathan. “Iswear I will kill you.” You pushed his shoulder. “I’m out!” he said standing upwith his hands in the air.

You were sitting on the front porch when you saw Graysonpulling up on the side of the street. He mentioned you to get in the car, andyou did. “So?” you asked as Grayson started driving. “So.” He said looking atyou, before turning his gaze back on the road. “I fucked up.” He mumbled aftera brief moment of silence. You just cleared your throat. “I fucked up big time.Now I just feel stupid.” He started, “why didn’t you tell me that he was gay?”He asked. “So that’s what we’re going to talk about now.” You said disappointmentclear in your voice. “No. I-I just. Goddammit! I fucked up and I’m so fuckingsorry, alright/ I’m just an idiot. No! How Nathan said, I’m an asshole! I don’tdeserve you you’re too good for me! That’s why I always get so jealous,alright? It’s because I love you so damn much that I can’t even- ugh!” Heexclaimed gripping the staring wheel. “I love you Grayson, okay. I would neverthink of another guy. Nathan’s my best friend; he has been since I was little.He’s like a brother to me, nothing else. You don’t need to be jealous.” You explainedunderstanding that Grayson couldn't find the right words to say. “I forgiveyou, just please don’t be so jealous all the time.” You kept going. Grayson turnedhis face to look at you for a moment. “God, what would I do without you Y/N?”he asked, trying to hide the small smile on his lips. “I love you Y/N.” hesaid. “I love you Grayson.” You said back. You never thought that it could beyour last I love you, but it was. Suddenly another car came in the view as itwas coming towards, driving on the wrong line. Gray turned the wheel to theside, but it was a bit too late as the two cars collided. 

Y/N died on spot.Grayson was fighting for his life in the ambulance car, but his heart was tooweek, and after a few more beats it stopped.

[cavesalamander]

Do you have any queer book recs? Preferably not the kind where it's like a coming out book or a Queer Struggle™?

Thanks for the ask!

Honestly I don’t go seeking out a lot of queer books for just that reason - also because being ace and mostly aro, I tend to go for heavy world building and action/adventure, with romance being mostly incidental, if there at all. Also series that last a while and let me know the characters really well.

I also don’t tend to read books that aren’t already at least somewhat popular, so if you want more indie queer book recs, please go check out https://twitter.com/tatehallaway this badass lady on the twitters. I haven’t read any of her books (yet, entirely because I haven’t read anything longer than a couple thousand words in way too long) but I met her at World Con where she hosted a panel on diversity in fiction. She’s a queer writer and is super approachable and friendly. I’m sure she’d be able to point you in the right direction, if not rec some of her own books!

I also would totally recommend checking out Mark Oshiro who recently wrote and got his own book published!! I’m super excited for him, and I’m gonna buy it at some point. His reviews of books are really entertaining too, and he gets pretty autobiographical during them. His fans often recommend queer books and TV shows to him too - so then you get to watch him cry when he realizes that this character that he fell in love with is SURPRISE GAY and he’s so happy he can’t with the emotions. (He’s also a total sweetheart in person holy crap. I got to talk to him at World Con too.)

There’s also TritonYA, which is a publishing house that is working on publishing queer YA genre fiction. I haven’t read any of the 3 books they posted so far because I don’t have the f o c u s these days, and none of them really caught my interest from the summary.

As for books I’VE read... (Apologies that these are like all from cis straight authors afaik, they’re just the ones who I read/ started reading 10+ years ago when I used to read all the time... and back then there just wasn’t the visibility of queer authors, and I didn’t go searching for particular books. I just don’t read very much anymore aaahhh!)

The Circle of Magic series by Tamora Pierce is FANTASTIC. It’s very much romance light - very heavy on the friendship and bonds between the four main characters. But one of the four MCs is lesbian, and there are other queer secondary characters. One of the other girls reads to me as ace/aro too, but that hasn’t been confirmed. (And like 99% of the time my hopes are dashed, but I can see Pierce actually writing an ace character who stays ace.)

Keep in mind that when the series starts they’re like 10, so romance doesn’t come into play until the later books when they’re 16, which is when one of the characters realizes she’s into girls and not boys.

The series is so good too. Pierce’s world building is so good always. She’s like my fuckin idol when it comes to how she does it. The lesbian chara’s character arc about realizing she’s into girls is handled pretty well IMO - the world as a whole isn’t homophobic, so the struggle is mild and mostly self discovery. And the romance is centered around the political struggles happening at the time - is the girl she likes flirting back bc REAL FEELINGS or bc SNEAKY POLITICS!? And SHOULD SHE STAY OR SHOULD SHE GO. Which, given the story as a whole, (and her other writings) this is pretty much in line with how a het romance would be treated.

Trials of Apollo and the Magnus Chase series by Rick Riordan are pretty good too. I don’t like Riordan’s worldbuilding like I love Pierce’s, and he’s writing as a cis straight man but his books are still a lot of fun. There’s a gay kid who gets a couple of POV chapters in an earlier series, (Percy Jackson) but he’s got a lot more of The Struggle going on in his story. (Kinda understandable considering he was born in the 30s, but still.)

Trials follows, well, Apollo who is unapollogetically bi because that’s canon greek myth. (Incidentally, one of his kids is dating the Struggle boy from before and they are very cute together, if a fairly background relationship). Apollo is also totally full of himself and hilarious, and his trials are of course gonna be about how he has to eat a big fuckin slice of humble pie because that’s how grecian trials work. Only like one or two books are out so far, but it looks like it’s gonna be a lot of fun!

Magnus Chase is about a guy who dies and gets sent to Valhalla and becomes a demigod basically. In the second book, a third MC is introduced who is genderfluid/bigender, and by the end of it, Magnus is kinda crushing on her so, that’s cool! I’m not sure yet how it’s gonna be played, since Magnus so far seems to be striaght, and sometimes his love interest is a boy... but I have a pretty good feeling it’s going to be addressed.

Riordan’s a cis straight white dude but he’s definitely done his research. Some of the bits come off kinda “here’s my research laid out” but he started his first series with the goal of, “I want my son to see heroes who are like him. Heroes with ADHD and dyslexia.” And now he’s like “I have fans who are poc, and fans who are queer, and I want them to see themselves too.” And his stories are fun. Which is the important part, in my opinion!

Gunnerkrigg Court by Tom Siddell is actually a webcomic, not a novel, but the MC is most likely aro/ace, and her best friend is bi, who currently is in a relationship with another girl - and there’s at least two other queer couples in the story... and strong hints that one of the characters is a trans girl, and another that used to be a female rabbit but is now a male human, gender unknown as of yet. They didn’t seem particularly bothered by the change though.

It’s also a book about robots and magic and birds and ROBOTS and family legacy and friendship and love and R O B O T S!!! Listen it’s just REALLY GOOD OKAY? Please read it. Please please please!!

The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Johnathan Stroud is one of my all time favorite book series, though it’s the least explicitly queer. There’s no romance in it whatsoever, and the human MC reads to me as aro/ace. (The one time he feels something resembling sexual attraction, he realizes almost instantly that something is Wrong and that he was put under a spell. Lmao...) Human MC is also a ginormous fucking shitlord but I love him a lot, and compared to all the other shitlords in the series, he’s actually pretty moral.

Demon MC is also a shitlord, and somehow works as human MC’s moral compass. Also he’s hilarious. And okay, so... when I was younger, I never really read into anything. But demon MC has this boy from his past who he absolutely loves a lot. You can choose to read it whichever way you want, but it’s a very deep and strong love. QP is likely though unintentional hahaa! Very important... I really need to read the prequel book to see more into how the relationship developed...

A girl is introduced as an MC in the second? and third book. She’s Very Good and also not a love interest. Like it’s way easier to read into a romance between the demon and the boy from his past than it is to read into girl MC and boy MC.

Swordspoint by Ellen Kushner This one I actually got on rec from the librarian I asked for queer books. It’s an older book, like from the 80s and this one I’m pretty sure the author IDs as bi, so hey that’s at least one rec from a queer author. The book is just set in a fantasy world where sexuality is like WHATEVER! and everyone fights with swords and honor and the MC and everyone else are all total fucking pricks but also bisexual.

It’s the most adult and romancy book out of all of them, but the love scenes aren’t explicit or anything. Definitely a recommended read if you wanna see some earlier rep. The copy of the book I got from the library had a recommendation by GRRM on the cover - one that I think predated his rise to fame. You can definitely see why he’d like it. There’s lots of political drama, affairs, murder, swords, etc.

People die, and I don’t necessarily want to spoil you on if the MC or the MC’s love interest dies unless you want me to (You’re welcome to ask!), but it IS a romance, and it’s not centered around The Struggle at all, and I don’t think it counts as Bury Your Gays if EVERYONE is queer!

So that’s what I have off the top of my head. I only counted MAIN characters in this, none of that “someone was gay once in the background see? representation!!!” crap. And like I said, it’s been a while since I’ve really sat down and read anything in earnest. The Swordspoint book was the only one I found while I was actively looking for queer books, the rest is just happy happenstance!

Let me know if you have any questions, and feel free to reblog!

#pride month #if you need any book recs #i love these books a lot #AND NOW I GOTTA GET TO WORK!!! #houdinioverlord