#i'm aware this is a hot (big brain) take

[chirpsythismorning]

Can we talk about how Jonathan might've been able to clock Mike simply because of what happened with him and Nancy in season two?

This will be a long post, so you might want to strap in or save it for later.

In Will and Mike's case, it would obviously be much different from Jonathan and Nancy's situation, given that you know, they're gay. But we still have Jonathan arguably going through a similar experience as Will, while Mike is going through a similar experience as Nancy.

In s2, we see Nancy confront Jonathan about how she waited for him before getting back with Steve, which is a revelation to him. Then they're at Murray's and she's struggling to say she loves Steve, after a handful of moments between them that felt like she might return Jonathan’s feelings. And you can clearly see it in his eyes, listening to Murray imply that they have feelings for each other, with him looking back and forth sort of in awe of what's happening, like he's starting to question if she might actually like him back.

Will doesn't have that same affordance as Jonathan to really hope, at least not anymore. Which is why these relationships in s2 and s4 end differently for these two brothers.

Based on all the signs he was seeing that Nancy felt the same, Jonathan decided to take the plunge to admit to Nancy how he felt, and at that same moment Nancy had the courage to show how she felt. In Will and Mike's case, Will wasn't ready to take the plunge to admit to Mike how he felt, at the same moment Mike didn't have the courage to show how he felt.

What's so painfully hilarious to me about all of this though, is that Jonathan arguably starts the season in the same shoes as most of the audience, where from his perspective, it's becoming obvious to him now that Will like's Mike, but that Mike does not feel the same way.

First at Rink-O-Mania, Mike appears a little uncomfortable upon hugging Will. Then as the happy couple continues on their adventure into Rink-O-Mania, he watches Will lagging behind moping. And then unfortunately he's out of commission for the rest of the evening...

But once he's sober and back to being an attentive brother the following morning, we see him watching them at breakfast, with Mike barely sparing Will a glance, all while Will is blatantly staring, almost like he's waiting for Mike to look back, only for Mike to get up and walk away.

All of these instances gotta be SCREAMING unrequited gay love to Jonathan. He's already gotten signs for years that Will is gay, these are now just the signs that are instilling his suspicions that Will has feelings for Mike. He could have easily interpreted their relationship in the early seasons as young best friends, with Will seeming to have a crush on Mike, and with them growing up and that potentially including Will's straight friend distancing himself from him because he doesn't feel the same. It's not the most unexpected thing in the world considering.

But then there's a shift.

Suddenly he's creeping up on them talking in his room. And we know he was listening in on the conversation because he brings up Owens when he sits down. As he's eavesdropping, he's probably thinking something innocent like Aww they're making up! And like, hey! Even if Mike doesn't feel the same, which is okay and entirely expected honestly, at least he still cares about Will enough to make things right after acting so out of character. Still, I'm not gonna lie, that sounded a lot like flirting to me--

Then he's knocking on Will's door like 30 minutes or less later only to find Mike and Will back on their bullshit. Mike suddenly isn't going out of his way to ignore or put Will on the back burner. In fact, he's on his bed and they're talking, again! The door is even closed this time, which is interesting. This has gotta be a good sign in Jon's eyes. Nothing to worry about! Right? Right...?

But then suddenly this shift continues, going in a direction he probably didn't expect.

I mean, this is literally an identical jancy parallel we have here with byler on the hood of the car, with Jonathan right there to witness it. Despite him maybe only now subconsciously picking up on the similarities between Will and Mike to him and Nancy here, he's at least taking note (I mean he's even got his gay map out and everything).

It isn't until the van scene happens, that I think Jonathan starts to genuinely consider his suspicions, which is that Mike might actually like Will back.

EVERY time we get a shot of Jonathan looking back at Will and Mike in the van, followed by a shot of his POV from the rearview mirror, we're faced with Mike looking at Will while Will is looking away.

As Jonathan is hearing Will confirm his suspicions about his feelings for Mike, he's simultaneously witnessing Mike not looking at Will with disgust, but something more akin to reverence. All of those moments in the van that we witnessed, including all the ways Mike looked at Will and everything that was said, Jonathan was right there.

And what's even more insane about this scene, is that it circles back to Jonathan as a character himself.

I remember when people were talking about how odd it was that we never saw Jonathan with a camera in s4. After 3 seasons in a row of making his passion for photography a big part of his identity, that part of him was apparently absent entirely this time around... But was it really?

This is the same guy that said, "Sometimes, people don't really say what they're really thinking. But you capture the right moment, it says more."

Jonathan might not have had his camera in s4, but this was without a doubt one of those moments where he captured something more.

Something that I also think get's highly overlooked about this scene, especially when it comes to Jonathan looking back at them, being followed by a shot of Mike staring at Will, is that he could see both of their reactions the whole time, from beginning to end. Will nor the audience had the affordance of knowing because Will was facing the other way at the end, while we on the other-hand were blurred from even having the chance, despite Mike literally being in the frame. But not Jonathan. He even lets us see what he sees, a few times, but not at the very end, which would have been nice after they didn't let us see Mike's reaction seconds before this.

Let's just stop right there for a second though and circle back to what I consider to be the first time Jonathan really picked up on Will's feelings for Mike, which was at the end of s3, in a sequence that is a little too relevant to the van scene if you ask me, given that they are almost direct parallels.

While these parallels are pretty spot on visually, they are also near spot on narratively when it comes to the evolution each of these characters are experiencing.

For Will in the first scene, it's sadness that he's moving away from his friends in Hawkins and also feeling like he's losing Mike, after what looks like him and El making up, which makes him scared he'll distance himself again. For Jonathan, it's sympathy for his brother who appears to have some very deep feelings for his friend, feelings he can't quite grasp yet but soon enough will.

For Will in the second scene, it's heartbreak that he has to accept that Mike will never feel the same, knowing that supporting his relationship with El (encouraging it honestly) will likely turn out just as it did last time, with him losing Mike all over again, for the last time. For Jonathan it's sympathy for his brother who has now confirmed his suspicions that the feelings he has for Mike are more than just that of a friend.

Given that this parallel reinforces the same feelings Will and Jonathan had in s3 to now, why would this not also reinforce those same feelings that Mike had in s3 to now?

In the first scene, Mike was visibly distraught, with dialogue from Hopper in the background applying a little too perfectly with what he was feeling in that moment, which was scared. He’s apparently back together with El now, despite them doing just fine as friends for the last 3 months, as well as him and Will just having finally gone back to them being on good terms again. But now, it’s like he’s right back where he started at the beginning of s3, feeling obligated to be the perfect boyfriend to El, and as a result, having no choice in his eyes but to distance himself from Will. Mike then walks into his house looking like a zombie, almost emotionless stepping into his mother's embrace.

Now, I say almost emotionless because it looks like Mike was trying to hold back showing how he truly felt in this moment. He's not crying like he did in s1 when he lost Will that first time. Time has passed and things have changed (he doesn't want things to change). And he's trying his best to keep it together. But the in-focus close-ups make it clear that he is definitely not okay.

What's so impactful about these parallels is that it presents the inner struggle both of these characters are having, both queer and experiencing doubts, but in different ways and for different reasons.

Will is the one who covers it all up with lies, hiding the tears in his eyes, because boys don't cry.

Mike is the one who has never cried to them, just to his soul (RUN AWAY! TURN AWAY! RUN AWAY! TURN AWAY! RUN AWAY!!!).

If you actually try to get a gage on Mike's in-focus emotions in that first scene vs. his out-of-focus emotions in that second scene, well they're not that far off from each other.

We go from Mike smiling vibrantly at Will, to him now slowly turning away to look back down at the painting, with whatever the hell emotion this is...

It's near impossible to catch because of how out-of-focus it is, but looking a lot closer, it honestly appears like Mike is feeling something akin to sadness that he's trying to mask. For a moment it even looks like he turns his head to wince emotionally, only to correct himself.

And call me crazy, but these shots also low-key parallel each other. Mike looking down trying to keep his emotions in check and failing miserably, only to look up and meet eyes with someone whose witnessing it.

With each shot before this of Jonathan observing Mike looking at Will, with him showing all the emotions Will never got to see and everything else in between, I wonder what Jon saw this time? Probably another thing he didn't expect.

Can you just try to imagine the silence in this van, accompanied by Will's muffled sobs, and then try to imagine Mike turning to look down at the painting, only to sneak a glance, and then go right back to looking at the painting, IN SILENCE, and then try to tell me how the assumption that Mike didn’t notice Will crying makes any sense, like realistically?

Yeah me and Jonathan are confused too.

Right now, Jonathan's probably wondering why Mike was acting a little fruity and repressed during the painting reveal. And that although he may have a penchant for being able to 'capture the right moment', Mike is sticking with his story (despite all the stalling and doubt). He is 100% straight!

And so maybe this is where Jonathan tries to accept what is being presented to him as the truth, despite the contradictions in front of him. It's likely that despite the way Mike looks at Will and acts around him, in ways he would have assumed coming from Nancy in s2 would've been evidence that she felt the same, it probably doesn't apply to Mike.

Maybe Jonathan's ready to accept that it's a lot more likely Will is experiencing unrequited love as a gay kid growing up in a small town, the most predictable experience a gay kid could go through, and in contrast Mike just feels too bad to let Will down easy.

Or who knows, maybe Mike could still be a little bit gay too...

But it doesn't matter anyways. Mike seems to be adamant about this and so there's really nothing else Jonathan can he do besides tell his brother he'll be there for him no matter what. And so he does just that.

But then Mike just has to surprise him one last time.

For those that don't know, the line Mike gives here in his monologue was in part pulled from Will's monologue in the van. Most don't know this because this line didn't make the final cut for the van scene, but in the official script the writers posted, what we find is an almost a direct parallel.

Which makes the reaction shots of Will and Jonathan directly after Mike says this all the more epic.

From Will's end he was probably hearing Mike say this and just thinking 'Damn. Well, that's what you get for using your feelings to inspire Mike to profess his love to El.'

But from Jonathan's end, I don't think his outside POV of these events overlapping was nearly as naive as his brothers understanding of the events. Because why the fuck would Mike need to use Will's feelings to inspire him to profess his love to El in the first place? Is this what Mike has been struggling with? Really? Why before every moment Mike takes action in this scene, is Will's hand literally pushing him into it? Why is Mike being so dramatic about saying I love you, stuttering and rambling about her being a superhero, not saying nearly as meaningful of things as what Will said in the van?

And then it hits him.

Mike is reminding him a little too much of another Wheeler right now...

Nancy Wheeler, who was afraid of what would happen if she accepted herself for who she really was, leading her to retreat back to the safety of Steve. Because Nancy liked Steve, but she didn't love Steve.

And now here is Mike Wheeler, who has went from being incredibly distant with Will after reuniting with El, something that is very unlike the Mike he knew in previous seasons, to something more himself again after they make up, with him looking at Will with adoration after hearing his words in the van, only to turn away and look heartbroken. Mike who is now struggling to simply tell El he loves her with Will right behind him literally yelling at him to do it.

And now it's like all those little moments are starting to add up to Jonathan.

Suddenly all those signs he picked up on from Will when he was younger are now blending in with moments Will shared with Mike. It was Mike who jumped in after him and his mom's speech to Will in the shed in s2, with tears in his eyes recalling the day that they met (without being asked, let alone pushed to). And it's Mike who is now looking like he's at war with himself as he attempts to give encouragement to El, just like he did with Will in s2, but this time he needs someone to push him to do it, and that person just so happens to be Will. After just finding out about Will's feelings and also while assuming El wants him to love her that way still, Mike is stuck.

I don't think it's takes a genius to consider Jonathan is capable of realizing how fucked they all are in this situation.

As much as Mike isn't ready for a sleuth of reasons, Will isn't ready either.

This provides a huge contrast between the bylers ², because while Jonathan and Nancy went through a similar experience to Will and Mike, them being ready to accept it and act on it didn't involve nearly as many factors and risks. Will and Mike also have the added barrier that is homophobia.

Will's internalized homophobia lies in part with assuming Mike could never feel the same based on some of the words he said in their last two fights, with parts being painfully reminiscent of the things his dad and bullies used to say about him. These are also words that contradict Mike's own words and actions from the previous seasons, things that did once give Will hope. The shame and guilt that comes with falling for your best friend, who you now know will never feel the same after being foolish enough to believe it not too long ago, and who might not even want to be your friend anymore upon finding out the truth, is understandable. He can't have hope like Jonathan can. It's just not the same.

Mike's internalized homophobia lies with assuming El wants him to love her, along with their relationship being expected and socially acceptable from everyone around him. Though unfortunately for her he feels abundantly more in love in the moments he shares with Will. Despite trying to make it work with El as hard as he could, because she's amazing and all any guy could hope for in a girlfriend, he can't ignore the fact that the feelings he has for these two people are different. The shame and guilt that comes with you, a boy, falling for your best friend, who is also a boy, and who is starting to show that he feels the same, all while you can't muster up the courage to break up with your girlfriend, nor can you muster up the courage to tell her that you love her, not when she's begging you, dying or even just simply at the end of a letter, is pretty understandable too. He can't have hope like Nancy can. It's just not the same.

Spoiler: They were not ready.

PS: I'm still not over the fact that they low-key confirmed these events elsewhere in the story...

#byler #st analysis #pocketgate #lettergate #i'm aware this is a hot (big brain) take #but i'm like 76% sure mike understood will in the van scene #also why mike is gonna finally be dealing with some personal business in s5... #just want to add that this makes the scene at Nina hit harder #also #mike trying and failing to tell el he loves her or break up with her at surfer boy and stalling because he just can't fucking do either? #mike's face when will pushes him to profess his love to el right in front of him??? #honestly i dont think mike would've gone through with his monologue if he didn't think this is what el wanted in large part #i think he thought that if he did break up with her she wouldn't need him at all anymore #or more specifically if told her the truth she might hate him for it and just not want to be in his life in the aftermath of that #this is why he struggled so much with being honest #it was either lie and suffer but get to keep her in his life most likely or tell her the truth and potentially lose her and still suffer #it's just that now he has literally no choice but to conform and be with her all while knowing it's not what his heart truly wants #the heart not being true to himself jumpstarted the apocalypse #everyone act surprised #byler getting jonathan’d in s5 can be something so personal #no but imagine jon getting even more signals mike feels the same 😭 #and he tries to talk to will about it but will just gets upset like pls stop why are you saying this? #or imagine him talking about it subtly with Nancy and her being like no way #only to see it for herself #maybe then Nancy would try to talk to Mike about how he’s feeling #idk I could genuinely see byler just getting byler’d individually #but it’s clear at this point Jonathan is extremely suspicious #honestly all I think it would take is him having intel about their previous fights #if he found out mike defended his behavior by insisting that they’re friends… #jonathan would just be like… oh shit.. the first lie…

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Nsfw/smut

Part 1 here!!

You don't know how to work with Miguel. You can't meet his gaze, can't talk to him. How are you supposed to just keep going on with your life when you heard everything? When you took a peek and saw what he was doing while calling your name?

He was jerking off to you! How are you supposed to just keep going as if nothing were wrong?!

You can't stop thinking about it, the way he'd groaned, the thick breathing, the look on his gorgeous, gorgeous face...

You shake yourself out of it. You've got work to do. The spiderverse won't protect itself...

...Maybe just for a minute?

As the memories of Miguel rush through your mind, you can feel your body grow hot. You can't stop thinking about how he'd bitten his lower lip, or how big he is. Granted, Miguel is huge in every aspect, you were just curious about that last one. And now you know.

An uncomfortable little bubble of arousal grows between your thighs, your pussy pulsating with desire.

You glance around your small corner office. No security cameras, no one else around, door closed...

Miguel did it. Why can't you?

You slide your hands down your body, between your legs, tracing your middle finger against your clothed cunt. You add pressure on your clit, shuddering at the slight relief and pleasure that flows at the touch.

You spread your legs some, adding more strength, more need to each movement. Soon, you're sweating, panting, images of Miguel invading your brain.

You can hear his breathing, see his eyes shut tight, his fist around his enormous cock...

You touch yourself until you're close. So close. Your orgasm is right there, just a few seconds away—

A knock sounds on the door before it unexpectedly swings open.

You manage to pull your hand away at the last second. And there stands the man himself.

“Miguel!” you just about squeak, trying to keep your breathing regular.

He eyes you suspiciously. “You okay?” he asks. When you don't answer immediately, he glances around your office, searching for something.

You look flustered, nervous. You're sweating and he could hear you panting across the goddamn hall.

And then he smells it. The scent of your sweet, thick arousal.

He turns back to you, not a doubt in his mind about what you were doing. His eyes sharpen, grow dark. The tips of his fangs peek between his lips.

You find yourself pressing your thighs together involuntarily.

“What's going on?” he demands, voice thick and rough.

You swallow thickly. “N-nothing. Nothing's going on.”

His eyes grow impossibly darker. “No me mientas.” Don't lie to me.

“I'm not!” you insist.

He doesn't buy it. After a long, tense pause, he pinches the bridge of his nose and says, “Don't make this harder on yourself. I know what you were doing.” The firmness and unwavering belief in his voice lets you know he really does know.

“Well I-I know what you were doing,” you blurt. Your eyes widen and your cheeks blush when you realize what you've said.

He frowns, putting his hands on his hips. “What are you talking about?”

There's no taking it back now. “I saw you,” you say. “Yesterday afternoon. In your office. I saw you and I heard you.”

By the expression on his face, you know he's aware of what, exactly, you're talking about.

“Mierda,” he curses. You just kind of sit there, eyes on his. “Mierda.”

For some reason, you can't shut yourself up. “I...I heard you say my name,” you admit, blushing as if you had any reason to be embarrassed. Well, maybe you shouldn't have stayed and watched but...still, it's not your fault he's jerking off to you.

“La puta madre,” he hisses, pinching the bridge of his nose again. “Fuck. I...I'm sorry—”

“It's okay—”

“I didn't mean—I didn't know you were listening, obviously—”

“Miguel, don't worry about it—”

“I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable—”

You keep fucking talking. “If it makes you feel any better, I was thinking about you while I did it too.”

That shuts him up. He stares at you, blinking. “What?”

You feel the need to explain. You keep fucking it up. “I-I was thinking about you while I touched myself,” you tell him. “I...don't know if that makes you feel any better, but I thought you should know.”

He takes a few steps until he's standing in front of you. “Tienes idea de lo que te va a pasar?” Do you have any idea what's going to happen to you right now?

You shake your head, terror spreading through your veins. Are you...fired? Is he going to send you back to your universe? Is he going to ban you from the spider society?

“Bend over the desk,” he instructs, his voice low and quiet, sending a shudder up your spine.

That takes you by surprise. “W-what?” you stutter.

He picks you up and roughly bends you over the desk, pushing your chest against the wood and kicking your feet apart. “I only say things once. I don't like repeating myself. You won't get warnings with me.” His hand grips your hip roughly, squeezing it hard. “Have I made myself clear?”

“Y-yes, sir,” you whine.

He grins; you can hear his smirk. “Atta girl.”

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@yagirlheree @sukioyakio @obi-mom-kenobi @celestia80s @manlikemilesmyguy @zaunsin @naniiiii12 @everlastlady @avatar-lover @siidmm @dhollandhs @spikedhe4rt @missing2socks @itzraven101 @miguelspookiebear @mochikomochisoft @sunset-euphoria @kishibeswh0re @m4dyy @icreatedthisat317am @keiva1000 @jakescumdump @ravisinghs-wife @tengens4th--wife @oceancerulean @pookiesmookie69 @juwandiko @aisyakirmann @ninebluehearts @vampireluvvr @saturnstringz @4imhry @iheartlinds

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Blog masterlist

#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara smut

[holybibly]

IT'S YOU |Woosan x reader| Part I Part 2

Genre: smut, from friends to lovers!au, college!au

Word Count: 6,6k

Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted.

WARNING: only!18+ pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, pussy eating, size kink, oral giving and receiving, double penetration, threesomes, dirty talk and more.

A/N: Here they are, our winners. I'm a little overjoyed because I'm about to try out a new style for myself (BTW, which of my styles of my work do you love most? Answer in the comments, it will help me much). One of the things I have to learn is the writing of shorter chapters. This one was so long that I had to split it into two parts. The second part won't take too long either.I'm still trying my best to write smut. So please be gentle with me.

There will be an update in a separate post about the rest of the work. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

One year ago.

It was a feeling of sweet euphoria coursing through your veins. Pure, scalding ecstasy that frothed your blood and clouded your mind. Multicolored neon lights licked greedily at your wet, naked skin, leaving acid green and poisonous pink burns on it. All your senses were overloaded, and every touch felt like a liquid flame. The throbbing bass of the deafening music echoed through your body like the beating of your own heart and completely consumed all of your other senses, except for absolute pleasure.

You lost track of the amount of alcohol you had consumed that day, shot after shot, until a pleasant fog began to form in your head, blocking out all other thoughts. The tequila flowed down your throat like water, and you were sure you'd remember how it tasted in the morning, but you didn't care what you'd done tonight or how you knew you'd feel tomorrow. You didn't care about that. Your aim was to forget yourself, to disappear into the crowd, to merge with the music until any connection to the outside world was nothing more than the beginning of the next day.

Dance, baby, dance!

The atmosphere in the club grew fuzzier and fainter, sweaty, hot bodies pressed closer together merging, the hot touches of forbidden pleasures caressing the skin with the fingertips of strangers, wet lips touching the bare, sticky skin on you shoulders, pressing rough impatient kisses into it. Too many people and too many strangers are here for nothing but fuck.

You weren't a stupid little girl who believed in virginal marriage and pink ponies; to be honest, you were far from that gentle picture. God, Wooyoung, and San had been your best friends since high school, and now you were at university, and if after all that time you couldn't repeat every position in the Kama Sutra by heart, it really surprised you. Innocence and modesty were the last words in your vocabulary, and with Wooyoung's big mouth, you were well aware of the whole of theirs sex life. And when you say everything, you mean every fucking detail, and to Wooyoung's credit, he has a great memory and meticulous storytelling.

How long has it been since you started dancing? 20 minutes—or was it two hours? You could swear that Sang and Ueyoung were at your side a minute ago. Or did they leave you alone on the dance floor hours ago?

You can't remember at all.

Your mind is buzzing, your fingertips are tingling, and your heart is pounding against your ribs from the adrenaline rush of matching the beat of some new-fangled track and creating a world of your own inside your body. This sound will vibrate more and more strongly under your skin until your brain ceases to function, allowing you to let go of all the worries in the world and give yourself over completely to the music. Alcohol really does work wonders.

Man, you felt so good.

In the back of your drunken mind, you can't help but wonder if tonight could have gone differently. Probably, but here you are, drunk as hell, huddled with a stranger on a neon dance floor instead of a soft bed in your favorite man's arms. Where the hell did you take the wrong turn? It would seem that something in the universe hasn't gone quite according to plan. Did you have any idea this morning that your sweet, perfect boyfriend would be cheating on you? Correction: he's been cheating on you for a long time. You probably never would have found out if you hadn't come home from couples earlier than usual and continued to be his "convenient girlfriend." Hell, it wasn't nice, and maybe not as hurtful, if he'd been fucking someone else instead of your best friend. Were you that bad? Weren't you good enough? Either way, you've still got time to destroy yourself—maybe tomorrow, maybe never.

Maybe you'll even think about it when you visit the bastard in the hospital. He should have known better than to even think about cheating, and the clotted blood on San's knuckles proved that. Everyone at the university knew that you were Ateez's golden girl, and to mess with you was to mess with them. And since you, Wooyoung, and San were literally glued to each other, it was tantamount to suicide. 

At the moment, the only thing that was more upsetting than the image of your ex-boyfriend driving his dick all the way up to his balls into your ex-friend's skinny body was the fact that your beautiful vintage sofa would have to be thrown away. Semen doesn't wash off. You checked.

Hongjoong is going to be absolutely devastated. That sofa was the absolute love of his life.

It's all nothing more than a vague memory of the day gone by, mixed into an indecipherable cacophony of shrill screams and blurred images. To be honest, you don't remember much of the chaos, as Wooyoung pressed your face against his chest with such force that you wouldn't be surprised to see your make-up imprinted on the light fabric of his shirt. All you could hear was loud cursing and the sound of a punch in the face. You hoped that San's punch was strong enough to break the asshole's jaw. And after that, there were a few hours of tears and emotional crisis until they'd had enough and pulled you into this club with a gentle and accepting hand: "Come on, baby, you could use a break and a change of scenery" from San, and "Fuck that scumbag, go show him what he's lost, baby" from Wooyoung. It was an absolute mystery how the two of them synchronized perfectly.

You have no idea what you would do without these two.

A few more minutes go by in this way, until you feel hot hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the hard body on your back. You don't have to turn around to see that it's San; the scent of his perfume, mixed with the sweat and the smoke of a freshly smoked cigarette, makes you dizzy, and you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating mixture. Suddenly you want to get as close to him as possible, turn around and press your face against his hard, structured chest, breathing in deeply and sinking into him completely. Your arms reach out behind you and wrap around San's neck, tangling your fingers in the scarlet strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You feel it on your back as the action makes him purr like a cat. You wonder what other sounds you might be able to catch him making.

You shake yourself. The thought of it sends shivers down your arms and makes all the muscles in your lower abdomen tingle.

You should stop. These are bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts.

"Damn, baby girl, how much did you drink while we were away?" Wooyoung's voice is rough and husky, but his touch is gentle and careful as his fingers intertwine with yours. He has always touched you in a way that no other man in the world, with the exception of him and San, has ever been able to touch you. There was no comparison with your ex's touch. Wooyoung's touch is a promise. A promise to protect, to care, and perhaps to love? You could swear you saved the planet in your past life because you have such great friends in this one, or maybe a little more than friends, but you're not sure what to call this feeling. 

You had been friends for so long that it wasn't weird not have a crush on Wooyoung or to dream of being married to San. The guy was literally a walking husband; he was second only to Songhwa in that respect, but please, Hwa was the epitome of husband material. You might even have wanted to be in the middle of it, sandwiched between hot bodies while they literally fucked the life out of you. But it was all just thoughts. Fleeting dreams that clung to the edges of your consciousness. You were the type to date, and they were the type to fuck. You were different when it came to loving. In any case, it was all a long time ago. You had a boyfriend, and Wooyoung and San collected girls like Pokémon. Somehow, you were sure that if you slept together, your friendship would end.

You weren't ready for that. With a strength that only Jongho could match, you ignored any romantic feelings for them

"Mmm… Woo, I have no recollection, but I had fun." You licked your lips as if you were trying to taste the lingering taste of the tequila and opened your eyes to stare straight into Wooyoung's face, full of worry. He could have been the biggest bitch if he wanted to be. But for you, that 'maternal' instinct of overprotection has kicked in. You stare at him unblinkingly in that moody light, he looks beautiful, to the point of being stupidly handsome, so damn handsome that you want to pull him to you and kiss him without explanation or reason. And you can do that because you know he's never, ever going to say no to you but kiss you? Wooyoung's tongue will be the first to enter your mouth. He will suck on it like a drunk, and he will hold on to you until there is almost no air left in your lungs.

"We leave you alone, gongjunim, for five minutes, and you're already in trouble. Shall I give you a lesson in obedience?" San is speaking into your ear, loud enough for you to hear him clearly, each word coming through the loud electric bass. His voice is too sultry to be sober enough. Woo probably talked him into a few shots, although he always got drunk pretty easily. The two were threatening each other. And to you as well.

The evil voice inside your head grinned: You know you want it. He's going to punish you for being such a bad, naughty girl. He will teach you to be the best little girl for him and for them and to follow all his rules. He'll make you beg and make you cry…

Fuck, girl, come to your senses. Since when did you start to think with your pussy instead of using your brain? Or do you automatically turn into a horny, over-excited idiot after a break-up? Turn on your brains; they are your best friends.

Completely ignoring San's words, you whimpered:

"I'm thirsty." Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and your lips feel unpleasantly rough as you say the words. It looks like the fun's over for today.

San can't help but laugh at your capricious behavior, and you wriggle restlessly in his arms, trying to free yourself from his firm grip, but he only manages to hold you even tighter. You sigh in annoyance and decide to try your luck with Wooyoung.

"Woo, help me." You whine again, reaching out and pulling Wooyoung closer so that your forehead rests against his collarbone.

He smells good, like sandalwood and vanilla, like home.

Wooyoung lifts your face with his fingertips. The touch is soft and comforting, despite the roar of the music and the crowd of strangers around you. He stares intently into your eyes, almost too serious for your drunken haze. He hopes to find something more than alcohol-induced excitement.

"Come on, baby. It's time to go home." He releases your hand and carefully wipes the sweat from your forehead and cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, his fingers lingering on your lips for a moment, and you playfully stick out your tongue and lick the pads of his fingers. God, may you not remember this tomorrow.

"But I don't want to…" You purse your lips again. You turn your head towards San, looking for his support. "Sanni, let's stay a bit more." Your big, shining eyes are not making it easy for him, but you were already quite drunk, and judging by the way your body was leaning against him, you could hardly stand properly.

"Wooyoung's right, gongjunim, it's over for you today."

Something wild in you just wants to be a brat and start arguing, but the rational part of your brain wins out. You sigh tiredly and try to wriggle out of his grip, and of course you stumble, grabbing Wooyoung's biceps with your hands in an attempt to stay on your feet and not break your high-heeled leg, which would be a great way to end the night.

A strong arm immediately wraps around your waist. It digs lightly into the exposed skin between your top and your jeans. You can feel the coldness of the thin band of his ring. It actually burns from how sensitive you were now.

"I got you, chagi." San whispers softly and hoarsely into your ear, and you cling even more tightly to Wooyoung's arm as your legs begins to shake, but no longer from the alcohol you've drunk and the tiredness, but from his sultry tone. Damn, was that a saturi, or was it just your imagination?

"We'll be on our way now, for sure." Wooyoung takes your hand once more, pulling it away from his bicep, and quickly leads you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, completely ignoring your feeble protests until you see the flashing exit sign. The red neon sign brings you ominously close to the point where you are left alone with them. And you feel San's heavy presence at your back like never before. 

The sounds of the city swallow you up and make you dizzy as Wooyoung opens the heavy metal door. Couples are kissing all over the place. Noisy groups of people are huddled together waiting for a taxi or sharing a single joint, leaving a faint smell of weed in the air. You can still hear the vibrating bass of the music that is pouring out of the club; it echoes in your head in an unpleasant way, with a slight throbbing pain. All of a sudden, all you want to do is find yourself in a warm bed, snuggled up against San or Wooyoung, or even better, against both of them.

San's hand on your waist tenses as you bend over to hail a taxi. Wooyoung's hands come down on your hips, hot and strong, and just like that, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their bodies shielding you safely from the searing cold and dirty stares. You could swear that you can hear Wooyoung swears to himself while a drunk guy is moving his tongue between two spread fingers and looking in your direction. San's body tenses instinctively. What's with all this protection? We're not in some kind of alpha-character romance; you can take care of yourself.

But in spite of that, your body still relaxes, your head leans back against Wooyoung's shoulder, and you rub your face against his like a cat.

"You're so drunk, baby." Woo chuckles and gives you a light kiss on the top of your head. "That's my girl."

My girl, just the sound of that one sentence makes a little fire start in your belly. What the hell is wrong with you today? A week ago, you were rinsing his mouth after Woo drank too much, and now you're ready to lick his mouth from the inside. 

Fuck.

All these thoughts make you lose track of what's happening until you feel the smooth leather of the car seat beneath you and the soft touch of San's lips on your bare shoulder. You moan, either from annoyance or excitement. San just smiles and presses his lips harder against you. Finally, you are going home.

You faintly hear Wooyoung giving the Uber driver the coordinates of your apartment complex, your hands intertwining again, relaxing further as Wooyoung's head rests on your shoulder. His long hair tickles the back of your neck.

Sobriety slowly begins to clear your head as the ride continues. You're still drunk, but you're much more aware than before.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but in the confined space of the car's backseat, they can hear it well. It sets them in motion again, hands clasped around you with renewed confidence. You play mindlessly with the silver rings that adorn Wooyoung's long fingers, and you don't go unnoticed by San's light strokes on the outside of your thigh.

"All for you, chagiya." San whispers back and gives Wooyoung a meaningful look. There's something special between the two of them—a dialogue that is spoken without words but in which they both know exactly what is meant. If only you knew what was going on inside their heads…

You let your hand drop to Wooyoung's muscular thigh and ran the palm of your hand over it a couple of times, feeling the tight muscles under the skin of his trousers. He covers the palm of your hand with his own and squeezes it in a silent, gentle gesture of affection.

"I love you guys…" You whisper, sticking out your tongue to lick your suddenly dry lips. You hear them giggling together before you feel San press his nose against the soft skin of your collarbone, rubbing against it like a cat. He's the ultimate cinnamon bun; how he can be someone who's had sex with half the university is still a mystery to you.

"I love you too, gongjunim." And he means it, like he really loves you—much more than a friend should.

"Mmm, I love you more. You know that, baby." Wooyoung bites the skin on the back of your neck in a playful way, and you feel his wet tongue pressing against the site of the bite for a few seconds. 

"You're not sleeping in my bed. Woo, stop it; that tactic won't work on me anymore."

He whimpers back with a puff of his swollen lips, turning his face away from you with an irritated roll of his eyes as you and San laugh, his arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body so that you're practically sitting on his lap. A faint melody, from some kind of soft track, pours out of the speakers and lulls you into a state of serenity. You find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Your body relaxes even more in San's arms.

The next twenty minutes fly by, and you only begin to wake up when the cab door slams behind you and Wooyoung drags you into her flat. The fobs on your keys jingle loudly in the silence of the corridor as San fiddles with them to unlock the door. You sway in Woo's arms as you wait for the door to your apartment to open. The soothing scent of neroli and orchids greets you as you enter, your body automatically relaxing into the safety of your personal space, and you fall wearily into the armchair opposite sofa.

As the door closes, you hear the sound of the boys hurrying down the corridor, taking off their shoes and jackets. You can imagine San carefully placing his shoes next to yours and Wooyoung's one shoe being kicked further down the corridor. So damn different.

Woo sprints into the kitchen, slams the door of the fridge shut, and there is a bottle of cold water in front of your face.

"Here you go, starlight." He sinks to the floor at your feet and leans back against them, resting his head in your lap as he does so. You run your fingers through his long black hair, brushing it away from his face, and meet his gaze with your own. It's familiar; away from the deafening music and the sweaty crowd, you feel much better now, despite the fact that a few hours ago your ex was fucking your friend on the couch across the hall. This is still your home, and you're sure that in a few days your entire apartment will be taken apart and put back together by the caring hands of Seonghwa and Yeosang, when there won't be a trace of your failed past relationships left.   "Are you okay?" San asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

"I'm… fine, yeah. Probably not as good as I'd like to be, but I'll be fine; it'll just take some time. At the moment, I'm just tired of it all."

"Go take a shower, sweetie; San and I will take care of the rest." Wooyoung says as he gets up from the floor and pulls the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The wide collar of his black t-shirt shows the tattoo on his back. You always found that part of him extremely sexy.

You rise from your chair, grimacing at the pain in your legs after so many hours in high heels. Your top falls to the floor as you take it off, the lace of your black lingerie clinging to your body like a second skin. They've seen you naked more than once or twice, and in any case, you're not one of those cute girls who blushes at every opportunity. You have to struggle to pull your jeans down your legs because they are so tight around your arse. The next thing to come off is your underwear, which you leaves halfway to the toilet somewhere. You let them take care of that too.

The level of intimacy that you have with San and Wooyoung is so high that it virtually erases any barrier to acceptable standards of friendship. Years of shared memories, from when you started high school to when you practically star graduates of Seoul National University. God, the things you've done and the situations you've been in—it's been a hectic time. The three of you literally know each other to your bones—sharing habits, feelings, clothes, and even some sexual practices under the influence of alcohol and chance. You've seen them fuck; they've held your hair when you've puked, helped with periods, you've seen them jerking off in the morning or heard them moaning loudly in the bathroom, you all watched porn together—it's all been part of your friendship. In a way, the three of you have been completely and utterly shameless.

You close the bathroom door and stare wearily at your reflection in the large mirror. Your hair is disheveled from those beautiful waves there's not a trace, your skin is glistening with sweat, your make-up looks messy—a bit of smudged eyeliner, smeared lipstick—and in general, you look like you've been beaten up. The pupils of your eyes are dilated, even though you're still feeling sleepy, and there's a bit of puffiness under your eyes from previous tantrum.

Wow, you look like a real mess. You turn away from the mirror, turn on the tap of water, and sink back into your usual daily routine. The water cleanses not only your body but also your mind, spectacularly washing away all the memories and regrets of the day.

It seems to be at least a minute before you hear the sound of a heavy knock on the door. San's voice is muffled over the sound of water and steam, rough, husky, and incredibly sexy, sending electric shocks through your body and unexpected heat building between your thighs. Your fingers turn the handle, stopping the water from flowing, and you take a few long breaths, trying to get rid of this strange feeling. What's wrong with you today?

"Chagi, are you okay?"

You mooed in response, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around your body before opening the door to face him. He's standing across the bathtub, slumped against the wall, so soft and fluffy, when you open the door. San has changed into a pair of loose pajamas, which are very cute, according to your taste. He has washed off his make-up and generally looks more like an adorable bun than the voluptuous demon he is supposed to be at the university.

"What the hell took you so long? Wooyoung's already starting to climb the wall from here." He whimpers with a pucker on his lips.

"I needed some time to myself, Sanni."

He bites his bottom lip before nodding. His burning gaze travels over you from head to toe, lingering a little longer than usual on your thighs and breasts, and your body heats up at the sensation. When your eyes meet, there is an emotion that you are unfamiliar with that hovers just above the surface of his gleaming dark irises. Something predatory flashes across his face, just for a second, but it's enough to make your skin tingle with an unknown sense of anticipation.

"Just a few more minutes, and then I'll be on my way, all right? Tell Wooyoung to be a little more patient."

"Alright."

You step back into the tub, close the door behind you, and press your back against the wall. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a groan of disappointment. It's not that after all these years of friendship you've never felt sexually aroused in their presence; after all, Wooyoung and San were so damn attractive and even flirtatious to the point of insanity, they fit the cliché of lusty, popular boys at university so well.

Perhaps you had once or twice wondered what it would be like to be close to one of them, or even better, both of them—what their bodies would feel like and what their tastes would be like. Yet, consciously ignoring any romantic urges in their direction, you buried those thoughts deep in the back of your mind. You didn't want to think about how beautiful San's smile was, with those sweet dimples, or how your skin burned under Woo's playful, incessant kisses. But those were only fragmentary thoughts, a dangerous feeling creeping into your heart.

For a while your hunger for them was satisfied by a succession of boy toys until you found yourself a steady boyfriend, well until you caught him with one of your girlfriends tonight. Either way, the sex was hardly satisfying enough to get too upset about, but still, the ache in your heart and your bottom-punched self-esteem stung like a bitch.

But today there was something different between the three of you; on a day like any other, there was a different feeling. It wasn't anything special; San's tearful face had been tucked between your breasts more than once or twice after another romantic fiasco, and Wooyoung had been a complete fool in love, getting burned so many times because he wore his heart on his sleeve. You have been friends long enough to know how to comfort each other after breaking up. You have never experienced such a tension between the three of you before.

There was a barely perceptible change in the air; there was an electric tension in the chemistry between you; a crackle in the air like a thunderstorm was about to break. The storm was coming at a furious pace, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to handle it. To end up between them was like voluntarily stepping into a hurricane rated at twelve. Was that what you wanted? You probably did. Did they want it? There was no way of knowing. Would things have changed if you'd fucked, yes, of course, but would you have had a 'happily ever after', you weren't so sure.

You brush your hair with your fingertips, hissing in pain when you can't untangle the tangled locks, and continue this compulsive action as you step out of the suddenly claustrophobic space of the bathroom. The corridor is cold, and the change in temperature causes goose bumps to run down the length of your skin. Cold air climbs under the towel's edges, clinging uncomfortably to your tender inner thighs.

"I left some fresh clothes for you on the dresser next to the bathtub. Didn't you notice?" San asks. His pronunciation is as simple as if he hadn't been the one who just a few minutes ago ate you alive with his eyes. He is sitting on the arm of the chair Wooyoung is comfortably ensconced in, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

The couch, which was once your favorite place to be, is clearly in disuse. You're already anticipating Hongjoong's endless complaints about it. That couch was the love of his life.

Wooyoung has changed his clothes too; there's no trace of the seductive college hottie left; the stretchy top of the oversized shirt slipping off his shoulders to expose his collarbones made him look so tiny and cuddly; and the soft disheveled hair falling over his face gave his features something adorably puppyish. They both looked homely and terribly comfortable, as if this was legitimately their home and not yours, as if their place had always been here, the space they belonged to.

"It's stuffy. I don't want to get dressed." You reply, pulling the towel tighter around your chest. You actually contradict yourself by wrapping your arms around yourself, but you don't want to explain anything to them either.

"Personally, I like it all; you can keep going, baby."

"Of course you like it, Woo; we all know about your love for exhibitionism." You say this nonchalantly and let your body fall into Wooyoung's lap, not caring that you're actually naked under the towel or that his shirt is getting wet as the water from your wet hair drips onto it. You're trapped between their bodies again, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling. You savor his scent and the feel of his smooth skin as your face sinks into the curve of Woo's neck.

You all sink into a nice, relaxing silence as the boys scroll through endless social media feeds, your eyes grow heavier, and the need for sleep becomes more palpable. But you love it so much—just being around them, not thinking about anything else, feeling the way San's fingers play with your hair while you twirl the rings on Woo's fingers—that you probably have a fetish for his hands. Anyway, you don't mind.

Minutes go by like this, slowly approaching an hour. You feel content and warm as you sit on Wooyoung's gorgeous muscular thighs. He is humming something to himself, drawing scattered patterns with his fingertips on your bare thigh. Your lips press against Woo's neck, leaving a sweet kiss on his skin. He squirms beneath you, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter on your thigh. God, he's so hot.

"You're so needy, kitten," San says with laughter before you feel his lips on your shoulder. It's not a chaste, friendly kiss; no, his lips are wet with saliva, open so you can feel the scorching breath and his tongue tip gliding across your skin in slow motion. San is licking you like a cat, damn it.

"Is this a side effect of the break-up or something like that? Look at you, Peach. You're a horny mess." Wooyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity and pulls you closer to his chest. You slide down his thighs, and the towel scratches a little higher, a little more, and they can easily see your pussy. At that thought, the familiar throbbing between your legs reminds you just how wet you are, the viscous, clear liquid threatening to run down the inside of your thighs and stain Woo's clothes.

Praying that neither of them will notice how flushed and horny you feel at this moment, you squeeze your legs together and slide your hand down to pull the towel further down your legs, as far down as possible in this position.

You're so thirsty; the lust is bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin, and the heady mix of their scent and the residual alcohol in your blood is making you feel like such a needy slut.

The rational part of your brain tells you that you should be in a completely different state right now—a mess of tears and snot, probably on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Somewhere between the self-destruction of your own self-esteem and a crisis of identity, But here you are, practically naked in Woo's arms, with an obscenely wet pussy and no shame whatsoever.

In contrast to the'real' half of you, something small and evil urged you to go further, to spread your legs, to expose yourself shamelessly, to ride Wu's thigh and have a hot rodeo until you couldn't cum any more, and then let San use you however he wanted; you don't mind at all being a chew toy for him. Hell, boy, all you want to do is let him fuck your brains out.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip with force; the taste of blood is almost in your mouth.

"Fuck me. I want to sleep, baby. You can use me. Let's go to bed."You whine, puffing up your cheeks.

"Okay, okay, baby, let's put the princess to bed." San lifts you from your place on Woo's lap and pulls you tightly against his chest, and you can clearly feel every ripple of muscle on that perfect body. When did he have time to get that big?

He carries you into the bedroom like a princess. Wooyoung's shuffling footsteps can be heard behind you, and you throw your head back to meet his gaze.

"We had a change of sheets. Personally, I'm in favor of burning all his stuff."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Mmm, let me think. Maybe just a few thousand times." He gives you a cheeky smile, and you laugh.

"Love, love, love, love, I love you so much. You're the best boys in the world. You sing with a big smile on your face, and the sound of their laughter fills the bedroom. 

"We love you too; we love you so much."

If you weren't so drunk and tired, your brain might have been able to process Wooyoung's changed intonation, but you completely ignored any possible hint of how they felt about you.

San gently laid you down on the bed, and Woo's lithe body crawled beside you, snuggling against your side, hugging you like his personal teddy bear.

"Woo, let her go; she has to put on some clothes." He pulls off his T-shirt and holds the soft fabric out in front of you. Your hands lazily crumple it up in an attempt to decide whether or not to put it on, but the boys decide for you. 

Wooyoung sits you down and holds you tightly by the waist while San pulls the T-shirt over your head and pulls off the towel at the same time. You are still naked, but you are a bit more decent now.

"You're such good friends. I wish I could date someone like you." You lie back down, and Woo's hands paddle you again, as if it's his natural reflex. You're not aware of the exchange of glances between the two of them. The silent conversation that goes on between them is completely ignored.

"Hmm, someone like us?" San sits down on the bed in front of you, and in an instant, your fingers cling to his naked chest. You want so badly to sink your teeth into the smooth, bulging muscles of his chest. "Baby, aren't you afraid we're going to be jealous?"

"You and jealousy, come on. I went out with Suho, and none of you minded."

"It's because the idiot has a tiny dick." With an evil giggle, Woo whispers in your ear.

"Wooyoung!"

"He's right, chagia. When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"San, not you too." You whine and give him a light tap on the shoulder.

"Well, if you were with someone like us, you'd know what it means to have a good fuck. We'd fuck your brains out, baby."

"Jung Wooyoung, wash your filthy mouth. San, tell him." You call out to your more rational friend in a resentful tone to calm Woo down.

"Well, I can't say that he's wrong. You won't be on foot for days after we are." The grin on San's face is so predatory that you can't tell that it's your sweet himbo friend. It's making the muscles at the bottom of your stomach clench in anticipation of this promise.

"You do know that I used to sleep with Yunho before I started dating Suho, right? You can hardly come as a surprise to me; he's very good."

"We know." Woo hissed in annoyance, and his arms tightened around you, planting his foot on your thigh and completely cutting off any attempt you might have made to pull away from him, even if you wanted to.

"But we're so much better." A hot palm slides just over your waist near to Wooyoung's hand, practically covering your breasts. You feel the full weight of it on your body.

"In your dreams."

For a few moments, you close your eyes and fall silent. The comforting silence lulls you to sleep, but there is one thought that keeps you from falling completely into a deep slumber. With a groan, you come back to reality, blinking slowly as your brain forms the words that seem to be too heavy on the tip of your tongue—heavy, but so damned sweet.

"I wanna… I mean, let's have threesome." 

"Sorry, what!" Wooyoung almost yells, sitting up in bed in an instant and staring at you with his eyes wide open. If the situation wasn't so serious, you could laugh at his shocked expression. "Is it an offer for sex? Right now?"

"Jesus, Wooyoung, just let me finish." You sit down as well and take each one of them by the hand. "We graduate next year, and if… if we are all free and you don't mind, maybe we can have threesomes."

"I'm ready. Why wait?" Woo clings to you like a leech. He presses every inch of his body against you so tightly that you practically melt into each other. His skin is hot, and you can feel his breath brushing against your ear and his lips touching it as he speaks. "Come, Y/N, we can do this now. I'm going to take you to heaven."

"Wooyoung, I'm serious."

You have to look at San, who's been silent the whole time. The look in his eyes is so dark, full of lust and hunger. It doesn't leave you for a second.

"San…"

"I'll do anything for you, Y/N."

"I'll be ready for you in a year if you're still willing. Now get out of the room, the both of you. Tonight I'll be alone in bed."

You push them off the bed, San rolls over on the floor with a clatter, and Wooyoung jumps up like a man who has been scalded.

"But chagi…" He whines, loud and nasty, as San drags him out of the room.

"Sweet dreams, gongjunim." That's the last thing you hear before the door slams shut behind them and you're left alone in the bedroom.

You can hear their muffled voices coming from the hallway, trying so hard to keep quiet. Wooyoung's incessant complaining, mixed with San's low muttering, effectively lulls you to sleep. You probably won't even remember tonight, let alone this stupid proposal, but little do you know that neither San nor Wooyoung have any intention of letting you forget.

You are going to have a very funny year in front of you.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez x reader #kpop smut #ateez fanfic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez ot8 #ateez imagines #seonghwa smut #ateez san #san smut #hongjoong smut #ateez wooyoung #yunho smut #woosan

[angelltheninth]

aaah idk if thats weird but i loved your genshin oneshots so uh may i request genshin men overstimming y/n (with Itto xiao and Scara <3)

o(╥﹏╥)o

I could have sworn I did this already but apparently not.

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Xiao, Thoma, Pantalone, Dottore, Scaramouche, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, overstimulation, begging, dom/sub dynamics, being tied up, aftercare, clit stimulation, biting, tail use, rough sex, blindfolds

A/N: Lucky for me I'm reading a book that has BDSM stuff in it so I have inspiration.

Kaeya likes to tease you while he's overstimulating you. He'll be rubbing your clit really fast one second, thrusting in with all his might and then the net second he'll stop completely. He lets all that excitement build up within you over and over without giving you the pleasure of release until you're so sensitive that even the slightest movement can get you to come.

Diluc likes overstimulating you and being overstimulated himself, both at once are a good option too. Seeing you on your knees, with your hand working between your legs and you sucking on his cock and balls to the point where he has to put it in your pussy or else he'll go nuts, give him that and he'll keep going until your voice gives out.

Itto always smirks down at you while he keeps your hands pinned above your head so you can't touch yourself, all the while his hips snap hard and deep, your pussy fluttering around him non-stop, you poor little clit neglected by him until you beg for him to touch it again and make you come all over his big cock.

Xiao takes his time overstimulating you, and the man is in no rush at all mind you. He's got all the time in the world with you and he will spend it well. You can buck your hips into him all you want, you can squeeze around his cock and fingers as many times as you need but he'll just keep going and thrusting and making you come again, more, faster each time until you're unable to get words out.

Thoma is careful with you when he's planning on overstimulating you. He's always got an aftercare plan in advance because he knows how much it's gonna be for you. He eats you out slowly, his tongue teasing and mindful of every flutter your pussy makes, every hitch of breath, a smile pulling across his lips as he notices you getting inpatient and sensitive. When he's got you ready for his cock he will give it to you, until then just relax and enjoy his touches.

Pantalone doesn't just overstimulate you by getting your pussy and clit sensitive, he wants your other senses on alert too. So he blindfolds you, his hands running down your body so you know he's there for you. It's because you're so aware of his touches, his fingers, his cock, his tongue that you get wet so easily for him, that you can beg so sweetly, that you need him so much, that you can go over the edge so quickly after he slips his cock inside of you.

Dottore puts you on all fours and handcuffs you to the bed when he plans on doing this. When you tug and pull on the handcuffs, powerless to stop him as he makes you come over and over, begging for more, begging for no more, your brain scrambled by him and the pleasure he gave you, that's when you're at your most beautiful in his eyes.

Scaramouche is extremely smug about getting you to that point. Not only that but he just doesn't shut up during it, he know how much you love his dirty talk, being talked down to all the while you're on the verge of passing out from the pleasure, your pussy still clamping down on him, asking for more. If you ask like that, with your whole pussy, he's not gonna say no, he could never say no to that offer.

Zhongli fully loses himself when he sees you overstimulated. He growls, he pulls your hips against his and keeps you there, he wraps his dragon tail around your hands, his hot tongue licking your body, your nipples, fangs biting at your breasts while he ruts into you, wanton, uncontrolled, set on making you come as many times as takes for you to pass out.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #itto x reader #xiao x reader #thoma x reader #pantalone x reader #dottore x reader #scaramouche x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact smut #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin smut #kaeya smut #diluc smut #itto smut #xiao smut #thoma smut #pantalone smut #dottore smut #scaramouche smut #zhongli smut

[oneatlatime]

The Guru

Happy 2024 everyone and welcome to the first time I managed to type 2024 without first typing 2023! Oh and also a write up of The Guru. That too.

Me too Iroh. Me too.

So Zuko is riding high on that post-crisis 'time to get my life together' buzz that, similar to 3 am life plans, should absolutely not be listened to. Wonder how long before he crashes and burns? There's literally 2 episodes left, so I'm guessing one and a half?

Poor Sokka. My boy's got anxiety.

I don't know if it's a monk thing, an airbender thing, an Avatar thing, or an Aang thing, but I envy his complete lack of nerves.

How is Appa ok with them splitting up for a week after JUST getting them back?

I paused in a funny place. Have bonk-eyed Appa.

I love them comparing heights. What do you want to bet that that guy on the right was one of the youngest allowed to go fight, and Sokka made a big deal about how they're almost the same age and surely that means he can go too, right?

A lot of these Southern Water Tribe people have dreads or braids. That's neat.

Bato's arm is still messed up. That's some good continuity.

I've found the source of Katara's cheek bones. I guess Sokka takes after his mum.

Ok I know this is a really emotional moment (and it is! Sokka's spent two seasons earning this!) but my brain fixated on the furs and briefly thought they were sky bison pelts.

"It's been a difficult week for me." This guy thinks the Kyoshi Warriors are there to provide him therapy. Someone please just crown the bear instead.

He just gave away literally every relevant plot point AND outlined how to make sure all these plot points don't succeed. Crown. The. Bear.

Maybe if these generals spent less time playing with their giant model Earth Kingdom and more time general-ing, the war wouldn't suck so much?

Pretty.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the designs, the colour palette, the music, the sound design of this air temple. I love everything about it. If I had the chance to live anywhere in the Avatar universe, it would be here. Even in its ruined state it's such a refreshing contrast to the claustrophobia of Ba Sing Se. I can feel the freshness of the breeze through the screen.

"A spiritual brother of your people" an adult perspective on a near extinct culture! What a resource!

"and a personal friend of Monk Gyatso" an old as balls perspective. He's got to be at least 130.

Anthropology cul de sac time: this guy is so valuable as a resource on the Air Nomads. There's probably parts of Air Nomad culture that Aang can't ever accurately talk about, because he was a kid when he left, and there was almost certainly stuff that the adults kept to themselves, or only shared with the older Air Nomads. This Guru doesn't seem to be an Air Nomad himself, but there's a good chance that there is knowledge that he has, that Aang doesn't. Aang should be nerding out more about this. I'll do the nerding out for him.

Aang just breezes right by that Gyatso name drop like it's nothing. Huh.

Oh hey Toph. I'd forgotten she was in a box. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dumber really are quite the pair. What's their plan for keeping her fed and watered? Actually, these guys apparently don't know that maps exist, so it's probably never occurred to them that humans need sustenance. They'll rock up to the Bei Fong estate with corpse Toph and wonder why they aren't getting the reward money.

Mai gets called out in-universe for shopping at Hot Topic.

Ty Lee's buttering up of Azula is getting less and less subtle as the season progresses. It's a testament to Azula's lack of awareness that she's hasn't noticed that, and that Ty Lee can get away with it.

Azula's right that it's an extraordinary opportunity. The King gave them quite literally every piece of info required to overthrow his kingdom in a 25 second conversation. I can't blame her for taking advantage of such an easy win.

That's a very effective unimpressed face. And a very impressive beard.

It's funny to see a spiritual concept from the real world pop up in a show that includes things like bending and giant fish possession. The mention of Chakras kind of sticks out. They couldn't invent a Avatar universe version?

"Once you begin this process, you cannot stop until all seven are open." Well that doesn't feel like foreshadowing at all.

This episode should be called "Aang's self-care Journey." It's about time the kid had a me day that wasn't avoidance-based.

Fear: Losing Katara - makes sense. Losing control of his powers via fish possession - makes sense. The Fire Lord - makes sense. But the Blue Spirit? He helped. Doesn't make sense.

Guilt: Running away - makes sense, although I thought he'd worked through that with Katara in the storm. Nuking that idiot General's base - makes sense, but boy did he quite literally ask for it.

This guru is saying some wonderfully accurate, and realistic, things. I love that he's not taking the Katara route of denying anything is wrong. He's going for the acknowledge, then heal route. And yes, it's unfair of me to compare the emotional maturity of Katara to a century+ old spiritual expert.

I'm going to ruin the immersion here and point out that Sokka's dad's voice actor voiced a bunch of characters in season 1. He's doing an excellent job, but couldn't they get a unique voice for a character that's so important (albeit offscreen) to Sokka?

That's an incredibly roundabout way of avoiding pointing out that the Southern Water Tribe are active participants in a bloody war. Sure, we can show multiple characters with visible scarring from horrific burns, but heaven forbid we imply that the Southern Water Tribe sinks ships. The parameters for what is and isn't appropriate on this show sometimes make no sense.

"Aren't you listening? I said the rest of you men get ready for battle." He hasn't seen his boy in two years, but fifteen minutes in his company and he knows exactly what needs to be said and how. That's some top tier parenting. Dad of the year. Dad of the century. Only decent Dad in this show that isn't technically an uncle.

"Follow your passion Zuko, and life will reward you." Great advice for your eight year old audience. Also a great way to end up unemployed.

Positive Sokka creeped me out a few episodes ago. Now positive Zuko is freaking me out too.

Pretty.

Back to Chakras! Shame: Burning Katara - makes sense. But that's it? To have the inner peace of mind of a twelve year old who's somehow only ever done one thing that he's ashamed of.

Is there anyone in the earth kingdom who isn't stupid? Once again wondering at the network's standards. Visible burn injuries are fine, but Mai can't say 'Shut up." It's got to be Shush up. Although I do seem to recall of brief time in the early 2000s when Shut Up was treated as a curse on par with Shit or Fuck. Maybe that was just at my school.

Chakras again! Even for a show that often has an A, B, and C plot, this narrative is ping ponging around a bit much.

Grief: nothing major, just a whole nation. Makes a horrific amount of sense. but I don't buy that he can get over grieving the whole world as he knew it by thinking about his crush. That's way too high a pedestal for Katara to be placed on.

Lies: Not accepting he's the Avatar. Interesting that not accepting that he's the Avatar and not accepting that he's a firebender are two different problems.

I see you reusing the opening credits footage. Your blue filters can't fool me.

PRETTY

Illusion: So we're relearning what we learned in The Swamp. Aang's probably the person currently alive least likely to believe in the rigid separation of the nations anyway. This doesn't feel like an illusion he's subject to?

The way this episode dances between its narrative threads is so great. It's all woven in so beautifully. And this makes perfect sense! Toph's spent her life secretly doing things excellently that everyone says are completely beyond her capabilities. Life has taught her that the statement "you are not able to" doesn't apply. Of course immutable laws of bending physics are treated with the same respect as an adult telling the champion of the Earth Rumble that she's can't earthbend beyond breathing exercises. If you told her that humans can't fly, she'd figure out how within the week.

Plot collision incoming.

Interesting that Katara initially recognises Zuko by his voice rather than his scar.

I'm pretty sure that Zuko and Iroh don't know about the whole brainwashing thing, but wouldn't it be hilarious if Zuko introduced himself to Katara as Joo Dee, and his uncle Joo Dee, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon, can I take your order? That would throw Katara into one hell of a moral quandary.

Katara being framed as the solution for Chakra number four comes back to bite Aang, as she's the problem in Chakra number seven. I knew that pedestal was too high.

I've changed my mind. This episode should actually be called "Half a dozen reasons why everyone should just learn to keep their goddamn mouths shut already."

So is anyone going to let Zuko and Iroh know that they're now in immediate danger and need to leave, like, yesterday?

I think the Guru is going for the whole 'if you love them, let them go, and they'll come back to you' thing. Don't cling, in other words. But for the sake of the plot he's suddenly lost his ability to explain Chakras in a way that makes them seem like the logical thing to do. The only clunky bit of this episode so far.

May I introduce you to our Lord and Saviour Toph?

"I am the greatest earthbender in the world." Yes. Yep. Yeah. That's now a quantifiable fact, and it's correct. Look on ye mighty and despair. She's even got Bumi beat.

Earth Tongue Running is a bit wonky looking but it covers a crazy amount of distance.

What's the range on Toph's earth sense? Can she sense what direction Ba Sing Se is?

I hope those two idiots' horse bird is ok.

"You don't know how much this means to me dad." He does. Very much so.

Every word out of this guy's mouth is precision engineered to make Sokka feel like a million bucks and I for one think it's about time someone built him up. Also, seeing this makes me realise how few good parents there are in this show. It's a trope of kids' adventure shows that the parents fundamentally can't be there, but I also think it's a commentary on yet another thing that this war has messed up.

Hey look! Being a man is knowing where you're needed the most, and right now that's in Ba Sing Se, protecting your sister! I love narratives that tie their themes up with a pretty bow on top.

This is Azula laying a trap, right? Which means that Katara squealed to someone about the exact location of Iroh and Zuko's tea shop. Don't like the implications of that.

Photos taken seconds before disaster.

Final Thoughts

This episode was a lot! I mean that in a good way! But I felt a bit like the Maxell Blown Away Guy, the way I kept getting assaulted by yet another plot thread. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a criticism. I think the switching between plot threads and the amount of info in this episode worked 99% of the time. But I'm kind of in awe at the balancing act the writers pulled off and I'm sort of sitting here blinking a bit trying to fit all this stuff in my head. I'm probably going to forget half the stuff I wanted to talk about in this write up, so here goes nothing.

Given the Azula reveal in at the end of last episode, I thought that this would be the episode where the shit hits the fan. I was wrong. I'm glad I was wrong. An episode of set up is required and is nice breathing room, even an episode as busy as this. And I got to leave Ba Sing Se! But this does mean that next episode is going to be calamity after calamity.

Aang and his Chakras: I'm fascinated by this guru. I hope he comes back. That brings the total number of people who were alive before the war started up to three: Aang, Bumi, Guru Patik.

I'm impressed that the run through of the Chakras rarely felt like an info dump. The onion and banana juice thing didn't work for me, but I'm sure it worked for people in the target age bracket. Kids love burp jokes.

So many shows sprinkle in tragic backstories for flavour and then never have them influence the character in the present. It was a nice contrast to see a show take a whole episode to tell Aang "yeah all that sucked. It's ok to feel down about it. Here's how you move forward."

Sokka and his dad: Love it. Love it so much. I love seeing Sokka built up, and he definitely deserves it, but I wonder if this is the reward for a character arc well done, or the set up for a character arc that's about to start? Is his dad's praise his prize for crossing the finish line, or is it so he's built up with farther to fall?

I loved seeing more of the Southern Water Tribe. I loved the fashion. There's a lot of variety in accessories and variations on a few basic elements like those knee guard things. I loved their hairstyles. I loved how cozy and communal that command tent felt. I loved their ships. I wonder how often these guys work out, that they can make loading ramps that are presumably deployed and stashed out of the way frequently, out of whole logs rather than planks. I have a bone to pick with the child-friendly sea mine. But it provides a good set up for a dad joke, so I'll let it slide.

Zuko and Iroh: Of course the one time Zuko is allowed to be in a good place, it's so that he and Iroh both have farther to fall when the inevitable happens. Poor guy just can't catch a break. I'd be mad at Azula for the party crashing that I'm assuming she'll do next episode, but it's been established that Zuko has all nice things taken away from him as soon as he gets them, and I can't blame Azula for being a tool of the universe.

Azula & Long Feng: Azula's acting in Long Feng's prison cell was miles ahead of what Long Feng was doing in front of the Earth King, so I'm wondering if Long Feng has bitten off more than he can chew. Also: conspiring with the enemy to bring down your own city just so you can reinstall yourself as the power behind the throne that will presumably cease to exist as soon as the Fire Nation takes control? That is both treasonous beyond description and an incredible case of shooting yourself in the foot. What's Long Feng's plan here?

Toph and the Dunderheads: it says something about the consistency of Toph's characterisation from her introduction onwards that she breaks the universe this episode and my reaction was "that's neat." It's obviously a huge moment, but of course Toph can do that. Toph can do anything. More importantly, Toph knows that Toph can do anything, so Toph routinely does do anything, especially things she shouldn't be able to do. If you had asked me a few episodes back which character would be most likely to fundamentally redefine bending, I would have said Toph, since she's already fundamentally redefined bending with her earth sense sonar vision.

Also Toph just breaks stuff. Things that come into contact with her cease to function as intended and instead function as Toph requires. Look at the two idiots: both successful business owners, one also a successful hoodwinker of the richest family around. But they come into contact with Toph and their brains take an extended vacation.

Katara & the Generals: this plot was more like an extension of Azula's plot than its own standalone thing. You can't blame her for spilling the news about Zuko and Iroh to someone she honestly thought was Suki. Not much else to say about it, although it's cute that she asks for a table for two at the tea shop. Momo gets a chair!

I like that there's a theme this episode of things going wrong despite the best intentions. No one's acting maliciously here apart from the Antagonists. The Earth King is having an honest chat with people he thought were friends. Sokka vouched for people he honestly thought were the Kyoshi Warriors. Katara shares information about a presumed threat with people she honestly thought were her allies. You can quibble with the wisdom of some of these decisions, but there were all done with good intentions. The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and all that. It brings to mind that Star Trek quote about how you can do everything right and still lose. And this set up is going to hit harder when whatever goes wrong next episode happens. And something will go wrong. A few months ago I figured that the Season 2 finale would be a triumph, but all signs are pointing towards a tragedy instead.

This episode was visually stunning, the soundtrack in the Air Temple sections especially was very evocative, and I applaud the minds that could juggle that many plot threads at once without dropping any. This one is definitely going on my rewatch list.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the guru

[http-tokki]

You're safe with me

~ levi ackerman x fem!reader ~ tags/cw: domestic levi, anxiety,nightmares, levi being a supportive bf ~ wc: 630 ~ "Sweetheart, I'm right here"

You wake with a gasp, hands clutching the sheets and eyes flying open as you are startled awake by the twisting in your gut. Levi stirs next to you, the light sleeper that he is as you jolt upright and start to pant as the anxiety starts to take hold of you.

You can’t think, can’t speak, can’t move, cant breathe as you desperately try to suck more air into your body as you feel the impending doom of the world falling on your shoulders. The hand you have twisted in the sheets slides to Levi, gripping onto whatever you can find first to anchor yourself to your current reality so you don’t slip into the next.

Levi feels the sharp sting of your nails in his skin, his brain taking a second to realise what was happening before launching into action. He has seen this all before. The panic that wakes you from sleep, the dreams of him dead and gone, the ice cold fear that floods your veins as you try to reclaim your brain. He too suffers from the nightmares so he is well aware of the toll they take on your body, on your mind. Levi sits up to join you, hands sliding up to your face as he pushes the hair away from your eyes and starts to speak to you.

“Hey, you’re safe. You’re with me and I’m alive and you’re safe” his voice is thick with sleep but he needs to reassure you. “Sweetheart, I’m right here”

Tears fall from your eyes as you continue to gasp. Big heaving breaths shake your body as you start to tremble, skin cool with a layer of sweat. Levi’s arms wrap around you, pulling you close to him and back down the the warm sheets. His arms and legs wrap around your body, enveloping you in him as the sobs start. Short and shallow with hot tears and a running nose you cry into his chest, fingers gripping onto his sides as you wake from the dream. You don’t know if the tears are happy or pained, a mix of emotions floods through and sits heavy in your gut.

“You’re safe. Im right here.” Levi coos as his hands start to slide over your back.

“I’m sorry” you start babbling, apologises falling from your lips before you can register that you’re talking.

You don’t know what you’re apologising for. Maybe you did something in your dream and your brain was just catching up, but you needed to say those words; for him to hear them.

Levi shushes you with a gentle shh and kisses your forehead. “It’s okay baby, I’m safe and so are you. We’re both here and safe” his fingers start to card through your hair. “Nothing is wrong and everyone is okay.”

You nod at his comfort, burying further into him as you continue to cry. Moments like this were far and few between since the months of you moving in with the captain, his presence alone soothing that part of your soul that ached to know about his safety and whereabouts, but when they did happen Levi was always there. Always ready to comfort you in anyway needed. One time going as far as humming a comforting lullaby you had shared with him, but he knew the pain that came with dreams of being alone. Of having his entire world crashing down in flames and how he could do nothing but watch the fire burn into ash.

“I’m here and I love you” he whispers and kisses your sweaty forehead. “We’re alive and safe”

Levi feels you nod against his chest, tears slipping over his skin but your sobs have lessened and breathing was returning to normal.

“You’re safe with me”

A/n: I’ve been having insane anxiety when I wake up so much so that I’ve been waking up gasping and it happened again this morning so this lil idea was born. NOT PROOFREAD

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x you #aot fanfic #levi ackerman fluff #levi x you #aot fanfiction #levi x reader fluff #Levi x reader comfort

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate - Chapter Eight

IMPORTANT NOTE: I'm posting both chapters 7 and 8 today so just make sure you didn't actually miss 7 or this one might not make much sense, lol. Also I'd recommend having chapter 7 fresh in your mind when you read this one. This chapter serves as an 'interlude' chapter that occurs before/during/after Chapter 7 but is told from Dave and Marcus' POV's (not Reader's). One final note, a page break/divider indicates a shift of POV to another character, but hopefully that comes across easily enough in the writing anyway.

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

AO3 link

pairing: Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 5.1k

Notes: Who gave me the right to put all this ANGST in my PORN story? dw, I have a couple more chapters planned out, I'll fix this mess I've created eventually :P

Chapter Warnings (BIG TIME spoilers in the warnings... I'd recommend skipping them if you don't want to be spoiled. If you're at this point in this story, you're fine with whatever I have left to throw at you lol): 18+ MDNI. M/M (Yeah that's right. Reader who? Sorry babe, I'll make it up to you next time!). Oral sex. Hand jobs. Anal play. A shower stall is our 3rd main character in this chapter. Inexperienced!Marcus. Dom!Dave. Daddy Kink. Derogatory talk. Praise kink. Little sprinkling of Soft!Dave. Porn with too many feelings that these idiot men don't know what to do with (we'll work on them, ok?). Infidelity-ish (again, these three got some shit to work out).

MASSIVE thank you for @janaispunk for beta'ing and being my sounding board.

Page dividers by the generous and talented @saradika-graphics

When restfulness fails to come for Dave he eventually decides to pull himself away from the two sleeping forms next to him in the bed and head off to the shower instead. He could use a thorough washing, and not to mention the relaxing spray and solace of the shower may just offer him a bit of a chance to clear his head, hopefully.

Letting out a heavy sigh once he reaches the bathroom near the front entryway of the suite he shrugs off the oversized fluffy hotel robe and hangs it on the back of the door before closing it shut, reaching inside the shower stall and turning the temperature up to near scalding. He hisses the moment he steps inside the large enclosure, immediately turning his back to the water and facing the door instead but within a few seconds the temperature starts to feel perfect and he rolls his shoulders and aching muscles under the steady beat of the massaging spray.

“Fuck” he groans, head tilting back to let the water wash over his face and through his hair. In hindsight he maybe should’ve had a cold shower because he’s been rocking a semi for the last… god knows… since not long after his two bedmates had fallen asleep. He resists the urge to wrap his fist around himself and take care of it solo, thinking he can will it away with sheer mental focus instead. As if he could focus on much of anything right now. His mind was scrambled, and that just wasn’t Dave. He had an innate ability to compartmentalize, always had. It’s what made him so good at his job and had gotten him through many obstacles in his life thus far. But then he met fucking Marcus Pike, which ultimately, also led him to you, and now here he was playing fucking house with what was meant to be a one or two time fun “hookup” and goddamit if he didn’t feel himself starting to fall. What’s worse is that he hadn’t just fallen for you, either. Annoyed with himself yet again for not being able to shut his brain off, Dave turns around to face the spray again and gets to the task of washing his hair instead, needing something else to focus on besides the insistent need that’s hanging between his legs.

The quiet ‘snick’ of the bathroom door latching shut catches Dave’s attention, even with his head under the hot spray of the water in the oversized walk-in shower, because of course it does. Dave is always super aware and hyper vigilant, even when in a relaxed environment. His eyes squeezed shut as he rinses the shampoo from his hair and back turned to the door he calls out, “it’ll be all yours in a minute, almost done here”

So when he hears the sound of the glass door sliding open and the cool air hitting his back, despite his offer to give up the shower momentarily, he chuckles. A low, raspy laugh from deep in his throat as he pushes his hair back on his head and finally turns around, his eyebrow raising in amusement as his gaze settles on his unexpected visitor standing just outside the shower door.

“Well, what have we here?”

Marcus doesn’t say a word. Too nervous he’ll psyche himself out if he attempts to speak. Instead he unwraps the towel from around his waist, leaving him fully naked and exposed, and tosses it to the ground behind him before stepping inside the enclosure and sliding the glass door shut behind him.

Dave waits, stock still, because he hadn’t been expecting this. Not that he should be too surprised, he supposed. It was probably bound to happen and truth be told he was far from mad about it. Over time he’d grown to care for Marcus a lot, and more than what he knew was realistic for a ‘friendship’. And with the fondness for Marcus growing so did the sexual tension, he supposed. It wasn’t immediate, as he had felt with you, but as he spent more and more time with both of you Marcus had unknowingly carved out a spot for himself under Dave’s skin, just as you had on that very first night he’d met you. It started out slowly, he would feel his own arousal spike watching Marcus get pleasure but he had chalked that up to being natural, not unlike getting off to watching porn. But then it started to change, and Dave began to wonder what it might be like for him to give Marcus that pleasure and earlier this evening he gave in and did exactly that. Holding his hands around Marcus as the younger man submitted to him and came with Dave’s mouth at his ear nearly had Dave spilling inside of you the moment Marcus let go. He loved hearing the sweet cries from Marcus’ perfect pouty lips as Dave held him tight to his naked chest. And the way you looked up at both of them, pure lust and adoration in your gaze he felt his chest constrict around his heart like it might just explode.

In that moment he wanted to just gather you both in his arms and tell you, beg you, to keep him.

And now, here Marcus stood just inches away from him, naked and vulnerable.

Dave was well and truly fucked.

Swallowing the thick lump in his throat from his nerves, Marcus carefully, slowly and wordlessly sinks to his knees in front of Dave and pauses. Peering up at him with those honeyed brown eyes, silently begging for whatever had come over him to be reciprocated. He’d woken up when he felt the weight under the mattress shift when Dave had gotten up and watched with more focus than what was probably considered appropriate at the back side of Dave’s naked form as he crossed the room and snagged a robe from the back of the door and threw it on. Marcus had to stifle a groan as he felt his cock instantly begin to swell at just the sight of the slightly older man before him. Once he exited the bedroom Marcus let out a sigh and dropped his head back to the pillow with a heavy thud, closing his eyes and focusing his breathing for a few seconds but still, his dick betrayed him. He rolled over to his side and watched your sleeping form, debating whether he should wake you to help him with his little situation or not but quickly dismissed the notion. He knew you must be exhausted, it wasn’t like you to be sleeping in the middle of the day so clearly you were worn out. Plus he’s pretty sure the actual reason for his current state of arousal just walked out the bedroom door anyway.

He lays in bed for as long as he can stand it, until he hears the shower come to life on the other side of the suite and his cock twitches again involuntarily, his mind conjuring up images of Dave naked and letting the hot spray of the water cascade all over his body and suddenly Marcus feels jealous over a fucking shower head of all things. Before long he finds himself getting up and out of bed, quickly tying a discarded towel around his waist before he leaves the bedroom and makes his way through the suite.

A grin spreads across Dave’s lips as the hot water continues to beat down his back and he reaches a hand forward, gripping the younger man’s jaw in his hand and angling him further upward as his thumb gently caresses back and forth at his cheek as he rasps out, “Well what are you waiting for, Champ? This cock isn’t going to suck itself”

After taking in a quick deep breath to steel his nerves, Marcus, ever obedient, presses forward. His eyes close as he takes Dave’s semi-hard length into his mouth, his lips wrapping around him as he finds his footing, as it were, never having actually done this before.

“Eyes on me Slugger” Dave tuts, hand going underneath Marcus’ chin and forcing his gaze upwards with the flick of a single knuckle. Marcus’ gaze is weak as he tries desperately to hold Dave’s but when he feels Dave begin to grow and swell against his tongue he gets a newfound confidence and can’t help the low moan that leaves his throat as he envelops him further into his mouth and finally begins to move his tongue and lips around him, licking and sucking and tasting every inch offered to him. He may not know exactly what he’s doing, but he does know what feels good to him and tries his best to mimic those same behaviors.

He pulls off for just a moment, collecting saliva in the back of his throat and messily spitting onto Dave’s length before he wraps his mouth around it again and begins to bob his head back and forth, letting his tongue drag along the underside as he swallows him down the best he can, easing off only slightly when the thick head of him nears too far to the back of his throat and causes him to momentarily gag before he resituates himself to a comfortable feel and can enthusiastically continue.

“Fuck, that’s it. Good boy,” Dave sighs, hand pushing through Marcus’ golden brown locks and a little whimper escapes Marcus at the subtle praise, eyelids fluttering shut for only a moment before he remembers Dave’s words from earlier and opens them again to hold Dave’s gaze. “You suck cock almost as good as your wife, you know that pretty boy?” Dave teases and despite himself, it only turns Marcus further on. He takes one hand and wraps it around the base of Dave’s cock to pump as much as his shaft that won’t fit in his mouth while the other hand goes to his own aching need as he begins stroking himself to the same pace that his head bobs.

“Fuck” Dave curses again, a little breathless this time as his head tilts back into the spray of water. He wraps his hand around the back of Marcus’ head and helps him by setting the pace that he wants, fast and rough and nearly hitting the back of Marcus’ throat each time his hips jut forward. Marcus does his best to take him but before long he’s coughing, sputtering, gagging and gasping for breath as he pulls off of him after just a few short seconds of Dave fucking his throat, a long strand of saliva still connecting him to the now rock hard cock in his face and Dave lets out a little chuckle at Marcus’ obvious inexperience.

“Well, maybe you could learn a thing or two” Dave laughs. “Up,” he commands suddenly, hand gripping under Marcus’ bicep and hauling him quickly to his feet. Marcus goes willingly, all too eager to comply as Dave turns him to face the wall, grabs both of his hands and forces them above his head and flat against the warm tiles. Dave quickly crowds his space, stepping up behind him, the hot, hard length of him pressed right up against Marcus’ lower back.

His breathing laboured, Marcus tenses momentarily but then relaxes as he feels a large wet hand slide down his side, across the smooth skin of his hip and lower still until it ghosts over the globes of his ass and then back up to hold firmly at his hip again as Dave leans forward, breath hot against Marcus’ ear.

“Colour?” He asks and Marcus takes a steadying breath.

“Green. Uh… green. I - I think” he stammers out nervously. Dave hums before his hand snakes forward to grasp around Marcus’ hard, leaking cock and gives it a light squeeze that has Marcus whimpering.

“I’d say you’re doing just fine” Dave taunts before he languidly strokes Marcus a few times, causing his knees to nearly buckle as a desperate whine escapes his lips.

“I’m uh.. I’ve never.. with…” Marcus trails off, his eyes squeezing shut when Dave gently ruts into his back, his hand still slowly stroking him. “H-Have you?”

“When you’re young and in your prime and stuck in the service for twelve plus months at a time, a warm mouth is a warm mouth” Dave shrugs nonchalantly. “But it’s not something I indulged in often, or ever pursued outside of that environment” he adds, still slowly working Marcus over with shallow pumps of his fist. “Truth be told I’ve never looked at or even thought twice about another man. That is, until you”. He finishes the last part quietly, like it's a secret he can’t voice out loud.

“S-same here” Marcus stutters, eyes squeezed shut as he focuses on his breathing, hoping to stave off his orgasm for at least a little while longer. “Did you ever, ah fuck” Marcus groans, trailing off as his train of thought leaves him when Daves hand comes up to pay special attention to the head of his cock, his hand twisting just right over and over again at the sensitive tip.

“Did I ever what? Hmmm?” Dave taunts, hand stilling around Marcus as he lowers his hips slightly and presses further against him, his stiff length now pressing into the meat of Marcus’ asscheek. “Did I ever fuck a man’s tight little asshole?” He asks into the shell of Marcus’ ear and Marcus shudders before biting back a moan and nodding his head.

“No” Dave answers honestly. “Why, did you want to be the first?” He chuckles, rutting into him and Marcus lets out a stuttering gasp before shaking his head against the tiles.

“I don’t think… I’m not… No. I… I don’t know” Marcus answers helplessly, his shoulders tensing.

“Relax baby, relax” Dave soothes, pulling his hips back slightly but resting his forehead on Marcus’ shoulder. “You don’t have to be ready for that right now. And to be honest, if my cock is going to be in your ass then I want yours inside your wife so I can fuck you both at the same time” he chuckles darkly into the heated skin of Marcus’ back and a shiver passes through Marcus’ whole body at just the thought of that.

“Oh you like that don’t you” Dave laughs again. Feeling Marcus twitch in his hand gets Dave’s dominant confidence swelling in his chest again and he easily slips into the role he prefers to play, where he feels the most comfortable and less vulnerable.

“Wanna be the meat in our little fuck sandwich, sweet boy?” Dave taunts, his hand going back to slowly stroking Marcus again. “You gonna fuck your tight little ass against my fat cock while you’re buried inside of her?”

“Jesus, fuck” Marcus groans. He’d never once judged his wife for what she was into, but now he understood it first hand. The way Dave could have you falling apart just by the words that leave his mouth.

“Maybe a little friendly competition, see who can cum inside of who first” he laughs darkly and Marcus’ whole body shudders as a wrecked moan escapes him.

Dave hands picks up the pace a little as Marcus squeezes his eyes shut, face resting against his own forearm and teeth clenched as Dave draws him closer and closer to that edge he’s been teetering on since he sunk to his knees in front of the man in question just minutes ago.

He didn’t know what came over him, what possessed him to get out of bed and follow after Dave, but he couldn’t get what happened earlier out of his head. The way Dave had wrapped his hand around his throat, called him his good boy, and made him cum so hard his vision nearly blacked out. He needed more. Dave was like a drug, he understood it now. An addiction, a craving that could never be satisfied, always leaving you wanting more.

His breath catches in his throat when he feels Dave’s free hand that’s not currently wrapped around him back at his ass, a single finger sliding through the cleft of his wet cheeks until it stops to tease at his hole. The pad of his finger presses at the puckered flesh but doesn’t breach inside, just wanting to rile Marcus up and it is absolutely working as the younger man whimpers and squirms under Dave’s hands. Dave shifts slightly so that the water beats down more so on Marcus, ensuring he’s not dry as Dave continues to tease him.

“Colour” Dave demands again, finger pressing in again with just a fraction more pressure than the previous time.

“Green, fuck. Please” Marcus is trembling, his body leaning against the wall the only thing holding him upright and he feels the smirk reach across Dave’s face from where his mouth is still pressed to his ear.

“That’s my good boy” Dave chuckles. The sound of Dave spitting a giant glob of saliva between Marcus’ cheeks is downright sinful as it echoes off the four walls of the shower enclosure and Marcus has to bite into the meat of his own arm to keep from moaning too loudly when Dave finally pushes a single saliva slicked finger just inside as he continues to stroke Marcus’ length with delicate precision.

“Oh my god, oh fuck! I’m - ” Marcus cries out at the welcomed intrusion of Dave’s finger, barely inside but slowly moving back and forth creating just enough of a foreign pressure that it’s enough to push Marcus over that edge within seconds. He orgasms with a wrangled cry leaving his lips, spurts of his warm spend splattering onto the tiles in front of him and down Dave’s hand that still loosely grips him as he continues to pump him dry.

“That’s it” Dave’s voice soothes against his ear, still gently working him over with both hands as Marcus comes down from his high. “So good for your Daddy, hmmm?”

“Mmmhmmm, fuck” Marcus groans out once more, leaning heavily into the tiles now, shoulders and chest heaving with each laboured breath he takes. He lets out another whimper as Dave gently slips his finger out, sighs happily when he feels Dave’s lips press into his shoulder blade.

“Okay?” Dave breathes against Marcus' warm flesh, checking in with him and the younger man can do little but eagerly nod his head, still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. Dave’s hand still wrapped around Marcus’ length finally slows to a stop and he releases him fully, both arms coming up to wrap around Marcus’ middle and hold him tight against his chest for a long moment and Marcus sighs happily, sated, leaning into the warmth Dave offers. He does his best to ignore the little flutter he feels in his chest as Dave's lips continue to pepper little kisses across the back of his neck and shoulders, wills his own heart to stop hammering in his chest when Dave breathes in deep and then rests his check against Marcus' back, apparently content to just hold him until his own breathing evens out.

“What um… what about you?” Marcus asks meekly. He hadn’t exactly gotten to finish what he’d started earlier once the attention shifted to him and his own pleasure. He can still feel Dave pressed into his back, though with the delay for his own gratification Dave has softened somewhat again, his needs seemingly less urgent now.

“Let me finish getting cleaned up in here and then why don’t we meet back in bed, hmm?” He finishes his thought with a sharp little smack to Marcus’ ass and chuckles before he bites down gently onto his shoulder. “See if you can wake up that wife of yours while you’re at it”

“Yeah, o-okay” Marcus stammers, stealing himself for a moment before he heaves a deep sigh, lets his shoulders relax and finally reaches for the shower door and slides it open. Dave lets him go, watches with piqued interest as Marcus bends over to pick up his earlier discarded towel and secure it back around his waist again, and then, he’s gone. Door closing shut behind him again and leaving Dave to finish his shower in privacy.

Dave is doing his best to act nonchalant, normal, though nothing about what just took place was normal for either of them. He’d never held another man in an embrace like that before and found himself not even wanting to let go. It took everything in him not to spin Marcus around and hold him even closer. And it wasn’t just sexual, this feeling he suddenly had. Though that part was definitely good too, but now he felt himself feeling suddenly nervous about going back out there, like he was completely transparent and the two of you would see through him immediately. He dreads the day, and he has a feeling it’s coming soon, that the two of you extract yourselves from his life. He knows the texts and visits will become fewer and farther between until suddenly he stops hearing from you all together and he’ll go back to his life before the two of you were in it, wishing he’d never gone along with it in the first place because then he wouldn’t be in the fucking predicament he found himself in now.

He should put a stop to this himself before that happens, he thinks. Like a bandaid, just rip it off and the pain will dissipate before he even notices it’s there, right? He can fake a work emergency, or say somethings come up with his children and he needs to cut this weekend short. You’ll both understand, of course you will. Maybe even be secretly relieved that you can spend the rest of your time here together with just the two of you.

He’s doing everyone a favour, he thinks.

Mind made up, he takes a little extra time than necessary in the shower, turning the temperature way down to hopefully rid him of what’s left of his hard-on and finishes cleaning himself off, being sure to scrub every inch of his body to wash away any lingering traces of this weekend from his skin, hopefully soon enough from his memory. He takes the removable shower hose off the fixture as well and sprays down the tiles where Marcus’ cum still lingers, watching it wash down the drain past his feet and then hangs the shower head back up and finally turns the taps off and steps out.

Speech fully prepared in his head, what he didn’t expect was to walk back into the bedroom to see you with a very worried expression on your face and for a moment, he feels his heart literally fall into his stomach. Did Marcus just confess what happened and you’re so enraged you’re about to throw him out on his ass? Throw your husband out too? Likely not the latter, he thinks. If anything it’s probably further cementing the fact that the two of you need Dave out of your lives, he’s only going to cause problems in what is a beautiful, perfect marriage.

“You have to go?!” He hears you say and oh. So Marcus is leaving? He asks what’s going on and then just hangs back after Marcus responds to him but then focuses his attention back to you, Dave idly listening to the conversation in the background as your husband continues to apologize to you about an apparent “work emergency” that’s come up.

Dave was already set in his decision to leave, but with Marcus going he knows he really, really needs to leave. Being alone with you might just kill him, and he doesn’t deserve a death that blissful, he reasons with himself.

Not long after saying an endearing goodbye to you, Marcus brushes past Dave with a vague ‘see ya later’ and just like that, he’s gone and Dave is left alone with the person currently possessing the other half of his traitorous heart. The heart that wasn’t supposed to fall for either of these two people who already belonged to each other, let alone apparently falling for both of them.

Marcus is in the cab, half way back to his own house where he most certainly does not have any type of work emergency waiting for him, when he starts an inner battle with himself about just what in the fuck he is doing. Should he have left? Should he turn around right now and go back and stop being a fucking coward? What the hell was he supposed to do?

He felt so fucking guilty the moment his orgasm ripped through him like a freight train with Dave’s hands on him and you nowhere in sight that he just couldn’t get out of that hotel room fast enough. He had cheated on you, in his mind. What’s worse is that it wasn’t even all sexual, though that is how it started and how he pursued it but his feelings for Dave were beginning to get overwhelming and he thought maybe if he just ‘got it out of his system’ he could forget about it and move on, but then Dave had to go and fucking hold him afterwards and asked him back to bed and his throat just plummeted into his stomach. How could he just walk out of that bathroom and pretend that never happened? Is that what Dave wanted? Or did Dave want you to know exactly what happened? How would you react? Marcus didn’t even have his own feelings about the whole thing sorted out, he couldn’t expect you to understand. He crossed a line, that much he knew.

Ultimately he decided to let the cab driver continue to their destination. He was already well on his way home anyway, might as well keep going. He’d fix himself some dinner, maybe a drink and just have some time alone to sort out his thoughts before he joins you back at the hotel. He briefly wonders if Dave will still be there when he gets back. If he is, maybe it would be a good time for the three of you to have a conversation, one that’s surely long overdue. Marcus hopes he doesn’t have to speak first. What if he voices what he thinks he’s truly feeling and you all look at him like he’s grown a second head?

He’s equally worried at both ends. He’s worried that Dave, despite the tender moments he is occasionally capable of showing, might laugh the whole thing off. He signed up to be a fun ‘playmate’ for a couple of weekends here and there, not a more permanent fixture in an already existing and functioning marriage. And you… what would you even think? Sure Marcus knows you’ve warmed to Dave over the months during your encounters but you’d never discussed with Marcus that you’d felt anything for the man in question outside of sexual desire. Not to mention what would you think of him if he asked you to have another man be an active participant in your relationship? The last thing he wants is you feeling like you’re not enough for him or that something is missing from your marriage.

It would kill him if this drove any kind of rift between the two of you. No, he needs to shut up and keep whatever is in his head and his heart to himself and hope things sort themselves out. He’ll start to distance himself (and hopefully you both) from Dave and you can go back to your lives. He cares about Dave, far more than what he knows is appropriate, but he can’t lose you. He won’t.

Marcus finishes his dinner, accompanied by a rich glass of wine, and waits a while, letting his food settle and his mind attempt to find peace within the waging war that are his thoughts still battling on inside his head. A few hours since he’d left the hotel pass before he finally heads back outside to his car and types the address of the hotel into his GPS.

Dave York is a bad man. He knows it the moment he reaches the penthouse floor again, not even thirty minutes since he left it, and lifts his fist to knock at the hotel room door. He'd had every intention of getting into his car and leaving this place. Just one drink first, he'd reasoned with himself, then he'd leave.

He knew shouldn’t be here at your door now. Not without Marcus. Though, he supposes he shouldn’t have been in the shower with Marcus without you, either. Marcus knows it, clearly. It’s the only explanation for why he high-tailed it out of there with some half-assed lie of an excuse of having a work emergency on a Saturday night. Dave saw right through it of course but didn’t voice his concern, he certainly wouldn’t do that in front of you. He wouldn’t wedge himself further into the complications of your marriage than he already was.

He’s really fucked this up. But he knows, even before you pull open that door, that tonight is his last chance. The last time he’ll allow himself to see you before he forces himself to go back to his old life so you can have yours back with your husband. And if he was a better man, he would’ve just left earlier when he said he was going to and not come to see you one last time, knowing full well what he was doing and feeling and how it might affect you. How it might affect Marcus, and moreover how it might affect your relationship with Marcus.

But Dave York was not a better man. Not a good man.

Dave York was a bad, bad man.

"Hi" you breathe out the moment the door swings open and lands on him leaning against the frame on the other side.

"Hi"

Marcus lets himself into the hotel suite, quietly and carefully making his way through the rooms that are bathed in darkness, only slivers of moonlight peaking through where the curtains aren’t fully shut. Pushing open the double doors to the bedroom he frowns but is otherwise not surprised to find you sleeping alone in the bed that now seems comically oversized for just your body alone, especially given how crowded it was only hours earlier.

He glances around the room, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, making sure not to shine it on you so as to not wake you up. He tilts it around the room, looking everywhere but there's no sign of Dave. His belongings seem to be gone, his duffel bag no longer occupying the corner of the bedroom where it was before. Marcus had walked through the living room to get to the bedroom so he knows he wasn’t asleep on the couch either.

Dave was gone.

Clicking off the flashlight and before he can talk himself out of doing so, Marcus taps on the Messages icon on his screen, wanting to send a quick text to your group chat, just to ensure wherever Dave was, everything was OK.

Once again Marcus gets that all too familiar feeling of his throat falling into the pit of his stomach when he reads the tiny grayed out letters that greet him at the bottom of your conversation.

Dave York has left the group.

Dun Dun Dunnnnnn! I am so sorry, but believe it or not this was my plan for this series all along from the moment you guys lovingly bullied me into turning my one-shot into a series, lol. Fear not though, we haven't seen the last of our dear Dave. He's just a bit of an idiot, and is going to continue to be one for a little while, but have faith in me.

Next Chapter

I really appreciate you taking the time to read this chapter! If you liked it please leave me a little note or a reblog, it means the world to me!

Taglist (if you want to be added - or removed!, lmk!) @senaar-ika @suzdin @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @vabeachazn @seasonalobession @pedroshotwifey @nerdieforpedro @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @survivingandenduring @theywhowriteandknowthings @axshadows @iamasaddie @vickywallace @lincolndjarin @its-nebuleuse @janaispunk @missladym1981 @heareball @staywildflowahchild @guelyury @anotherpedrolover @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @runningmom94 @yorksgirl @harrington-thedad @missyorkswhore @disassociation-daydreams

#pedro pascal cinematic universe #dave york #marcus pike #pedro pascal character fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #marcus pike fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike x dave york #marcus pike smut #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction

[bts-hyperfixation]

Tour Surprise

A yoongi x reader fanfiction

Summer madness 8/31 You surprise your best friend, Yoongi, while he has a few days break on tour. The only issue is you didn't think to check if there was space for you at the hotel... looks like you're sharing a bed.

Yes I'm aware it's no longer summer

“Surprise!” You shout jumping out from behind a pillar in the hotel lobby.

Yoongi stands with his mouth agape as he takes in your sudden appearance while his security guard looks slightly concerned that you were able to just appear. You reach out and close Yoongi’s mouth for him and his brain finally seems to catch up with his eyes.

“Y/N! You’re here.” He grins, enveloping you in a hug. “I didn’t think I would get to see you until we were back in Seoul.”

“I got some time off work, thought I would fly out to see my best friend. Namjoon said you would have a couple days spare this week.”

The older rapper glared across the lobby at the band’s leader, who was doing a terrible job of pretending not to be watching the two of you. Yoongi took your bag from you and lead you through the hotel. You spent the time in the elevator telling him about your awful seatmate on the plane and complaining about how uncomfortable economy could be. He agreed with you, although you suspect he no longer knows what economy feels like.

His room is right at the end of the hall, in between those of the other members. It’s smaller than the suites they’ve had in the past. A single kingbed stands proudly in the middle of the floor, a large TV on the wall across from it, and there is a hot tub right in the far window overlooking a stunning view. Suddenly you regret not bringing a swimsuit.

There is, unfortunately, a evident lack of a sofa. The hotel seems to have opted for overstuffed armchairs around a coffee table instead. In the past when you had visited Yoongi on tour he had always been aware and had ensured a sofa bed or extra room for you, perhaps you should’ve thought ahead to ask Namjoon to book you an extra room, but he is terrible with secrets and adding an extra task would’ve basically been begging for Yoongi to find out you were coming.

He must notice you looking at all of the chairs, judging which would be most comfortable because he laughs at you and nudges his head towards the bed.

“I think this should be big enough for the two of us.”

“I didn’t want to assume you would be okay sharing a bed.” You shrug.

“I’m not sure we would even notice another person in that bed with the size of it.”

He flops on to the side of the bed he prefers, proving his point as the other side remains unperturbed. He stretches his arms across the pillows, his fingertips barely reaching past the middles. You quash the disappointment that appears unwanted in the pit of your stomach. A left over reflex of a years old crush.

You kick off your shoes and mimic his actions, your fingertips brushing against his wrist as you land. His arm recoils back to his own side and you try not to think too much about it. You wriggle, messing up the sheets around you.

“I can’t believe how comfy this thing is.” You say, bouncing a little.

“I should hope so with the cost of this hotel.” Yoongi grumbles.

“Do I even want to know?” You turn on your side to face him.

“Probably not.” He says, facing you too.

You study his features. He looks tired, this is the end of the tours second leg, he probably hasn’t had a moment to himself in two months. It make syou feel a little guilty when you realise you are taking up his only alone time.

“I’m so happy you’re here.” He sighs, stifling a yawn.

He has always had a way of sensing where your thoughts were headed

“Did you have a look at anything you wanted to do while you are here? We could go to a museum? Or get food?” He says excitedly, although it is followed by another yawn.

“How about we take a nap first? I had a long flight and I’m sure you had a long day.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to fight to stay awake but he ultimately abandons his plan and shrugs, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes.

You shake your head as he appears to immediately fall asleep.

Dragging yourself away from comfort, you pull some pyjamas from the top of your bag and go into the bathroom to get changed. When you return Yoongi has shirked off his shirt and wiggled under the duvet. He is snoring softly as you pull the covers around yourself.

The first thing you notice as you awake is the weight on one side of your body. The second thing is the very hard appendge pressed up against your thigh.

It takes a moment for your sleep addled brain to put two and two together to work out that it is a very asleep Yoongi that is attached to you. And that it is his very awake dick that is digging into your leg.

Just as you are about to roll him away, he grinds down, whimpering in his sleep at the pressure. The noise short circuits your brain for a moment causing your thigh to move on its own to make the noise again.

It’s as your name tumbles from his lips it occurs to you what you are doing. One look at his face makes it evident that he is still fast asleep. He must be dreaming... about you.

His hips stutter against you once more and you are spurred into action, rolling him away from you a little too harshly, almost falling out of bed yourself. You cling to him to keep yourself from tipping over the edge, waking him in the process.

He blinks the sleep away from his eyes and assesses the immediate situation. He grips your arms and pulls you back into the bed chuckling to himself.

“Guess the bed wasn’t big enough after all.”

He doesn’t seem to know what woke him up, paying more attention to making sure you are safely back in bed . That is until he pulls you close and you brush up against his crotch once more. He immediately freezes, eyes glancing down between the two of you and back to your blushing face.

“Ah shit... sorry, it’s been a long, lonely couple of weeks...” He scoots back on the bed leaving plenty of room for you both. "I was going to take care of that need this afternoon... but well... you know you’re here. It’ll go away on it’s own soon.”

“I’m really sorry.” You blush...

But then an idea crosses your mind. A potentially very bad idea.

“If it’s my fault you’re stuck like this... maybe I should help you to fix it.” You suggest before you loose your nerve.

His eyebrow goes up, intrigued, before he shakes his head and gets ready to dismiss you.

“It’s not actually your fault, I was joking.”

You take note of how he doesn’t explicitly say no. Overconfidence spurs you forward before you think better of it.

“But you were dreaming about me, so it most be my fault.”

His ears turn a deep shade of red that you didn’t think was an option on the human spectrum.

“How did y...”

“You talk in your sleep. You scoot closer to him. “What was I doing in your dream? Maybe we could continue it in real life? I so rudely cut it short after all”.

In one last daring move you put your leg back between his thighs and press. Time pauses as he thinks about your offer, your brain briefly wanders to whether or not one of the others boys has a sofa available for you to use when this goes terribly south. But that moment never comes. Yoongi is suddenly back to rubbing his clothed cock against your bare leg, pushing your shorts upwards to give himself more space.

“Why do you want to help me?” He asks.

His lips are right by your ear now. He nibbles at your earlobe as he waits for your answer.

“You’re my best friend... and I love you.” You confess.

He whines and his hips move faster along your thigh.

“Let me help you properly.” You say, moving your hand down to his crotch but he pushes you away.

“You are helping.” He groans through gritted teeth.

His mouth falls away from your ear as his head nestles into the crook of your neck. He mouths blindly along you shoulder as his thrusts against your leg become more erratic. As he bites down at the base of your neck he cums hard in his pants.

You can feel the dampness seeping through the fabric of his sweats onto you. Something that would’ve embarrassed you if it was any other man, was so unbelievably sexy when it was Yoongi. You waited until his breathing evened out and he pulled away from you to speak.

“Is that what we were doing in your dream?”

“Almost exactly yeah.” He confirms/

"What was different?"

"I don’t usually cum so quickly in dreams.” He buries his face in his pillow, ashamed.

“Usually? So you dream about me a lot?”

He just nods into the pillow, too embarrassed to keep answering you.

“Always that same dream?”

This time he shakes his head no in to the pillow.

“So there are other things we could try next then.”

That gets him to lift his head up.

“You want to help me masturbate again? Even after you just saw me loose it like an 18 year old virgin?”

“Given the choice? I would prefer it to be more mutual pleasure. Although watching you like that was hot as fuck.”

“Mutual pleasure... right... Pleasing you... because you want me... like that.” He looks over at you to confirm that is what you meant.

“Yeah, I do. Provided you want me... like that.”

“I feel like I’ve proven that I do.” he says.

He pushes the duvet away and gestures to the wet patch on his pants. You take his hand a pull it towards your heat, letting him feel how wet you are yourself. He pulls his hand away and admires the moisture on his fingers.

“Just one question though.”

“shoot.”

“When you said you love me, did you mean as a friend? Or do you really love me?”

“I really love you.”

“Oh thank god.” He smiles.

Then before you get a chance to ask if he feels the same he removes the already limited space between you and covers your lips with his own.

Check out my masterlist for the other summer madness works!

#bts fic #bts smut #kpop smut #kpop fic #bts imagines #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #agust d smut #agust d fic #suga smut #suga fic

[seasonsbloom]

if devotion is a river (then i'm floating away) . hangman

pairing ; jake seresin x female!reader

synopsis ; in your bedroom on a saturday night, jake reminds you what it is to be alive.

wc ; 4.5k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; explicit language, explicit sexual content (p in v, daddy kink, finger sucking, dom/sub dynamic, reader might be in subspace??, unprotected sex), this is all v consensual and they're both aware of what to do to tap out but it's not explicitly stated

note: i'm going to hell. i am SO sorry. also pls don't spring kinks on your partner out of nowhere, y'all gotta discuss that first, this is only okay in fiction ashdhfjkgjr

desertsagecelestial aka sol... you're my rock (star).

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like a song… drifting, shifting, dancing through the air.

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like a river… flowing, rushing, pouring into the sea.

It goes like this: When he touches me, I feel like summer… blooming, beaming, glowing.

All this to say: It’s an accident, the first time it happens.

“You like that, hmm, honey?” Jake asks, his voice drifting to you from far, far away. “Missed my cock?”

It’s all soft in your bedroom on this Saturday night - soft light, soft sheets, soft moonlight spilling in through half-closed curtains. You’re soft too, soft in the nightgown he got you last Christmas, the fabric rucked up all the way over your breasts, where his spit is still drying on your nipples. Soft with your hair down and your mind fuzzy and your lips loose.

It’s all soft in your bedroom on this Saturday night. All of it, except Jake. Jake who is unyielding, relentless. Edges in the streamlined world you’ve lived in while he was gone. A rock in a rushing river.

You can’t answer. There’s so much to say that you can’t find the words for any of it, can barely hold onto the tether of reality that anchors you to who you are. You’re drifting now - a balloon cut loose.

Jake’s been gone for two weeks. Just two weeks… If you total it up, count it against the stretch of your life, all the days and all the months and all the years, it’s insignificant. A blip. A heartbeat.

But that’s not how it felt while you were in it. While you were walking through the days like a sleepwalker, a constant hum beneath your skin, an itch you couldn’t scratch. Something that built and expended and grew until your skin felt too small to hold you. Until the expensive sheets rubbed you raw. Until you stared at your computer at work every day without seeing anything, spoke to coworkers without hearing, did your groceries and your dishes and your laundry without remembering why or how or when.

It doesn’t always happen. But sometimes, when Jake’s gone, you stop feeling like a person and start feeling like a concept instead.

It’s a strange feeling, a scary space of mind. Where everything’s too much, all the noise and the people and the light. Where you go loopy and jumpy and irritable and can’t even recognize yourself in mirrors. When you need somebody to help you, need somebody to take care of you.

Need Jake to take care of you. Fuck the feeling out of you.

Need Jake to put his hands on you and tell you you’re here and you’re real, and I won’t let you drift away from me.

Jake plunges his cock deeper into you, hand sliding from your hip to your stomach. He’s got big hands, elegant ones, long fingers, and blunt, short nails. Palm spreading flat, fingers splayed, it feels like he can reach from hipbone to hipbone. 

Your answering sound is pathetic. In fact, you feel pretty pathetic right now. The sound of your slick, needy pussy sucking him in, again and again, the involuntary noises it punches out of you. The opened mouth, the face pressed into the mattress. You don’t even have the strength to raise your head.

“Asked you a question, honey,” Jake says, leaning down to press an open-mouthed, hot kiss to the slope of your shoulder. “You’re not even gonna answer? Did I fuck the brains out of you already?”

Your lips move, but no words come. He presses his hand a little harder against your stomach, and you wonder if he can feel his own cock moving beneath the skin there. The thought has your eyes crossing, your ears ringing.

It doesn’t really matter. Nothing really matters, you think, a streak of fatalism shining through, nothing but the feeling of Jake’s cock in you. You never want him to stop, want him to keep fucking you forever, always riding that razor’s edge, slow-dancing on that precipice, want him to…

Abruptly, Jake stops moving. He’s still and thick and impossibly deep inside of you, and it’s so sudden it lurches you, lunges at you from the fog that’s gathered around your mind. You make a garbled sound, almost a shout, try to move your hips backward, try to fuck yourself on him, get that friction back, that thing that makes you feel real, but Jake stills you with the hand on your hip, holds you in place right there. On your knees beneath him.

“Be a good girl, and I’ll give you my cock again,” he promises, the fingers on your stomach tapping against your skin gently. “Just tell me, honey. You miss me?”

In the ruin of yourself, you can’t find your voice. So you just nod, again and again, head still pressed against the sheets, nose squished down. You’ve spent the past two weeks afraid of the moment when the pillows and blankets stop smelling of him, and it’s good to know that, at the very least, tomorrow you won’t have to worry about that anymore.

The fingers around your hip tighten, nails biting down for just a second, and you yelp, then moan, body twitching as you can’t decide whether to move into the feeling or away from it. You imagine him leaving a mark, imagine the imprint of his hand on your skin, and suddenly you feel dizzy.

“Out loud,” Jake reminds you, steel in his voice. “Tell me you missed my cock.”

You’ll start crying soon, you can feel it—that tell-tale tingling behind the bridge of your nose, the burning in your eyes. Frantically, you try to remember how to speak, how to move your tongue.

His dog tags dangle between you, tracing over the ladder of your spine like fingers of ice. You shiver.

“Yes,” you croak finally, voice like gravel, voice like a gasp. “Missed you. Always miss you, Jake, miss you...”

He hums, fingers tapping once, twice, three times against your hip. “Not the right answer, honey.”

In your chest, your heart squeezes to the point of pain. It’s so difficult to form a single coherent thought. Like you’re wading through molasses, through marshland, seeing him standing far, far on the shore, and you want to get to him, want to run, but you just can’t move fast enough. Can’t even put one foot in front of the other.

“Jake…” you whisper.

He doesn’t even say anything, just makes a sound above you, a soft, scolding, displeased tsk, and it has your stomach swooping. Is he upset? He sounds upset. You don’t want him to be upset. You want to be good for him, want to make him happy the same way he makes you happy. You want to be his best girl, always, always, always.

The thought that you’re being bad, you’re doing something wrong, bounces around your empty head like a tennis ball. You’re frantic now, desperate, on the verge of a great, big fall.

It takes all you have, but somehow you manage to say, “Please. Please, Jake, I missed you, I need you, missed your cock, I missed you, missed you….”

Jake sighs, shushes you as his palm wanders up and up and up, from your stomach over your ribs, flattens to your chest, right where your heart is thundering like it’s trying to press a pattern into his skin.

“Good girl,” he whispers, “I’ll give it to you. Give you anything you need.”

The words have you preening, some knot you didn’t even know existed, loosening in your stomach.

And then finally, mercifully, blissfully, he starts to move again.

The first plunge of his cock through your wetness lights you on fire, ignites something in you. You clench around him, push your face into the sheets that smell like him, and wish he could be closer, wish you could kiss him or hold his hand or climb into his bloodstream. It’s a liquid heat - one that shifts and flows through you, that courses through your veins, that consumes you. 

Like he can read your thoughts, Jake leans down, covers you with his body. It’s his chest pressing to your back, hot and a little sticky with sweat. It’s the cold metal of the dog tags shoved against your spine, the thought of his name imprinted on your back. It’s the sound of his quick breaths in your ear. It’s the feeling of the belt buckle pressing against the soft meat of your thigh, clanging against you with each thrust.

Jake always knows what you need. He always gives it to you eventually.

“That good?” he asks, voice pressed against the shell of your ear. “That’s what you need, isn’t it, honey?”

And you just moan, then nod, then move your hips back against him and babble, “Yes, yes, yes, Jake, so good, thank you, thank you….”

Under any other circumstances, it would be embarrassing. Humiliating. 

Like this, you don’t care.

In this bedroom, with Jake deeper inside of you than anybody before - everywhere, your heart and your cunt and your soul - there’s not really a choice anyway. Eventually, the truth comes spilling from you always—no secrets between him and you.

Jolted by the force of his hips fucking into you, his hand on your chest slips an inch or two, dry palm rasping over your hard nipple, and you let out a strangled sound, a moan or a shout or a whimper, fingers tugging at the top sheet, cunt squeezing around him like a vice, and suddenly you’re so, so close. At every thrust forward, your clit pushes against the firm mattress. At every pull backward, it catches on the fabric beneath you.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

“Tell me,” Jake says, his voice finding you, always finding you, even when you feel like you’re millions of miles away from this bedroom, even when you feel like you might as well have entered a different universe. His hand tightens around your breast, almost to the point of pain but all it does is send another jolt of electricity straight to your clit. “Tell me, honey. Pretty pussy’s so fucking wet, god. This is what you needed, right? This is what you’ve been thinking about all this time I was gone? Wanted me to fuck this needy little cunt, wanted me to take care of you, didn’t you?”

You want to say, yes, Jake. You should say, yes, Jake.

But your head is so empty, your whole consciousness reduced to nothing but the sensation of it all - the wet glide of his cock in your pussy. The hitched rhythm of his heart against your back. The pressure of his lips against the nape of your neck. The metal of the dog tags, the belt. The way you’ve barely held on for the past few weeks, have turned into a shell of yourself, have forgotten what it feels like to enjoy, to feel, to do anything but follow a routine, and how he’s back now, how Jake’s here, how he holds you together, helps you do what you can’t do yourself. How he takes care of you, always, always, always.

So what you say instead, what tumbles from your lips like something secret, like something forbidden, something you didn’t even know you carried inside you, what punches out of you on a desperate gasp, is, “Daddy.”

Behind you, above you, inside you, Jake freezes.

It’s not even much of a sound at all, whimpered into the sheets as it is, too little air left in your lungs to make it loud. And still. He’s heard, definitely.

The panic is instantaneous. It trickles into you like somebody upended a bucket of ice cubes over you. Claws along your bones. Burrows into your chest.

Oh god. What did I just do?

“Honey,” Jake says, and his voice is very quiet, very low, impossible to decipher when your ears are ringing, and your heart is thundering, and your head is spinning, spinning, spinning.

“No,” you say almost immediately. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, I didn’t….”

Jake pulls out of you with a slick, gross sound, and even through it all, through the mortification, the humiliation, the horror, you can’t help but whimper at the loss of him.

For a moment, you just lie there, face hidden in the mattress, thinking, this is it. This is where I went too far. He’s going to hate me, he’s going to…

And then Jake rolls you around. Hands on your hips as you go from your stomach to your back, as the room spins around you. He leaves your legs splayed wide open, pushes between them, and the belt buckle swings between you, slaps against your clit, and this time you can’t bite back the shout, stars reeling in front of your eyes.

Jake’s face appears above you, and you can do nothing but blink at him, the shame still rampant in your chest.

And then it’s his hips pressing between your thighs, his cock, still wet with your arousal, pushing against your pussy, it’s his chest against yours, and his mouth opening over your own, tongue plunging between your parted lips, his fingers sinking into your hair.

He pulls back, pupils blown so wide his eyes look almost black, cheeks flushed, lips pink and rosy from your kiss, and he says, “Say it again.”

“It…” you stutter, whimper, try again, “I’m sorry, Jake, I’m sorry, I….”

The panic has cleared your head somewhat, but you’re still under the surface, tons and tons of water dragging you ever deeper towards that ocean floor where everything is quiet and nothing hurts. You’re still lost somewhere in that haze.

Jake is shaking his head, and in the twilight of your bedroom, his eyes gleam.

“Not that,” he says, pushing his hips forward, so the tip of his cock drags slowly, torturously over your clit, so your eyes roll back in your head, “what you said before. Call me that again.”

It’s not difficult to read that tone of voice, to understand the fingers grasping at your collarbone, the insistent, relentless rubbing against your center. To interpret it as desire.

But something’s shifted now, something that makes you hide your face in his neck, shake your head, hope he doesn’t look at you. Suddenly, the truth eludes you.

“No,” you say again, even though you both know you’re lying. “It’s… I didn’t mean it.”

Without warning, Jake slides back inside of you, slides back home, and you sob with it, legs wrapping instinctively around his hips, ankle hooking around his thigh to open yourself wider. Nerves on fire.

“It’s okay, honey,” he whispers into your ear, lips soft against the side of your jaw. “I got you. You can let go.”

But you shake your head, grasp him tighter, wrap both arms around his neck. Hold onto the last shreds of your sanity with desperation. Sometimes it’s scary to let control slip away so completely.

Jake’s fingers slide around to cup the back of your neck, fingertips teasing over the short hairs at the nape, and then he squeezes, applies the tiniest bit of pressure, and says, “Who’s got you, honey?”

And in the end, you always do what he asks you to. You always give in. Because when you’re good for him - that’s when he makes it so, so good for you.

It spills from you, unstoppably, the truth like a river that rushes forth.

“Daddy,” you gasp. “Please.”

The reaction is visceral - Jake groans, shudders against you, cock jumping where he’s buried in you. For a moment, you think he’s going to cum, but then he just moans, traces his lips over your throat, and starts moving.

He wastes no time with teasing, too wound-up himself, doesn’t go at the slow, steady pace he’d kept up before. Instead, it’s raw and frantic and desperate, it’s quick and deep, his hips rutting against yours, his gasps by your ear.

Through a fog, through a haze, through an ocean, you realize that while Jake always gives you what you need, you give it right back to him. Even the things neither of you knew hid inside of you.

It’s the sweetest kind of torture. A slow death that keeps climbing, that carries you higher and higher and higher. He’s so thick inside of you, spearing you open over and over, and your chest feels warm, warmer, hot, your mind fizzling out at the edges, your mouth opening.

Distantly, you’re aware of all the noise you’re making, the sobs and the whines and the moans, the groans from Jake, the squelch of your pussy as he plunges in and out in and out in and out. It only sends you spiraling higher.

Jake grabs one of your legs just below the knee, fingers tight, draws back to hook it over his shoulder, and then he sinks even deeper, goes just a bit harder. Hips pistoning against your own, belt buckle leaving indentations on your thighs. How insane, you think, that he’s still wearing his pants. That they’re still somewhere around his knees, that you’re so bare, so spread-open, so naked in front of him, and he’s still wearing his fucking pants. It sends another jolt through you.

Some sudden presence of mind, some remote, belated compassion for your neighbors has you biting your lower lip to keep the mewls at bay. The sharp sting of your teeth against the tender skin is almost grounding, almost leveling. 

Jake’s thumb finds your mouth almost immediately, tugs your lip gently from beneath the pressure of your teeth.

“Gonna hurt yourself, baby,” he says softly. As if he doesn’t like hurting you sometimes. As if he doesn’t like seeing it.

Regardless. There’s a gentleness to it, a tenderness, that has your stomach rolling, your muscles bearing down on him, your head rearing back. 

You just do what he says, the way you pretty much always do when he’s balls-deep in you, suppress the instinct to bite down. Instead, your mouth stays hanging open, lips parted wide, and suddenly you feel so empty, so goddamn empty that you ache with it in a way you can’t explain.

A whine escapes you, a pathetic, pleading little thing, and you open even wider, hoping that somehow he’ll know what you want without having to verbalize it. 

And, like always, he does.

“I got you, honey,” he whispers, and two fingers slip between your parted lips, press down on your tongue. “Always got you, don’t I?”

You just moan around the digits in your mouth, drawing it a little deeper, sucking on it, lathering your tongue all over the callouses on his fingertips. It feels good to know he’s everywhere, to feel so full, to have him inside and above and to smell him everywhere after the absence of the past weeks, after the longing and the yearning. The motion of his fingers in your mouth has saliva dripping from the corners of your lips, but you can’t even find it in yourself to be embarrassed anymore.

Jake’s fucked any trace of shame out of you. 

“You wanna come, honey?” he asks, his voice breathless, his thrusts stuttering.

You moan around his fingers in answer, nipping at the tips. He hisses, and then he’s drawing his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue, reaching down between your bodies to rub your own drool into your clit.

The touch of his fingertips, the figure eights he draws against the swollen bundle of nerves, the punch of his cock, the unrelenting rhythm of it all has you keening. You turn your head to the side, his lips catching your cheek instead, squeeze your eyes shut, press your face into the mattress, and marvel at the galaxies swimming by rapidly in front of you.

“Good girl,” Jake whispers, and you mewl, nod along, because you are good, good for him, his best girl, always, always, and you know it, feel it when he’s inside of you, and you’re drowning, pushed down by the currents of all this pleasure, and you don’t care not one bit, happy to die like this, happy to…

“Let go now, honey,” Jake says, kisses you so sweetly, lets his lips wander up and down the column of your throat, presses his mouth to your cheekbone like you’re standing in the vegetable section at the supermarket, like you’re getting drinks in a bar, like you’re watching the sunset at the beach, like he isn’t fucking your brains out, like he isn’t moving you like a puppet, all your strings pulled by him. “Let go for daddy, baby. I wanna feel it, wanna feel you squeezing my cock, wanna….”

It barrels into you. Waves knocking you over, currents pulling you under, vision sizzling at the edges, black eating its way towards the center. A film caught on fire.

You clench around him, back arching off the mattress, chest straining into him, arms and legs tightening, fingers spasming, and you’re babbling nonsense, babbling daddy, daddy, please, yesyesyes, please, Jake, I can’t…

And then it’s just slick, it’s just wet, it’s just white-hot relief sucker-punching you, coursing through you, and it’s lifting into the air like a song, it’s rushing like a river, it’s hot like summer, and you sob into his neck, tears mingling with the sweat and the spit and it feels like it’ll never end, like it’ll keep going and going forever and ever and ever.

Jake moans loudly, hips punching forward of their own accord, whispering praise and filth and anything that comes to mind, once, twice, three times, and then he stills, buried to the hilt, shoulders rounding as he curves over you, around you, as it bowls him over, as he spills deep inside of you.

The warmth of it, spreading through you, has you whimpering, clinging to him. And you’re so full, you never want it to end, never want to feel anything but this again.

And Jake’s trembling in your arms, panting, both of you trying to come down from your highs as you hold each other, as you lie in the mess of the sheets and your own spend, heads spinning, hearts soaring, pressed together from chest to stomach to thighs.

When his weight threatens to crush you, Jake brushes a tender kiss to the side of your shin before carefully moving it from his shoulder. You gasp, the strain finally catching up to you, feeling the rawness of all your muscles. You’re aching all over, in the best of ways.

“Jesus,” he whispers, leaning down to press kisses to your face, to your nose, your eyebrow, the edge of your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

In the aftermath, there’s nothing but a quiet, pleasant buzz in your brain. White noise. Like zapping through radio stations and finding only static.

“I’m…” You search for some semblance of words within you, tightening your legs around his waist to keep him in place. To keep him from slipping from you before you feel like a whole person again. “Sorry, I… I don’t know….”

And Jake laughs, leans down again to rub his nose over yours, to brush a single, tender kiss to your mouth.

“Honey,” he says, voice soft, touch soft, eyes gleaming in the soft, soft light of the bedside lamp. “Don’t apologize. You did so good.”

You can’t really look at him. The reality of it all is catching up quickly, and part of you wants to be embarrassed, but the rest of you is too full, too satisfied, too happy to really care.

“I just… it wasn’t too much?”

You didn’t even know that this was something you wanted. Sure, your thoughts had toyed with the idea once or twice when you were all alone in your room with your fingers in your panties, but it had been so far-fetched you hadn’t ever broached the topic with Jake. Hadn’t even considered it.

And now it hangs between you, all of a sudden undeniable. All of a sudden so very real.

You’re still so dizzy. So far removed from yourself. So confused by it all.

Jake cups your cheek, fingertips sliding into your hair, and he tilts your face up so you can’t look anywhere but at him. His familiar face, his eyes filled with love, his mouth curving downward with concern.

“Honey,” he says, very gently, very earnestly, “that was the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. You’re always, always so good for me.”

And you don’t know why. Can’t explain it. But it makes you sob, makes the tears spill over, all the emotions crowding in your mouth, making your tongue heavy like lead, making it impossible to speak. You feel raw and hollowed-out in a strange way, drained of energy and so overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, by how good it was, by how much you love him, by how he accepts you, always, without question.

Jake gathers you in his arms, gets his knees under him so he can draw you into his lap, so you can cling to him like a monkey, like an octopus, like something else unattractive that latches onto things. His softened cock slips from you, a gush of wetness following that makes you whimper, and when he withdraws, stupid as it is, it’s like he takes a piece of you with him.

For a while, he just holds you, mumbling sweet nothings into your hair, saying you’re my good girl, I love you, honey, I love you so much, you’re always, always so good for me, my best girl, my love, you’re all mine, yeah? Never gonna let you go, never, never…

You just cry it out into his neck, listening to the steady hum of his voice, the rumble in his chest, let the warmth of the words wash over you until finally, slowly, for the first time since he left, the feeling returns into you. Until finally, it’s like you’re almost whole again, right there in his arms.

Eyes dry, nose runny, exhausted beyond words, you turn your head a little, face lolling against his collarbone, and you say, “Thank you, Jake.”

There’s so much in it. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for holding me together when I can’t do it myself.

And he smiles, face tender, arms tightening around you, holding you like he never wants to let go. 

He says, “Always, honey. Always.”

#hangman x reader #hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fic #jake hangman seresin #fic #writing #mine #top gun maverick #fic: idiar

[midwestmade29]

Cuffed 😏

This was a spicy request that I just couldn't turn down 😁 I hope I did it justice and turned it into something you will enjoy! This one is for you @madhatterbri 🖤

Disclaimers: Oral sex, unprotected sex, restrained with handcuffs, cursing, mention of injury. Read at your own discretion 🙃

Word count: 1,544

Divider by: Me 🙂

GIF is not mine

Side note: Yes, I know about the reports on Hangman's ankle. I'm not going to spoil anything for anyone in regards to it, but I'm aware that my story may or may not follow what's going on in the "real world." We just out here having fun 🤷🏻‍♀️🙂

You try something new to help distract your cowboy from his thoughts…

Last night, Adam had a big 6-man tag match that was pretty eventful to say the least! Everything was going well until the end, when he rolled his ankle after Samoa Joe tried to do a muscle buster on him. While you watched the events unfold on the monitor backstage, your heart almost stopped when Adam slid out of the ring and onto the floor. He was wincing in pain and urging the cameraman not to show him in his current state. The look on his face when he walked off limping and needing the assistance of Doc Sampson was very concerning! After being examined in medical, it was determined that he had a mid-grade ankle sprain and was sent home with specific instructions from Doc to ice it and stay off it as much as possible for a few days.

The next day you and Adam flew home, his ankle still sore and swollen. You did your best to ensure that he was following the doctor’s orders, but he was starting to get restless. You were sitting next to him on the couch catching up on the tv shows you missed while you were gone, when you noticed his mind was somewhere else. You scooted closer to him, placing your head on his shoulder, “Just a few more minutes with the ice, and then you need to keep it elevated. Can I get you anything?” Adam only sighed and shook his head “no,” prompting you to get to the bottom of his somber mood. “What’s wrong, baby? What’s on your mind?” “I’m just frustrated. This injury couldn’t have happened at a worse time, you know? The PPV isn’t that far away, and I can’t miss it,” he explained while running his fingers through his hair. “I just hope I’m good to go by then,” You were going to offer some words of comfort, but Adam stood up and started to walk away. “Where are you going?” your voice was laced with concern. “I know I’m supposed to sit, but I just can’t. I’m going to take a shower.”

You had high hopes that the hot water would offer Adam some relief from his thoughts, but when you walked into the bedroom you were sadly mistaken. He was leaning up against the headboard with his towel still wrapped around his waist, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. “Hey, feel any better?” you whispered in his direction. Adam tossed his phone onto the bed and sighed, “Not really. I wish there was a way I could shut my brain off,” You were walking towards him, lost in your own thoughts about how you could cheer your cowboy up when something silver and shiny caught your eye on the dresser. A mischievous smile crept across your face as you picked up 2 metal objects and tossed them on the bed in Adam’s direction. “What’s this?” he asked while reaching towards the objects. “Handcuffs? What are these even from?” Instead of taking a seat next to him on the bed, you straddled his lap, causing his towel to shift underneath you. You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his neck and spoke softly, “Well, they were a gift for a bachelorette party I went to last week, but I forgot to put them in the gift bag. I was going to return them, but now I have a better idea,” Your words made Adam’s eyebrows raise in surprise and his lips to part in curiosity. “I see. So, what’s your idea then?” You brought your lips next to his ear and spoke low and slow, “Let me handcuff you. I’ll take care of you and help you relax. No touching, no thinking. Only feeling,”

A quick conversation and some ground rules later, Adam surprised you when he agreed to let you handcuff him! He needed the distraction from his injury, and you wanted to provide exactly that for him. “Get comfy and raise your arms,” you instructed. With 2 clicks, Adam’s hands and wrists were securely bound to the bedframe. You couldn’t help but chuckle when he tugged on the handcuffs and they rattled against the metal frame, “Are you ready, baby? Just sit back and let me give you a show," With a peck on his lips, you backed up from him and he watched your every move. You pulled your shirt up your torso and over your head before tossing it on the floor, placing your hands under the waistband of your pants and sliding them down your legs. When your breasts sprung free from your bra, you could’ve sworn you heard Adam curse under his breath! Once your panties joined the rest of your clothes on the floor, you stood at the end of the bed causing Adam to forget momentarily that he was restrained until the clank and clang reminded him. “Be good for me and I’ll let you go. If not, I guess you won’t be laying a finger on me tonight...”

You positioned yourself in between Adam’s thighs, undoing the twist he had on his towel that was keeping it securely in place. His hard length was set free when you pulled the towel away, both of you were more than ready for you to dive in. He sucked in a sharp breath when your lips made contact with his tip, planting kisses all around it. You drug your tongue up the vein, making Adam squirm and strain against the handcuffs. You took every inch of him inside your mouth and began working your magic. His pants and soft moans filled the bedroom, encouraging you to continue exactly what you were doing! “Fuck, Y/N! That pretty little mouth of yours, taking me so well! If you don’t stop, I’m going to cum down your throat!” You had no intention to stop or slow your pace, even when Adam warned you one last time. His body shuddered against you when he came, the handcuffs forcefully clashing against the headboard. He was a panting mess as he tried to catch his breath, making you smile as you wiped the corners of your mouth! “Are you going to release me?” Adam asked breathlessly. You maneuvered your way up the bed and straddled the cowboy once again, biting and kissing his neck while murmuring against it, “Release you? I don’t think so! At least, not right now baby. I’m not done having my way with you just yet,”

It didn’t take long for Adam to harden under you while you kissed him and spoke filth into his ears. You positioned your entrance on top of his length and began lowering yourself down on him. You groaned into the air with every inch you took inside of you. His cock stretched you in the best way, filling you completely when you rocked yourself against it. “Shit! You feel s-s-so good, Y/N! Yes, just like that baby,” Adam encouraged. Between the sound of your bodies connecting, the cursing and moans, and the sound of metal scraping against metal, there was no denying that the two of you were enjoying yourselves! The pressure deep inside you continued to build, just begging to be released with each rock of your hips. “I’m so close Adam! So, fucking close!” you cried out. He began thrusting himself inside of you, hitting new spots that drove you wild! You could tell that he was losing himself in pure ecstasy too when he begged you to set his hands free, “Undo the handcuffs, Y/N! Please, I…fuck! I need to touch you!” There wasn’t a lot of time to spare as you felt your orgasm getting closer and closer, so you gave the handcuffs your best try when you attempted to undo them! Unfortunately, the “easy release lever” wasn’t so easy to use after all! “Adam, I-I can’t get it! I can’t undo them!” you said in a pleasure filled panic. Your cowboy wasn’t about to let anything hold him back from touching you, so he pulled and tugged the handcuffs with incredible force, causing the little chain links to bend and break! “Oh my God!” you gasped when you saw one broken handcuff on each of his wrists. His hands were now gripping your hips tightly and the dangling metal lightly scraped against you as your orgasms ripped through each of you! You collapsed onto his chest from the intensity of it, and he wrapped his arms around you. You moaned and hummed against his bare chest as you welcomed each wave of pleasure that continued to crash over you.

Once you were steady, you removed yourself from him and rolled over onto your side of the bed and began to giggle at the mess you had made of Adam, “I cannot believe you broke the handcuffs!” you playfully scolded. “How are your wrists? Are they okay?” It took a few seconds for him to respond since he was still coming down from his high, but what he said only caused you to laugh more, “My wrists are fine, baby. Obviously, the handcuffs are not, and I can’t guarantee the headboard is either. But what I can guarantee is we will be purchasing new ones so I can use them on you next…”

#hangman adam page fanfiction #hangman adam page smut #adam page fanfic #adam page fic #hangman page #adam page #hangman adam page #aew fanfiction #all elite wrestling #aew #smut #adam page smut #hangman adam page x y/n #Spotify

[heartfullofleeches]

So I’ve been in love with your sheriff reader but what if another sheriff came to town and saw how everyone loves reader and wanted that for themselves like they don’t really care about anything or the bandits they just want everyone to love them an not reader so they try an take over an og sheriff reader sees this as in a relaxing opportunity (sorry if it’s long)

Tw: reference violence, bullying

Cracked ice settles at the bottom of a glass as dark liquid fills it to brim. The sheriff's weighted head pivots to an upright angle as the drink is brought to lips posed in a crude smile; a blemish compared to the cloyingly sweet expression they wore days prior. They can barely process their surroundings; blurry shapes crowded around them and suffocating them more than the tight robes that binding them to their seat. A sharp jab from behind brings them to attention; the shrill laughter that follows corrected by a whistle.

"Now, folks. I know we agreed to a collaboration, but don't think that means you have the right to rough up our friend here more than needed."

Dryness coats the temporary sheriff's throat as they croak. "M...mayor?"

"Guilty as charged." The mayor bends to their level. They take one long sip from the glass in hand before shaking it in their direction. "Thirsty?"

The sheriff becomes painfully aware of their dehydration as the condensation from the glass wets their cracked lips. How long had they been out? Pushing the question to the back of their mind, they part their lips and allow the cool liquid to hit their tongue. It burns as swashes against their spilt cheek, but they gup it down with no other option. Their head returns to its orginal option as the mayor retracts their hand; hat dipping down their face. The mayor's calm expression wilts into annoyance.

"Ugh.. Take that shit off them already. Don't know why you haven't by now. Need to get it cleaned before Y/n gets back."

Hands grip their battered form; tearing the sheriff's hat from head and badge from coat. Still dressed otherwise- they've never felt more exposed.

"I don't understand. What's.. what's going on?"

"What's going on indeed.." The mayor stands up; a hand tangled in their hair keeping the sheriff's eye on them as they return to their desk. "From how I see it, some big city hot shot though they could weasel their way into our town and replace the one thing that keeps this place running. Our sheriff."

The sheriff swallows the blood clinging to the sides their mouth; a delicacy compared to the bitter truth that follows. Back home, they had it good, but it wasn't perfect. High paying gig, the love and respect of their community, but they still yearned for more. They longed for the homemade pies and the comforting familiarity of everyone worshiping them, while still valuing the face behind the mask. The unwavering trust. All tokens of which you had.

It was easy to get you to agree. Chased after by those you were meant to pursue; longed for unknowing by the person who wrote your checks. All they had to do was slip a few highlights of the city into your brain, and you were packed and ready to go. The mayor orginally protested your departure, but couldn't say no to their dear sheriff. You did deserved a little break after all you've been though - long as you had a few uninvited visitors making sure you were safe.

The temporary sheriff had it good for the first week. The finest room in the local motel. A different meat brought to them every other day. Someone must've been sewing near the pot during the making of one meal, but fortunately they spotted the needle before wolfing down the entire stew. Their dream life came crumbling down the day they decided to put in a payment for a recently vacated home, and everyone caught onto their plans before they'd even reached mid stage.

"I'm.... sorry."

"Sorry-" The mayor's eyes roll so far they appeared as if they'd pop right out of their skull. They lurch forward, sinking their digits into the delicate flesh of the sheriff's jaw; teeth clenched as all kindness is forgotten. "Don't you fucking lie to me, you hear? I know, you know, they know you aren't sorry. The only thing you're sorry about is that you got caught."

The sheriff whimpers as they're let go; nail markers and shame branding their skin. An arm props up on their shoulder, elbow dug right into the center of the torn muscle. The bandit leader flicks their ear as they tip your hat on their head; proudly dawning your badge without a lick of guilt.

"Eazy now. You call us the bad guys yet you're the one being mean. Here, lemme give them something to wear better than the sheriff's stuff real quick."

A round of cheers and soft snickering rings throughout the small room as a wad of spit connects with the sheriff's cheek. The bandit wipes their mouth with their sleeve

"Thought you were slick, huh?" Sack of shit like you, comparing yourself to a prize like our sheriff. You should be thanking the corrupt bastard in front of you. If they hadn't called us in, we would've strung you up by your ankles and dragged you through the streets like the filth you are. Speaking of which, what are we gonna do with this thing, boss."

The mayor ignores their mockery to allow a soft smile to form over their lips. "We have about half a week before our loved one returns so only time will tell, friends. Only time will tell."

#They get v mean here #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere blurb #Yandere bandit #Yandere mayor #yandere drabble #yandere x y/n #yandere x darling #Yandere bandits

[kiwi2229]

Trouble

(James Potter / Regulus Black | 412 words)

For @jegulus-microfic prompt: Makeup

CW: Implied NSFW

James is in trouble. In a big trouble. And it's entirely Regulus’ fault because this boy just marched into the Gryffindor common room wearing tight black jeans, a crop top and make-up. He has a long black eyeliner and smoky black eyeshadows. And if it's not driving James absolutely insane.

He is positive that he's dying. Regulus looks so hot. When he finally snaps from his shock he manages to say “You look amazing, Reg.”

“I know. And you will too.” Regulus answers and lifts up his bag full of makeup. This is the moment James’ brain stopped functioning because Regulus proceeded to climb onto his lap and now he is applying the same eyeliner on him.

James wants to touch him, squeeze his hips in his hands, and kiss every inch of his body. But they are in a full common room. All of them preparing for a party in the forbidden forest. They are out as a couple only shortly so they decided to give everyone (Sirius) time to get used to it without being overly affectionate.

He is really trying to think about anything else but the weight of Regulus’ body on him. James takes a sharp inhale when Regulus tightly grabs his chin tilting his head to the side so he can now apply a red line next to the black eyeliner.

“James!” Sirius hisses at him across the room in warning.

He groans in despair. “I'm not doing anything.”

“You are! I can see it in your eyes.”

Regulus the menace who is well aware of what he is doing to James chuckles. “I'm trying!” James responses.

“Try harder.”

James looks up at Regulus who is smirking. He leans a little bit closer wiggling on James’ lap and whispers to him in a low voice. “Yeah James, try harder.”

James briefly considers if being murdered by his best friend is worth snogging Regulus on the spot. The moment he decides this would be a great way to go Regulus gives him a quick kiss and climbs off his lap. “Done.”

James catches his wrist and spins him around when all of them are walking out of the room. He presses him against the wall trapping him there hidden from the eyes of others. He captures the boy’s lips in a bruising kiss that leaves them both panting. “Just wait until we are alone and I will show you how hard I can try,” he says and walks out of the room with absolutely smug-looking Regulus right behind him.

#Regulus knows exactly what he is doing #and he is succeeding #I had such a good time writing this #regulus black #james potter #sirius black #james potter x regulus black #james x regulus #jegulus #jegulus microfic #james potter & sirius black #marauders era #marauders #starchaser #kiwi2229 writes microfics

[acourtofthought]

Regarding Lucien’s scars. I think it’s basically a headcanon in the fandom that Lucien still has the scars on his back from being whipped, but if those are present in canon too, that could be interesting. Howeverrrr… the facial scar must be kind of a big deal for Lucien. Amarantha attacked him 50ish years ago and then within a few days she organized that masquerade ball “in Lucien’s honor” - the masked theme was a scheme to help him basically hide what she did to his face. Then the masks were plastered to the faces of everyone in Spring Court because Tamlin didn’t accept to sleep with Amarantha. So here’s Lucien, hiding his scars for 50 years no matter how uncomfortable the whole mask situation may have been… but now his facial scar that he cannot hide anywhere (unlike Azriel’s hands) is just in full view for anyone who looks at him. I think there is no question about it. He must be self conscious about it, especially since he thinks Elain is the most beautiful female he has ever seen and she doesn’t reciprocate anything yet. People have been writing about it here on tumblr recently but I really hope SJM explores Lucien’s character from this perspective too. I assume he must feel very inadequate compared to Elain. She has so much (family, friends, connected to the IC, safety and security, beauty, etc.), whereas Lucien refers to himself as a whole lot of nothing. He doesn’t have a home or even a court, he’s basically all alone in the fae world, his closest allies are two humans who so far don’t have much power or influence in Prythian. I assume he is probably also unhappy with his looks after such a traumatic experience. I hope SJM explores this, I think that would be a really cool addition to Elucien’s healing journey. Even though Lucien is quite snarky and cocky outwardly, his inner monologue seems very self conscious. Ahhh SJM give us the angstttttt

I AGREE!!!!!! I think while there are sincere aspects of Lucien's personality that are (hahaha, I just accidentally typed snocky which was my brain getting confused on whether I wanted to type snarky or cocky first) snarky and cocky, I also feel it's a default mechanism too. Lucien is known to take care in his appearance and he is aware of appearances. Even in book once he was a bit of a fashionista, commenting on how Feyre's tunic wasn't as pretty as a dress and being amazed at how positively fae she looked when she did finally put one on. There's also this: Lucien said, "True. But indulge me: you're a human woman, and yet you'd rather eat hot coals than sit here longer than necessary. Ignoring this" - he waved a hand at the metal eye and brutal scar on his face-" surely we're not so miserable to look at. Lucien must be constantly aware of others looking at him and I'm guessing he's never sure if it's about the eye or if his scars are unappealing to them. For someone who does care about appearances, whose job it is to talk to High Lords and make friends to be a successful emissary, there is definitely an inner discomfort he's trying to brush off through his nonchalance and jokes about his appearance. I think you're right. Elain is beautiful to the point that people talk. Eris somehow heard across courts that Lucien's mate is a real beauty. She had heiresses jealous of her at barely thirteen. Her mother commented that if her beauty held, she'd be able to secure them a decent match on the marriage market (Elain was 11). So Lucien comes along and not only is he given this super special, sacred bond with her but she turns out to be the most beautiful female he'd ever seen all while knowing that she's in love with someone else. And there he is, with no home, no family name, a scar running down his face and one eye. I would take Lucien in a second and we know that many in the ACOTAR world reference his good looks but you can see how he would struggle with his appearance. You can see how Elain literally took his breath away and she did not seem effected by him (I imagine we'll find out that wasn't the truth in her POV but it's how he perceived it at the time). He thinks she doesn't want him or need him and I definitely think we're going to find that he's been feeling very insecure about her perception of his physical appearance.

#lucien vanserra #pro elucien #pro lucien vanserra #elucien

[trashlama]

Heeeeeyyyyy.... guess who's ADHD can't let them write for shit?~ This bitch✨~

I suuuuuucck guys I know! I did a poll and everything just so I would have to write some of these! I just couldn't help but get side tracked.... My brain is in the LMK and Spiderverse fandoms!!! Though I will say I basically got this Rise Donnie x Big Mama Assistant req almost done. Almost I say. We'll see if I post it in the next two days and not something else random instead.... I suck lol

Anyways— here's my 3am thoughts from the other night that I'm finish up tonight ironically at 3am again. Soooo bare with me these are basically a bunch of summaries/plots/not fully flushed out possible one shot ideas I might do. Probably could've re-read it a couple more times buuuuttt it's about to be 4 now so....

I hope you guys enjoy!

Sorry this is long↓ I don't own these memes. I've never claimed to do so. I just come across them on Pinterest when I'm on break at work and think they're funny so I like to share them. If I mistakenly put one on here that I shouldn't have please let me know! I like to respect people's wishes. And if you could add the creator names too that would be great so the same mistake isn't made twice. Sorry for the inconvenience that my sharing may cause. I hope you have a good day.

+++++++++++++++++++

Sooooo I was going through the Across the Spiderverse tag(specifically Miguel O'Hara) because you know he's hot. Priorities— Anyways— I kinda had an idea. Brahhzz what if I just took the whole Miguel kidnapping his dead wife/lover's alternate dimensional copy deal that everyone has been throwing around and introduced a new take on this tale?

We all know that the Spiderverse is very open to a wide selection of possibilities and versions of Spiderman and we're all aware that the same thing applies to other characters as well. Soooo who said that Y/n has to be a civilian/or a version of Spiderman for this idea to work?

My fellow peeps I introduce to you Earth 2099 Miguel O'Hara x  Villain/Alchemax worker/Morally Grey scientist Reader!

I can kinda see this playing out in a few ways.

1.)Villain reader investigating the strange phenomenon that occurred a couple months before hacking the multi verse and stirring up trouble. Miguel intervenes and takes what he wants.

For the last year since the bizarre phenomenon in downtown Brooklyn you've been stirring up more trouble than you typical due to collecting the materials needed for your "experiments" to figure out what that phenomenon really was and what the hell was Alchemax —your ex-employers— were up to with your research. With some finessing of the illegal kind you figure out what the corporation was up to. Before being fired you had discovered the existence of the multiverse however before you could investigate any further you were let go. Now that you have your research back you're able to Doc Octo this shit and break into the multiverse. If you could pull this off nothing was stopping ya' from fulfilling yer goal and maybe scoring some fame while you were at it. After some convoluted ass science mumbojumbo. You manage to Doc Octo this shit and break into the dimensional web that held the spider verse. Inside the alternate universe you immediately start messing up shit straight off the back as soon as you fly through the colorful portal. Miguel is quick to pick up on this anomaly and sends some Spiders out to handle the issue. Long story short— they fail. Forcing Miguel's hand to go and correct the anomaly himself. Only to find that it was you. Her. His dead wife/or dead lover. The only problem is that you're obviously not a good guy. Miguel being Miguel will try to rationalize it to himself as he demolishes your equipment/suit that you're not his Y/n, you're a villain, he can't keep you without risking a whole universe just for his selfish desires. However as he stood over your defeated helpless form. He decided. If one anomaly can exist and not destroy existence why can't another? There were ways around this. There had to be. Holding you in his grasp again the hero wasn't sure if he could let you go once again....

2.) You're an inventor/scientist that works at Alchemax/or your another rogue scientist . Either way you're looking to get into the Spider verse. Since the phenomenon from a couple months ago you've been intrigued by the strange occurrence. The news labeled it a "strange weather occurrence" however you knew that wasn't the case. If you're working at Alchemax you've known about the phenomenon since the beginning. If you're an inventor/scientist (with some grey morals) you found out after some research and trespassing. Either way your tinkering pays off thanks to the help of some stolen tech from Alchemax and an interesting glitch from the hacked tech. You eventually have yourself a fully operational universe hopping watch. And where do you end up? Right in the middle of Earth 2099. Miguel is immediately alerted of your presence. An obvious stranger to this Jetson world you find yourself quickly apprehended by a small group of spiders/or Miguel. Either way the red & blue leotard nosferatu as soon as he catches sight of you the dude is all over you. Miguel may be a man who would like to believe he is in control of himself and his rash decisions buuuuttt that's gonna be a nah. Never had the Spiderman ever expected to speak to an alternate version of his dead wife. Especially in person. Every time he's stolen a glance it was from a distance or behind one of his various monitors. He couldn't risk ruining another verse. However somehow regardless of his attempts to keep his desires at bay you've still managed to break past that last thing that was keeping you from him. Now that you're here the thirty year old wasn't sure if he could let you leave him again...

3.) What if instead of breaking into the multi verse. Alchemax employee/Morally Grey scientist Reader! is lured into the multiverse? In your home verse the Miguel who you had married was dead. Struggling with piling debt and depression you choose to bury your problems under research into the weird phenomenon that occurred in downtown Brooklyn a few months before. During this time of trial and error you figure out how to access the multiverse thanks to some misplaced Alchemax files and risky choices. The documents aid in building the device that would aid in your plan to find your ex-husband's alternate universe copy. All the while you were walking right into Miguel's clutches. Cause like you Miguel was having an equally hard time getting over his family's death. Although they are gone the widowed father couldn't help but, search for his loved ones amongst the various worlds that rest at his finger tips. He needed them. He needed you....and you needed him. Although you guys weren't from the same earth you both can replace the pain that was birthed from this tragedy and regain something more. Just be a family.... Hopefully you want to play his game because Miguel couldn't watch from the sidelines any longer.

Alrighty guys that's all for now! Sorry if they're a little all over the place. Regardless I hope you guys liked them and I hope you guys have a good week!

#im a simp #yandere #male yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse yandere #yandere spiderman #yandere miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #dead doves do not eat #lol i suck #rough idea #rough draft #incomplete #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #yanderecore #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara x you #yandere miguel ohara #yandere spiderman x reader #yandere marvel

[eveenstar]

Heeyy requests are open right? If so could you maybe do Toby dating headcannons? Only if you want to!!!11!!! 💜

Hello! Of course! I could never deny headcanons for my favourite boy <3 Here they are, and as you will see, my Toby is slightly different from the fandom or canon one. I decided to make my own version of him because why not? Hope you like it!

Dating Toby would be like... (headcanons)

Dating Masky headcanons , Dating Hoodie Headcanons

Oh boy. This relationship is the definition of walking on eggshells. Maybe that's an overexaggeration. But you get my point.

Toby might be the "easiest" one to get into a relationship within the main proxies. But beware, all of his previous relationships were all to amuse him at best. You, however, might be different, this time.

Unstable, but not TOO unstable. He's a good hunter - which requires patience. He used to hunt with his father, a long time ago. So, when it comes to you, he has tons of patience but that's not an invitation to test it. He doesn't want to hurt you but the Gods forbid how his foggy his mind gets when overwhelmed.

Speaking of which, Toby get overwhelmed easily. There are days the slightest thing will send him into a spiral. He won't seek your comfort or touch then, so, best be just leave him alone in his corner and go cook something he likes. Food with a soft texture might help.

pancakes because i'm starving for pancakes

Last proxy who decided to invade him during a breakdown ended up with a hatchet in their brain. Well, who told them to approach a serial killer cleaning their axes?

Anyway. On contrary of Masky, you'll actually see other proxies here and there. Of course, whatever ranks the Big Man has put up, Toby is in the top of the food chain, which leads to other proxies visiting. You can be around when this happens, but be wise with what you say or do. Not that Toby is jealous, he has nothing to be jealous of when it come to other proxies, but he can't have the others aware of his weaknesses.

There is also the matter of danger. You're in constant danger. The most brave will seek to harm you to get Toby out of his leading position, but no harm actually happens because this man is like the...James Bond of hatchets. Good moves for a man in his 30s.

He's also fairly vocal. He doesn't talk constantly of course but he'll let you know his thoughts, or make random comments about missions. At some moments it'll even feel like you two are a normal couple. So, talk to him and he'll be happy :)

His laughter is also something worth mentioning. He doesn't laugh a lot, it's rare when he does, but they're very light-hearted and a bit rough in the edges. It's simply adorable when he shakes his head or throws his head back and laughs out loud - but don't mention it or he'll get embarrassed.

Toby's a movie boy. Absolutely adores action movies with fast pacing. Hates animation. Movie nights are a must and it's another moment of normality.

Has high pain tolerance. He feels it but forced his brain to ignore it so Toby will arrive home with stab wounds or gunshots wounds that he probably forgot he had - it's your job to make sure he doesn't bleed out. This is less common for a 30 something-year-old Toby than Toby in his 20s. He's older and wiser, a professional in his craft. No one gets near him anymore without having a axe craved in their head first.

Beard beard beard beard. He has a beard. Fairly visible as well. It's hot. Take that as you will.

Toby will train you as well. Practice with axes and throwing knives, as well as fighting moves. This man has a thing for you using sharp weapons or getting him on the floor - again, take that as you will. :)

Yes, he now uses throwing knives. He learned how to use them from another proxy a few years ago.

Along with Hoodie, but slightly different, Toby will get you gifts for special dates such as your birthday or Christmas. He's not particularly fond of Christmas but feels obligated to get you something. He won't go out of his way to buy you said gifts, Toby will either make you one through wood carving (one of his abilities he has perfected over the years) or will steal one from a victim's house.

Christmas! Family holidays. He hates it. Toby has detached himself from who he was so much, but the sight of happy families makes his blood boil. He's not stupid, he knows they're not at fault for what happened to him - but that reason soon leaves his mind when the flashbacks hit. Before he knows, his hands are already dirty with blood. He hates the stupid songs and the parties - but, if you're someone to celebrate it, he won't oppose. He'll get angry and will exile himself with his hatchets, but some times...some times he'll silently join you cooking or decorating. He won't say a word, and if you're smart, so will you.

Toby has abandoned his family name. His first name is the only remnant of his past - and for this, Masky will use it to mock him to a breaking point. He won't let Toby live down the fact that he surpassed Masky in the ranks. He'll get home snappy and angry - and he'll always vent to you. Toby is very vocal with his hands as well, he moves them around a lot - lots of angry waves and quite possible a few bottles will be smashed or thrown if you don't stop him.

He's a lot to take in, but most of the time he's very calm and collected. Please, feel free to vent or talk to him whenever you feel like it. He loves the sound of your voice and hear you talk about anything soothes him.

Or sing. Oh boy. If you catch him alone, thinking you're asleep, you might hear him singing a lullaby to himself. It's almost impossible to hear it, and he will deny on his life that he does this.

Toby is one of the proxies who doesn't mind what he does or who he "works" for. It has been so long and his path has been so tragic and dark - he has become numb to it. He has you and his children a.k.a his hatchets.

Surprisingly not very aware that Slender would harm you. But that creature would. You're only alive because He allows you to be. One day, that might come to an end and trust me, Toby can be more frightening to face than Masky and Hoodie. And that includes, a possessed by SlenderMan Toby.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#toby rogers x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby #toby rogers #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader

[nyaniikat]

Hot fucking day

Male reader

Fem aligned DNI

Masterlist

I may make a part 2 aaa

This took so long because my brain is fried from studies

•---------•

The heat from the sun was really getting to the both of you. Katsuki kept walking around wiping the pools amount of sweat coming from his body. His body being sweaty was hot to you but good god you really wanted to kill the sun today. The AC was broken so you were both waiting for the repairman to come by to fix it.

"NGAAAAHH IM GONNA GO PATROL"

"Eh? But isn't it your day off today?"

"I KNOW BUT I CAN'T FUCKING SIT STILL WITH THE DAMN SUN BEING A PIECE OF SHIT"

"Alright alright I'm coming with you though just in case you explode in some random person's face."

-

Katsuki- or well Dynamite was blasting away in the sky, you on the other hand, following him on the ground keeping an eye out for any suspicious fellows. Turns out it was a good idea for the both of you to go out for patrol, apparently, there have been some villains running and there weren't any nearby heroes around the area.

You put your hand up to your earpiece

"Dynamite! I've spotted two of the five villains from the robbery! They're heading inside a van possibly with the rest of the goods, other people might be in there so be careful!"

"Got that, you move out any civilians that are going to get in my way."

You suddenly see Dynamite zoom past you going after the van whilst you, on the other hand, moved all the nearby civilians out of the way in case the villains decide to take any as hostages. You really didn't feel like negotiating over people today but thankfully you had Dynamite on your side so the job should be done nice and quick. You watched from a distance seeing him blast the hell out of the villains, a few police cars pull up and Dynamite's sidekicks came by looking panicked

" h/n! (hero name) we are incredibly sorry for being late! we were not aware that the two of you would be out today."

"Ah no worries, your boss there just wanted to patrol since he couldn't sit still due to the heat. I'm just here to monitor him so he doesn't go nuts by himself. Go and deal with the police on our behalf please~ I need to go check on Dynamite"

"Yes sir!"

You get a text message from the repair man that they fixed the AC. Jogging over to where your lovely hot head is, you waved at him making him notice you so he started walking towards you with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Those little shits thought they could try to hit me!"

"Mhm"

"COME WE'RE GONNA GO FIND MORE GUYS TO KILL"

And before Dynamite could run off you pulled him by the back of his mask to stop him from going somewhere.

"THE FUCK LET ME GO??"

"Nu-uh mister a few beat ups is good enough for today, besides we're supposed to be on break and I do not want to be fighting Villains unless it's an emergency. Plus our AC just got fixed and I overheard the sidekicks say that a certain squad is going to come soon to assist."

"OH FUCKKK NO I DO NOT-"

"DY~NA~MITEEE~"

The both of you turned and saw Pinky skipping towards you two with the gang, before they could even get to the both of you Dynamite pulled you by the back of your shirt and started to run away in result pissing you off as you weren't a big fan being dragged.

-

Sitting on his knees and head lowered

"I'm sorry for dragging you.."

"And??"

"I'm also not sorry for saying hi to our friends"

"Please text them a sorry, it's rude to just leave like that"

A 'tch' was heard as Katsuki looked up at you, of course, you were weak for this man. I mean he is your husband after all you can't exactly get mad at him properly unless you really need to.

"Come, let's go take a shower and change into something comfortable"

Katsuki excitedly stood up with a stupid smile on his face, feeling relief that you weren't too angry at him. Grabbing your hand you both head to the showers to cool off and get all the sweat off.

-

Cuddled up on the couch, with Katsuki's beefy ass arm around you. You were giving kisses on Katsukis's neck as he played with your hair. Small moans left his lips as you softly nibbled on his neck, wanting to hear more of him you bit down hearing him moan louder. He looked down at you with a flustered look on his face.

"C-can you take care of me in the bedroom?"

"Ehhh~ why do that when the couch is a perfect place to fuck you good?"

He couldn't deny how much that turned him on, he wanted more and more. So he caved in and let you take control of him, just like how you took control of him every time he asks for you to take care of him.

•---------•

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