#what’s a video that lives in your head rent free | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

papurgaatika · 1 month

Text

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k

Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.

(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)

Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything.

But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car.

Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.”

You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. “I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.

“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.”

Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words.

You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly.

“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel.

You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you.

The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face.

“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms.

You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy,

And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house.

You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.

Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway.

Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes.

Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father.

“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that.

The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”

Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?”

Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”

You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass.

You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”

“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face.

“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home.

You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard.

You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed.

You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties.

You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute.

And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me”

A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes, “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again.

He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties.

“but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway.

He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight.

You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again.

You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?”

A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit.

Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want.

Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face.

His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry”

His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis.

You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much.

You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words.

“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes.

“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair.

“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying.

Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips.

“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”

Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS. Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #joel miller fic #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #papaya writes <3

2K notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 8 days

Text

Chef’s Kiss

Nico x fem!reader, soft!Nico, domestic!Nico

summary: Nico fluff, basically

notes: i just really love soft nico and couldn’t get him out of my head so here’s this (also ignore the fact i keep using the same pics in my posts, i need to find more 💀)

[2k]

Nico was always trying to do little things to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was having the laundry washed, folded, and put away by the time you got home, sending you funny videos and silly selfies throughout the day, or simply having a glass of your favorite wine waiting on you as soon as you walked through the door, he loved providing small moments of happiness for you. He didn’t have time to do things for you often, his schedule getting increasingly busier as the season goes on, but today he had a completely free afternoon and wanted to have your favorite meal plated and waiting for you to enjoy as soon as you got off work. The idea came to him when you called him on what was supposed to be your lunch break.

“Neeks, I’m so sorry but I have to work late again. I’m having to re-do all of my reports for the day because my boss didn’t like the format that I used, even though it’s the exact format he told me to use three days ago! I swear sometimes he just wants to make my life a living hell. I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”

Nico had a fond smile on his face, despite the nature of your call; hearing you rant to him about work was always something he looked forward to. While he didn’t love the fact that you were upset and that your boss was a grade A asshole, he loved being the one you came to when you were frustrated and just needed to blow off steam. It always made him happy to know that he was the one you called when you needed a mid-day pick me up on particularly stressful days. He had tried to tell you multiple times to just quit—that he makes enough for the both of you to live on – but you wouldn’t even entertain the thought. You’d always tell him no and that you needed to pull your weight with the bills and rent, too. You didn’t want to have all of the tears you shed while you were in college go to waste. To quote your exact words ‘I’m going to use this damn degree even if it kills me’. He admired your work ethic and that you didn’t want to have him be your own personal bank, but it was times like this he wishes you would just take his suggestion to heart and actually quit.

“I understand, but don’t work too late, schatz. It’s not good for you. Tuck and I will be here waiting on you when you get here,” Nico looks over at the cat quietly snoozing over on the couch. “I noticed you left your lunch in the fridge; do you need me to bring you something? I don’t have to go back to the rink today for anything, so I could pick up something from that sushi place you like and we could have a little lunch date? Give you a few minutes to reset and recharge?”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t have time to eat today anyways. At this point working through lunch is the only way I’ll be able to come home before midnight. Thanks for the offer, though, Neeks. I have to go, my boss is calling me, probably to tell me something else I did wrong. I’ll text you when I leave, love you,” you hang up the phone, not giving Nico a chance to respond. He knows your boss hates when he catches you taking personal calls on company time, so he just sends you a simple “I love you, too. Please eat something and don’t work too hard” text since you hung up before he had time to tell you himself.

As soon as he pressed send, Nico grabbed his keys and took off to the grocery store. He really only went to pick up the ingredients to make dinner, but he couldn’t help making a quick stop at the local florist, grabbing a small bouquet of daisies he knows you’ll love. As he was driving home, he remembers this bakery you had told him you’ve been wanting to try, so he finds himself in said bakery picking out a few baked goods for you to taste test (and maybe a few for himself, too). By the time he had made it back home it was well past five, when you typically leave your office for the day. Once he brought his haul of groceries, flowers, and pastries in the door, Tuck greeted him by meowing loudly for his food.

“Sorry, Tuck, I’m late for dinner, aren’t I?” Nico asks the cat as he walks over and fills the hangry cat’s food bowl. “Now that you’re fed, I need to get to work on feeding your mom. That is, if I can manage not to burn anything.”

Nico got to work immediately, turning on the cooking playlist you had made and grabbing his ‘Kiss the Swiss’ apron you had jokingly gifted him for Christmas. He pulled out the recipe book that your mom gave you two as a house-warming gift when you first moved in. Just last week you had been talking about how you missed your mom’s famous pasta, so he decided that was his attempted dish of the night. He laid out all of the ingredients and followed the recipe as closely as he could, paying special attention to all of the little notes your mother added in the margins of the typed recipe. About an hour into Nico’s cooking you sent him a text that you were nearly finished and would be home soon, but he was so busy trying to perfect making pasta from scratch that he never even looked at his phone. When he was on his third attempt at the pasta dough, he heard the front door open.

He looked over at the clock to see that it was nearly seven-thirty. He heard your keys hit the bowl sitting on the small table beside the front door and your sigh of relief once you took your shoes off. He could hear the soft thuds your feet made on the hardwood while you walked into the living room. He looked up from the counter to see your tired body drift over to the couch where Tuck laid sound asleep.

“Hey, Tuck. How was your day? Did you catch a lot of Z’s? Dream about catching mice? Poop on your dad’s pillow again?” Nico heard your soft voice say, chuckling at your last question.

The poor kitten had, somehow, got locked in yours and Nico’s bedroom a few weeks ago and neither of you noticed until it was well past feeding time and the little furball hadn’t come running into the kitchen screaming for his dinner. It took the two of you twenty minutes to hear the soft meows coming from your bedroom, the TV in the living room having drowned them out for most of the day. As soon as you opened the door Tuck came sprinting out of the room as fast as he could, acting as if he’d been in there for days. He ran straight to his food bowl and turned around, glaring at Nico and yourself. Later that evening the two of you made your way to the bedroom to settle down for the night only to find that Tuck had left a nice, smelly present on his pillow. Nico was appalled, to say the least. Gagging and holding his pillow out with straight arms as if it was poisonous. You, however, were doubled over with laughter. You fell onto the bed and was laughing hysterically when Nico finally came back into the room, no pillow to be seen.

“I don’t know why you’re laughing; it’s disgusting! The cat shit on my pillow!” Nico expressed, standing in front of the bed with his arm crossed, looking like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum.

“Neeks, it’s hilarious! Out of all the places in the room he could’ve shit, he saw your pillow and thought ‘Ah, yes. Dad’s pillow. I think this will be my new bathroom.” You wipe the tears from your eyes, slightly out of breath from your laughing fit.

“Well, of course it’s funny when it’s not your pillow! If he would’ve shit on your pillow, you would be as upset as I am.” Nico huffed, still in his childish stance.

“Wait, where is your pillow?”

“In the trash.”

“You threw away the whole pillow!?” you exclaimed, starting to laugh all over again.

“Of course, I threw away the whole pillow! I’m not about to sleep on that thing tonight! It’s contaminated!”

“Nico, you could’ve just gotten a new pillow case. You didn’t have to throw your whole pillow away! What are you going to sleep on tonight?” You asked him, amusement clear in your voice.

“Well…I didn’t think that far ahead,” Nico said, his stance deflating a little.

He ended up sleeping on a throw pillow from the couch that night, picking up a new pillow on his way home from practice the next morning. Since then, the two of you have always made sure to keep your bedroom door open anytime Tuck isn’t in his usual spot on the couch.

Nico smiles at the memory, completely forgetting the fact that he was supposed to be kneading the pasta dough in his hands. By the time his thoughts circulate back to the task at hand, he hears you ask the cat “Where’s your dad, huh?” followed by the sound of your clothes rustling as you move to get off of the couch.

“Nico? You in here?” you call as you walk around the corner of the living room into the kitchen. “Neeks- Oh, there you are. What are you doing?” You stopped in the doorway of the kitchen when you took in the scene in front of you. The pots and pans on the stove, the steam coming from a pot of boiling water, the smell of chicken in the oven, and the bouquet of flowers and box of pastries on the counter next to them. Then your eyes move over to Nico, noticing he was absolutely covered in flour. He had flour in his hair, on his face, on his apron, in the floor, and all over the counter.

“Nico, what the hell are you doing? What is all of this?” you asked him once the two of you made eye contact.

“Well, I was trying to have dinner waiting on you when you got home because I know you’ve had a shitty day, but I’ve just now realized that I don’t know how to make pasta from scratch.”

“Why are you trying to make pasta from scratch?” you walk towards him, laughing at how distraught he looks.

“You said you’ve been craving your mom’s pasta recipe, so I thought it would be a good way to cheer you up after the day that you’ve had,” he replied, grabbing a towel to wipe the flour off of his hands.

“Nico, I love you, I do. And I appreciate the effort, but please throw that ball of…whatever that is in the trash and just use dried pasta next time,” you look over at what’s supposed to be pasta dough, reaching him and placing your arms on his shoulders, hands coming together to rest on the back of his neck.

“I try to make you a nice meal and this is the response I get? No ‘nice try’ or ‘wow, it smells great in here!’” he jokes, looking down at you, attempting to look offended, but his eyes only reflect love and amusement.

“You’ll get real praise when you learn how to make pasta from scratch. For now, consider this your compliment,” you stand on your toes, pressing a small kiss to his lips.

“You call that a compliment? Read the apron and try again.”

You laugh before meeting him halfway for a real kiss this time, thinking to yourself just how lucky you were to have Nico in your life.

337 notes · View notes

quicksilverownsmysoul · 2 years

Text

Dustin’s Hot Sister

It’s been a minute hasn’t it 😂 I’m trying to get back into writing so here’s this little blurb that kinda sucks but I hope y’all like it. I’m currently in my Eddie Munson Brain Rot era so you know I had to write something for him. Feel free to send in request for Eddie Munson!

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female Reader

“There’s no way you have a hot sister that works here.” Eddie leaned on the wheel, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the neon sign that read Family Video. Dustin wrinkled his nose at Eddie in response, arms crossed over his chest.

“I do too have a sister that works here. And I never said she was hot and it’s weird that you’re saying it.” Dustin countered, getting out of the van and slamming the door before he could respond.

Eddie shrugged, turning off his van and jumping out. He did a little jog around the front of the van to keep up with the quick pace that the younger boy had set. “All I’m saying is Mike told me she was hot and I normally wouldn’t take his word for it but Harrington confirmed it when Mike mentioned her. And the Harrington Hottest scale is the one thing I trust about him.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “Yeah whatever, she graduated when you were supposed to graduate two years ago, so if you look in your yearbook you could find her instead of dragging me here to prove it to you.”

“First off you know I don’t buy yearbooks, waste of money and paper.” Eddie pulled open the door the the video store, doing a slight bow and muttering a m’lord as he gestured for Dustin to enter first. Who in turn gave Eddie the finger as he pushed past him. “Second this seems like more fun.” Although Dustin’s comment had him thinking about it he had met his sister before without realizing it.

Sure enough there was a girl who wasn’t Robin talking to Harrington behind the counter, she was laughing at something he had said. Her back was to them but it seemed that Dustin recognized her anyway, he sauntered up to the counter and hoped over despite the chiding from Steve not to do so durning store hours.

You raised an eyebrow at Dustin who rummaged through your return bin, looking yet again for the vhs copy of Never Ending Story, which for the past three weeks had been unreturned. “Motherfucker.” Dustin cursed, kicking the box.

“Hey dude watch your fucking language.” Steve scolded. “This is called Family video.”

Dustin stood back up pointing an accusatory finger at Steve. “When are you going to use your Family Store Employee privilege to find the guy who had rented Never Ending Story way past the store policy time. Me and Suzy need it for movie night! I’ve had to cancel twice!”

Steve raised in hands up in defense. “Hey man I’m not the only one who works here, get your sister to do it.”

“She won’t do it. I’ve already asked her.”

“So what makes you think pestering me into doing it will make me do it?” Steve scoffed, arms crossed.

“Cause you’re soft, and if I annoy you enough you’ll give me your password to the computer so I can do it myself.” Steve began to argue with Dustin, and you laughed watching their amusing interaction until Dustin paused and turned to you. “By the way that’s Eddie.” That was all he said before continuing his argument with Steve.

Your turned around to see who Dustin was referencing and when he caught your gaze Eddie’s heart nearly gave out. He couldn’t believe that Dustin’s hot sister had been his four year high school crush. You had been in the journalist club and had done a story in the hellfire club for the school newspaper your freshman year. You had sat in on one of his campaigns, his hands were shaking so much that he knocked over the screen and scattered his notes on the floor. Thank goodness that was before Henderson and Mike had joined, they never would have let him live it down.

But ever since then he had had the biggest crush on you, although he never had much interaction with you after that, it wasn’t like you ignored him you still said hi in the halls but he never had the guts to ask you out or to join his campaign. And it seemed after all these years he was still as nervous as he was when you interviewed him freshman year.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” You beamed, recognizing Eddie at once. “If it isn’t Eddie Munson, the leader of Hellfire.”

He swallowed thickly and tried his best to play it cool, giving a little bow and a wink. “At your service.” He looked up to still see you smiling at him, he was pretty sure his face was red and sweaty. You continued to smile him and he gathered a little courage to get closer to the counter.

“What can I help you with today.” You asked. “Are you looking to check something out today.”

“I think he already is.” Dustin mumbled, earning a loud laugh from Steve and a glare from Eddie.

Eddie turned back to you. “No I’m just here driving this kid around, he wanted to go to Family Video and who am I to deny a fellow club member a ride-“

“Ha!” Dustin interrupted. “He made me come here to prove to him that I had a hot sister.” Dustin paused rethinking his phrasing. “His words not mine.”

“Why you little-“ Eddie cussed, hands reaching up ready to stranger Dustin before he though better of it, setting instead for a your dead signal.

You laughed, feeling your face get warm. “Is that so?”

Eddie looked down at his hands, fiddling with the rings that decorated them. “And what if it was?” He asked, looking up at you through his bangs.

“Then I’d ask you if you’d be taking me out this Friday or Saturday.”

“I’d say Saturday, we could go see The Lost Boys at the movies.” Eddie gained some of his confidence back, looking you in the eyes now but hiding the bottom half of his face with a piece of his hair, an action you found quite cute

“Then it’s a date.” You smiled, hugging yourself with your arms. Eddie smiled widely, his nose wrinkling up, and you could feel yourself getting giddy, finally landing a date with Eddie. One you had been dreaming about since high school.

Dustin watched your two from the sidelines with Steve, face scrunched up. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things eddie munson

7K notes · View notes

cmoundiamante · 22 days

Text

DO U STILL WANT TO? ✦ L.HS

pairing gamer!hee x afab!reader

summary Begging for your boyfriend's attention was definitely not an option for you, but you managed to adapt him to your needs instantly.

genre smut. established relationship. drabble.

warnings reader has her nails done 💅🏻, dubcon, dom!reader (kinda), pet names (love n whore), oral (f & m receiving), 69, cum eating.

a/n ik the pics does not relate to the pairing of this drabble BUT MY THOUGHTS ABT THSI HEE ARENT HEALTHY AT ALL. ok now think about this, this video is living in my head rent free so i wanted to recreate it with the platinum hee. ALSO TYSM FOR THE 300+ FOLLOWERS IT MEANS A LOT TO ME 😭🩶 english is not my first language so pls be kind (: any correction will be considered, not only to improve reading but also for my learning ^^ enjoy this

wc +1,3k

His League of Legends game was, of course, way more important than you were at the moment.

His room was dimly lit by the LED lights that were stuck to the wall, but the light that illuminated his face was that of the television, which he couldn't take his eyes off for fear of losing the game. He was holding his joystick moving his fingers over it nimbly, and as much as you wanted his fingers to be making that same movement on your clit, you couldn't because your pride forced you to be angry.

Your boyfriend had invited you to his house, at that moment you had the idea that you were going to have quality time. To your bad luck, it wasn't like that, you just kept him company lying on his bed watching his fucking back.

And as much as your blood boiled when you saw him not pay attention to you, it made you kind of horny to see him so focused on his game. Actually, you always did. Heeseung had a severe addiction to video games, so you were used to the fact that whenever you went to his house he would sit there feeding his vice, but he had promised to see a movie, and if possible a night of passion... Three hours had passed since you arrived at his house, and nothing he promised had happened.

But anger and lust were a dangerous combination for you.

Your moves? He felt them, but he didn't pay attention to them. Your noises? He wasn't listening to them, he was wearing his headphones. Your touch? He ignored it too, only laughing as his eyes were still fixed on the TV. You had been touching yourself for 20 minutes in his back, but at some point he turned to look at you? Obviously not.

Your clothes were scattered all over the bed, you were in the middle of the mattress with your legs open trying to give yourself some pleasure by imagining that it is your boyfriend who offered it to you. Seeing him made you feel like that; his freshly dyed platinum hair, his sturdy nose, how his gaze was fixed on the TV in such a sensual way, as the hickeys you had given him last week were still noticeable on his skin. No matter how wet you were appreciating him, it wasn't possible to concentrate, so it was difficult for you to reach orgasm at once.

When you opened your eyes to see your boyfriend, he was finishing his game. Was that enough to get his attention? Nah, he grabbed his phone and with his headphones on, he started watching new versions of his favorite games on Instagram.

You got behind him and gently pulled out his headphones, putting them on the bed, and then hugged him from behind, wanting to feel his body. "What’s up, love?" Your patience was running out and Heeseung didn't notice, or at least because he still didn't look you in the eye.

If he wasn't going to do it on his own, you'd have to force him.

With the worst face you could have at the time, you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, throwing him on the bed, without warning your legs caught his face, having no chance of escaping. Heeseung was dumbfounded for a few seconds, but it didn't take your words for his tongue to start working on your wet pussy.

He threw his cell phone on the bed and squeezed the flesh of your thighs with his hands, even though he was still amazed at what you had done. If he had known you were like this, he would have left his game in progress in order to fuck you raw until he made you see the stars. His tongue was wetting your entrance even more, mixing his saliva with the juices you created, however you had to pay attention to your clitoris, as his nose wasn't there to make you feel better.

You started whining underneath him, unconsciously jumping on his tongue, almost letting your ass completely suffocate him. Heeseung always told you that if he ever died, he wanted it to be this way.

You opened your eyes, and as soon as you fixed your gaze straight ahead you could see your boyfriend's erection forming under his gray joggers. As much as the fabric bothered you, you massaged it from the top, feeling how it was getting harder and harder. Hee's tongue surprisingly entered you, causing a high-pitched moan to be created by your throat.

You felt good, you felt too good over him , but even better you'd feel choking on your man's huge dick while being eaten by him. So, you put down his joggers and boxers to free his little friend, desperate to be well taken care of by your tongue. You heard a growl coming from Heeseung, which caused your folds to vibrate.

You lowered your torso and your tongue slammed into his dickhead, but Heeseung stopped pleasing you by feeling you, exposing your pussy and giving you a hard spanking, which echoed throughout the room. "Was this what you wanted? You could have told me instead of lying down being naked and quiet behind my back like a whore." Hearing him speak, you didn't hesitate to put his entire length inside your tight mouth just to tease him, seeing how as he spoke his voice was breaking. "Just like that, don't you dare stop, c'mon." Another spanking echoed through the room, you could swear his hand had left a mark.

Heeseung continued with his work on your pussy, which by the sensation of his tongue and how your clitoris hardened before his movements, you already perceived that you were close, however you would hold on, you wanted to come at the same time as your boyfriend.

The precum Heeseung shot was absorbed by you and mixed with your saliva, which helped to suck his hard dick more thoroughly. You felt how a hand gently massaged your head, little by little that hand turned into a fist that held your hair very tightly, pressing down forcing the thrusts and starting a burning in your scalp.

The ease with which his member slipped and the resistance you had to contain it inside your mouth was one of the main reasons why Heeseung didn't last more than five minutes. No sooner said than done, this was the case.

Since you didn't know where to put them, your hands rested on Heeseung's bare hips, burying your long, sharp nails on his soft skin. You knew he had quite sensitive skin, always having the opportunity to mark him as your own, making little effort and having effective results.

You exploded, finally letting all your juices unexpectedly crash into Heeseung's face, while the sounds you made were held back by having your mouth very busy. When you reach your orgasm your mouth tightens as you can't moan properly, causing your boyfriend to also cum without warning inside your mouth.

You unconsciously opened your mouth a little, letting a little of his cum fall off, falling on his hairless pelvis, what was left remained in your mouth, to then be transferred to your throat. "Do you still want to keep playing your stupid ass games?"

Heeseung, on the other hand, was still with his eyes closed, not only because of his recent orgasm, but also because some jets of your squirt had fallen on his eyes. He rubbed them a little and cleared his vision to meet your entrance again, now a little farther away. He could see how the LED lights reflected through the moisture between your legs.

"Of course not, You’re not done with me yet." The hand that was on your ass the whole time, continued to knead your flesh as if it were dough.

“Would you like to ride me? I’ve been such a bad boy, don’t I?”

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #kpop #enhypen recs #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung enhypen #enhypen lee heeseung

387 notes · View notes

centuriantalevevo · 2 years

Note

How do I tell my dog he’s adopted without making him sad?

You don’t- you'll break his heart 😭 don't do that to him-

But if you truly must, because he'll find out eventually, do it slowly and explain that you still love him because all dogs deserve lÖve 😭

#no way #speaking of which I saw a video of some telling their cat that there adopted and the cat has the most sarcastic meow lmao #Halo; Asks #that video lives in my head rent free #let pets believe they are your biological child-#I would tell Felippe hesitant adopted but he was 11 when I got him so he already knows lmao-#Me to Felippe: You’re adopted Felippe: What...???#I'm loving getting asks for once lmao

1 note · View note

updownlately · 5 months

Text

save your tears, it’ll be okay (all i know is you’re here with me)

| leah williamson x reader | hurt/comfort | 5.1k | a/n: this video's been living rent free in my head for a minute now so i thought i'd write about it. this was originally supposed to be a blurb but oh well. no plot just comfort. definitely not my best work, but we move. happy reading 🫶

~~~

You weren’t thinking as you watched the events unfold in front of you.

You weren’t thinking as you immediately started back tracking, sprinting to where you had just run from.

You weren’t thinking as you skidded to a stop beside Leah, mind a frenzy, panic clear on your face as your hand immediately went to rest on the blonde’s shoulders.

All you knew was you had to make sure she was okay, something that you knew she definitely wasn’t.

You knew the last corner ball sent in had hit her in the face, but you hadn’t seen just how badly it had hit her.

You had watched with mild concern as you saw her pinch the bridge of her nose afterwards, jogging up to her as you ran back to your defensive half, quietly asking her if she was truly okay as you matched her step for a brief moment.

Not fully convinced when she waved off your worries, you had cautiously taken her word for truth, hesitantly double checking but not pressing, for fear of being overbearing.

But as you watched in horror as Leah fell to her knees shortly after, head hung low in pain, you wondered if you maybe should’ve asked her to pause for a minute.

Maybe you should’ve gotten her to take a breather. Maybe you should’ve asked her to look up at you. Because then maybe you would’ve seen the dazed look in her eyes, would’ve seen the way her face was wretched in pain.

Maybe then, you would’ve been there to catch her as she fell forwards, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

But for now you’d settle for being by her side, the pounding in your chest increasing with worry as you did your best to steady the other woman, only moving slightly as the medics came in to check on her.

Taking measured breaths to try and stop your heart from climbing up your throat, you watched nervously as the blonde didn’t lift her head as the medics checked her out, her weight resting on her closed fists as she barely moved.

The fact that she had a concussion was clear as day- the way the english skipper refused to move her head, eyes screwed shut in a somewhat successful attempt to block out the surrounding light, slipping in out of consciousness as she was forced into a sitting position, being propped up by you and another team medic.

Watching carefully as the blonde finally came to a slightly more coherent state, you kept your eyes firmly on her as she faltered through the basic series of on-pitch tests.

Guessing randomly that she was at a training, unable to tell what day it was or what had just happened, and the clear dizziness as she tried to stand up in an futile attempt to convince you all that she was okay, never mind the increased irritability, it seemed that even she knew she was about to be ushered off, shooting you a pout as you lifted an arm of hers over your shoulder to stabilise her.

“‘m fine. I can play…” the mumbled words directed at you were followed immediately by her staggering slightly, a groan escaping her lips as she swallowed hard and steadied herself.

Sighing at the stubbornness you were well familiar with, you nodded along to the statement, keeping your voice low as you responded so as to not worsen the headache you just knew the blonde had, even though she didn’t say it.

“They’re just gonna check you out, yeah? Make sure you’re all a-okay before you come back.”

Even through the fog that clouded her mind, the defender could see right through your bullshit.

“If I go…I can’t play.”

The blonde just barely managed to mumble the words out, wrinkles littering her forehead as she tried her hardest to sound coherent.

Stopping in her tracks to prevent the inevitable, Leah planted herself to the ground, mere metres from the edge of the field.

Trying to nudge her to move along, you stepped forward, only to be pulled back abruptly by the arm over your shoulder.

“No.”

“Leah…” Pleading, you looked over your shoulder to see the ref patiently waiting near the middle of the field, eyeing the pair of you as she waited for the Gooner to exit off the pitch so that play could resume.

“No,” the blonde repeated, obstinate, the trainers around you two looking at you imploringly.

Trying again, you tried to be firm, not wanting to annoy the blonde but still get your point across.

“Leah, you’re hurt and you’ve got to get off the pitch- it’s not up for debate.”

Keeping a straight face, you did your best to put on a hard facade.

You watched as the girl hesitated for a second, nearly stepping forwards before pausing and standing still again, this time turning towards you and then the pitch, trying to move towards her position on the field.

Frustrated at the clear dismissal, you gently tugged Leah back towards you, catching her as she stumbled ever so slightly.

Lowering your voice just enough that your words would stay nestled between you, you brought Leah close to you.

“Leah, I’m not messing around. You’re headed off and that’s final. No ifs, no buts, especially if you don’t want to be sleeping alone for the next few days.”

“But-“

“Leah. Catherine. Williamson.”

The clear use of her full name was enough to cause the blonde to decide against any retort she had on the tip of her tongue, your rigid tone solidifying the decision for the blonde to listen to you, albeit quite annoyedly.

Muttering a quiet ‘fine’ as she turned around again, you sighed in relief.

Quickly placing your hand on her cheek and gently turning her head to face you, you kissed the blonde on her forehead before stepping back.

“Be good to the trainers, yeah? I don’t wanna hear a single complaint from them.”

And with a relieved look crossing your face as you saw Leah nod meekly in response, you watched anxiously as she was led the last few metres off the pitch, you sprinting back to your position in midfield, eager for the game to move on quickly.

The faster the game ended, the faster you could be beside your girlfriend.

~~~

All that you could hear was the rapid clicking sound of your studs against tile echoing as you raced through the hallway.

You’d made a break for the medical room as soon as the team had been dismissed from the field, foregoing meeting with the fans and the media, more important things for you to attend to- namely your girlfriend.

Reaching the medical room you were told Leah was in, you slowed to a stop, rapidly unlacing your cleats and slipping them off, opting to hold them as you walked in with only your socks.

Skipping the knocking for the same reason you took off your cleats, you instead cracked the door open slightly, softly calling out for your girlfriend, permission to enter granted as the blonde grunted in return.

‘Awwing’ audibly in sympathy, your shoulders dropped in relief at the sight of the blonde sitting up.

Making your way to stand beside the cot she was resting on, you navigated the room slowly in the extremely dim light and dropped your cleats gently by your side, hands instinctively reaching out as you neared your girlfriend.

“How are we feeling little miss stubborn?”

Letting out a soft chuckle at the immediate pout that crossed the blue eyed girl’s face, you grabbed her hands in your own, thumbs coming to gently rub the back of her hands.

“Shite. Everything hurts.”

The skipper kept the words to a minimum, it still clearly taking a lot out of her for them to be said.

Shaking your head amusedly at the clearly concussed, stubborn individual you got the joy of calling your girlfriend, you huffed in amusement.

“But I thought you were perfectly fine?” you teased, not wanting to pass the opportunity to rub the blonde’s stubbornness in her face.

God, she really needed to start listening to you more.

“Don’t…”

The quiet plea combined with the midfielders head coming forward to rest against your chest had you immediately taking a more protective nature, one hand coming to rub her back in sympathy as another gently carded through her hair in an attempt to bring her some sort of reprieve from the pain.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

Bending down, you placed a small kiss on her temple, lips lingering for a second as relief washed over you.

She was okay. She was awake, and okay, and doing alright, minus a concussion.

You wouldn’t tell the blonde, but you had initially feared the worst when you had turned around to see her dropping to her knees, dazed and confused.

Call it your anxiety, but the way your heart had sunk so deep, nearly burying itself beneath you, you’d felt so utterly terrified, nearly rooted to the spot if it hadn’t been for your adrenaline kicking in and causing you to sprint back across the field.

So for your own sake primarily (and then Leah’s), you stood there in the silence, revelling in the blonde’s touch as her hands loosely wrapped around your hips, you able to just barely feel her heartbeat as she sat slumped against your body.

The intimacy of just being able to hold her, her messy mop of blonde hair sticking out in every direction as it pressed against your jersey had your breathing slowing to a peaceful lull.

You knew that if it ever came down to it, all you’d ever want is the blonde in your arms, alive and well, regardless of what it meant for you or anyone else.

Closing your eyes as you stood there for a little while longer, you nearly let yourself forget where you were, the ease of the weight on your chest and the girl in your arms, your heaven on earth.

It was only when the team’s doc came in to brief you both (mainly you) on the injury, did you pull apart, only going as far as standing beside the blonde instead of in front of her, tucking her into your side as you listened intently.

You needed to feel her touch, it reassuring you that she was, in fact, alright.

Jotting down the key points the doctor mentioned into your phone’s notes app, you made a mental list of it all as well, one arm still firmly planted across the defender’s shoulders as she leaned against you.

‘No bright lights, no screens, no alcohol, no caffeine, make sure to hydrate, eat healthy, and get plenty of rest’- plus a few more you had listed on your phone.

And as he told you that they’d suggested taking Leah to the hospital just to ensure that further medical attention wasn’t needed, you nodded in agreement, worrying as the blonde muttered about how she was feeling slightly nauseous.

Pulling away from her, your eyes rolling fondly as the blonde whined in displeasure, you quickly grabbed your forgotten boots, straightening up immediately and beginning to help Leah stand.

“Boots before me? Ouch?”

The words were slurred as the blonde tried her best to string together a sentence and you couldn’t help but shake in laughter at her sad tone and pout.

“Love, it’s so I could help you walk without both of us toppling over…”

“Why take ‘em off anyways?”

Looking away as a red hue painted itself on your cheeks, you contemplated whether you should tell Leah the real reasoning, no doubt going to be mocked for how much of a simp you were- her words, not yours (damnit Beth for teaching her the word).

“I may or may not have taken them off so the clicking didn’t worsen your headache…”

“You’re cute…”

The words were muttered quietly as the midfielder rested more of her weight on you, nearly fully leaning against you as she closed her eyes, blindly trusting you to lead her, a comical sight really- the taller blonde nearly smothering you with her weight.

Raising your eyebrows in surprise at the lack of a teasing comment, you shrugged and accepted Leah’s admission without much of a fight, wrapping your arm around her waist as you both slowly began to walk out.

If it wasn’t clear before, then you most definitely knew now that Leah Williamson had a concussion, the easy chance to tease you overlooked, leaving you surprised.

But, as you led the blonde out however, the pair of you slowly making your way to the locker room to collect your things, it appeared that you spoke too soon, much to your chagrin.

“God, you’re such a simp…”

The words were spoken clearly, the blonde clearly having waited for the right moment to say them, lulling you into a false sense of comfort, you able to feel the lazy grin on her face as her cheeks pressed against your shoulder.

Cheeky woman.

Rolling your eyes because of course you weren’t that lucky, you shook your head fondly, your annoyance at her comment clear as the smile on your face grew slightly with adoration.

“God you’re such a little shit…I love you too babe…”

~~~

It’s a few hours later that the two of you are pulling up to your shared home, you in the driver’s seat, a rare occasion if you were honest.

Having driven ever so carefully, Leah very much reminding you how much she loved her car, you had been laser focused on the road, albeit only one hand on the steering wheel as the other sat intertwined with Leah’s in her lap.

You weren’t a bad driver, not at all. But, having only sat passenger in this car, you had definitely been cautious about being behind the wheel for the first time.

“Honestly, I think I’ll stick to passenger princess…that was a headache and a half…” you groaned, putting the suv in park and running a hand through your hair.

Clicking open your seatbelt, you paused your movement as Leah spoke, her voice quiet.

“I know…never again…”

Her comment had you whipping your head up immediately, an incredulous look on your face as you threw your hands up, facing the taller girl slumped back in the passenger seat, an arsenal hoodie nearly covering her whole face.

“Hey. Not fair! I wasn’t bad, it was just…stressful.”

“Whatever you say…”

Shaking your head, you turned the car off, muttering to yourself playfully as you did so.

“How are you so annoying with a near third degree concussion? Surely you’d be knackered by now…”

After leaving the Arsenal medical room, you had both waited outside the locker room for a handful of minutes, watching as your teammates slowly filed out, many of them patting Leah encouragingly, murmuring a few teasing words and some that were encouraging.

Even McCabe had managed to be nice, only going as far as mussing up the blonde’s hair before wishing her a speedy recovery, somehow miraculously managing to keep her voice at a reasonable decibel for the injured skipper.

You’d been leant against the wall, Leah pulled protectively to your chest, soft words of reassurance and comfort murmured to her in the passing moments, the two of you stood there patiently until you were absolutely sure the rest of the locker room was nearly empty, and most importantly, quiet.

It was only then did you slowly lead the blonde in, settling her down for a few minutes as you took what had to be the quickest shower of your life.

Helping Leah with her jacket and slides and lending her the baseball cap you stored in your locker for bad hair days, you had quickly packed both your kits and made your way to the parkade.

It was then that you had realized the conundrum that the injury brought upon- you’d have to drive home.

Now, driving wasn’t the issue. It was more so what you’d be driving- Leah’s car- a significantly larger suv compared to the sedan you typically drove.

Coupled with the fact that you’d never driven this large of a vehicle around London’s smaller streets before, not for a lack of you trying- the damn thing was just too expensive for you to enjoy being behind the wheel like you normally would- you weren’t looking forward to the trip home.

And neither was the blonde apparently.

It was only after a lot of convincing, grumpy looks, dejected sighs, and pinky promises of dinner and unlimited cuddles that Leah agreed to hand you her keys, unhappy about the outcome but wanting to go home.

And with that you had been off, headed to the hospital for a checkup on the concussion.

Having your suspicions confirmed during the visit, it was cemented that the blonde likely had a second, possibly third degree concussion.

With another list of do’s and don’ts written safely in your notes app, the two of you had finally taken off for home, nearly two and a half hours later.

It’s what led you to now, you making your way out of the car, rounding it as you opened Leah’s door to help the other girl out.

“Okay drunky, careful now…” you teased, hand coming to hold hers as you helped her out of the vehicle.

“Y’know I’m not drunk…” the blonde grumpily stated, nevertheless taking your help as she slowly but surely made her way out.

Shrugging in response as your eyes twinkled with mirth, you just hummed in confirmation as you shut the door behind her and made your way to the front door.

Unlocking it, you led her to sit down on the ottoman by your entryway, kneeling down to help unlace her muddy cleats- something you’d deal with later.

“Gosh. Take a woman out to dinner first…”

You looked up from your knelt position just in time to see Leah’s poor attempt to roll her eyes, followed by a wince as her shoulder’s curled in at the pain that no doubt flashed through her head.

“You’re insufferable. I hope you know that.”

“You love me anyways.”

Sighing in faux displeasure, you shrugged your shoulders.

“Sometimes I wonder why I do…”

Pleased at the scowl that crossed the other girl’s face, you bit back your smile as you rose to stand.

“Not so fun when you’re on the other end now, is it?”

Silently laughing as she crossed her arms at your words, looking nearly like a toddler throwing a tantrum, you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of the blonde’s head as you straightened, placing the dirty shoes on the mat by the shoe rack.

“I’m going to grab our bags, yeah? Don’t move from here.”

“And if I do?”

“Then I’d love to see exactly how far your old, concussed arse could crawl...”

Chuckling to yourself as you heard Leah sputter, you turned around to head back to the garage.

“I’m only 8 months older!”

~~~

You couldn’t believe you managed it, but you somehow got Leah cleaned up and into a fresh set of clothes- the blonde now slumped on a barstool, head resting on the cool counter as you slowly shuffled around your dark kitchen.

It had taken the bribery of letting her pick dinner (resulting in ham sandwiches for her of course) and letting her sit at the island, hence the dim hue of the range the only light on in the apartment- to get Leah to step into the shower for a quick wash, you keeping a close eye as you sat on the counter, ready to help if needed.

After wrapping the midfielder-turned-defender in the fluffiest towel you could find afterwards, you had helped her dress into the comfiest pair of sweats you could find.

It combined with you returning an old hoodie of hers that you’d borrowed eons ago, one that now smelled like you, much to the blonde’s liking, all that was left to focus on was having a bit of food before the two of you headed to bed for some much needed rest.

“Would you be mad if I told you I wasn’t feeling hungry?”

The soft words have you stopping your tracks, a nearly assembled sandwich glaring at you as you stared at it, contemplating your next move.

“If you’re not hungry I won’t force it down your throat, but I do ask that you have a few bites.”

“My head hurts too much…just wanna sleep.”

Eyebrows furrowing in concern, you grabbed the plate and a glass of water and made your way towards the blonde, gently putting the sad excuse of a ham sandwich in front of her, grimacing at just how plain it looked.

Placing a comforting hand on the other girl’s shoulder you rubbed gentle circles and kept your voice low.

“Three good bites, yeah? And then you’re all done.”

Seeing Leah gingerly lift her head and eye the sandwich warily, you held your breath.

You really needed her to eat, even if it was just a few bites. The last meal she had was nearly six hours ago, before the game.

“It might not stay down…”

Gentle concern taking a hold of you, you tried not to let your worry seep into your voice.

“That’s alright. If it stays down, great. And if it doesn’t, then so be it. I just need you to have a little bit so I won’t worry when you sleep.”

You figured if you could convince her she wouldn’t throw up, then she just might not.

Letting out a small sigh of relief as you watched the blonde nod in understanding and pick up the sandwich to take a small bite, you relaxed into your own seat, your own sandwich you had prepared earlier waiting for you.

Sitting in the peaceful silence, the pair of you made quick work of your basic dinner, you finishing yours off as Leah picked at hers, managing to get a little under halfway through until she set the sandwich down and began to rest her head on your shoulder.

“Lee?”

You kept your voice low, wrapping a gentle arm around her shoulder as you rubbed it soothingly in an attempt to bring her comfort.

Hearing the blonde grumble in response only to nuzzle closer to you, barstool scraping against tile as her forehead went to rest in the crook of your neck, you couldn’t help but smile amusedly.

Of course the big, scary, stern English skipper was an absolutely softie- an oh-so-fluffy teddy bear- at heart.

Bringing your hand to lovingly comb through her hair, you let Leah have her moment, content with passing a few minutes providing her the comfort she craved.

Moments like these- minus the concussion- were your favourite if you were honest.

Times where it was just you and your girl, one in the other’s arms searching for a comfort you knew would only be found with your other half, the tender blanket of your love wrapping the pair of you up, did you finally understand what all the poets and artists would rave about.

It was as you could feel her relaxed heart beat against yours, small puffs of breath fanning the expanse of your neck or the top of your head did you realize what feeling ‘light’ meant.

Wrapped up in her arms on days that felt just a tad bit too hard was when you understood what having a rock, a constant support, a shoulder to lean on, a hand to grab, always and forever was.

And when you got to hold her- the few times that you would- each time it would hit you like a truck, the understanding that you’d die for her but you’d also fight anyone who tried to take her peace away, without a second though, wanting to wrap her in a bubble of happiness for the rest of her life, only a smile on her face if you were in charge of the universe.

Snapping out of your thoughts as you felt the blonde shuffle, the barstools most definitely not made for the tangle of limbs the pair of you were, your smile didn’t leave your face as you quickly placed another comforting kiss on the blonde’s temple.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

~~~

“Stay.”

The single word had you stopping in your tracks.

You were headed to the bathroom after having helped Leah settle in.

Deciding early on that you’d get her sorted first so she could get her much needed rest in peace, and you be able to actually cleanse your face with a light on, you’d tucked her into bed, kissing her cheek with the promise of only being gone a few minutes.

Ignoring the whine of protest you got, you figured she’d get over your brief absence rather quickly.

You were proven wrong however, the quiet utterance laced with a desperation you’d never heard tugging at your heart strings ever so persistently.

Turning around to face the blonde in the dim light of the moon, your shoulders dropped at the absolutely miserable look on her face, one eye barely open as she looked at you pleadingly.

“Three minutes, yeah? I’ll be back before you know it.”

Squeezing her hand, you nearly sprinted to the bathroom, and began running through your night time routine, easily making the decision to skip a handful of skincare steps- you had more important things to take care of anyways.

Brushing your teeth and washing your face, you listened carefully for any sounds of discomfort from the other girl, relaxing marginally as it seemed that the day was finally catching up to her.

Leah wasn’t the overly affectionate type, so to have her press you to stay, you’d be lying if it didn’t kill you a little inside.

It’s why you ended up tucking yourself into your side of the bed within two minutes and fifty-three seconds of your promise, with seven seconds to spare on your watch and a proud smile on your face as you invitingly opened your arms.

And with the way Leah immediately snuggled up to you, head tucked easily into the crook of your neck, her arm coming to wrap around your stomach as her leg came to rest across your torso, you knew you made the right call.

*********

Your bedroom felt oddly quiet with the pin-drop silence that covered it as night descended.

With only Leah’s and your gentle breathing to be heard as she tucked herself into your side, you let your shoulders relax, wrapping your arm around her waist as you pulled her closer.

Nights spent together were rarely this quiet for you two.

They more often than not consisted of gentle murmurs and jokes, the blonde always, and you mean always, finding one way or another to tease you or get on your nerves.

And if it wasn’t the lot of you annoying each other good-naturedly to your wits ends, it was soft murmurs, dreams quietly being spoken into existence as you discussed your futures, your plans, ideas, goals.

Careers, education, kids, dream wedding, homes, families, champions league games, world cups- nothing was off the table as you’d both be cuddled up into each other, a head on a chest or the barest of space as you two laid on your sides in the dim moonlight. hands intertwining with each other in the space between your bodies as promises of a ‘forever’ kind of love were whispered between chaste kisses and soft touches.

Of course you had other nights, where the hours bled into one another, the pair of you only falling asleep when matching sated smiles crossed your faces, an early night turning to a late one, the rising sun signalling for you to go to bed.

But right now?

Right now, as pitch black darkness covered your room, you wondered if this was what true, unconditional love was like.

Missing the ordinary, the mundane that you never thought you would once achieve- it now something you felt odd without, a hole in your heart- yet you didn’t mind.

You didn’t mind if the rest of your nights went like this- curtains drawn shut, not a single sliver of moonlight peeking through.

You didn’t mind the silence (yes, you missed your late night confessions with the blonde but you’d survive without them).

And you definitely didn’t mind the way Leah was curled up into you, a sight you didn’t see often, her typically the bigger spoon, but one you wished to ingrain into your memory.

Swallowing hard as you realized you were a safe space for the blonde- a safe haven for her to heal whilst she trusted you to keep her well, you let your fingertips absentmindedly trace gentle patterns into her back.

You knew she wasn’t asleep, she never fell asleep easily, hence chattering your ear off (not that you ever minded- though you wouldn’t tell her, teasing her for her late night energy always amusing).

“How you feeling bub?”

Feeling her exhale deeply against you, you nearly audibly awed as she sunk impossibly closer.

“Head still hurts, but better now.”

“Yeah?”

Feeling her nod, you hummed in response, choosing to close your eyes and let the day wash over you.

What you didn’t account for in your attempt to relax was the mumbled statement that came your way.

“These next few weeks are going to be weird…”

Well aware of how much the English woman breathed football, you nodded in understanding.

“They probably will be, and nothing can be done about it. but, I can promise you infinite cuddles, kisses, and snackies to make up for it?”

Feeling Leah nod sluggishly at your words, you squeezed her waist gently, letting out a deep breath as you mentally reminded yourself she was okay.

You knew she was right- these next few weeks were going to be weird, but you were damned if you were going to let the blonde suffer through her concussion alone, very much ready to be at her beck and call, her rock through the storm.

Feeling your heartbeat match Leah’s slow inhales and exhales, you closed your eyes as your hold on her got a tad bit stronger, grounding you, and your touch grounding her, as the both of you let the comfort of each other lull you to sleep.

She’d be okay. She was okay. It would all be okay, with her beside you, snuggled up into your hold.

All would be okay as long as she was with you.

#not proofread as usual #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso community #woso #my writing #fic #hurt/comfort #sytibo

518 notes · View notes

slavghoul · 8 months

Text

Interview from Metal Hammer 8/2023

LIFE LESSONS from TOBIAS FORGE

Shock rock, bad glam bands and wanting to be Venom: inside the brain of Ghost's benevolent overlord

Tobias Forge is the mastermind behind one of the 21st century's hottest metal bands, but even he’ll admit that success was a long time in the making. Hailing from the Swedish city of Linköping, the Ghost frontman dabbled in everything from death metal to glam before donning the iconic Papal attire and paint to transform into Papa Emeritus, transcending his roots to become a larger-than-life character. Here are the key parables he has to share, gleaned from more than 25 years on the heavy metal frontlines.

MUSIC AND MOVIES ARE GATEWAYS TO OTHER WORLDS

“Linköping was a nice city to grow up in. It wasn’t so small you felt like you were cramped in a village, but it’s small enough that you’d still want to eventually move somewhere else. You’d have access to all these gateways to other worlds through the record stores and the local video store. My dreams started there - everything I do now, I dreamt back there.”

I WAS A TEENAGE HEADBANGER

“I had a teenage brother growing up, so I had a free pass into teenage culture. Whatever they consumed, I got a whiff of - how they dressed, what they watched on TV, what films they rented... The lifestyle and expression that meant most to me was shock rock. Twisted Sister were a wrecking ball into my life with I Wanna Rock. That song made me want to bounce!”

THE HEAVIER IT GOT, THE DEEPER I WANTED TO GO

“When I first heard Candlemass, I was eight and I was blown away. I already liked Black Sabbath, Metallica and Motorhead through my brother, but Candlemass were local and sounded so heavy, it was like doomsday. King Diamond and Candlemass served as a segue for me to discover death metal and black metal in the early 90s. It became my calling. From the ages of 12 to 22, I spent my life in death and black metal bands.”

FOLLOW YOUR HEART (AND SOMETIMES YOUR WALLET)

“My mom is from Stockholm, so when I was 15 and started saying I wanted to move there, she was just like ‘Finish mandatory school’ and we moved together [after I graduated]. I moved back to Linköping when I was 25, because Stockholm is a big metropolitan place and it’s not fun living in those places if you don’t have money. Now I’m in Stockholm again; it’s more fun now I can afford it!”

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, FEET ON THE GROUND

“I learned the hard way in the late 90s that wanting to play 80s-inspired death metal with my band Repugnant was painfully out of touch with what was going on at the time. It broke my heart; I wanted us to be signed to Roadrunner and support Slayer. That never happened unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately, as it kept me grounded for a few more years and if those things had happened maybe I wouldn't be here today.”

TAKE CHANCES, BUT STAND YOUR GROUND

“Repugnant had a close shave with success. We signed to the label Hammerheart, which at the time felt like we’d made it because the first thing they did was take us out on our first tour, supporting the American band Macabre. They were a favourite band of ours - still are, and whenever we play Chicago they come to the shows - and at that point it felt like we might be going somewhere, but we quickly parted ways with Hammerheart because we couldn’t agree. It felt like our chance and we’d blown it.”

NOT ALL 80S BANDS WERE CREATED EQUAL

“With Crashdiet, we never really went beyond our home. I can’t say how many shows we did, but I don’t think it was more than a handful. For me especially there was conflict with the singer, Dave Lepard. We were friends, but he clearly wanted to take his band into some sort of glam-sleaze direction, whereas when I think of ‘glam’ I’m more Hanoi Rocks and Guns N’ Roses - never, ever the other bands. I know Poison kinda came before a lot of the latecomers, but to me they were repellent. Dave wanted to go all neon and I wanted it so that if we were glam, we’d be Hanoi Rocks meets Lords Of The New Church or The Dead Boys. I don’t want to be fucking Stryper! Fuck that!”

THERE’S NO POINT TRYING TO FOLLOW FASHION

“It was a confusing time in the early 2000s – rock was all of a sudden in fashion because of bands like Franz Ferdinand and Kaiser Chiefs. Everyone was always looking for the next big rock band and in Sweden The Hives were huge, as were The Soundtrack Of Our Lives, The Hellacopters, Backyard Babies...so many rock bands! But there we were in Subvision, influenced by The Dead Boys, with a little-too-long hair, leather jackets, just a little too ‘metal’... yuck! You’re supposed to be more indie; heavy metal is about having the biggest dick and indie is the opposite.”

FIRST IMPRESSIONS REALLY DO COUNT

“I hated The Strokes when they first came out. Back then, everyone described them as being so natural, that they weren’t interested in being rock stars, and I was like, ‘No. They didn’t wake up looking like that.' They chose to do that to be rock stars. And they can really play! Then when First Impressions Of Earth came out it was like, ‘There you go! That's what they really sound like! After that, I loved The Strokes, because they were showing they actually did love the music, but a lot of indie rockers treated it like it was their sell-out record.”

HAVE A VISION IN MIND

“Ghost started with a song, Stand By Him, which ultimately came out on our first record. I wrote it spontaneously, as an experiment - almost a joke, if you will, in 2006. When I recorded it the first time, I had no equipment in my home, so I had to go to a friend’s house. We did this very rough demo. He said it was great. He’d been in Subvision, Repugnant and Crashdiet with me, but we’d stopped playing together. He was like, ‘Can we form a new band?’ and I was like, ‘This song is the only thing I have. If I can come up with two more songs and there’s a pattern, then of course.’ But they needed to be as playful and spontaneous, and sure enough they were.”

PRESSURE CAN DO WONDERS

“Around 2008, when Ghost were first getting properly started, my girlfriend told me she was pregnant with twins. I never said it out loud, but I was preparing for my dream not coming true - maybe I wouldn’t become a rock star, I’d never be successful... So I had to at least have something that I could live with, a hobby that I could feel strongly about and get all my inclinations filtered through. I wanted to play metal, but also write pop music, have this horror rock show with theatre... Still taking inspiration from Venom pictures in 1982 where they looked like bikers surrounded by smoke and red lights. Ghost felt like a combination of all those things. Lo and behold, when I didn’t have all the time in the world, like I had before and gotten nowhere, when I could only put so much effort in, everything changed.”

THE MYTHOS IS NICE, BUT ONLY THE MUSIC MATTERS

“It was so weird, being threatened with a ‘reveal’ [Tobias’s public identity was revealed after ex-members took legal action against him in 2017I, as if people knowing who I was would be such a turn-off that they’d never listen to Ghost again. Here I am, most of my life wanting to be known, but then I was fighting to be unknown? What a paradox!”

ROLL WITH THE PUNCHES

“I’ve always tried to be like a general – have a goal, like, ‘Let’s take that castle’, but knowing that things can change in the field. You need to conduct yourself with a certain level of elasticity. I know I’m a control freak and want things to be done in a certain way, but I’m also aware things never work out that way.”

CHALLENGE YOURSELF

“One of the biggest weaknesses with modern metal - and horror - is that it’s being created and curated by people who only like that thing, so it becomes regurgitation. The best horror movies I’ve seen - Jaws, Bram Stoker’s Dracula, The Exorcist, The Omen - were made by people who never made horror films elsewhere. They wouldn’t limit themselves. If you don’t like other things, that’s fine, but if you ever feel stuck creatively it might just be that you’re sticking too close to home. I can’t even imagine just sticking to one lane these days.”

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

742 notes · View notes

angels-fantasy · 10 days

Note

Girlyyyy I love your writing I just binged all your fics 😭😭😭 but anyway, I have a request.

Yknow how Bakugou is a comfort character to a lot of people, what if Reader was his favourite character from his favourite show (maybe a slice of life or romance anime where we're the second lead or a character who's not the main) and Bakugou listens to asmr audios of us or actively follows many accounts who write fanfictions about us and simp for us like we do for him 😔

This has been living rent free in my mind, so please indulge me 😔😔

You're His Favorite Character HeadCanons (Request)

Details: this is just me yapping tbh

Word Count: 202

imagining bakugou simp over someone is actually so funny LMAOO i love this idea thank you for it your mind is so powerful. btw i'm doing this in a more head-canon style if that's okay! i honestly couldn't really think of a plot for this but i really liked the idea 😭 if u ever wanna keep talking about it tho you can definitely message me or send more stuff to my inbox!! i love talking so don't be shy

firstly i feel like when he first starts watching anime, he'd watch more action packed ones, but slowly got into romance after he found the anime you were in!!

i think if it was a romance anime that'd be really cute. though you wouldn't be the main character, but the main characters best friend or something so you don't have a love interest bc Bakugou would probably get jealous tee hee

also if he read fics about you, he'd def go for some classic fluff me thinks. or maybe like an enemies to lovers!! i think he'd like a little angst with it as well, bc he's an angsty boy

i think that he would read all about your character and rewatch clips of you on youtube, yk? idk thats what i do for characters i really like lolol.

he'd probably be really secretive about his crush on you and make sure to not let anyone know he watches y/n asmr videos 😩 omg and if your character has merch he'd def buy it, maybe even a figure or something too!

but ultimately he's just obsessed with you and thinks your gorgeous and you guys are in love in his head 😍

authors note

i'm so sorry this was so short 😞 i hope you still enjoyed it! thank you sm for your message :)

tags for bakugou fics: @doumadono @shonen-brainrot

#@angels-fantasy #fanfiction #bakugou katsuki #anime #writers on tumblr #fanfic #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha bakugou #my hero academia #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugo headcanons

200 notes · View notes

gimmethatagustd · 1 year

Text

who's your bias? | kth

Everyone says idols shouldn’t date their fans. Little did you know the crazy sasaengs aren't the ones who might ruin your relationship. It might just be your boyfriend's best friends.

» pairing: idol!taehyung x music producer girlfriend!reader

» wc/date: 12.6k | January 2023

» notes: this was entirely self-indulgent 😂 i hope my taehyung whores enjoy my first idol au oneshot. also i wrote 80% of this while i was high and with no beta so if it's bad, now you know why

» masterlist | ao3 | join my taglist

» what was jai listening to? impatient - jeremih ft. ty dolla $ign

“Y/N, stop it right now.”

Your boyfriend breathes the command faster than you can even open your mouth to greet him. With a roll of your eyes, you put your phone on speaker and sit it on the floor beside you. Rummaging through the cardboard boxes littering your apartment is easier done with both hands.

“Why hello, Taehyung. What a pleasure to hear from you.”

“Are you seriously mad at me right now?” From the whine in his voice you’re positive he’s wearing a deep pout, bottom lip jutting out as far as it can. You love kissing his pouts away.

But not this time! And not just because you’re on opposite sides of the world.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? It’s so late there and I’m sure you’re very tired from displaying your dick to all of America for three hours.”

The cardboard box in front of you has “BEDROOM” scribbled in your father’s handwriting on the side in thick, black Sharpie. It’s full of little trinkets and random decor. A Shooky plushie is crammed into the corner in between a cracked Army bomb and a small framed photo of you with your parents. You smile to yourself despite your boyfriend’s huffing over the phone. Your father had given you a strange look as he helped you pack the items as if to ask, Really? Do you really need these?

Just because you’re dating a member of BTS now doesn’t mean you can’t cherish your old BTS merch! It’s not weird, in your opinion. It would only be weird if you made it weird. And you weren’t making it weird.

“I did not display my dick!”

You roll your eyes for probably the fifth time while you ponder where to put Shooky. You'd kept it on your dresser in your old home in the States. Something tells you Taehyung won’t appreciate the lack of a Tata beside it.

“You were thrusting and throwing it around! And pointing at it while doing it, too!”

“Y/N!”

“Don’t Y/N me! I have my TikTok evidence!”

With your cracked Army bomb in hand, you open the app in question, scrolling through your favorited videos until you get to the one. The one uploaded only a day before. The one you’d texted to Taehyung which prompted his immediate phone call.

“And what does the caption say?” you ask but then cut Taehyung off before he can answer the question. “It says, and I quote, ‘I will never forget Taehyung doing this. I looped this for hours. Kim Taehyung lives in my head rent-free.’ Hashtag Taehyung. Hashtag HipsDon’tLie. With the woozy face emoji. And do we need to discuss the music choice?”

“Y/N, can you please-”

“Slut Me Out,” you deadpan in a monotone voice. “That is the song they chose for you.”

The other end is silent for so long you start to feel bad. Every time your jealousy spikes, you seem to act on impulse rather than thinking through how you might make Taehyung feel. Yes, he sometimes plays his part in the group a little too well, but you also knew that this was his job. It’s his job to make people get excited - excited for the music, the group, and himself as an idol.

Still, your opinion is the most important to him, and you know that.

“Jagiya…” Taehyung sniffles and you feel your heart shatter.

Fuck, you really are a bitch, aren’t you?

“Tae, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know, I didn’t really think anything of it. It’s just an act, y’know?”

You did know. Away from the stage and the cameras, Taehyung is quiet, almost shy. He’s happy to be a silent observer of whatever chaos his members create. He gifts everyone with puffy cheeks and boxy grins, sometimes a boisterous laugh that manages to make your heart soar every time. But the soft-spoken soul you listen to old school R&B with while you smoke strawberry swisher blunts on the balcony late into the night, and convince that yes, the apartment is soundly built and no, the balcony will not randomly fall out beneath you… That person is different from the person you see wearing a resting bitch face in interviews or the person who chews away at imaginary gum during concerts.

You find all versions of Taehyung endearing, although the fake gum chewing is kind of embarrassing if you wanted to be perfectly honest.

“I know, Tae. I’m sorry I’m being judgmental for no reason,” you insist and you hope he believes you. Complaints about his idol status typically resulted in red eyes and sniffles, yet sometimes you couldn’t stop yourself from pushing his pressure points despite his sensitivity.

Your apology puts Taehyung in a better mood because his following comment is cheekier than you expect.

“You get jealous a lot, jagi.” His smug tone is close to bringing back your irritation.

“I am not jealous of some fans in a stadium, thanks.”

“Good,” he says more cheerfully. “‘Cause I only have sights for you.”

That makes you laugh and you feel your earlier heaviness disappear. “You mean, you only have eyes for me?”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You shake your head as if Taehyung can see you. A few photo strips are beneath Shooky in the cardboard box. You silently curse your father (respectfully and endearingly) for casually placing something so fragile in the bottom of a box. The photos are of you and Taehyung in a photo booth at a birthday party for an idol you didn’t know. An actor, you think. You thumb at one of the corners of the photo strip that has curled inward. Taehyung’s hair was straight then, and short, falling just above his ears. You much prefer the thick waves he wears now.

“You’re so cute.”

“Only for you.”

“Oh shut up, now you’re being corny.”

You’re not sure why, but you try to suppress the smile Taehyung’s light flirting coaxes out of you, even though he can’t see you. Accepting his teasing affection has always been hard for you. All the boys are too caring; it makes you uncomfortable, but not in a bad way. You’re just not used to men acting like that. They’re all very different from the men you’ve been around growing up. There’s a reason Taehyung can’t listen to you talk about your ex-boyfriends without getting pissed.

“Mmm, maybe. I’m also sleepy,” Taehyung slurs. His voice is so soft you almost can’t hear him, so you lift your phone to your ear rather than use the speaker setting. The smoothness feels like a lullaby gentle enough to carry you to sleep, even though it’s still daylight in Seoul.

“Goodnight, Kim.” You decide for him, knowing he would stay on the phone if you let him.

Confirming your thoughts, Taehyung grumbles when he speaks next. “I love you, jagi.”

“I love you, too.” People always talk about the “honeymoon phase” when the butterflies disappear and couples no longer feel the exciting draw toward each other anymore. It’s been less than a year since you started dating Taehyung, but you’re confident that your heart will always flutter when you hear those three words so confidently spoken. Taehyung had been the first to say it; something about that makes you even more sure of your relationship.

“Can’t wait to see you soon so I can slut you out.”

“... please go to bed and never say that ever again.”

In the distance, you hear someone start yelling. The noise is accompanied by a rather aggressive ruffling sound, as though Taehyung’s phone is being rubbed against fabric.

“Are you two having phone sex?” The second voice accuses, this time sounding much clearer.

“Hyung, leave me alone,” Taehyung whines. “Y/N, tell him to go away.”

You let out a long sigh, but the grin finally cuts through the hardened expression you try to maintain. “Goodnight, Jimin.”

It sounds like the two boys start physically fighting each other before Taehyung lets out a breathy, “Goodnight, baby,” accompanied by Jimin screeching something you can’t understand before the call ends.

With a shake of your head, you leave your phone on the floor and get up to position Shooky and your Army bomb on your dresser. You’ll figure out what to do with it later, you decide.

Later ends up being three more days of you giving a half-assed attempt to sort through the boxes. Your bedroom is mostly organized by the end of the week with only one more box remaining, shoved into the corner of the room. It’s a bunch of family keepsakes that will make you cry if you start looking at them.

Right now you want to make a beeline to the kitchen.

It’s hard not to trip over all the boxes that litter your apartment, most of them already torn open and half-empty. The kitchen hasn’t been fully unpacked, either, so you opt for instant ramen in the microwave rather than dig for utensils to cook a proper meal. It’s pretty bad. You and Taehyung are a terrible match; you both have no idea how to cook. There’s no point in all the fancy kitchenware your parents bought you. You’ll never master any of it. It’s not because you don’t put in any effort, like Taehyung. You’re genuinely shit at cooking.

And baking? That’s even worse.

You stand in the middle of your living room while you shovel ramen in your mouth. It’s too hot, so you inhale loudly through your teeth to cool the food off before it scorches your throat. There’s so much you need to do, and it’s making you nauseous thinking about it. Somewhere in the mix of boxes are your Hangeul textbooks that you should be studying in your free time instead of playing video games and video chatting with your friends. It’s only been a week and a half, but you already feel lonely without the constant presence of your friends and family. The boys have been on tour the entire time. Namjoon decided you moving to Seoul while they’re on tour would make your arrival less suspicious, and everyone would be more focused on the tour than whatever an unknown American music producer is doing.

In your opinion, Namjoon was overthinking the whole thing as he is wont to do. But you let him be bossy because you know his heart is in the right place. It’s not like the public knows you’re dating Taehyung. There hasn’t been any press or rumors about you at all. You’re genuinely unknown.

You prefer it that way.

Your fork scrapes the bottom of the bowl and you realize you’ve scarfed down the ramen without much thought. You suppose it’s easier to do that when you aren’t using chopsticks. (You’ve managed to master them, for the most part, but you prefer to fall back on forks when you’re alone at home.)

You place the bowl on top of the large cardboard box in front of the couch. It has the pieces for your coffee table inside, but you haven’t had the energy to put it together yet. The part of you that allows your feminism to leave your body whenever the boys are around is kind of hoping you can get one of them to build it for you. Maybe Yoongi. He’s into that kind of stuff.

With a sigh, you flop onto the couch and slip your phone out of your back pocket. A few Whatsapp and KakaoTalk notifications light up the screen. You used to be terrible at responding to texts, but moving halfway across the world has made you a better texter. It’s a way to fill the loneliness.

[Alex] hey bitch

[Alex] this 15 hour time difference sucks ass

[You] I’m sorry

[Alex] its fine. i’ll forgive you for chasing money and dick

[You] I’m not chasing dick omg

[Alex] dont lie

[Alex] whats that tiffany pollard meme

[You] Stop

[Alex] i know his dick is big. i know it! i know it’s big!

[You] I hate you

[Alex] you didnt deny it. anywayyy did you see this?

As much as you adore Alex, she’s an expert at getting under your skin. You remind yourself that it’s all harmless as you click on the link she texts you.

BTS' V woos fans with his casual rockstar visuals on his return from world tour

Kim Taehyung, also known professionally as V of BTS, was spotted at John F. Kennedy International Airport on Friday. The singer is reportedly returning early to South Korea ahead of his band members after completing the final performance of their…

You don’t know why you read the shitty k-pop tabloids. You figure it’s the same reason why people make a hobby out of watching bad movies. There’s a weird itch in the back of your brain that can’t be scratched unless you open the link Alex texts you— teasingly, of course, because she thinks she’s being funny. Your friends don’t understand the nauseous feeling you get when you scroll through the article and accidentally click on a link that takes you to an external website flaunting doctored photos of your boyfriend with Jennie Kim.

BTS’ V and BLACKPINK’s Jennie Spend Romantic Weekend in Paris

You know it’s a lie because the weekend in question was the same weekend Taehyung flew you to Seoul to do a final walkthrough of your apartment before you signed off on it. Taehyung spent every second of that weekend by your side.

The article makes you sick anyway.

You’re so caught up in trying to craft a text to Alex to explain why she needs to leave you the fuck alone that you don’t hear the sound of your apartment’s front door open over the music you’re listening to.

“I’m gone for a few months and I come home to you listening to some other band?”

“Holy shit, Tae, you can’t do that to me,” you yelp when Taehyung leans over the back of the couch to hover over your shoulder.

“Explain yourself.” His voice is warm honey and milk even when his strong eyebrows point downward in mock disappointment. The expression is almost convincing, his naturally sharp features making conjuring up a dark appearance easier.

“You can’t tell me Stray Kids’ new album isn’t good.”

“Jagiya, I just got home,” Taehyung whines. “Kiss me and stop thirsting over Australian boys.”

He touches your chin to tip your head backward. You lean your head against the back of the couch and look up at him. The position makes you think of the iconic Spiderman kiss, seeing Taehyung’s face upside down above yours.

“Y’know, I worked on a few of their songs. Before I met you.”

The confession is meant to tease him for making fun of your music choice. Of course, words’ impact often diverges from intent. It’s in the twist of his face and the way he pulls back slightly just before his lips brush against yours that you know you’ve made him jealous.

“Oh did you?” His hair hangs around his face as he leans over you.

“Mhm, Bang Chan’s accent is really cu—”

You shouldn’t be shocked when strong hands squeeze your waist and Taehyung hauls you off the couch to stand in front of him. He wraps his arm around your waist to pull you tightly against his chest.

“You didn’t work with any other groups before us, okay?”

You purse your lips to hold in the laughter that threatens to explode from your chest. All you can do is nod in agreement. It reminds you of girls getting upset when they remember their boyfriends dated other people before them.

“Good.”

Taehyung dips his head down to connect his lips with yours. The closeness of his body forces you to inhale his cologne and feel goosebumps travel down your arms. It’s been months since you’ve so much as held Taehyung’s hand and you feel like you’ve been starved. Your body trembles so severely that you dig your nails into his biceps to hold yourself upright. You moan into his mouth, already open and ready for you because Taehyung is nothing but giving.

The kiss isn’t bruising, not yet. It’s slow and deep. Taehyung takes his time reminding himself of your taste. You grip the nape of his neck to pull him down as you meet him by standing on your tiptoes. His height has always been one of your favorite aspects of his physical appearance. Dark, watchful eyes that pierce into your soul might be at the top of the list.

His tongue swirls around yours, only retreating to suck your bottom lip into his mouth. His teeth graze along the plump skin, each nibble making you dizzy in the head. You normally hate wet kisses, but there’s something satisfying about seeing Taehyung’s lips pink and shiny with your spit when he finally pulls away. Pride thrums in your chest; you did that. You made his tan skin flush pink. You made his eyes dark and sharp. You made his breathing ragged and desperate.

And, fuck, does it feel good.

You run your fingers along his sharp jawline and watch the muscles flex beneath his taunt skin. “Don’t clench your jaw like that. It’s not good for you,” you muse, allowing your fingers to skim over his Adam’s apple.

“I’m trying to stay calm.”

Your eyebrows fly up with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Wanna bend you over the couch and fuck you until you can’t walk,” Taehyung says with such a gentle tone that the stark difference between what he says and how he says it has your body trembling once again.

You inhale sharply and let your hand fall from his throat. Instead, you reach for the lapels of his leather jacket and squeeze them.

“Why don’t you?”

You can’t look at him when you ask. Even though you’ve been dating for almost a year, Taehyung still intimidates the hell out of you sometimes. The darkness of his eyes when he gets horny sends you reeling. You’re sure if you look up, you’ll see The Look. He stares at you unabashedly with an expression of desire so strong you feel like he might consume you just by looking at you.

“You haven’t eaten yet and I need to take a shower.”

“How do you know I haven’t eaten yet?” With a pout, you finally dare to look your boyfriend in the face. The way he gapes at you is judgmental and doesn’t make you feel devour-worthy at all.

“I know you,” he scoffs. “You’re just like Jimin. I bet you haven’t even been awake more than two hours.”

Barely a year into your relationship and he’s already reading you like an open book. You can’t stay salty about it when his bread cheeks come out and he’s giggling at the frustrated “hmph” you let out.

“I’ll be fast,” he promises with a smirk that collapses into another fit of giggles. The hearty slap on your ass encourages you toward the kitchen while Taehyung makes his way to the bathroom.

You did already eat, but today is an outlier. Normally, you are like Jimin, staying up too late and sleeping in longer than everyone else. And sometimes you’re like Yoongi, too. You get so caught up in the songs you’re working on that you forget to stop to eat or pee or look somewhere other than at a computer screen.

The move to Seoul threw you off your usual work schedule. Everything you need to get done is looming over your head like a dark cloud. If Namjoon comes back before you finish editing the English lyrics of his upcoming single, you might die of embarrassment, no matter how many times Taehyung insists that Namjoon won’t be disappointed.

Taehyung wasn’t lying about being quick. He’s wearing a white cotton t-shirt and grey sweatpants when he returns, hair damp and swept away from his face. You’re still standing at the fridge, painfully aware of how little food you have. Plenty of grapefruit soju, though. Priorities.

“Do you want ramen?” You eventually ask. When Taehyung doesn’t respond, you turn to give him a sheepish smile. He probably thinks you’re ridiculous.

Taehyung is sitting at the kitchen table with your phone in his hands. His eyebrows scrunch together and he turns to you with narrowed eyes.

“Why were you looking at this?”

He lifts your phone in your direction. The doctored photos of him and Jennie glare back at you. You feel your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.

“Tae, I didn’t—” You snap your mouth shut because, honestly, it looks bad. It looks bad no matter how you explain yourself because Taehyung’s bottom lip is already quivering and you know you’re both replaying the stupid TikTok phone call in your heads right now.

The two of you stare at each other for only god knows how long. You’re the first to break; not many people can hold their own in a staring contest with Kim Taehyung. Yoongi is probably the only one. Jungkook would give a valiant effort, but he’d ultimately crumble in a fit of nervous giggles. Taehyung is scary when he wants to be.

Dating Taehyung started as an unbelievably exciting experience. You had your brush with fame before meeting the boys, but Taehyung was the first idol to give you genuine attention beyond whatever job needed to be done. Not that you’d ever sought it out; you had more dignity than that. No, Taehyung pursued you. Who could blame you when you fell head over heels for the sinfully gorgeous man who seemed larger than life? The long legs, big hands, and chiseled features were dangerous enough. Throw in a glowing personality, quirky sense of humor, and a big-hearted desire to care for others and you had a man who was too good to be true.

And who are you? Some dumb American kid with average looks, a standoff personality as a result of having a bit of social anxiety (and trouble acclimating to a new country), and a penchant for fucking things up. Maybe it was your fault for not seriously considering how hard it was going to be to date an idol.

“C’mere, jagi,” Taehyung murmurs, beckoning you.

You expected waterworks— hell, you’re ready to start crying yourself. Instead, Taehyung wears a tired but soft smile. He holds your waist as you climb into his lap, straddling him. He wiggles a little in the chair to adjust you more comfortably on his thighs.

“Koreaboo, really?” He gathers your face in his hands, thumbs running across your cheeks. His hands are soft and you regret not washing your face when you woke up. Sometimes it’s not fun to date someone as beautiful as Taehyung.

“It was an accident.”

You avoid his gaze, but Taehyung coaxes you back to look him in the eyes. It’s hard. There’s so much passion swimming in them. He blinks up at you with an earnestness that makes your heart ache because you’re always the one causing problems.

“They could have at least used better pictures of me,” he complains with an exaggerated pout.

“Maybe I’ll send them some from my private collection.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Taehyung grins as he threatens you, so you grin back.

“Oh, I dare.”

Quick fingers dig into your sides and you let out an embarrassing squeal. Taehyung doesn’t let up on tickling you until you’ve got tears in your eyes and your threats to elbow him in the face start sounding a bit too real.

“Please don’t torture yourself with shit like that, okay?” He mumbles the request into your neck because your arms are thrown around his shoulders.

You slide your fingers into his hair to cradle his head against your chest. When you dig your nails into his scalp he lets out a low groan. Nothing about the position you’re in is sexual, but you’re quickly reminded that this is the most skin-on-skin contact you’ve had with your boyfriend in months. With that fact in mind, you don’t feel bad when you scoot further into his lap and squeeze his thighs with your own.

“Tae?”

“Hmm?” When he tilts his head back to look up at you, he’s got that spacey, blissed-out look on his face.

“Tell me you love me.” You place your finger against the little freckle on the tip of his nose.

The slow, boxy grin is almost better than hearing the words. Your finger migrates to touch the freckle on his lip.

“I love you with all my heart.” He punctuates the confession with a kiss on the tip of your finger. “Your turn.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s the reaction he’s looking for.

“I love you, too. You dork.”

“So romantic,” he laughs, but the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he watches you with lust darker than what consumed his expression earlier.

You sit with your breath burning in your lungs as Taehyung slips his hands beneath your baggy t-shirt. His smooth palms slide up your rib cage until he reaches your tits, palming one in each hand. The tilt of his chin tells you he wants another kiss, and who are you to deny him what he wants? You dig your nails in his hair harder while you kiss him, tugging to angle his head in the direction you want. Small moments like this give the appearance that you’re in control. And Taehyung loves domming while you both pretend you’re the one in charge.

He pulls back with a wet smack. If it was anyone else, you’d be ashamed of the whimper that sounds from your throat as Taehyung removes his hands from your shirt. You grip his hair tighter, but Taehyung just chuckles.

“So needy. What am I going to do with you?”

You could give him a couple of ideas. There isn’t time, though. Taehyung is already grasping your chin and tilting it down.

“Open up for me, okay?”

Your cheeks grow hot as you open your mouth. You already know where this is going, so you stick out your tongue. Still, it’s difficult not to squirm when Taehyung presses his index and middle fingers flat against the wet muscle.

“Suck.”

You swallow around his fingers, sucking as best you can as he begins to thrust them into your mouth. It’s vulgar, the wet suctioning sound of his fingers dragging against your tongue. In and out, a steady pace that doesn’t go too fast. Taehyung has such long, gorgeous fingers. You quite enjoy when he wrecks your insides with them until you’re on the brink of tears. Which you’ve come to find is something Taehyung thoroughly enjoys doing.

“You miss having your pretty mouth stuffed?”

You know any attempt at a spoken response will come out as a garbled mess. You whimper, eyes fluttering closed as you swirl your tongue around his fingers. You push your tongue in between his fingers and curl around them.

“Gonna suck my cock like this, jagi?” He purrs the question, ending it so breathy it’s almost a moan as he eases over the term of endearment. “Show me how much you miss me, hm?”

Maybe it’s the deep, sensual way he purrs jagi with heavy eyelids and that crooked smirk on his face. Maybe it’s because he bites his lip when he says it or that he lets his lip go with such slowness that you can see the way his teeth scrape across his plump bottom lip as it falls back into place. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s shoving his fingers just a bit deeper into your mouth. Maybe it’s all of these things that make you shift so that you can press your clothed pussy against Taehyung’s thigh.

He flexes the muscle as you start rutting against it, rolling your hips to the rhythm of his fingers gliding in and out of your mouth.

“Look at you.” His lips brush against the curve of your ear, sending a shiver down your back. “So desperate for me that you’re going to get off on only my thighs?”

You’re not the type to be able to orgasm just from rutting and friction like this, but Taehyung has managed to learn your body faster than you ever expected. He slips his free hand beneath the waistband of your leggings and underwear. It’s the quick circling of his thumb against your throbbing clit combined with the rutting of your hips that sends you over the edge.

“That’s it, baby, you did so well,” Taehyung whispers praise against the skin his lips have access to on your collarbones as you shudder in his lap. “Love seeing you cum, fuck, doing this shit over KakaoTalk fucking sucked.”

Taehyung finally removes his fingers from your mouth when you stop moving. Seeing the string of spit that connects his fingers to your lips makes you feel weak, but you’re riding the high of his praise and skillful fingers, so you don’t care.

He wipes your spit onto his sweatpants and gently holds your chin with his other hand. He gives you a soft smile and rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. You can taste yourself when you flick your tongue over the trail his thumb left.

“I missed you so much,” he admits with a gentle kiss on your lips. “And not just because of this. I missed all of you, everything about you, just being with you.”

“I missed you, too.”

It’s meant to be a confirmation of your mutual love, but it comes out like a whine. You know Taehyung doesn’t mind from the way his eyes zero in on your tongue running along your bottom lip. You don’t have to say anything more for him to know what you want. He nods once and you’re almost immediately on your knees between his legs.

“Fuck.” He leans back in the chair and lifts his hips so you can tug his sweatpants down his thighs. “Gonna be good for me, baby?”

You quickly nod your head, though you’re focused on gently taking Taehyung’s cock in your hand. Alex isn’t wrong. Taehyung’s dick is big, but that doesn’t mean you have to go around talking about it. That’s for you to know and for others to wonder about.

You had to sign an NDA before you were allowed to see it, anyway, but you’d keep your mouth shut even if no legal action would be taken against you for gossiping.

“Kiss it first.”

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he watches you. His eyelids droop lower when you plant a puckered, open-mouthed kiss on the head of his cock. You press the tip of your tongue against the slit to lick at the precum already leaking from him. The buck of his hips isn’t unexpected, but you feel like you need to remember how to do all of this after being away from him for so long. Not to mention how tired your jaw is about to be.

Taehyung seems to sense your hesitation because he allows his body to go slack beneath you. The hand that has reached down to dig into your scalp doesn’t let up, but he doesn’t push your head down like he normally would when you finally slide his cock down your throat.

He doesn’t buck his hips again, even when you drool so much that the inside of his thighs become just as wet as yours. You squeeze the base of his cock, twisting your wrist to the rhythm you’ve established when you can’t take all of him into your mouth.

You reach down to gently roll his balls with your free hand. His cock twitches against your flattened tongue and you hum with satisfaction.

“God, your fucking mouth–”

You make eye contact with Taehyung as your hand ventures lower. There’s nothing more beautiful than the way his face crumples with pleasure when you massage his perineum.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he whines.

You ease up slightly but still suckle on the head of his cock for longer than Taehyung wants. Why not have a little fun? All you’ll end up doing is riling him up even more, and that can only be a good thing for you.

Taehyung digs his fingers into your hair and yanks you up. It stings, but the pain might as well be white-hot pleasure once Taehyung is praising you with a gravelly voice.

“You’re too fucking good at that.”

You don’t even like sucking dick, but you’d do it all day, every day if Taehyung asked you to. But since he made you stop, you have other priorities to take care of, like the fact that there are way too many layers of clothes separating you from your boyfriend. While you were on your knees for him, Taehyung removed his shirt. The white cotton is discarded on the floor beside the chair and his half-dry hair is tousled around his head in a messiness only he could successfully pull off.

After wiggling out of your leggings and underwear, you climb back onto Taehyung’s lap. His broad chest shudders beneath your touch as you run your hands down to meet his soft tummy. His responsiveness strokes the ego you didn’t realize you have.

“Y’know, you never gave me the chance to ask you how travel went.”

“Seriously?” He knows you’re teasing, but you like the mock-irritated tone of his voice. It makes his chest rumble.

You use your grip on him to stabilize yourself as you grind into his lap. You scrape your nails at the nape of his neck and suck on his bottom lip. Taehyung moans into your mouth, low and throaty, when his cock glides through your wet folds as you roll your hips. He lets you pull his hair, head falling back to expose the smooth plane of his throat. Your lips leave his to latch onto his throat instead. The kisses you give him are slippery and biting and hot.

“No hickeys, Y/N.”

Taehyung’s scolding is deep and sharp; you both know he’s not fucking around. It’s a command he has had to throw your way more than once. The idea of marking him up is just so appetizing, but you know you can’t. Sure, makeup can make just about anything disappear, but it’s annoying to deal with and Taehyung isn’t particularly a fan of the side looks the makeup artists give each other when they see dark bruises littering his neck and collarbones.

Maybe you’ll give him just a tiny one and suffer the consequences later.

You cling onto him tighter when you feel two of his fingers slip inside of you. Spreading your thighs as wide as you can without throwing off your balance on the chair, you roll your hips into Taehyung’s hand to take his fingers deeper.

“Please,” you moan against his neck. You can smell your shampoo and body wash on him. Something about him smelling like you makes you feel overwhelmingly possessive. He’s yours. Kim Taehyung is yours.

He turns his head to the side to capture your lips with his own as he snakes his arm around your waist. The position allows him to pull you tightly against his chest. He holds you in place as he starts thrusting his fingers into your pussy just as he had thrust them into your mouth.

Taehyung grunts as he keeps his legs spread in the chair, which in turn forces your thighs open when you try to squeeze them closed around his hand.

“Stay still.”

“Can’t.” You shake your head and thread your fingers through his hair, tugging the strands harder.

It’s too much; Taehyung lights a fire against every inch of your body each time he touches you. If he was anyone else, you’d be singed, but Taehyung takes such good care of you. You’re not singed. You’re ignited.

“You have no fucking idea,” Taehyung takes a deep breath, “No fucking idea how badly I’ve been craving you.” He warms you up with each thrust of his fingers, adding a third until you’re clawing at his shoulders.

“So, ahh fuck, fuck me,” you gasp, your mouth hot against the corner of his jaw. Your teeth scrape against his skin and he merely lets his head fall back to give you more.

“No please?”

You bite his cheek in defiance and get a slap to the ass that only makes you want to bite him more.

“Don’t be mean to me,” you whimper.

Taehyung’s steady rhythm against your front wall has your orgasm burning so hotly in your core that you feel like you’re going to cum if he even so much as turns his head to look at you one more time.

Your thighs are already sore by the time Taehyung removes his fingers from your pussy. He uses your sticky arousal as lube to stroke his cock and you don’t want to think about how excited you are about this.

“Hurry up.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows at you just as he grips the inside of your thigh with one hand. The other he uses to line his cock with your body. You can feel the head press against your entrance, and you try to push your body down to swallow him whole, but Taehyung holds you up to stop you.

“Impatient cockslut, aren’t you?” Taehyung chides.

His previously spacey look is sharpened by the sparkle of mirth in his eyes. Your body tenses when he spits the insult at you, and he knows it’s making your clit throb even harder.

“Tae.” You bite your lip because you’re close to begging at this point.

Luckily, you don’t have to. Taehyung presses down your hip and you quickly take the lead, easing yourself onto his cock until you’re fully seated on his firm thighs.

Your body burns from the stretch it has to make to accommodate him, but you knew it would. Even when you’re fully adjusted to him, there’s always a bit of a stretch. He also knows he has to let you ease into it to avoid slamming himself straight into your cervix. The first time it had happened, Taehyung genuinely thought he’d broken you. You kind of thought so, too, if you were going to be perfectly honest. The struggle of having a big-dicked boyfriend.

“Okay?” He’s watching you with those lustful, dark eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum because you’re afraid of the way your voice will quiver if you try to say real words.

You’re so full, it’s a bit overwhelming. Not just physically, but emotionally, too. You missed Taehyung a lot, but holding onto each other in such an intimate position is making you realize just how lonely you were without him.

“I’m gonna move, okay?”

He waits until you silently nod your head before he adjusts in the chair, scooting down slightly to spread his legs better. You allow him to adjust your legs, bending them at the knee and hooking them over the arms of the chair. With a tight grip on your ass, Taehyung pulls you down onto his cock at the same time he thrusts up into you.

The pace Taehyung sets is desperate, but you don’t care. Your second orgasm is approaching at an alarming speed. It feels like it’s taking all of your energy to simply stay grounded with reality as Taehyung squeezes you and your hips crash into each other. You don’t even try to do anything, just let him take over your body as he pounds into you. For the most part, you’re a pillow princess and you both know it. Besides, how can you possibly keep up with someone so athletic? Taehyung’s stamina is ridiculous. Neither of you has an overstimulation kink, but Taehyung’s ability to just go and go and go might as well have given you one. None of this has ever bothered Taehyung, though. He likes giving more than receiving.

“Oh fuck.” Taehyung nips at the base of your neck when you clench around his cock just to feel him shiver.

There aren’t any rules about him marking you up. The petty side of him likes when you wear the dark bruises in the open, with no makeup or clothing to hide them. It’s a satisfying game he likes to play. He likes that everyone knows you’re getting dicked down and, therefore, are taken.

You like the secret satisfaction of knowing it’s Kim Taehyung who gives you those marks, and no one even knows.

What you don’t like is thinking about all the other people Taehyung may have enjoyed giving marks to.

It’s hard not to let your mind wander. Taehyung has never talked to you about his previous relationships, and there’s no way for you to know about them if he doesn’t tell you. The media can’t be trusted to accurately report idols’ love lives; today has been a perfect example of that. You’re stuck with only your imagination to make up all kinds of scenarios. Maybe Taehyung has been with other k-pop idols, or models, or actresses - people with more money, who are prettier and more sophisticated than you. Hell, you’ve never even asked him about his sexuality. What if he really has been fucking Jungkook! What if they’re in love and you’re just something temporary?

“I was made for you, jagi. You know that?” Taehyung’s breath is hot against your skin. His words are gentle, but the power with which he thrusts up into you is bruising. “Made for you.”

It’s as if he can read your mind, as if he can somehow sense the insecurities threatening to pull you out of the moment. As always, Taehyung manages to bring you back to the present.

Fuck, sometimes you wish he wouldn’t do shit like this to you. You’re already pathetically in love with him. You can’t imagine what more could come next, yet you feel yourself practically bursting from the seams with love.

Your moans fall in line with the sound of the chair scraping the floor and your skin slapping against Taehyung’s with every thrust. When your mouth falls open, Taehyung presses his thumb against your tongue. With eyes fluttering closed, you suck on his thumb and try to hold on as your body rocks up and down.

“Fuck, fuck, oh, god, Taehyung.”

“Yeah, jagi?” Taehyung pulls down on the corner of your mouth until his thumb is dragging spit across your cheek. “Tell me.”

His voice is so soothing it makes you want to cry. It’s unfair.

“You feel so fucking—“

It’s the slick pressure of his thumb massaging your clit that finally has you arching your back with a scream of Taehyung’s name. You’re so loud that you worry your neighbors heard you. There are plenty of people named Taehyung in the world, though, right? He could be any Taehyung.

If you ask Taehyung later, he’ll probably say he can’t even remember his own name because of how tightly you clench around his cock when you cum. The feeling is so overwhelming that you think you might pass out from holding your breath. You gasp, inhaling more air than you exhale, but Taehyung keeps going. Every subsequent thrust knocks the air out of you until you have the opposite problem and now you can’t keep any air in.

“I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead, baby. Cum inside me.”

Taehyung whimpers into the crook of your neck as he cums, the suggestiveness of your permission not lost on either of you. You’re on birth control and Taehyung knows a kid would probably ruin his career. So it doesn’t actually mean anything when you tell him he can stay inside; you’re not getting pregnant any time soon. Still, he gets off on coming inside of you, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I was going to make a joke that I should go on tour more often if that means I’ll cum that hard again, but I think I don’t want to go on tour ever again,” Taehyung admits with a shaky laugh.

Just the idea of Taehyung leaving you for months on end again makes your stomach twist. He brings so much life to everywhere he goes, and you felt like much of that life left you when he did. Even if it was only temporary.

Taehyung holds you until his cock is no longer twitching inside of you. Once his arms finally fall to his side, you try to untangle yourself from the chair as his body, but your limbs might as well belong to someone else.

“Help,” you squeak hoarsely. You feel like covering your face when Taehyung laughs.

Taehyung helps you out of his lap, though you both are so wobbly on your feet that you hold onto the edge of the kitchen table when you stand. Taehyung looks wrecked, and you feel wrecked. You’re not sure your knees will ever work properly again.

“Why are we still listening to Stray Kids?” Taehyung grumbles when he realizes the speakers are still playing in the background.

“It’s a good album.”

“We should be fucking to my songs.” Taehyung pauses for a moment, thinking.“‘Christmas Tree’ is a fuckable song, right?”

“You’re joking.”

Taehyung shakes his head and reaches for your phone. His face is programmed to unlock your phone, just like your face unlocks his phone. You don’t understand how he can stand butt naked in the kitchen, cum all over his thighs, and search for the jazz playlist he made on your Spotify account.

(“Jazz Hands, Y/N. It’s a vibe.”)

Once his playlist has replaced Stray Kids, Taehyung wraps you up in a giant bear hug that lifts you off your feet. The hug nearly knocks the air out of you.

“Can’t believe you made me dirty after I just showered.” You can’t see his pout, but you can hear it.

“You’re the one who started this.”

Taehyung scoffs. He starts walking down the hallway, practically dragging you in his arms as he goes. Your toes barely reach the ground, but you’re more content to let your body fall slack and make him do all the work.

He kicks open the bathroom door and sits you down on the counter.

“No, you did this. You looked at me with those pretty eyes and said, ‘Tae’.” He tries to mimic your voice by moaning his name. “I’m a weak, weak man. You influenced me. I just wanted you to eat.”

“Well, I did eat.”

Taehyung presses his lips together. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m gonna say it.” You lean forward on the edge of the counter, trying to get in Taehyung’s space, but he’s ignoring you as he prepares the shower.

“Y/N.”

“I ate…”

“Stop.”

“Deez nuts.”

Taehyung drags his hands down his face, leaving his skin red. His reaction makes you giggle.

“Technically you only played with deez nuts. Your mouth, sadly, did not ever come near my—” He tries to correct you, but you’re already throwing a scrunchie at his face.

“You’re ruining the joke!”

“It’s a bad joke!”

Maybe your sense of humor is way better than his, but as you suffer another Taehyung tickle attack, you can’t help but feel ridiculous for how you’d behaved earlier. How can he look at you with sparkling eyes and a boxy smile that makes him laugh with his teeth, hand coming up to cover his face when you give him your poutiest of pouts— how can you see such genuine kindness and think Taehyung would ever do anything to jeopardize what you have?

“Wassup motherfuckers!”

You raise your eyebrows at Namjoon and tap the end of your chewed pen against your computer screen. Biting pens isn’t sanitary or cute but you do it anyway. The man’s eyes aren’t on your pen cap, though. He’s staring a hole into the podcast you pulled up because you know he doesn’t want to look at you.

“Namjoon, why did you start the episode like that? This is not your Automatic Dick era,” you say with a deep sigh.

“Beoryeo.”

“Excuse me?”

“The song. It’s called ‘Throw Away’, not… Automatic… Dick…” His correction dies on his tongue when he sees the exasperated look on your face.

“That is not the point.” You shake your head and exit the website. You’re not in charge of PR. That’s someone else’s problem.

Your attention turns to the newest draft of the song you’ve been stressing out about since you arrived in Seoul.

“This, though? This is fucking beautiful.” You adjust your laptop on the coffee table so Namjoon can better view the document. The two of you are at the dorm, lounging in the living room.

There are a lot of highlighted lines and many comments throughout the document. You wish you were like the members who scribbled their lyrics in cute leather journals, but your brain is too much of a disaster and broken by technology. If you don’t have your laptop, you can't write lyrics for shit.

“How are you so eloquent in Korean, but in English, you’re so…” You wave your hands around like you’re rifling through the air for the rest of your sentence.

“Casual?”

“Yes.” Sure, we’ll go with that, Joonie.

“Well, that’s why I’ve got you!”

At least he thinks you’re eloquent. The boys probably think you’re spending all your time in your office easily pulling masterpieces out of your ass when in reality you’re Googling, “what's the word for when you can't remember a word?”

It’s lethologica, by the way.

You love Namjoon, but sometimes you think he has too much faith in you. Writing songs is hard. He of all people would know that. The difference between you and Namjoon is that when Namjoon struggles with writing he gets all emo, buys a bunch of weird furniture, and flies to another country to look at foreign art. When you struggle with writing, you just go home and play video games with Taehyung until you’re ready to try again.

You’re both practicing avoidance, but Namjoon’s method just looks a little more dramatic than yours. Despite his assumptions, that doesn’t mean you’re better at handling yourself. You just do things differently.

“We’re so lucky to have Jagi PD!”

Namjoon groans and covers his head with the hood of his hoodie as Jungkook flies into the living room.

Strong hands cup your armpits to lift you off of the couch. While Jungkook is crushing every bone in your body as he hugs you, all you can think about is how you were kind of a little bit sweaty, and now Jungkook has his hands all in your armpits.

“Jungkookie, don’t pick people up without their consent.”

Hobi enters the room behind the younger man and gives him a stern look which makes Jungkook immediately put you down on your feet.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Jungkook says with a pout and galaxies in his eyes. You give his shoulder a playful smack. His baggy black t-shirt sticks to his skin, and you’re less worried about being sweaty. Jungkook is soaked.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I’m tough.” You flex your nonexistent muscles to make the precious maknae laugh his pout away.

“You should come train with us, Jagi.”

“Jungkook,” Namjoon exclaims from where he still sits on the couch.

He turns to his friend with wide eyes. “What?”

“Stop calling Y/N ‘jagi’. Taehyung is going to kill you.” This time Jimin pipes up.

You hadn’t realized he’d entered the room, too. The three newcomers are varying degrees of sweaty with pink cheeks and wearing workout clothes. You suppose they’ve just come back from working out or perhaps a dance practice. They’ve all been back from tour for a few weeks now, but if there’s one thing you’ve learned about the Bangtan Boys it’s that they never fucking rest.

It’s exhausting just to think about it.

“It’s okay,” you say with a shrug. “I think ‘Jagi PD’ is pretty fucking funny, to be honest.”

The nickname Jungkook created for you is cute in your opinion. You are a music producer. Jagi PD is better than using your last name. It could be like your stage name. Maybe you can get Namjoon to credit you as Jagi PD under the songs you write. Using your first and last name seems lame when it’s paired with fun names like SUGA, RM, j-hope, and Slow Rabbit.

“Pretty fucking funny,” Jungkook repeats. He gives the other men a triumphant look before launching himself onto the couch with Jimin.

Hobi chooses to sit on the couch on the opposite side of the room with Namjoon. From the way Namjoon has nestled back into his seat, it’s clear that his song will have to wait. It’s for the best. You’re not thinking about music anymore.

You can’t blame Jungkook for interrupting your work, but the true source of distraction saunters into the room with his arms full of grocery bags.

“Hey, jagiya,” Taehyung greets you sweetly with a kiss on your forehead as he walks through the living room to get to the kitchen. The final two men, Jin and Yoongi, trail behind Taehyung with their own bags.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jimin give Jungkook a pointed look when Taehyung uses the term of endearment.

“What are you guys making?” Jungkook is curled up against the arm of the couch with his phone in hand. He’s holding it sideways which makes you think he’s probably playing In The Seom. The app is old news by this point, yet Jungkook’s attention is still consumed by it. It’s hilarious.

You wish you could meet the game developers. Whoever made Taehyung’s character look so fucking feral deserves a raise.

“You’re gonna cook?” You don’t hide your shock at the idea that Taehyung would be cooking anything, and that makes everyone laugh.

“I’m making dinner,” Yoongi clarifies. “And it’s a surprise, so stop paying attention to me.” He shoos Jin and Taehyung out of the kitchen.

Jin sits on the couch with Jimin and Jungkook, while Taehyung sits with you. The armchair really only seats one person comfortably, but you wiggle so Taehyung can sit half next to you and half under you. He arranges your legs to drape over his lap. It’s nice, being this close. You can snuggle into his side and let him wrap his arms around you without worrying about who can see or what people think. All the boys are supportive of your relationship with Taehyung. It’s a bit frustrating that there’s no way for you to fully express how appreciative you are.

“Well, what are we supposed to do?” From the couch in the living room, Jungkook shoots Yoongi a glare as if Yoongi’s request for some alone time while he cooks is a personal attack.

Yoongi snorts and turns his back on Jungkook to begin unloading the groceries. “I don’t know, talk to each other.”

“You guys are boring. I only want to talk to Y/N.” You’re not sure how you’ve become Jungkook’s favorite, but it’s exceptionally endearing.

“You’re not even going to pay attention,” Namjoon points out. “Always on that damn phone.”

He’s still got his hood up, and he looks like he was half-asleep. No one but you gets the joke, so Namjoon nods his head in your direction before returning to his slumped position.

“I like watching Jimin-ssi’s character spin around in little circles.”

“It’s cute, isn’t it?” Jin chimes in. “He looks so small.”

The glares Jimin shoots everyone in the room are terrifying. You think about something you’d heard someone say: the shorter the person, the closer to hell they are. Something dramatic that only a tall person would say.

“All the characters are the same size,” he exclaims. “And I don’t do that!”

“Yes, you do. There are fanmade compilation videos of you spinning around, Jimin-ssi! I’ve watched them,” Jungkook confesses with full confidence.

A small squeal sounds from the opposite side of the room. You turn to see Hobi practically bouncing on the couch.

“Please, can we watch some? I want to hear the cute sound effects.”

A pillow flies across the room, and Hobi just barely dodges it. Jimin crosses his arms firmly against his chest and scowls as Jin and Jungkook enthusiastically agree and Hobi snatches the TV remote before anyone else can.

“At least watch a video that isn’t about me doing something embarrassing,” Jimin breaks down enough to plead (not beg!) with Hobi. He eyes the room and his gaze falls on Taehyung. A small smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth and you feel Taehyung slowly exhale. “We should watch one about TaeTae.”

You try to cover your laughter with a cough, but Taehyung applies a light slap to your thigh in retaliation.

“Why me?” he pouts.

“Yes! Let me pick!”

“Jungkookie, no. It was my idea.” Hobi scrolls through his phone until his face lights up with glee. “I’ve watched this one before and it’s so cute, Y/N, you’re going to love it.”

“The suspense is killing me.” You wiggle your eyebrows at Taehyung. The rolled eyes you’re met with feel like a victory.

“Okay, it’s called, BTS struggling to understand ‘Tae-tae language’,” Hobi prefaces while the video loads on the TV.

Jin laughs at the loud snort you let out. “TaeTae language is hard to understand.”

“Maybe you guys aren’t creative enough to understand me,” Taehyung scoffs.

“Hey! I understand you!” Yoongi protests from the kitchen.

Taehyung looks like he might say more, but the video interrupts him. It starts with highlights from the comments section of previous videos. One comment mentions Namjoon being their bias.

“Is that weird? Like, to watch this kind of stuff and hear people talk about their biases?” If you were famous, you were absolutely positive that you’d never Google yourself. You would not want to know what kind of weird shit was out there about you, even something as seemingly innocent as silly compilation videos.

“I think it’s funny,” Jimin says with a smirk and half-moon eyes. “I’m everyone’s bias, anyway.”

“That’s not what TikTok says.” Jungkook turns his nose upward at Jimin, though his eyes never leave his phone. It’s a shame In The Seom didn’t allow him to drown Jimin in the ocean, or he totally would have done it by now.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just check how many videos there are under my hashtag.”

Jimin snorts with a roll of his eyes, seemingly dismissing Jungkook’s claims. But you see him twist on the couch so the younger man can’t see that Jimin pulls up TikTok on his phone. As if TikTok was the end all, be all. You want to tell them it’s impossible to know who’s the most “popular” or whatever, but you know that conversation is futile.

“Y/N, you were Army before you started dating Tae!” You can practically see the light bulb going off in Hobi’s brain. Or, rather, the Army bomb. “Who was your bias?”

Hobi’s question barely leaves his lips when the room grows quiet. Seven pairs of eyes stare at you expectantly, including your boyfriend’s. You keep your eyes on the TV, though you aren’t seeing the compilation video playing anymore.

“I don’t know. I didn’t have a bias. Y’know, OT7 and all that shit.”

Suddenly, the room erupts. Screeches of protests and arguments are shouted across the living room, the boys yelling on top of one another and slewing insults at each other.

“Oh come on, Y/N, tell us!” Hobi whines.

“Yeah, we wanna know! We won’t judge you.” Pulling this precious information out of you is so vital that Jungkook looks away from his phone long enough to give you a pouty face.

“It’s obviously me. I’m Worldwide Handsome.”

“Leave her alone, guys.” Taehyung shifts in his seat and adjusts how your legs drape over his lap. His large hands massage soft circles into your calf muscles. “This is so childish.”

“Right. A bias is just whoever a fan is partial to,” Namjoon says with a shrug. “What matters is that fans support us as seven.”

“No, a bias is the one the fan wants to fuck the most.” This time Jungkook doesn’t look up from his phone when he speaks.

Jin hums in agreement, winking in your direction and making Taehyung scowl.

“You’re just scared it’s not you, Tae.” For someone Taehyung calls his soulmate, Jimin seems to jump at every opportunity to fuck with his friend. He turns to you with those haunting siren eyes that lure in even God’s strongest soldiers. “Is he, Y/N? Is your bias Taehyung or someone else?”

“I thought Hobi’s question was, who was my bias? Not is.”

His siren eyes narrow at you. “Stop arguing semantics and answer the question.”

You can’t hold a staring contest with the now-paused Youtube video, and Jimin’s sudden snappiness makes you feel the need to look away. Right into the eyes of your answer, the only person who hasn’t spoken during the entire bias conversation.

Yoongi’s sharp eyes catch yours when you look away from the TV. Never one to miss a beat, he raises a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at you, the ghost of his classic Yoongi smirk barely lifting the corner of his mouth before the entire room erupts into shouting again.

“YOONGI?! REALLY?! OUT OF ALL OF US, YOU PICKED HIM?” Jimin jumps up from the couch, knocking pillows all over the floor.

“Watch it, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi scolds the younger man for his informal language. Jimin only rolls his eyes.

“Damn, Jimin was right. You aren’t her bias, TaeTae.” Jin shakes his head with a solemn look. He gets up to leave the room, giving your boyfriend a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he walks past. “I’m going to my room to play Mario Kart. This is too depressing for me.”

At the mention of video games, Jungkook perks up. “Wait Jin hyungie, I wanna play, too!” He tosses the last couch pillow in Jimin’s lap and scrambles to catch up with Jin halfway down the hall.

Yoongi wears a full-blown smirk now. You watch with wide eyes as his tongue slips out to drag across his bottom lip before he’s drawing his lip between his teeth. “Cute.”

“Fuck off,” Taehyung hisses at the older man, lifting your legs off his lap.

“Tae…” You reach out to grab his arm to stop him, but he’s already heading to his bedroom. The door slams shut so hard that the photos on the walls shudder.

You turn back around to glare at the remaining men. “Did you have your fun, hmm? Was it worth it?”

“I really… I didn’t think…” Hobi fumbles his words, clearly uncomfortable with the outbursts he’d unwittingly caused.

“If it doesn’t work out with Taehyung, call me, yeah?” Yoongi sends you a wink, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek.

You feel your face heat up and you refuse to look at him. You wait until he goes back to preparing the food before you stand up. Without another word, you follow in Taehyung’s footsteps until you reach his door. It’s locked, but you expected as much.

“TaeTae,” you call softly. “Please let me in.”

You wait in silence long enough that you consider going home. If Taehyung doesn’t want to talk to you, you aren’t going to push him. Even if you think the reason for his outburst is stupid and that he’s acting like a child.

Eventually, the door is opened wide enough for you to slip inside. Taehyung doesn’t look at you when he shuts the door. Instead, he sits on his bed and leans his back against the wall. He keeps his eyes on his hands delicately folded together in his lap. His eyes are already red and slightly puffy. The sight is glass in your veins.

“Tae, please don’t be upset,” you start slowly. Climbing into his bed, you scoot until you’re lounging next to him. He doesn’t pull away when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“It’s embarrassing.”

You let out a small sigh, not because you’re frustrated with him but because you’d known watching fanmade videos would turn out to be a bad idea.

“If it makes you feel better, you were still in my bias line.” It’s probably not the best way to reassure your boyfriend, but it at least makes him look at you.

“Who else?” His eyes are narrowed.

“I don’t think I should answer that.”

Taehyung’s bottom lip droops and you feel your heart seize.

“Okay, okay!” Maybe holding his hand will make it better. “Jimin, but, no don’t give me that look! Just listen.”

Taehyung’s pout deepens, but he doesn’t interrupt you.

“It’s not like when I hang out with Jimin or Yoongi I’m thinking about those things, okay? It’s just a natural thing that happens. Anyone can be drawn to specific people in a group; the same thing happens with friendships. Like you and Jimin. It’s normal.”

Taehyung doesn’t seem convinced, but he laces his fingers through yours. You interpret the light squeeze he gives you as permission to continue talking.

“Yoongi is cool because I always saw him as this, like, mental health icon for me. He talks so much about mental health and fans see how he has grown and gotten healthier over the years. It’s inspiring, right? You’ve seen it firsthand.”

“That’s true,” Taehyung sniffles.

You nod your head. “Exactly, I respect him as a person and an artist. And with Jimin, I’ve always been almost jealous? of him. Because he can so beautifully balance both masculine and feminine qualities and aesthetics. He looks good no matter what and has learned to accept himself instead of forcing whatever weird masculinity shit y’all had when you debuted. That’s inspiring, too.”

Taehyung is silent for a while. You give him the space to process what you’ve said, and you hope that it’s enough to make him understand that a bias is not just about who you want to fuck. Jungkook is such a flirt; of course, that’s how he would interpret things.

“Why did you like me?” He finally looks at you. His eyes are a little pink from his tears, but his cheeks appear dry. The innocent curiosity in his expression tugs at your heart.

You reach up to run your fingers through his fluffy hair, combing out any tangles and gently massaging his scalp. This is probably how Taehyung feels when you worry about fans, paparazzi, and sasaengs.

“Well, you’re hot,” you say with a grin. You feel a bit lighter when Taehyung’s mouth curves slightly, too.

“Is that it?”

“Of course not.” You stick your tongue out. “You were my favorite in the vocal line. I loved how smooth your singing voice is, and how thoughtful you sound when you talk about how important the members and Army are to you. How could someone not love the inventor of I purple you?”

It feels weird to talk about how you liked Taehyung before you knew who he was. You never made your status as a fan obvious in the beginning. Professionalism is more important than fangirling. Even now, you only casually discuss your interest in the group before meeting them.

“Your sense of fashion made me laugh. You always seemed so happy, even though people like to focus a lot on how mean you can look. And I thought your relationships with Yoongi and Jimin were cute. You’re a great example of how men can and should be soft and loving.”

They’re all highly-simplified explanations for why Taehyung caught your eye in a group of seven, but they seem to put him at ease. He slides into the bed so he’s lying on his back under the covers. With his eyes locked on yours, he pats his chest.

“C’mere.”

You lie down under the covers next to him. It feels nice to rest your head on his chest and throw your leg over his waist. Ever since Taehyung came back from the tour, you’ve wanted to be attached at the hip. It’s not that you can’t handle being alone, but you don’t think it’s a bad thing to want to be with the people who bring you joy— especially when you live in a new country.

“You know I’m in love with you, not Yoongi or Jimin.”

“I know.”

“Do you actually?” You shift your head so you can look up at him.

Taehyung meets you halfway. You let your eyes close as he slots his lips with yours, allowing your body to melt into his. The desperation the two of you had for each other when Taehyung first returned to Seoul eventually died out. Now, you’re okay with taking things slow. You can savor the feeling of his body on yours, firm and warm beneath you. You can savor the smell of his cologne and his taste as you breathe him in and slip your tongue inside his mouth.

“I do,” he responds with a heavy exhale once you pull away. “I’m sorry I got upset. I just got so angry when hyung…” Taehyung scrunches his eyebrows and his nose scrunches along with them.

You massage his forehead and try to forcefully smooth the wrinkles there. “Yoongi is just being an ass. He loves you, too,” you point out.

Taehyung can’t argue that, so he leans down to kiss you again. You know how important physical contact is to him, especially when he’s upset. With that in mind, you slip your hands beneath his t-shirt. Splaying your hands flat against his chest feels nice. It’s a reminder that he’s real, and he’s here. He’s safe and healthy and yours.

“We both get pretty jealous, huh?”

Taehyung gives you a sheepish smile, all cheeks and pretty lips. You love his little lip freckle, but your favorite will always be the one under his eye.

“Not as bad as Jungkook, though.”

“Mhm, please don’t break up with me over a perilla leaf or anything.”

Taehyung giggles and you feel like you’ve got helium inside you. If you don’t hold onto him tightly enough, you might float away with how light and carefree being with him makes you.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” he says as he nibbles your earlobe.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

His hands find the hem of your t-shirt, and you sit up to allow him to undress you. It’s a delicate process because Taehyung wants to take his time, too. It might seem like the two of you use sex to solve your problems, but you never see it like that. For you, letting Taehyung take his time breaking you down, just to build you back up again, is an act of emotional intimacy, just as it is physical. When Taehyung gets comfortable between your thighs, dark eyes locked with yours as he sucks your clit into his mouth, the hold he has on your wrists grounds you. And when he hovers over you with your legs wrapped around his hips as he thrusts into you, you whisper gentle praises against his throat to remind him that you are his and he is yours.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in Taehyung’s bed. It feels good to snuggle with him while he talks to you about all the jazz clubs he forced Jimin to go to during the little free time they had on tour. It seems the tension in the house fades because the rest of the boys are loud and energetic; it’s impossible to tune them out when their laughter bleeds into the room despite the door being closed.

“Do you think Taehyung and Y/N are done having make-up sex?”

“It’s pretty quiet in there. Maybe they fell asleep.”

You groan and bury your face in Taehyung’s side. It’s almost as if Jungkook and Jin are purposefully talking outside of his bedroom to make sure you can hear them. Knowing them, it’s not a far-fetched idea.

“Probably tired themselves out. The screaming was really—”

“JUNGKOOK!” Taehyung sits up so abruptly that you fall back onto the bed. “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

Jin and Jungkook’s laughter eventually fades down the hallway, but Taehyung gets out of bed anyway.

“Yoongi is probably almost done with dinner,” he grumbles. You watch him zip up his jeans and admire how tall and lanky he is. Sorry to Yoongi and Jimin.

He manages to get his arms caught in his t-shirt somehow, so you begrudgingly get out of bed to help. You tease him endlessly because obviously fucking you is so good that he doesn’t know how to use his limbs anymore.

Your teasing is nothing compared to the way the other boys drag you the moment you step out of Taehyung’s bedroom.

“You okay, Y/N? Sounded like you might be dying,” Jimin grins as he prepares the kitchen table for dinner.

Jin snickers, throwing out his own commentary. “Taehyung, you got it pretty good even though you aren’t her bias, huh.”

Before Taehyung has a chance to bite anyone’s head off, you chime in.

“Yeah, yeah, Yoongi was my bias when I was a fan,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You can practically see Jungkook registering that you said “was a fan”, and that makes him pout. As if you aren’t still a fan. What a baby, just like Taehyung.

Yoongi snorts as he retrieves a dish from the oven. “I cannot fathom why.”

“Me either,” Jimin agrees with a giggle. He’s completely unfazed by the dark look Yoongi shoots him.

You join in on Jimin’s laughter, and you’re pleased to see that Taehyung is smiling too. The whole thing is so ridiculous. Maybe you’re feeling a bit too comfortable because you start oversharing.

“And I was a Yoonmin shipper, I’m not gonna lie.” You’re laughing so hard that you don’t realize neither Jimin nor Taehyung are laughing anymore. After a few seconds pass, though, your smile slowly falls. Jimin’s face has turned bright pink and Yoongi has his back to the table.

“It was one time, okay?” Jimin’s eyes burn holes into Yoongi’s shoulder blades from across the room. “Okay, two times.”

The older man doesn’t comment.

You nudge Taehyung’s leg with your foot under the kitchen table. He presses his lips together as hard as he can, but the smile just gets pushed into his cheeks. A rush of air explodes from his lips in a loud raspberry, and that’s what triggers your laughter again.

“Oh my god, I really wish I was surprised but I’m not,” you confess with a wheeze.

You’ve clearly touched on a sensitive topic. Jimin blabbers away about how it’s not that big of a deal, all while Yoongi silently finishes arranging the dishes on the table. It would feel uncomfortable, but Jimin’s flushed face and the tiniest of smiles curving Yoongi’s lips make you think it meant a lot more than what Jimin wishes to admit.

And that’s really fucking cute.

As the rest of the boys come piling into the kitchen, Taehyung scoots his chair until yours are touching. You bump shoulders and tilt your face up so he can press a kiss against your jaw.

“I love you,” he whispers. “With all my heart."

“I love you, too.” You lace your fingers with his and let your hands rest against his thigh. “You dork.”

The kitchen is chaos, but all you can focus on is the boxy smile Taehyung gifts you.

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my work

@bts-ruu @chuberella23 @guks-lip-piercing @sailoryooons @hvnnibvni @jinsquishes @jjkeverlast @klitklittredge @koobsessed @moonchild1 @moonleeai @nonbinary-demonbrat @parkdatjimin @reliablemitten @saweetspoiled @sugarwithtea @swga-ficrecs @taegiblr @yoongukie-ff

(and i'm tagging y'all cuz ik you were excited for this) @norushtolive @btscontentenjoyer

#taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung angst #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #jai writes #gimmethatagustd #wyb

2K notes · View notes

stevenose · 3 months

Text

idk. gang idk. wanna eat this guy’s ass nahimsayin

contains: gender unspecified reader/no gendered language; free use reader; conflicted steve; mentions of steve trauma :( he head hurt; foot massage MILD MILD I PROMISE; oral (steve receiving); rimming (steve receiving); some humiliation going on; ‘whore’ is used both ways hashtag equality; facial (reader receiving)

Steve’s had the worst day of his life. Well, that’s not true - not even close. He has to remind himself of that, as if he forgot, even though the headache currently clouding his brain is a consequence of too many concussions. Actually, thinking about his bad luck just pisses him off more. He almost breaks the key to Family Video while he’s closing up, ripping it from the door so harsh it hurts his hand.

He slams the car door, too. Which makes his head pound. He’s so goddamn tired. And if he has to tell one more teenager they can’t rent porn, he’s going to drive his car into the building. He gets it - really, he does. He used to steal VHS tapes from his friend’s parents and watch it in his basement when he was underage. But now he’s 21 and too old for this shit.

Speaking of porn - blowing off steam sounds great. He sighs as he turns the engine of his car over and leans back. He just has to get home. And maybe he’ll get lucky and you’ll be there and you can do that thing you both talked about.

It’s really out of character for him. He’s ready to admit it. Actually, he’s not just admitting it. He proclaims it, over and over - I’m not that kind of guy. But you showed him some real interesting porn and told him about the term “free use” and now he can’t stop fisting his cock to the idea of you choking on it. It’s sore, already straining in his jeans as he traverses Hawkins pothole-riddled roads.

Free use. He can imagine coming home and fucking you over a table, or pushing you to your knees, sure - but actually doing it is entirely different. He doesn’t know how to be mean. He didn’t even know how to be mean when he was an asshole. It makes him nervous, palms clammy against his steering wheel. He does know how to be confident, however, and he tries to lean into that assertiveness as he parks his car and strides towards the door.

Steve’s irritated he even has to unlock it, but you’re right there, sitting at the kitchen island reading the back of a cereal box. Pajamas on, ready for bed. It makes him feel bad about asking and he pushes any thought of getting his dick near you out of his sore brain. But you perk up when you see him, equally eager and shy, tucking into yourself.

“Hi, Steve.”

“Hi.” He stares at you. Stupid.

“You okay?”

Steve takes a deep breath. “I had a bad day.”

You nod, drumming your fingers against your forearm. “Want me to do something about it?” you ask lowly.

Steve nods slowly. He’s still standing halfway through the door like a doofus.

“Shut the door, handsome.”

He blinks, zoning back in to reality. The door swings shut behind him and you make your way over to him, approaching cautiously. Like he’s infected with something. Perhaps just a sour mood.

“Anything you want,” you remind quietly.

He nods again, licks his lips. “Come here,” he says, walking towards the living room. Then he stops and looks back at you. “Please?”

Steve’s so grateful that you’re patient with him. You don’t poke fun or chastise him. You just nod, letting him lead the way as he settles on the couch. He’s also grateful that you take the lead at first, settling on your knees in front of him. Your little fingers move towards his Nikes and you unlace them, pulling his shoes off. He groans low when your hands move to massage his socked foot.

He can’t believe how gross you are. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be into shit like this. Neither should he. He reminds himself he really isn’t into this kind of thing, he’s just into you. But he’s painfully hard in his Levis while he watches you below him.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Steve shakes his head quickly. “No. But you’re sweet.”

You smile. “I know. How’s your head?”

He sighs. “Sore.”

“I’ll get you some advil in a sec,” you promise, moving from one foot to the other.

“Thank you,” he says, sinking into the couch. “You’re so good to me.”

“Yeah?” you goad. Your hands crawl up his thighs and you stare up at him eagerly. “I’d do anything you ask. Anything.”

Steve sucks in a measured breath, lost in your warm eyes for a moment. He leans forward and takes your jaw gently, but firmly, between his fingers. He can’t believe how much your eyes light up. “You can get me some medicine and suck my cock til I’m feeling better.” And then, again, he adds, “Please.”

You hop up, heading towards the kitchen while he stands to strip. It almost takes effort to get his jeans down past his erection, and his cock leaks precum on his stomach once it’s freed. He rolls his eyes at himself, so worked up over nothing yet. He sits back on the couch as you re-enter, bottle and water in hand.

“Come here,” he says again, patting his thigh, and you do as you’re told. You really are so good for him, so eager to please. He takes the items from you, downs 800 milligrams, then turns his attention back to you. Steve wracks his brain for something to say, but your fingers reach out for his scalp. You massage his head and he moans, his hands finding your hips while his eyes drift shut.

“Did you think about me today?”

“I did,” you answer. “Nearly every second.”

His eyes open, half-lidded. “Tell me what you thought about.”

You bite your lip for a moment. “I thought about your, um - well….”

He surprises himself when he swats your ass. He soothes it immediately, about to apologize, but your reaction gives him pause. Your hips grind on his thigh and your pupils go blown, teeth digging in to your plush bottom lip. Your fingers keep working his scalp, soothing the ache, helping him come back to life a little bit.

“Can I just show you instead?”

Steve hums. “Only if you show me how you touched yourself while you do it.”

He hears your breath hitch in your throat. You nod, then cup his cheeks. “Are you okay?”

The tenderness makes him melt. You make him feel like he’ll be alright. Like he doesn’t have a dead end job, like everyone isn’t moving on without him. “I’m great,” he answers, finally smiling. “Got a pretty thing like you on my lap, getting waited on, taken care of….”

“I’ll take care of you,” you coo, sliding off of his lap and back onto your knees before him.

The two of you haven’t fooled around very much. Steve loves watching your reaction to his cock - it gives him the biggest ego boost. He knows it’s pretty. Long and thick, pretty pink tip, a few beauty marks marking the shaft. It curves a little bit upwards, easy to find your sweet spot. He watches you stare at it now, eyes wide, breath fanning over it.

“Please hurry,” he has to say, a little bit impatient.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. Your hand reaches out for his shaft and you slowly pump your hand up and down it. Steve sighs and lets his head rest against the back of the couch. “It’s just so beautiful, Steve.”

Your touch spurs him on. “Beautiful, huh? You like it that much?”

“Mhm.” You lick your lips. “It’s so big, and - and soft….”

You press gentle kisses along the underside of it. Steve curses under his breath. His head falls forward so he can watch you now as you kiss every inch of it. You nuzzle your nose against the shaft, thumb swiping across the head, your tongue giving him kitten licks.

“There you go,” he groans. “Show me how much you love it.”

Your kisses become open mouthed and messy, your tongue getting him a little bit more wet. You kiss up towards the head and swirl your tongue around it, lapping up the precum pooling in his slit. Steve groans again, gripping your hair, and with a gruff “open up,” he slides his cock between your lips.

Your mouth is his salvation. Wet, warm, tight. Steve gasps and moans, hips immediately bucking upwards. You gag and he shudders, hand fisting your hair harder, tangling his thick fingers in it. “It’s okay, g-gag on it, make a - make a mess.”

You moan and angle your head to take a bit more of him, beckoning him to take what he needs. Your eyes are so pretty looking up at him, glassy, teary. It makes Steve frenzied. He bucks his hips into your mouth, reveling in the perverted noises you both make together.

“This what you wanted?” he growls. “Be my personal s-stress - stress toy?”

You moan and nod.

“Touch yourself.”

Your hand makes its way inside your pajama bottoms. You gag as you attempt to moan, throat constricting around Steve’s thick cock. He knows it has to hurt and he scratches your scalp in an attempt to soothe you. His balls tighten as your eyes roll back. He can see your fingers moving in the thin cotton of your sleep shorts and his stomach flips violently.

Steve fucks his hips against your face for a while, sensitive balls slapping against your chin. It’s so goddamn gross and he can’t fucking stop. His toes curl, breaths ragged and shallow, groans and praises falling from his lips. He pushes his cock into your throat as far as it can go, feeling it tense and constrict.

“Take it,” he grits. “Holy fucking shit goddamn you feel so good holy fuck oh my god -“

And when he finally pulls out, giving you a moment to breathe, you don’t pull back. Instead, you duck downwards, kissing and sucking gently at his balls.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, half in pleasure and half in scandal. “Feel - feel how much cum I’ve got for you?”

“Steve,” you moan. Music to his fucking ears.

“Love any part of me you can get, huh?” His blunt fingernails scratch your scalp some more, soothing.

And then you go lower.

Steve sort of short circuits. Now your tongue is on his taint and that is quite honestly not where a tongue should go. He wonders if you even know that’s where you are, and he tries pulling you upwards again. Voice hoarse while he’s saying, “Baby, that’s - oh, that’s - not -“

Your hands find his hips. You pull him towards the edge. And your tongue is really, really where it isn’t supposed to be now.

But Steve couldn’t stop you if he wanted to. It’s like he’s been electrocuted. Your tongue flicks against his hole, innocent, sweet. You even press a cute little kiss to his rim.

“Oh my god!” he wails, throwing his head back. He spreads his legs wider for you. His voice is gorgeous, all scandal, a deep tenor. “You dirty little whore.”

His own reaction shocks himself again, but you moan at that. He can even see your arm moving while you continue to touch yourself. All while your tongue licks broad stripes against his sensitive rim - and who knew he was so sensitive there? His stomach flips and tightens, cock pouring.

“Stroke me off,” he commands, though it’s more of a plea. Your hand finds his cock again and you pump him, tapering your tongue against his hole. Then you lick back to his balls, kissing each of them, before taking his cock in your throat again.

“What the fuck,” he groans, his entire stream of consciousness finding its way past his lips. “This what you got off t-to? Eating me ou- out?”

You pull back, a glint in your eye while you moan. “You’re about to get off to it, too.”

Which Steve can’t argue with. His balls are starting to draw up again and he doesn’t know how he’d like to cum. Down your throat? Or in your hair while you kiss his ass? He wishes he could have both.

His hand grips your hair again and he fucks your face with abandon. You moan non-stop around his length, gagging, drool finding its way down his cock to his balls and beyond. He plants his feet to fuck you like he knows you want, groaning through gritted teeth.

“You gonna cum? Gonna cum from being used?” he grits. “Go on, g-get off, you dirty - little -“

You go a little slack when you do. Eyes all crossed, drool falling down your chin. Steve can’t fucking stand it. He pulls you off of him and jerks himself off in front of you, his face red with effort while you gasp for air.

“Give me your filthy tongue,” he orders.

You stick your tongue out, a blissful, gorgeous expression on your face that Steve is quickly addicted to.

“Gonna cum - gonna cum a-all over your slutty face, just like you wanted - fuck!”

His eyes want to close but he forces them open to watch thick ropes defile your face. His chest heaves with exertion, low groans rumbling from his chest, head still pounding from how much effort it takes. But the headache’s the last thing on his mind. He’s all focused on you, looking like a porn star in front of him, all ditzy and happy.

“Up,” he pants, grabbing onto you. He pulls you onto his lap and he doesn’t care if you have his cum on your face. He’s already hardening again, could really use another scalp massage while his cock finds its way inside of your hole. “One more, can you do that for me? So goddamn hot I gotta go again.”

“Whore,” you snark weakly, hands finding his head, letting him sit you down on his cock.

#stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭#this isn’t very good but in my defense 1. sleepy baby 2. bad night

285 notes · View notes

joaofelix70 · 5 months

Text

MISS DIPLOMAT & MR. CHARMING |

dominik szoboszlai x female reader.

author's note: this handsome man's living rent-free in my head. he's a freaking masterpiece. talented, funny, charismatic, attractive. i watched interviews, tiktok videos made by supporters and much more to understand a little bit of his language, personality and what he does towards friends and loved ones. laughed a lot! i made my homework as a writer, hope you enjoy it! (compliments and any kind of retributions are more than welcomed).

summary: your job is involving the commitment of unify the population and create interrelations to another countries, using the eurocup qualifiers and the hungary national team executions. you just didn't expect to fall in love with the no. 10's captain player.

words and characters: 1,811/11,223. it was three days working too hard on this story. i'm begging for your consideration, lol.

────

sports diplomacy: it's the unique power of sport to bring people, nations, and communities closer together via a shared love of physical pursuits. this responsibility is the reason of a transition between strangers to connected individuals, advancing foreign policy goals and augmenting sport for development initiatives. the complex landscape where sport, politics, and diplomacy overlap become clearer, as do the pitfalls of using sport as a tool for overcoming and mediating separation between people, nonstate actors, and states. the power of sport has never been more important. so far, the 21st century has been dominated by disintegration, introspection, and the retreat of the nation-state from the globalization agenda. in such an environment, scholars, students, and practitioners of international relations are beginning to rethink how sport might be used to tackle climate change, gender inequality, and the united nations sustainable development goals, for example. to boost these integrative, positive efforts is to focus on the means as well as the ends, that is, the diplomacy, plural networks, and processes involved in the role sport can play in tackling the monumental traditional and human security challenges of our time. credits: international studies association and oxford university press.

────

MLSZ (hungarian football federation) ──

new training ground at telki.

"i can't believe that being in places like this made up my most theoretically utopian childhood dreams. what a progress in front of me!" you still witness exciting moments where you pinch yourself, trying to believe in the reality that surrounds you: visiting the new training center of the players who are just a few meters away from you, getting ready to represent an entire country.

"your presence is our privilege. a voice of the spread of eurocup to our nation, right here…" the technical director gives you deference, obtaining a measure of humbleness and respect by you.

"the honor belongs to me in its entirety. grateful for having me, sir. while the view is immersive and captivating — my fervent congratulations to everyone involved — could we retreat from the pleasant glass-enclosed room and see everything closer, on the outside? please? i will never get used to this atmosphere." you pour politeness and charisma to the staffs around you, being directed to the proximity of the field and saluting the employees who pass through your path.

meet dominik — your szobo — instigates the nostalgic combination of detailed moments in which your thoughts display as photographic retrospectives. you're incapable to oppose the little enthusiastic laughs, fidgeting the rings between your fingers and avoiding possible suspicious glances from others. however, for you, this wouldn't actually work. the lives of you both are correlated, but different.

the training session is finished. clapping your hands and celebrating the performances, you greet the athletes and recognize some familiar people. nevertheless, reality slows down after those dark woody eyes capture through your soul. his arms tattoos are glorified by the sun's rays, the same illuminated smile is offered to you: that one you got during the very first time you saw him — instantly knowing he made you testimony the accuracy of freedom, catharsis and emotional amorous complement. that he'd be the one to introduce you what you never experienced, what you thought you'd never receive or deserve. what love truly is. when you were novices in your actual professions, not even imagining the future gifts of your unreal purposes.

"there you are!" intimately, dominik points at you, being reciprocated by vibrant nods and your old sort of secret — not that mysterious or serious — handshake. "még mindig emlékszel rá? (still remembering it?). you're a real one!"

"hogy tudnám elfelejteni? alábecsülsz engem. (how could i forget it? you're underestimating me)". your defensive actions demonstrate purposeful falseness. masking any sensitive, verbal or figurative communicative fragment from him is a difficulty that makes you give in over time. honestly, you never complain about this. it's like he wants to understand the factors and layers of you.

"a te kézfogás fickó. ne merészelj lecserélni engem. (your handshake man… don't you dare to replace me)". a shameless wink is send to you, butterflies acquiring space in your stomach.

"és hivatalosan is a szavamat adom rá. (and you officially have my word on it)." your gloss is pigmented against your fingers while you raise it up, displaying an oath, wondering if szoboszlai comprehends that his replacement in your life would be blasphemous.

"diplomata kisasszony, (miss diplomat)…" the hungarian fingerprints are shared and you recognize the sign to hold them, ready to perform your typical fashion icon moment. "gorgeous as always. go ahead! you know what to do!".

amusement surrounds you with the nickname's citation. although, you could feel some curious glances, from the outsiders, about the intimacy between you and him. "i appreciate, our top-class national bless…" you move your body in rotations to exclaim the outfit's characteristics, lifting your feet to show off the specificities of your heels. "how is your hair so well-groomed after sweating, though?" your arms cross and you raise an eyebrow in questioning, trying to hide your fascination.

"thank you, my number-one fan, but don't change the subject. finish our inside joke, c'mon!" dominik grabs his water bottle and spreads the cooling liquid on his forehead, wiping the glowing droplets across his face as he lifted his jersey high enough to exhibits his fortified abs.

your attention is directed to any surrounding scenery, throat being piked. szoboszlai pretends he doesn't notice, preventing to embarrass you.

"alright, alright! you've won, bájos úr… (mr. charming)". your final comment escapes as, practically, a whisper. you can't control the shy laughter, coupled with the considerable redness invading your cheeks.

"that's the secret to make my day!" using his tongue to reproduce a sharp noise, he matches your humorous reactions. "would you like me to show you the infrastructure changes? i'm just gonna take a shower!"

"i've already been granted a tour around here, but in case you insist…" during the dialogue, some athletes cross your space, wishing them good luck for the competition. your concentration on the activity is significant, at the point that dominik's silent admiration goes unnoticed.

"i mean, you know me! i'm gonna insist anyway, so…" he reaches your captivity, bringing you jollification.

"i'll rate you as a personal tour guide. now, go there!" jesting each other, you both exchange exaggerated reverences, like a challenge of who makes the most chaotic one.

────

walking around the area, various subjects are explored, informations entrusted. you ask and are updated about his ethereal younger sister.

portraits of the generations are framed. you magnifies his presence in celebratory pictures, dedicated to find him in the memories and achievements on that wall. pride shines from you and the hungarian finds it lovely.

"you know i'm a sucker for accents… they're much more than mere verbal characteristics, they're stories: life experiences, marks and scars. identities and cultural integrations." the topic is random. through generalized opinions, you're explaining conceptions and dominik is retaining mental observations. he exalts every scrap of your identity, like a faithful worshiper.

"basically, you're admitting being enchanted by my accent. i can see the stars in your eyes. a win is a win!" szoboszlai and his frequent attribute to physical touch, tickling your ears and playing with them. it doesn't bother you, actually: adoring the affection exuded by you and him. you feel like a little girl dealing with your one and only love.

"it's beautiful, how can you blame me? and hey, i know mine's making you grin too." he holds your arm, shivers running down your spine, the two of you being euphoric in the midst of your own enthusiasm.

"putting me against the wall? okay, hum… what were you saying before?" he's changing the subject and you have a natural wit to boo him. lifting his shoulders as a surrender, the hungarian focuses on the specific loose strands of his simple bracelet, which you get used to help him tie it again, willingly.

"trying to avoid the truth? fine! let me take care of you while i talk about my admiration towards globalization and communication. like, with every fiber of me…" you accept the conversation's direction and utter a 'voilà' towards the accessory's new appearance.

"that's why you're the best person i've ever seen doing this job." dominik compliments you, an act full of honesty.

"thanks a lot, mate. but which job? as your bracelet helper or my real one?" you provide tenderness, looking amused.

"i mean… both of them." szoboszlai chuckles, revealing courtesy by your continuous helpfulness.

"literally? because i know you know a lot of people. you're so young and already is the national team's captain." you nudge him in a form of tease. he's a starboy, it's undeniable.

"flattered! literally, thought. you were born for this, believe me." vulnerability collides to you, as his words are deliberated: emotions embracing you and warming your insides.

"dominik szoboszlai, my dear friend, you're gonna make me cry, right here. i'm sorry, i need to do it…"

innocent satisfaction builds strength over you and executes unthought-of approach to the tangibility of your gratitude — his colony enrapturing your sensitive olfaction — in the most out-of-control way. the sounds reach your hearing: a choir of angels singing hallelujah. he reciprocates the contact, laughing at your juvenile excitement. joining him and doing the same thing, harmonizing the triumph. in the separation of the touch, you both remain close to each other and the hungarian doesn't miss the opportunity to feel the softness of your side face, caressing the skin. appreciation and satisfaction invade your structure, delighting on the palm of his hand.

"just a dear friend? why are we pretending all this time?" dominik's reading you. the intimidation at the sight of him overhanging you is paralyzing. you don't usually back down, but in that instant — superior than your most repressed desires — your gasps are escaped.

"who is putting who against the wall now?" insisting and failing on your witty answers, shyness and uncertainty corrodes you.

"please, look at me! i'm not kidding anymore." his voice is questioning, intrigued — contradictorily vulnerable and calm — your rationality being fragmented, fragile.

"you know i'm not the kind of woman you're surrounding by, domi. i'm not an influencer, bikini model. i'm not a public figure. i don't live for the cameras and gossip platforms. i live to work hard. i didn't achieve any of this with some type of perk. my routine and your routine are based on traveling..." who could deny it? szoboszlai's always been all that you see. it's much more than a mere passion. your attraction to him is magnetic, intense, vivid. consequently, terrifying.

"i'm just asking for a chance, (your nickname). i don't lie when i say i've never met someone like you. i may be surrounded by a crowd and you'll still be the one to steal my attention, because nobody compares to you."

your eyelids are closed and the exhalation of his sigh penetrates your lungs with the numbing breath of life you've never experienced before. it's happening: the rare situation where thinking carefully about the pros and cons is unworthy, dumbness. your decision is made and the privilege's resolution unify your lips. the beginning demonstrates slowness and patience — the intensification through the concluded wait of the longed-for reality, transforming light and magical kisses into open mouths discovering each other and witnessing the endearment that both offer — hairs, necks, shoulders and waists captured.

"you're the first to create a meaningful presence in my mind and heart. i want you to be the last one too. i love you, kincs (my treasure). i'm finally brave enough to demonstrate it with no fears." dominik's forearm covers your upper torso. your back against his chest, noses resting on each others. rejoicing at the miraculous, incomparable circumstance.

"i love you, drágám (my precious). you're finally mine and it was so fucking worth waiting." his whisper: the living proof of celestial existence.

"how blessed we are…" intertwined bodies, coalesced essences. solitary melodies turning into the sweetest and most complete symphony.

233 notes · View notes

muertawrites · 2 years

Note

Omg yes please give us perv!eddie he’s not Jonathan ffs

yo are you KIDDING ME jonathan is such a FUCKING CREEP taking pictures of the girl he has a crush on having sex thru her bedroom window like please sir go to PRISON that is where you BELONG

i'm gonna get self indulgent again. honestly just expect it from me.

18+ minors go play roblox

perv!eddie is such a babe. he is so gross. has so many intrusive thoughts. not a decent thing happens inside that pretty little head of his. he babey <3

the thing that makes his perversion so weirdly charming is that he just feels so guilty about it. like it's okay to have fantasies. sex is fun for sane, consenting adults.

but this poor man feels so bad because he can't stop thinking about how much he wants to fuck.

he has an insane collection of porn. he's got magazines, erotic novels, dirty videos, each one more depraved than the last. he researches sex positions for fun. he writes erotic poems (most of them are about you). he has an extensive list of songs he wants to get down and dirty to, many of the entries scribbled out and reordered. he's put a lot of thought into it.

and his toys? he has so many. cock rings. ball spreaders. fleshlights. vibrators. stimulating lube. lube in different flavors. you name it, he probably has it. this man loves to make himself cum.

big pillow humper. he'll grip and bite his pillow and fuck it hard, talking to it like it's the one girl he wants to be with most (you know who. steve lmao.)

he's definitely tried to suck his own dick before. not successfully, but he had to make an attempt. for science.

but he doesn't want to just blindly fuck anyone. no, he's too insecure for that. and how much fun can you really have with a stranger? he wants to fuck someone he knows and trusts, who'll care enough to get him off and who he wants to see get off, too.

you. he wants to fuck you.

you live rent free in his head. not only are you the prettiest thing he's ever seen, but you're smart, and you're funny, and god he wants to hear what kinds of sweet little noises you'd make with his mouth pressed to your clit.

and that makes it very hard to be such close friends with you.

every little thing you do makes him want you. when you wear a low cut shirt, he can't stop himself from peeking at the dip of your cleavage. when you bend over, all he can think about is how amazing your ass would look and feel pushed up against his dick. when you wear shorts or a skirt, he just wants to slip his hand between your thighs. and don't even mention watching you eat - anything you put in your mouth conjures images of your lips wrapped around his cock.

touches of any kind drive him crazy. when he hugs you, he can feel your breasts, the curve of your waist, how good they feel. he's squeezed your love handles a little bit before, saving the memory of the sensation so he can imagine gripping them as he pounds you into his mattress. he "accidentally" brushes his arms and hands against your chest any chance he gets. he tenses up whenever you put your hand on his shoulder, or grab his arm, his entire body fizzing with electricity because you're touching him. that one time you kissed him on the cheek? best day of his goddamn life.

oh, and the one time you guys went to the beach with a group of friends? and he caught a little glimpse of your pubic hair under the line of your swimsuit? and your naked side brushed up against his naked side? he came so hard thinking about it later that night that it was like a religious experience.

he's a bathroom masturbator. when you hang out together, he disappears at least once to go rub one out, his cock straining painfully against his jeans because all he can think about is what you probably look like naked. how your nipple would feel between his teeth. how your pussy would feel around his fingers.

and listen. you and eddie are tighter than one of his cock rings (you know about his cock rings for heck's sake. gareth and jeff don't even know about them, and you've seen those men do tradesies of different issues of playboy with each other). you know he's depraved and totally disgusting but. you can't help but find it.

so cute?

like he gets all blushy when something turns him on, and he can't make eye contact with you, and he goes into Ultra Chivalry mode to try and make up for it. he really is just the sweetest guy in the world, if also the most painfully horny guy in the world.

but he's also your best friend. you bonded over pulling each other's strings and being generally annoying and irksome to each other.

so do you take it easy on him?

lmao no. teasing him is too easy and way too much fun. you're not mean about it, though.

once when you were in his room you caught a glimpse of one of his porno mags, how the woman on the cover wore a velvet choker and nothing else, how the page was pretty crinkled with... use.

the next time you hung out you wore a velvet choker, and styled your hair a little bit like hers. when you got in the front seat of his van he just stared at you for a moment, eyes bugging out of his head, cock straining against his zipper. when you bit your lip and giggled at him he thought he was gonna cream right then and there.

you also love dropping hints about your kinks to him and calling him little nicknames that'll get him going. "hot stuff" is a winner, as is "big boy". you risked calling him "daddy" once and you thought he was gonna combust. one time he was helping you fix the collar of your blouse and he pulled the ties at the neck a little to tight; he apologized immediately and profusely, but you just shrugged and said "it's cool, i like being choked"

the fantasies he had about you that night.

because gareth and jeff still see you as just one of the guys, you're often invited to their kickbacks in one of their basements. of course eddie is there, and of course there's beer, always. you have a few too many at one of these hangs and, when the conversation between the three virgins switches to condoms, you chime in.

"i just think it wouldn't feel good," jeff says

"gonorrhea doesn't feel good either, man," gareth giggles (he's stoned off his ass on the good weed eddie brought over)

"yeah, and condoms can be really sexy," eddie adds. he's about to quote something from his literature when you speak up.

"they can," you agree. "i know how to put a condom on with my mouth."

the room goes dead fucking silent, all of them staring at you like you just admitted to hosting orgies with the local recreational softball league every weekend.

"what?" you laugh. "it's not hard."

"yeah but now eddie is"

that was when he decided he needed to man up and ask you out. you gave him a demonstration of your little trick not long after. he refuses to put a condom on himself now that he's seen you do it.

as a boyfriend eddie's still a little perv. he's just got all his perv energy focused on you, and he doesn't have to hide it anymore.

he's very handsy. he's respectful of your comfort level with pda, because at the end of the day he loves you and wants you to be comfortable, but that doesn't mean he always keeps his hands to himself - he just puts them where no one can see them.

you're at the movies? he's got his arm around your shoulders and his hand down your shirt, cupping your breast. grabbing a bite with friends? his hand is between your legs, squeezing your upper thigh at a dangerous height. in an empty aisle at the local bookstore? he's pulling you in so he can suck on your neck, hands planted firmly on your ass cheeks.

when you kiss him goodbye on nights you're not spending together, he usually goes back to his van and immediately jerks himself off to the thought of you. when you do spend nights together, he likes to undress you as soon as you're through the door, sometimes even before. if you're wearing a skirt, that's a challenge for eddie - he's trying to sneakily get your panties off under it the entire way back to whoever's place you've decided on.

speaking of panties.

he's a little thief. and he's not even discreet about it.

you stay over at his place? your panties will most certainly go missing at some point, only to reappear a week or two later. he comes over to yours? he's opening up your drawers, looting through undergarments, pointing out his favorite bras and pocketing his favorite undies.

"why are you so gross?" you ask him once, teasing.

"gross?" he gasps. "i miss you so much when you're gone that i've gotta have a little piece of you with me, and you call me gross?"

he's not even lying when he says that. having a piece of you is just part of it for him. he loves you, even if it is in kind of a weird way.

one of his favorite dates is going to sex shops with you. he loves picking things out for you - lingerie, restraints, gags, toys, he wants to try it all with you. his favorite thing he's ever bought you is an o ring gag (paired with some numbing throat spray). his favorite thing you've ever bought him is a vibrating cock ring with an attached clit stimulator. that gets used a lot.

he's also made it kind of a hobby of yours to read erotica to each other. you'll alternate picking books - he reads the ones you pick, and you read the ones he picks. you actually tend to get side tracked talking about plot points and character arcs. but eddie is pretty proud of himself for being able to finger you and read aloud without losing his place or missing a beat.

now let's talk photos.

if we're sticking to canon, he uses your polaroid camera more than you do. he loves taking nudes of you, with you, and has multiple shots of what you look like from his point of view during sex pinned up on his wall (and in his wallet, and in his van, and in his work locker, and...). he also likes to slip naughty photos of himself to you, slotting them in beside your bookmarks and under the windshield wipers on your car.

if we're going for a more modern twist, oh my god this guy loves making you his personal cam girl (and being yours). the lockscreen on his phone is a post-sex picture of you, all fucked out and beautiful curled up next to him. he sends you teasing pictures throughout the day, broken up by a few cumshots and masturbation videos. he loses all sense of reason when you do the same to him, even going to the extent of faking an illness so he could get out of work and meet up to fuck in the parking lot of your own workplace. not a fan of cyber sex, though. he likes being able to touch you.

and on that note, he habitually fucks you in public. you've lost count of how many bathroom stalls you've left used condoms in.

he showers with you often, but strangely enough, you've never had shower sex. he likes the intimacy of it, holding you close and kissing your shoulders and just feeling like you're the only two people on earth. if you're showering, he'll slip in with you without a word and just hug you, especially if he's had a rough day.

when it all comes down to it, eddie loves you. he may be depraved and hornier than any other man you've met, but he would never do anything that makes you uncomfortable or crosses a line.

he's lucky you're a dirty little freak like him.

#eddie munson #eddie asks #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut

4K notes · View notes

yuna542 · 1 year

Text

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 10<-

Part 11

Pairing: Jeongin x reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, Smut, under 18 DNI!Suggestive Themes, Swearing, pet names, unprotected sex (just don‘t!), bloody nose

Word Count: 5.4k

Note: Sooo. What do you think of this part? Maybe you noticed where I got my inspiration from (M/V. Making off?) Love our baby bread who is not so baby anymore… For real have you seen the 5-Star Trailer? Uffhhgg watched it like 10000000 times

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

When you took the note off your door in the morning, you wanted to break down and cry on the spot.

But you didn't have time for that. So you stuffed the paper into your pocket and headed off to work.

Only when you got to your office you dared to take the paper out again, and you had to read it at least three times before you understood the words on the yellow background. Your hands shook and despair gripped you as soon as the word 'eviction notice' even came into the corner of your eye.

Although you tried hard to remain calm, you could feel the frantic typing as you entered the number in your phone that was at the bottom of the letter.

After endless beeping, the administration of the building complex you were currently living in finally answered. You had gotten the apartment out of luck via relationships and it was a miracle that it was affordable despite the ideal location for you.

And now you were supposed to move out within a week because the building was going to be demolished.

After several questions, the annoyed administrative worker could only confirm to you what was already on the note anyway. You had to leave your apartment by the end of the week.

With the current rent prices it was impossible to find a halfway affordable apartment within a week and the panic of being homeless until the end of the week spread more and more inside you.

But when there was a knock on your door, you furtively wiped the tears from the corners of your eyes and put on a carefree smile as soon as Chan poked his head into the room:

"Morning, babe. We're about to take off."

You had completely forgotten about that with all the stress. Quickly, you nodded:

"I'll be right there!"

Today was the teaser shoot for the music video.

You had no choice but to put on your professional mask and start working.

As you got into the car with Chan, where the guys were already waiting, you were showered with energetic vibes. They were all looking forward to the first shoot and the energy soon transferred to you as well.

Even though you couldn't completely banish the dark thoughts from your mind, you had to focus on your work when you arrived.

The film crew was getting everything ready while the guys were sent to makeup to change and get ready.

The video would be set in a sports hall and the guys would be playing basketball. There would be some sporty and handsome shots that would surely please the fans.

Han was the first to notice that something was wrong with you.

"You look tired... Are you okay?", he asked as everyone just waited for Chan and Hyunjin's hairstyles to be done.

"Yes all good, Ji. Don't worry about it", you said quickly. Too quickly and that's when the Director began to speak.

He gave the guys instructions on how they would first shoot individually or as couples and then mimic a little basketball game as a team.

You retreated to the bleachers with the film crew and when you had a few free minutes, you looked for possible apartments, but that brought you much closer to a breakdown. You couldn't afford any of them and most of them were way too far away. You would need several hours to get to work and that would not be possible with the strict schedules.

When out of nowhere you felt a hand on your leg, you flinched violently and almost threw your phone off the stand. Jeongin looked at you with wide eyes and raised his hands placatingly.

"Take it easy! It's just me."

Behind him, Felix followed, and they both looked like they could see right into your head.

"Are you guys finished yet?", you asked, trying a half-cheerful smile.

They took you in the middle and Felix didn't hesitate to pull you into his arm.

"We just have to do the group shots. Hyunjin and Changbin are on it right now."

You put your temple against his with a sigh and breathed in his sunny scent.

They all looked really really good with the school uniforms. So the video should have a nostalgic vibe and even you felt transported back to your school days when you saw the typical uniforms. But in the past, the guys at your school had never been as attractive as the ones who were now chasing the ball in the hall.

"Do you want to talk?", he asked, and he stroked your arm reassuringly.

With a quick glance at Jeongin, who gave you a sweet smile, you sighed. So Jeongin had pulled out the secret weapon to elicit the reason for your worries.

You couldn't lie to Felix. He was too kind and bright. It was impossible to hide your feelings from him.

"The building complex I live in is going to be torn down. I have until the end of the week to get out of my apartment“, you explained quietly.

But no one heard you anyway. The song played on and off while the cameramen were busy getting good shots of Hyunjin and Changbin with the basketball.

"This sucks", I.N commented and you had to laugh bitterly.

"I’m sure we‘ll find a solution“, Felix tried to cheer you up, but you could just shake your head.

"I can't afford most of the apartments and it's impossible to find something in that short time."

The guys gave each other meaningful looks, but before Felix could answer, he was called by the director. It was time for the whole group to take group shots.

It was too funny to watch the boys trying to recreate a real game. Han was so afraid of the ball that he kept running around the others, Changbin and Chan tried to shoot at the baskets, while Lee Know and Hyunjin chased each other around the court, screaming at each other.

It took forever for them to get a few scenes halfway done, but they had so much fun doing it that they infected everyone on the staff with their good humor.

You raised your eyes as Hyunjin came up to you with his camera between scenes filming the making off.

"How do you like our godlike basketball skills?", he asked, and Han latched onto his shoulder.

You raised a thumb at the camera and said:

"You guys definitely play like professionals!"

"Why don't I believe you?", laughed Hyunjin, zooming in on Han, who posed with his legs wide for the camera:

"I'm the best player, though."

"Yeah because the rest of us are extremely bad!", Hyunjin shot back and then all you saw behind him was the basketball flying and slamming hard against Jeongin's face.

Hyunjin screamed out, who happened to have the camera right on it, and Chan was already running to the youngest, who was holding his face with both hands and wincing with pain.

Before you got past the stands, the director and the cameramen were already with him and handed him a cloth, which he pressed firmly against his nose.

But it was already too late. Blood ran down his mouth and chin and dripped onto his blue jacket.

"Who threw the ball?", asked Chan sharply, looking at stunned faces. Hyunjin had lowered the camera and Changbin slowly approached.

"That was me", Lee Know came forward, sounding concerned.

He pushed past the Director who was talking at Jeongin, but gradually the white cloth ran out.

"Sorry, Innie... Shit, I didn't mean to throw so hard."

Jeongin squinted his eyes and waved it off with one hand.

"It's okay... Never mind."

You took out more wipes from your bag and handed them to him so he could press them further against his nose.

"Stuff it up your nose until it stops!", said Chan, looking like a father tending to his small child who had fallen off the swing.

Gently, you grabbed him by the arm and said through the commotion around you:

"Come on, Innie! I'll help you clean this up."

Chan nodded curtly at you and when you saw the stressed expression on his face, you wanted to take all the heavy weight off his shoulders, that he carried around all the time.

You sat down together on one of the higher benches of the stands so that the others could continue working undisturbed. You sat down opposite him, both one leg to the left and one leg to the right of the bench.

He still had his head back and tissues stuck up his nose.

"Does it hurt a lot?", you asked cautiously, glancing down the stairs where one member of the team was already joining you.

He shook his head and his voice sounded nasal, due to the blockage in his nose:

"No. It's not that bad."

He was always like that. Just not a burden to anyone and always functioning at full speed.

The director's assistant had reached you by now and handed Jeongin more cloths and a cold pack.

"Should we call a doctor to take a look at the nosebleed?"

You were about to answer in the affirmative, but Jeongin beat you to it.

"No! There's no need for that. It's already stopped bleeding."

Pressing your lips together, you looked at him questioning, but he continued to refuse.

"Maybe the nose is broken", the assistant said, to which Jeongin again shook his head vehemently.

"Y/N can palpate me, but there's nothing broken. I can keep going!"

While the assistant tried to continue talking at him, you moved closer to Jeongin.

"May I?", you asked, and he nodded.

Then you gently ran your fingers over the bridge of his nose. As you did so, his face hovered so close to yours that you inevitably saw his gaze move to your lips and how he suddenly tensed up.

Blood still stained his chin and mouth and a few drops had also landed on his jacket.

Only because of the assistant who was present were you able to tear yourself away from his engaging eyes. Like a fox, he regarded you attentively and with so much intelligence in his expression that you trembled.

"The nose isn't broken. It all feels normal", you said quickly, pulling away before the assistant noticed that crackling energy between you.

By then, there was a call for him as well, and he finally gave up.

"I'll take care of Jeongin!", you assured him, and with that he finally gave in and disappeared.

"Thank you! Really", Jeongin said, clearly relaxing. He grabbed one of your hands and unobtrusively pulled you closer again by it.

"Let me clean your face!", you said, smiling softly and taking out a couple of makeup wipes from your bag that you always carried in case you needed it. He nodded and you began to wipe the blood from his skin with concentration and careful hand movements.

While doing so, you couldn't help but inhale his cologne. He smelled like a heady mix of fresh florals, woody lime and the first rain on a sunny day.

His charisma was more than attractive and when he was that close to you, you became restless. There was something unpredictable about him, behind the politeness, the funny weirdo and the loving nature.

It was the self-confidence that lay dormant in him that regularly blew your mind. Even though he was just a few months older than you.

Bracing yourself with a hand on his shoulder, you tried not to hurt him.

"Y/N?", you heard his soft voice ask, and you felt his heartbeat quicken under your hand.

"Huh?", you hummed busy and that's when you heard Hyunjin standing next to you again, holding the camera on you.

"Since Lee Know tried to kill our Maknae. How are you I.N?"

You looked at the camera and threw away the bloody cloths.

Jeongin raised a thumb to the camera and said:

"It's all good. It's really not as bad as it looks. And Minho's throw was also too bad to really do any damage."

"Should I try it again? Maybe next time you faint", shouted Minho then, and you smirked as you felt Jeongin's knee pressed against yours.

Hyunjin laughed and Minho looked fierce but you both could see the concern in their eyes despite everything. They were family, after all and cared for each other no matter what.

Then Hyunjin was distracted by Felix who was trying to shoot baskets with Chan and went to join them. Jeongin took the scraps of cloth out of his nose and threw it all in the trash by the stairs.

"You should cool that so it doesn't swell any more", you said, already activating the cold pack by bending it.

"Does it look that bad?", he now asked again without the nasal tone.

You shook your head quickly. Once the blood was gone, the minimal swelling on the bridge of his nose didn't seem so bad either.

"No. But we don't know what it will look like tomorrow."

He nodded and closed his eyes as you held the cold pack to the bridge of his nose. A soft hiss escaped him as the cold eased the throbbing in his head, enjoying your gentle touch.

For a while, you just sat there together, enjoying each other's presence. Jeongin could have endured for hours the way your fingers stroked his face and dabbed his nose with the cold pack.

"Does it feel good?", you asked after a while, and that's when he opened his eyes again.

"You have no idea", he murmured, relaxed, and when your eyes met, you noticed the closeness between you.

His thighs were pressed tightly against yours from the outside and you could feel his breathing on your cheek as your face was only a hand's width away from his.

An embarrassed smile flitted across your lips and immediately his eyes were fixed on it. He could just look at you and your knees went weak.

You put your other hand to his cheek to hold his face tightly because you just wanted to touch him while you continued to cool his nose. Slowly he lifted his gaze and your eyes locked together. You got all excited as he licked his lower lip and all the sounds of the shoot faded into the background.

Before you could stop him, he leaned forward and planted a kiss on your mouth. It only lasted a few seconds, yet your heart jumped out of your chest and you stared wide-eyed at him before looking around to see if anyone had watched you.

He too seemed surprised himself and couldn't quite believe he had actually done that without thinking. Looking down at the crew, you breathed a little sigh of relief when you saw that everyone was busy taking videos of Changbin.

Chan and Felix were listening intently to the director and Seungmin's hair was being fixed.

Only Hyunjin looked in your direction and slowly lowered the camera.

He tried not to let notice, but gave you a warning look.

This was too much and too public.

It was just too dangerous and you knew it. It had just happened and you hoped nobody saw it.

"Sorry", he whispered, seeming a bit overwhelmed.

You had to swallow hard and nodded quickly without looking at him.

"You should take off that jacket. Maybe we can get the blood stains out by the sink", you said, hoping that if you just didn't address it, it never would have happened. Together you walked down the bleachers and asked a couple of women from the staff where the nearest sink was. They sent you straight to the hallway and there you found a sink on the wall behind the next corner.

Jeongin slipped out of his jacket and watched you try to wash out the dark stains with water. But it was quite hopeless. The blood had already sunk too deep into the fabric.

"I think that's it for the uniform", Jeongin said, taking the jacket from you to hang it over the edge of the sink.

Just in the white shirt and tie made him look like the main character in a K-drama. His hair fell into his forehead and he shoved his hands into his pants pockets as he looked at you uncertainly. All this time he'd been strangely silent and you couldn't look at him any longer without staring. He looked outrageously handsome with his sleeves rolled up under which the veins on his forearms stood out.

"I'm really sorry about earlier", he finally broke the silence, and when you did look him in the eye now, you realized he was worried about you.

"I didn't mean to attack you like that. You took such care of me and you look so beautiful, I just couldn't control myself and I..."

You had to interrupt him, not being able to stand the way he was torturing himself.

"Innie!"

He looked at you questioningly and stepped from one foot to the other.

"I didn't think it was bad."

"You didn't?", he asked uncertainly, and you immediately wanted to kiss him to exorcise all the self-doubt. He stepped closer until your hands were against his chest and he had to look down at you.

"No. I thought it was really nice, and if there hadn't been so many people there, I would have liked to kiss you too."

A relieved laugh escaped him and he took his hands out of his pockets to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

"So you want me to kiss you?", he asked softly and you had to smile at his uncertainty. He wanted to make sure you wanted him as much as he wanted you.

"I want you to do so much more than just kiss me“, you replied with an ambiguous undertone and immediately his cheeks turned rosy and he stroked his fingers up your neck to your chin, where he lifted it slightly and placed his lips gently but intensely on yours.

Slowly you opened your lips and returned the kiss. As if in slow motion, he pulled you to his chest and deepened the kiss. He tasted honey-sweet and touched you with so much passion that you melted right against his chest. With your eyes closed, you felt his tongue on your bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and gently pulled on it. Burying your hands in his hair, you pulled him closer so he could slide his tongue into your mouth and set off fireworks in your head.

The kiss lasted an eternity and you never wanted to stop your tongues dancing together.

His fingers stroked down your back and he kissed you so passionately that your body automatically curved into his. His hands went under your skirt, grabbed your ass and pulled you closer to him until your upper body was pressed tightly against his.

You slid your hands under his shirt and stroked his firm stomach, that's when he broke the kiss to gasp into your mouth:

"I'm already dying to take you right now. Don't tempt me, sweetheart."

"I want you... right now", you gasped, and the sizzle between you was about to explode.

"Everyone else is in the other room", he whispered in your ear and kissed your neck.

You knew that, but you also knew how wet you were by now, just at the thought of feeling him inside you.

You took his hand and slid it between your legs. With wide eyes he looked at you, but immediately stroked your covered cunt with two fingers, feeling how soaked your panties already were.

"God... You're so wet", he gasped and began to move his fingers lightly against your core. Your parted lips and your fingers digging into his chest in the process made him completely lose his mind.

He instantly got hard and you felt his cock against your lower abdomen.

"Do you like it when I touch you like that?", he asked, pushing your panties aside to rub your clit directly, eliciting a gasp from you.

"Yes. But I want all of you!“, you whispered, while stroking his bulge over his pants and grinding your hips against his fingers.

Because of the sounds of the shoot behind the wall right next to you, you realised that someone just had to come around the corner to catch you.

"Fuck it…“, he suddenly muttered then and took your hand tightly in his. As he pulled you down the long hallway, you glanced over your shoulder in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"We're leaving. You have no idea how many naughty fantasies I had about you..."

You giggled and together you ran to the exit, like little kids who had done something wrong and tried to get away with it. You felt transported back to your school days, where you secretly made out with your crush and it evoked the most exciting feeling.

In the garage, he led you to the big car.

"Do you have the key?", you asked in wonder, and when he just opened the door, you glared at him.

"We usually leave the car open. Someone always forgets something. I know it‘s irresponsible but practical.“

He opened the sliding door and let you climb in until he too came in and pulled the door shut behind you.

"This is still pretty public", he mused aloud, but you were already shoving him into the back seat, where he had been sitting between Hyunjin and Han while you had droven here, and climbing onto his lap.

Immediately he pulled you into a kiss again. Only this time he was more impetuous and you could now feel his boner clearly pressed against your cunt. Quickly you took his tie and literally ripped open his shirt to touch each of his abs one by one.

"Take off your panties! Now!", he demanded and he didn't have to tell you twice. Hastily you slipped out of your thong and at the same time Jeongin pulled down his pants and underpants.

"I want you to ride my cock. I need your pussy so bad, jagi!“

He was impatient and directly his hard length jumped out.

"Since when did you start becoming so naughty, maknae ?" you asked teasingly, climbing back onto his lap.

"Since I tasted you."

He ran both hands under your shirt and pulled it over your head. Your bra popped out and immediately he kneaded your breasts and spread kisses on them.

When he pulled back, he looked at you with a grin as you positioned yourself above him and suddenly put his hand around your neck.

With the other, he pressed you down on his length and it felt like he was splitting you into two parts. With the tight grip around your neck, you felt him fill you completely and you couldn't help but moan out loud.

"Fuck... You're gonna crush me", he growled, continuing to guide your hips until he was completely engulfed in you. You were breathing heavily as you tried to adjust to his size and he unclasped your bra and tossed it somewhere to the front of the car.

"Move!", he said and you began to roll your hips against his. His head dropped to his neck and he moaned loudly as you took him as deep as you could. Your fingernails dug into his chest as you were able to use his length the way you wanted and after a few seconds you rode him with faster and faster movements.

He held you by the hips and every gasp and moan you could elicit from him spurred you on even more. While he helped you rock back and forth on his cock, your clit was swollen and aching, begging for more. It didn't take long for your climax to grab you and you came on his dick while moaning his name. But you did not stop. You wanted to satisfy him and you felt him already twitching inside you as you tightened around him.

"God. I'm gonna cum soon, if you continue to take my cock so fucking good", he moaned and kissed your neck and even bit into it lightly, making you gasp his name.

"Come inside me! Fill me up, Innie! Please!"

Your words brought him over the edge and you felt him come and empty deep inside you with a choked gasp. You slowed down and sunk down on his cock.

"Should we stop?", you asked, breathing heavily, while he buried his face in the crook of your neck. In reply buckled his hips into you and began to push you up and down by your hips on his still hard dick.

Your clit was ridiculously sensitive from the first orgasm and you were not sure if you could handle a second one right now.

"Come around my cock again, sweetheart! Then I'm going to fuck you, like you deserve it."

His words turned you on again and you started bouncing on his throbbing cock again. You rolled your hips against his and you could tell Jeongin was holding back from bucking up into you, giving into his greedy desires.

"Shit, you're still so tight", he moaned, staring up at the ceiling, trying to concentrate on not cumming again. You knew that anyone could hear you, even through the doors of the bus, but you were just too drunk on his dick that you could care right now.

Your hands were tightly pressed to his chest, while you worked yourself to your next orgasm, which was already making your whole body tingle.

He didn't meet your gaze, instead, he watched the way his cock disappeared into your stretched hole, admiring the way your juices looked on his member.

"I love hearing you moan like this, angel", he said and guided your hips as you began to lose control due to the high that gripped you for the second time, flooding your entire body with heat. He wasted no time and while you were still working out your orgasm, he started thrusting into your cunt.

"You feel even better than the hyungs had described."

You probably would have blushed at the fact that the boys were talking about you like that, but the youngest of them was penetrating your sore pussy too much for that.

"Innie, oh god... please", you moaned and his gaze finally met yours.

"You like that? Being fucked like this?"

You might've been on top, but you were completely at his mercy by now. You were under his spell since the day you met him, hypnotized by him and his charming smile. He was tantalising you with his dark obsidian eyes. You lived for the lust-driven look in his face and his sweet groans. You bent down and cupped his face, hungrily kissing him. You kissed frantic and heated, desperate to taste each other. He licked his lips as he watched your breasts bounce with every thrust of his hips.

The filthy squelching sounds of him fucking his cum back into you filled the car and he removed his hands from your hips to reach up to cup your breasts, taking one in each hand, squeezing them.

You completely lost the sense of time, but couldn't stop urging each other to the next high. At any moment the shooting could be over and they could come back to the car.

His cock prodded against your cervix. You wondered who taught the boys how to fuck like this. Each of them fucked you in their own way and all of them were gods in this area.

Especially now you were totally addicted to the way Jeongin fucked you.

But finally you were overwhelmed by an orgasm that made you tremble. Your insides seemed to boil and as you tightened around his dick, he also came with a painful grip on your breasts.

Overwhelmed, you worked your highs out for as long as you could before you sank against his chest, breathing heavily. He ran his hand through your hair and pressed a sweet kiss to your temple.

"Was that good?"

You laughed lightly, with your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, still dazed stroking his neck.

"That was amazing, Innie."

He breathed a sigh of relief and stroked your back until your breathing calmed down.

"Move in with us!"

"What?"

You looked at him questioningly, and he knew he didn't have the right or the power to decide that, but he wanted to. You were worth it.

"We have a spare room in the new apartment. Right now it's just for storage, but you could have it."

"JYP wouldn't allow that."

"Why not? Before it takes you hours to get to work because your apartment is far away, it would be a solution. Besides, it would make our job extremely easier."

You couldn't say anything more in response, as the two of you heard muffled voices from outside, peering through the darkened windows.

"Shit! They're coming back!"

Quickly you jumped off his lap and slipped into your underpants and skirt. You felt the mixture of your juices and his cum making a mess in your panties, but you had no choice. You couldn't find your bra, and yet you saw that Chan and Seungmin had almost reached the bus.

Jeongin had already pulled his pants back up and was buttoning his shirt.

There was no more time, so you put on your shirt without a bra and just dropped into the seat next to Jeongin when the sliding door opened.

Chan poked his head in first and when he spotted you, he turned to the others.

"They're here! I told you they went ahead."

One by one, everyone got in and sat down. The driver wasn't here yet, so they looked at you curiously. Jeongin's hair was a mess and his cheeks were flushed. You probably didn't look any better.

"Where were you guys?", asked Lee Know, turning around in his seat to face you.

"Y/N was helping me with that bloody nose you gave me!", he said and Lee Know raised his hands defensively.

"Hey I already apologized!"

"We tried to save the jacket, but it was for nothing", you tried to explain your absence, but it was obvious that no one believed you.

Han had his hands clasped under his chin and was looking at you with a knowing grin, and it would only be seconds before he would say something dumb.

"You certainly had to comfort him", Changbin said then with a laugh, and Jeongin immediately stared at his shoes in embarrassment.

Then Seungmin suddenly bent down and pulled something out from under his seat. Startled, you stared at your red lace bra in his hand, which he now held up.

"Did any of you lose this? Because it's not mine."

"I usually wear black lace underwear", Chan replied, clearly enjoying the whole thing. Quickly, you jumped up and snatched your bra from Seungmin's hands.

Just in time, as the driver boarded and announced the start.

With your head burning, you stuffed the bra into your pocket, feeling the entertained looks of the others on Jeongin and you. On the way back, they continued to tease you for quite a while, but that's when Jeongin started:

"What if Y/N moves in with us?"

Immediately there was confused silence. So you explained your situation to them and that's when Chan said:

"We could ask. Maybe that's really a good idea."

"Would you really want to live with us?", Felix asked over the others and now they all looked at you attentively.

Briefly you looked down at your hands and then answered:

"I think so. Yes. It would make my job a lot easier if I didn't always have to go back and forth between the dorm, work, and my apartment. Plus, I think it could be fun."

"Don't get too excited. Living with 3Racha is like living with three wild animals", Hyunjin said, making you smile and took a punch in the side from Changbin.

Back at JYP Entertainment, you were up to your neck in work, but the idea of living with Stray Kids solidified in your thoughts and you kind of liked the idea.

->Part 12

——————————————————————-

Taglist (closed):

@poisonivy21 @elizalabs3 @chartrucewhore @smutlemononeshot @hgema @bookwyrm28 @gemini-demon @jeongchaos @jihanlovic @comingupwithacoolnameishard @marked-unknown @yuhjoeyuh @bakedlilgoonie @itstorimf @toomuchtellyneck @ana-stasssiaaa @galaxypox @n034sy @amara-mars @purple-belle @amararosesblog @tori719 @rindomo @freakinthesheets-excelexcel @niaalove @crazyllamasurfer @luunaruwu @jenseok17 @mariegalea @kimseungminsprincess @julciaqwerty @officialshania @whore4stucky9104 @foxinnie8 @i-dont-know-me-either @sirenthalia @uno7 @jeonnginns @mixling-blog @httpsmultifandom @hyunlixwife @eastleighsblog @tzalethhwang @queenofdragons12 @fixation-dump @midsoulz @emmxxsworld @scarletrosesposts @sugahannie @jinniespuppy

632 notes · View notes