#TOO NAÏVE AND TOO MUCH OF A GOOD HEART / * jack.

[agustdiv1ne]

CONGRATS ON 3K ASHLEE 🥳🫶🏼✨ you’re truly amazing and here’s to many more milestones!!

right so, ik this isn’t a movie, but I was wondering if you could do something along the lines of bridgerton + beomgyu + fluff and smut please 🥹 but if it really is just movies, then titanic with the same member and genre please <3 thank you in advance <3

NOW SHOWING...

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: historical fiction, romance, fluff, smսt

wc: 4.2k

details + warnings: mdni, beomgyu and mc's characters are jack and rose adjacent but they actually have a happy ending bc i said so <3, mentions of alcohol, no established dom/sub dynamics but gyu takes the lead a bit, soft + romantic sex, fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (don't do this!!), my big dick gyu agenda makes an appearance, light dirty talk, a little possessiveness, beomgyu calls mc: love, beautiful

note: SMILES!! TYSM <33 you are one of of my longest moots and i appreciate you and your talent so much! i've unfortunately never watched bridgerton (or else i would have used that ;-;), though i do adore titanic so i ultimately went with that ^^

you have found sunsets to be far more magnificent at high sea.

tonight brings one that is, by far, one of your most beloved from the voyage thus far: a sky flushed a deep rose, billowing clouds contrived of fairy floss drifting above your head. the horizon holds clear where the roseate hue melts into the ocean and scatters about the peaks of gentle waves. it's quite a breathtaking sight, almost too good to be true. a painting; that is what it resembles — you wish that you could reach up and brush your hands through it, watch it coat and swirl about your fingertips like smudged pigments on canvas.

leaning against the railing, you inhale a deep breath of fresh, salt-heavy air. it stings as it fills your lungs. despite the beginnings of spring, the weather has remained chilly, growing further frigid whenever the sky fades to black. now, the sun hangs low, sinking closer and closer to the sea that awaits to swallow it whole — you will be forced to return back inside soon.

sighing quietly, your mind wanders to beomgyu, the man who has won over your affections over the past five days. you wish he could be here with you to see this picturesque display. where is he right now? on one of the lower decks, perhaps? should you go find him?

does he miss you as much as you do him?

not even half a day has passed since you last saw each other, but these thoughts swirl within your brain nonetheless. busy mixing with pretentious elites and the potential suitors your mother demanded that you meet throughout the day, you hadn't found time to sneak away and meet with him despite your aching desire to. you just barely avoided your mother's watchful gaze to escape out here and finally be able to breathe.

as naïve as it may sound, you feel as though you've known the charming man your entire life. strangers with a divine connection — you ponder if you must have known beomgyu in a past life, fell for him just as you do now. your typically rational mind supplies you with grandiose ideas of running away, of fleeing this suffocating, predetermined path that you were born into. he is a breath of fresh air after all of the men that you have met who only wish to marry and mold you into a submissive, obedient housewife that they can then neglect. unlike those men — no, you think, those insolent boys, he is not hungry to further his wealth, to fasten his name to yours for the sake of status. he doesn't expect you to change yourself. rather, he takes you as you are, with all your sharp edges and imperfections, and worships you down to the marrow of your bones.

the longing to wander the entire ship until you find him strikes you square in the chest like a sack of flour, knocking the breath from your lungs. your heart aches. you want to see him. you must see him.

“i should’ve known i’d find you out here.” 

it's quite strange, how the hand of fate plays its cards. you whip your head around, and there he is, with his sun-kissed skin and wind-tousled hair, as if he had somehow heard your thoughts and rushed to meet you. the upward quirk of his lips conveys both fondness and mischief while he moves closer to you, gentle hands wrapping around your waist. you mirror his expression, relief flooding your system at his well-timed arrival. sliding your hands over his shoulders, you link your fingers together around the nape of his neck.

“gyu,” you whisper while you surge forward to embrace him, pressing your face into the junction between his neck and shoulder. he nearly stumbles, but quickly regains his balance, returning the hug. “i missed you.”

“we saw each other this morning,” he chuckles, but the way his arms tighten around you betray his true emotions. 

you deliver a light pinch to his neck in jest, mumbling against his neck, “you’re impossible.”

this simply makes him laugh harder, his chest shuddering against your own. he curls a hand under your chin to remove your face from his neck, and his chestnut-colored eyes find yours. “and you love it.”

“unfortunately, yes,” you admit with a sigh. he smiles wider at that.

a peaceful silence fills the air between you. only the sounds of the ship cutting through the sea fills your ears. turning in his hold until his back presses against your chest, you look back out to the horizon. the pink sky has faded into a muted indigo, the sun barely a semicircle along the horizon. the air has grown colder now, but the warmth that beomgyu exudes wards off the chill that runs deep beneath your skin. your place one hand atop the ones looped around your stomach, the other reaching up to play with the ends of his soft hair.

“where’d you disappear off to today?” beomgyu breaks the quiet first. he feels the way you stiffen within his hold, how your fingers stop toying with his hair, the deep breath you exhale. you can that he immediately regrets asking.

“my mother,” you begin to explain, a bitter, sour note in your voice. “she dragged me from party to party today. they weren’t even parties, really, just excuses to flaunt wealth and peacock about. it was absolutely ridiculous.”

you hear the small giggle he allows at your choice of words, and your lips turn up again. teasing, you say, “i’m glad my misery amuses you.”

“no, never,” he hastily says, oddly serious. your fingers rubbing soothing circles against his scalp is a silent confirmation that you know. a few beats of silence pass once more, your eyes trained on how the sun continues its descent below the horizon.

the ocean's maw has fully consumed the sun when he pulls you back against him, his warm breath caressing the shell of your war and causing you to shiver. the quintessentially impish lilt of his voice returns, a smirk rich on his lips.

“wanna go to a real party?”

and to a real party he takes you. a gathering on a lower deck, the tunes played by the instrument-wielding passengers brash and loud. others sing, some dance, many drink. it's as if you are walking into a brand new world, seeing colors you have never seen before. it is so disorienting yet exhilarating at the same time.

your hand enveloped in his, beomgyu guides you into the sea of noise and moving bodies with confidence towards two men who cheer his name at the sight of him. they each hold a glass of amber ale, eyes glazed over as they spot you behind their friend.

“you finally made it! thought you weren’t comin’,” the slightly taller of the two calls, his words slurred. his fox like eyes meet yours again, and he grins. “you must be the girl he’s been ravin’ about! y/n, right?”

you offer a shy nod and a polite smile, nerves apparent in the way your eyes dart across the room. next to you, beomgyu grows a bit red in the face, but holds you closer to him. how easily he picks up on your emotional state is beyond you, but appreciated.

beomgyu moves to introduce the two men, and you learn the taller one is named yeonjun. the shorter man, his eyes as round as a doe's, is named taehyun. he is far more reserved compared to the other two, but welcoming nonetheless. you converse with them for a considerable amount of time, growing more comfortable the longer you stand with them. none of them seem to care that you come from a wildly opposite walk of life as them; they treat you as a friend all the same.

the conversation soon turns to their history and how exactly they came to know beomgyu. they happened to meet while in paris, yeonjun explains, bonding over their shared heritage and quickly developing a close friendship.

“it’s a miracle we even got on this ship!” yeonjun laughs before he takes another swig of his drink. “gyu won a game of cards back at the port just before she set sail. lucky guy, ain’t he?”

“yeah,” beomgyu responds before you are able to utter a word, looking down at you with fondness coloring his gaze. “i really am.”

the two men soon depart on a search for more alcohol, leaving you and beomgyu alone. he does not take long in snatching your hand to drag you towards the makeshift dance floor.

“beomgyu, wait, i can’t—”

“c’mon!” he exclaims. “dance with me!”

he pulls you close to him as soon as you reach the space. chest to chest, hand in hand. your eyes widen, frantic.

with haste, your voice strained in order to be heard over the music, you say, “beomgyu i don’t, i don’t know this dance, i can’t do this!”

“sure you can!” he jovially yells. “just follow my lead!”

the music surges around your bodies as you begin to skip about the room. with beomgyu guiding you along to the fast-paced tempo, your apprehension melts away. you do not have to be in control, you can simply feel and allow yourself to flow along with him. you squeal as your unsuitably formal dress flutters around your legs and your heeled shoes click against the floor rhythmically. both of you laugh unabashedly, growing drunk on the excitement of it all. your heart beats erratically against your ribcage, your cheeks beginning to hurt from how wide you beam.

you feel more alive in this moment than you have in your entire life.

he spins you around and around until you grow dizzy. then, you are off once again, eventually joining a line of people holding hands and snaking about the room. you skip along with one hand held by a woman who speaks to you in rapid french and the other still taken by beomgyu, who attempts to translate her words, albeit poorly.

out of breath, you squeeze his hand, and he takes your hint; you break away from the line. others easily fill the void that you leave.

you stumble, giggling, and beomgyu catches you. harebrained and giddy and every cell of your body positively surging with joy, you are unable to even think your actions through before you are cupping his face in your hands and crashing your lips against his.

whoops and hollers sound around you, but the sole thing that permeates your senses is beomgyu's soft lips melding with your own. the grip of his hands upon your waist fortifies, but only enough to hold you to ensure your unchanging propinquity. hurried, ravenous, you devour each other in the middle of the crowd until you grow desperate for oxygen. pulling away, you draw a breath deep into your lungs, mouth agape just as the full force of what you did crashes into you, a strike of lightning straight to your chest.

and rather than fret, your lips split and their corners rise, and you laugh. you laugh and laugh and laugh until you collapse against beomgyu's chest. he gathers you up to his chest before you crash to the floor, holding you by your cheeks while he comprehends your wild eyes and glowing mien.

“are you alright?” he queries.

i think i may be in love with you, is what you wish could say, but you bite the words back before they escape.

instead, you ask, “come with me, please?”

he nods and allows you to pull him towards the stairs that you first entered from. mistakenly, you briefly meet eyes with yeonjun, who stands across the room with a suggestive smirk, eyebrows wiggling in your direction. though your cheeks grow warm, you continue to push forward, weaving your fingers through those of the man following close behind.

the trek to your private chambers takes far longer than expected. both of you are guilty of pulling each other into dark corners and giggling into each other's mouths at nearly every turn. the situation becomes dire once you reach the upper decks, dodging acquaintances of your mother through roundabout hallways. after what seems like hours, you reach the door of your room, swiftly unlocking it and pulling beomgyu inside.

without delay, he presses you up against the door, forearms caging you in, and crashes his lips to yours once more. gone is the nonsensical laughter and teasing touches — now all that remains is a carnal hunger, a bone-deep desperation to feel and to devour one another whole. his sly tongue sneaks into your mouth, dancing with your own before it retracts and his teeth graze your lower lip. you exhale a breathy whine, hands pawing at the rough linen of his shirt.

he pulls away to momentarily catch his breath before he blazes forward to kiss you once more. your finger pressed to his lips, however, halts his movements. questions dance in his pupils.

“take me to bed,” you whisper. 

biting your lip, you watch as the gears within his brain churn as he processes your words, how his eyes grow impossibly darker once he does. the short journey to your bed is a blur in your mind. hands tug at clothes and undergarments until you lay bare beneath his own naked torso, his trousers low on his waist, though unable to hide the aching erection that strains the fabric.

he reaches up to tweak your nipple, causing you to inhale sharply. he finds great delight in how sensitive you are, his lips ravaging your neck until he locates the weak spot just beneath your ear. he bites down lightly. a shock of bliss jolts down your spine, and you squeal his name — god, how he would give away what little money he has to his name to hear that sound every day.

the combination of his lips gliding down your neck and his thumb circling your nipple renders you speechless, merely able to moan and grip the soft sheets below you as he brings you pleasure that you have never felt before. though his calloused hands against your skin feel much rougher than those of the men that your mother forces you to mingle with, he treats you gentler than any of your desperate suitors ever could. almost as if your body is made of glass, he does not press hard enough to inflict pain, nor does he force you to your knees to take him. no man you have lied with before has treated you in such a manner, putting your needs before his own. your heart pounds at the realization. you pray that he cannot hear it.

deprived of warning, his lips and fingers disappear from your skin. you whine at the sudden confiscation of pleasure.

“why did you stop?” you pant, breathless, trying to reach up to touch him. he captures your hands and links his fingers between your own. he presses your arms back against the sheet before he lets go. 

he stares down at you for a moment, eyes trailing from your heaving chest to the swollen pout upon your lips. with a ghost of a smirk, he leans down to press a chaste peck to the corner of your mouth, his forehead now pressed against yours. eyes hooded, he breathes, “patience, beautiful. i’m gonna make you feel good, i promise.” 

“hurry, then,” you plead. you feel as if you are going insane without his touch. addictive, akin to opium; you want more, you crave it.

“ah, so demanding,” he jokes, though he gives in. he allows you no time to respond as he kisses you again, leaning over you with forearm pressed into the mattress next to your head. a hand slides down your side — drawing goosebumps to your skin — to your thigh, spreading you wider for him. you inhale sharply through your nose when you feel fingers press against your soaking center, one slim, rough-skinned finger sliding slowly past your entrance. the groan he emits rumbles against your own chest. he raises his head no more than a millimeter, shuddering at the wet heat that coats his skin as he begins to thrust the digit in and out. 

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he curses, unable to help himself. clinging to him, you bite your lip at his ministrations, nearly drawing blood when he slips a second finger in, stretching your walls. his thumb finds the aching bud just above to ease the sting.

“g-gyu,” you whimper, the sound singing in his ears like wind chimes, urging him to move faster, curl his fingers against the spongy patch inside you, watching how your face contorts beneath him. he fixates on the spot. your hips involuntarily buck up into his thrusts in response, the cord within your stomach tightening. your gaze meets his, desperate, pleading. “gyu, i need, ‘m going to—”

“let go, beautiful,” he groans, grinding his cock into the crease of your thigh for relief. “you can do it, c’mon. let go for me.”

his deep-voiced encouragement sends you over the edge, warmth flooding your veins as your thighs quake around him, nails digging into his tanned skin. your eyes screw shut.

“that’s it,” he coos as you float back down to earth. he rubs soothing circles against the skin of your cheek. “my lovely girl.” 

“want you, gyu,” you beg, stomach warm from the praise. “want you inside.” 

he freezes, eyes wide. “are...are you sure?”

“i’ve never been more sure in my life,” you say. thus, his grin returns. he moves to unbutton his trousers, and you help him, grazing the hard imprint in his underwear. he hisses at the sensation, then stands from the bed to remove his remaining clothing. your mouth dries at the sight, and you gulp. he is quite well-endowed, his cock standing tall against his soft abdomen, the tip an angry crimson, the color fading as your eyes travel down the shaft. you squirm at the thought of it being inside you, stretching your walls beyond belief, pressing into every spot within you with every roll of his hips.

he settles between your thighs once again, guiding his cock against your wet folds. your poorly-veiled apprehension is not lost on him.

“i’ll go slow,” he promises, guiding the head of his cock to your awaiting entrance. “don’t wanna hurt you...you ready?”

with a deep breath, you hum in confirmation. he murmurs out a quiet “okay,” directed more towards himself than you, and shifts his hips forward. the first press brings with it a small ache. you wince, and he slows, inquiring if you are okay. 

you nod. “go slow, please.”

“of course, love,” he whispers, distracting your mind from the pain with his lips. inch by inch, he sinks deeper into your walls, soon bottoming out deep inside of you with a strained moan. he stills to allow you to adjust. as soon as you do, you’re urging him to move. he obeys, thrusts slow-paced and tender until you beg for him to quicken them. 

“yeah?” he coos. “y’want more? you, fuck — you have all of me already, s-so greedy.”

the roll of his hips sharpens, canting upward — faster, harder, deeper. all you can think to do is moan, the thoughts ricocheting in your mind now too jumbled for you to decipher and voice. a fire has ignited in your stomach, growing hotter and brighter when swings your legs over his shoulders. the angle of his thrusts causes the head of his cock to brush against a spot deep inside you, a place that has never been explored prior. a sound that is foreign to your ears tears itself from your chest, loud and unabashed.

above you, beomgyu groans. his head is thrown back, mouth agape, his hair a tousled mess atop his head. a few strands stick to his sweat-drenched forehead. a flush has traveled down and stained his chest, his abdomen flexing in exertion as he loses himself completely. his head drops down again, his eyes meeting yours, half-lidded and brimming with heady lust. you attempt to hide your face in the sheets, growing shy at the intensity of it all, but he reaches down to grip your chin, holding your gaze steady.

“watch me,” he orders. in a daze, you obey, glassy eyes barely able to comprehend the bombardment to your senses. his free hand locates your slick clit, rubbing quick circles, breath shaky as your walls flutter and tighten around him. “so good. so good for me, beautiful. no one can make you feel as good as i do, hm?”

“o-only you!” you manage to agree through your cries. he slips his thumb past your lips, and you immediately begin to suck on the digit.

“so pretty, such a good girl,” he mumbles out, half delirious. “will never get enough of you.” 

your high slams into you in a flash, your entire body quivering around him. beomgyu rapidly pulls out, ropes of his release spilling across your abdomen as he jerks himself, gasping at how your empty hole flutters around nothing. your legs drop from his shoulders, as weak as a newborn fawn's. he collapses next to you, mopping up his release with the handkerchief sitting upon your nightstand, before he pulls you to his chest, holding you like you are about to disappear into the air. he cups your cheek gently, kissing you slowly, savoring every second. when you pull away, there lies an urgency in his expression.

“run away with me,” he whispers, searching your face for something, anything. “once this ship docks in new york, run away with me.”

your chest tightens. he feels the same — oh, he feels the same. you battle back the tears beginning to form on your waterline and hold him close, reaching up to envelop the hands on your cheeks with your own and kissing him breathless.

your forehead presses to his as you respond, a watery smile painting your lips, “where would we go?”

“anywhere you’d like,” he breathes. tears form in his own eyes — hope, unbridled joy. “just say the word.”

your blooming love is not star-crossed, but auspicious, you realize while standing on the deck of the carpathia.

you had been separated from beomgyu in the sinking of the titanic that night, in the frantic crowds shoving towards the life boats and the gunshots ringing out to maintain a semblance of order. your mother had found and pushed you onto one, lowered into the sea before you were able to leap out, to search for him. you sobbed into your palms the entire night, unknowing whether he survived the sinking or not.

but now, he is across the deck before you, alive. his clothes and hair are drenched in seawater, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders — but he's alive, so very alive. he has not spotted you, his eyes pointed out to the sea where the so-called "unsinkable" ship met its watery grave. your hands begin to shake. warm, breathing, alive.

you croak out his name, tearing away from your mother in order to sprint over to him, ignoring the weakness of your limbs and the frantic protests from your mother behind you. your calls of his name amplify in volume. he spins around, and his face melts into disbelief. he races across the remaining distance between you, feet thumping against the wooden deck. arms wrap around you as the two of you meet — two souls colliding, winding and weaving around each other like threads on a loom. tears are not lost upon either of you, streaming down both of your faces as you hold each other, skin against skin as you ensure this is not a dream, or mirage.

“i love you,” you sob. “i can’t, i didn’t know if—”

he shushes you, tucking your face into his chest. “i know, love. i know. i love you, too. we’re here now, we’re together. alive.”

you choke back a whimper, crying until you can no longer. as you shift back to look at him, you find that he's smiling. a thought hits you suddenly.

“where is yeonjun? taehyun?” you ask. he squeezes you once, pointing somewhere across the deck. following his finger, you find them: beaten down, weary, but breathing. you have never been a particularly religious person, but you think that something must be watching from above, providing you such unfair luck. they wave. you wave right back.

“we floated on top of furniture until a rescue boat found us,” he explains. “we were lucky. i was half dead when we were found.”

the thought punctures your chest, but he doesn’t let your thoughts run astray for long. “it’s okay, love. you couldn’t have done anything.”

“i know, but—”

“but nothing.” a gentle smile plays on his lips. “we’re here now, aren’t we?”

“yes,” you say, your expression reflecting his. “shall we still plan to flee?”

he grins something tired yet enthusiastic. “of course, beautiful. there's no one else i'd like to see the world with more than you.”

3k event masterlist | masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies! About a certain fox’s career and about bottoms potentially spoiling their tops…

Anonymous asked:

So I’ve seen around Leona x Idia and politely ask you for some (and please don’t make the wholesome) headcannons if your able to

Anon! Unfortunately, I’ll have to politely refuse because we don’t really ship Leona and Idia :(

Anonymous asked:

Honest John should make an Onlyfans. How do you think he would do with that?

Anon’s out there using his legal name 😭 Jk this one also isn’t his legal name…

I think he has a lot of potential! There would be a learning curve because he properly doesn’t know how to use technology super well, but he knows how porn and pinups work, so… Even though his taste is a bit old-fashioned… I think that would make him fit into a very specific niche 🤔

And if it works, that would make him euphoric – imagine earning money like that without really risking it?? People who have money to spend really are naïve saps! He would laugh at them as if he is not genuinely enjoying himself for the first time in forever lol

Realistically, his biggest issue is that he absolutely doesn’t have a credit card to receive payments, and he doesn’t have a proper ID, but with the right kinds of friends that’s probably easy to fix!

Anonymous asked:

bless you for the rookvil love the art its so wonderful!! <3 and the rookvil girlies on your priv X aaa <3333 Rook in lingerie is such a treat!! i remember you said she doesn't like to be touched and i was wondering if there's a specific reason you say why? is it just rook girlie or all the top girlies? omg do any of the bottoms return the pleasure for their tops or spoil them back? ok ill stop buT I DO LOVE THE ART MUAH love it. ty for the food! <3

Anonymous asked:

wait do the boys also spoil their tops... oKA y im done im donne lmao im sorry ! stay hydrated have a wonderful day/night

Thank you, Anon! <3 I’m happy you love them, both the ones we posted a couple of days ago and the girlies! Rook in lingerie is indeed a treat and a special rare occasion for Vil only…

As for Rook not liking to be touched, (ignoring my bias that I’m going to address in a minute) it’s more of a Rook thing: she prefers to do “the hunting” and pinning someone down completely is like her instinct. If asked though, she would just say that it would get her too aroused and her heart wouldn’t be able to handle it. Maybe there is some truth to that statement, but… Vil is absolutely allowed to touch her much more than anyone else would, and she mostly does it when she wants to see Rook worked up and agitated. Vil says that it’s like teasing a feral dog that likes the pets but also doesn’t.

As for the rest of the ladies, I kind of talked about this here in the last reply. We are biased towards bottom!girlies receiving all the attention, and this for sure affects how we see top!girlies’ preferences lol But I think not all of them are as much of touch-me-nots as Rook: Rook isn’t even the worst one out of them. Azul is one of the biggest ones; she hates being touched unless she is the one demanding that, and sometimes it gets ridiculous with her. But Ace, Jack or Kalim are not as bad, and Floyd flip-flops as usual. But none of them would let the bottom!girls take the lead completely.

So yeah, while technically all the bottom!girlies could still pleasure their tops, this just isn’t the dynamic we usually gravitate towards, like I explained in the linked post. It all depends on context, I guess. I think they would do a different kind of spoiling, like teasing, dressing up a certain way, allowing something that wasn’t previously allowed, all that stuff.

With the boys it’s easier though! I can see pretty much all of the bottoms being willing to give their tops a blowjob or a handjob depending on a situation, some are more willing than others though~

The ones that are the most likely to do it are Vil (big fan of rewarding with a bj), Silver (he is such a good boy), Epel (he is eager to please and to prove himself!!) and Deuce (he acts first and thinks after, and sometimes it puts him on his knees because he feels too much love towards his top and wants to express it).

[justmybookthots]

Once Upon a Broken Heart / A Ballad of Never After

1.5/5 stars

What can I say about this series except that it was so terribly disappointing? 

The most vexing part was that I actually found the first book decent - not very good, but it was decent, and I enjoyed it. Also, a lot of people said that this book was much better than Caraval, so I’m kind of scared of / morbidly fascinated by how bad Caraval must be now.

But anyway, that is beside the point. The first book is decent, with a very pretty writing style and a simple but engaging plot. The writing was very redolent of a fairy tale; it actually reminded me a little of Enid Blyton’s writing in her children's stories. However, it did give me the feeling that the story was a little vapid at times - maybe I just needed more grit, blood and strife, and less focus on true love ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Not that there wasn’t any in the story, but the conflict rang kind of hollow, and I can’t exactly pinpoint why. I felt as if I were reading a series of tropes and mechanisms rather than an actual person going through all those things.

I must say that I disliked Evangeline, even in the first book. Here is a picture of her:

Before I elaborate on why she looks like that, let's start with the early parts of her I disliked. She was naïve and stupid, and had some real Main Character Syndrome (to be fair, she is the main character, but she's not supposed to know that). I cringed when she entered the North and immediately dreamed of marrying Prince Apollo, when she didn’t even know him yet, all for the expectations of a happy ending for herself. The secondhand embarrassment was at its peak when Apollo stepped towards the girl he would choose for the first dance, and she stepped forward, thinking he was about to choose her.

He didn’t. 

:)

I should probably talk about Jacks, who is arguably the heart of the story. Or the broken heart, because he, uh, is the Prince of Broken Hearts. 

I hate him. 

See, it's a pity because I actually liked him in the first book; his characterisation was intriguing, clever and to my taste. I thought he still had a lot of untapped potential, though, because I’d barely scratched the surface with him in Book 1. And with BookTok wanking him to oblivion - someone chose him over a gazillion book boyfriends - I had hopes that the sequel would blow my socks out of water. (Yes, yes, my misplaced faith in BookTok's credibility is my own vice)

Well, it did! Without a doubt, the sequel certainly blew all my hopes that this story would ever be decent 👍

Jacks is a coward. That’s all he ever is, and does. How does one do cowardice, you might ask? Well, you run and hurt the person you’re supposed to love, over and over again. Because he’s afraid of hurting Evangeline, he, uh, hurts her. Yes. And he spends the sequel being an ass - he flirts with girls frequently, while rudely barging in the moment Evangeline strikes up a conversation with another man. My teeth were grinding when she caught him in that deserted corridor with that girl, about to kiss her after spending the evening constantly sabotaging Evangeline’s attempts to get over him with other men.

If you don’t want her, fine. If you’re too much of a wuss, whatever. But what you don't do is stop her from starting something with someone else. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too.

And Evangeline? She actually started the book writing a letter to herself as a reminder that she must never fall for Jacks because he was dangerous. And how does she spend the last half of the book? Spoiler: Mooning over Jacks and acknowledging she’s fallen for him (which I was… very unconvinced about because the build-up to their romance SUCKED) and telling herself she was going to save him from his fear of love.

My dear, you are not Bob the Builder. No woman should be for any man. I think you should go fix your head first.

The last nail in the coffin for me was when Jacks revealed that all along, he was planning to turn back time to be with another girl (whom he didn't even love, but hoped to score a second chance with). 😂 Hilarious. You could turn back time to before the curse befell you, and you choose to go back... for some chick you didn't like? I get his theme is wanting to find true love, but I always found that so frivolous, and of course, so insulting to poor Evangeline. And after she “died” and he decided to turn back time to save her life - which, by the way, does not redeem anything for me. This girl practically risked her life to help you get the stones to help you find your true love. This is the least you can do, loser - he was such a rude ass to her to “protect her”. 

For once, Evangeline grew enough balls (it lasted for about as long as the dialogue went before she lapsed back into Bob-the-Builder mode again) to tell him this after he yelled at her:

EXACTLY. 

Anyway, I have ranted enough about this book. I don’t want any part of it anymore, and will not be abusing myself by reading the next book. I MAY read Caraval, mainly because I want to see just how bad it is. And also, I want to be sure Stephanie Garber is really a lost cause before I write her off completely. 

- 15 July 2023

[lilas]

eros 3 and ludus 4 for avi?

answering @thevikingwoman and @consulaaris here too since you all asked for eros 3. ty!

Eros 3. How do they feel about public displays of romantic affection? Does it make them uncomfortable? How do they feel if a romantic partner kisses them in public?

Hm. Avi’li doesn’t mind PDA. He’s a physically affectionate person himself, but I think the sticking point would be intent?

As he gets older and his notoriety grows, privacy is harder to have and he comes to cherish the private moments with his partners more and more. So PDA is fine but if the goal is make a public spectacle of it he’s not into it. Gossip is funny sometimes but it wears on him.

Agape 3. To what extent does your OC believe in the value/existence of true altruism? Do they see an unselfish concern for the welfare of others as naïve or foolish? Or as a moral quality to which people should aspire?

Avi’li is an idealistic person at heart, and he admires the people around him who commit themselves to altruistic and idealist causes.

He himself has struggled in the past with it. At times the wellbeing of Eorzea and the world beyond has felt like too much for one person.

It helps him to humanize things instead, and I think now having completed Shadowbringers, he’s found his answer and his reason to fully commit himself to being the protector he wants to he for Eorzea and the world.

Ludus 4. Who was your OC's first crush? How do they feel about it now?

Opening the floodgates of Avi’li’s many crushes…. :)

First Crush Ever: Eko, a childhood friend and his first love. They were exactly what the other needed at the time. Avi still thinks of her very fondly but he hasn’t seen her since he moved to Eorzea.

First Eorzean Crush(es): V’kebbe (and Jacke somewhat). Avi’li ended up working with the Rogues and learning daggers to impress V’kebbe, but I don’t think she ever noticed him in that way. She was too cool for him. Jacke gets a special mention because Avi’li did have a small crush on him but didn’t know it was a crush, so. 🥴 Avi’li is good friends with both of them now.

Bisexual Awakening: Aymeric inspired such a rush of weird and exciting feelings in Avi’li. It was a confusing time for him, and he didn’t know how to go about it with everything that was happening. But having these feelings helped him feel grounded despite the upheaval in his life. Though their relationship ended painfully, they’re very good friends still and Avi’li will stay with Aymeric sometimes when he visits Ishgard.

[adhonoremrpbios]

-- CHARACTER --

Name: Aleksandr Carter-Reyes Faceclaim: Casey Deidrick Age: 30 Blood Status: Pureblood Affiliation: Neutral Former School & House: Hogwarts, Hufflepuff Occupation: Owner of Danny’s Diner

-- BIOGRAPHY --

Aleks was born the product of a pureblood affair. His biological father has never really been a part of his life, and while his mother wasn’t looking for a kid any more than his biological father was, she adapted. Somewhat. His stepfather isn’t his favourite person in the world (and neither is his mother, for that matter), but the sister he gained when his mother married made up for everything else.

He has never been what you would call book smart, and he was never adept at magic. School was a struggle for him, because although he could have easily been a social butterfly, his lack of magical ability left him something of an outcast.

His education ended at Hogwarts, and while he throws around jokes about being ‘the family disappointment,’ it hurts him more than he lets on. These days, he’s all but a muggle- he hasn’t practiced magic in years, failing to see the point in trying when all he ever accomplished was letting his parents down and disappointing himself.

This is another reason he sticks so firmly to his place of neutrality: he thinks he exists only on the fringes of this world.

Even aside from magic and scholarly woes, he’s a jack of all trades at best. He’s passable enough of a business man to have kept his greasy little Diner’s doors open, he’s decent enough of a cook to have opened it in the first place, he’s pretty okay at the guitar, the doodles he scrawls on occasion aren’t terrible, and once in a while he’ll come up with a witty joke or a poem that isn’t too awful to share. He’s never found anything he’s *good* at, though; and at this point in his life, he’s accepted that there just isn’t anything.

So maybe self worth is something he struggles with. He tries not to think about it much. He may not be an incredible person, but he knows he’s a good one, and that counts for something.

Some things have improved since his childhood: He’s still close as ever with his sister, and he has a number of friends now too, people from all walks of life. He’s especially drawn to the ones who are struggling, the ones who he thinks he can help.

He is a big, clumsy fool, but he’s very kind hearted, and he cares far more about taking care of everyone else than he does himself. He's not a bad person to have on your bad side in the least, but he is a good person to have on your good side.

-- TRAITS --

Negative - Naïve - Noncommittal Positive + Adventurous + Compassionate

Aleksandr Carter-Reyes is taken by Rory.

[helltore-a]

tag dumb,  the sequel.

[lowkeycasanova]

Waiting on you

based off "When you're ready" by Shawn Mendes

--

"I was selfish for being with him. I was in a really bad place and it started to affect my, our, relationship. So I took a step back. Vinnie waited for me, as he always promised. We came back when we were both ready."

--

He probably had one too many drinks, but fuck it. It was what he needed right now.

Everyone sat around the fire pit, talking, laughing, playing the guitar a little bit. A way to celebrate the purchase of the new house, it was like a small house warming party with all of them together. Jett found out that you were going to be in the area for the first time in forever, so he invited you last second. Vinnie didn’t even know you were going to be here until he saw Jett greeting you at the front door a few hours prior.

When your eyes met and he saw the gentle glow from the fire illuminate your face, it was a solid reminder that you were in fact sitting across from him.

You were able to see Jack and Jett again, along with his girlfriend, and you got to meet their new friends Adam, Max, Max’s girlfriend Maykayla and her friend Taylor.

The night continued into early morning as you caught up with the people you knew and got to know the ones you didn’t. Even finding yourself looking at Vinnie from time to time.

Jack then announced that he was tired and would he going inside. One by one, everyone else went after him. You lagged behind picking up the drink glasses and other items. Although you really didn’t need to since you were the guest, but you didn’t mind.

After picking them up and setting them down in the kitchen, you wiped your hands on your pants.

“I wish I’d known you were gonna be here.”

Your body went stiff and you looked over and saw Vinnie standing in the doorway, seemingly hesitant like he didn’t want to walk in, until he did, taking a deep breath.

“I assumed Jett was going to tell you.” You replied.

Vinnie nodded understandingly and walked up to the kitchen island where he stood across from you. You two stared at each other for a moment. It’s really something how much people can change in Beale two years.

“How have you been?” He finally asked.

“Good. School’s been school. What about you. I heard about you joining one hundred thieves a while ago.”

“It’s pretty fun. We’re actually filming something in a couple days.”

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest, like that was gonna stop your heart from beating fast. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He whispered. “Sorry for the way it ended.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” You told him and he ran a hand through his hair nervously.

—

The last time you saw Vinnie was over a year and a half ago. You had met Vinnie through mutual friends, and you two were closest out of everyone.

It was more than a summer time fling. With you and Vinnie in close proximity all day and doing nearly everything together, it's like it solidified the interest you felt in one another.

Strange, because you both had told yourselves previously that you didn't want a relationship at the moment. Although you never told each other that.

It was when you went back home to Brooklyn when things started to fall apart.

How naïve of you two to think that the long distance thing would work.

Not only the distance and time zone difference, but you were both becoming busier with your respective schedules: you with school and him with social media, gaming and modeling.

Texting and facetiming everyday made it more bearable. You couldn't visit LA that much because of how demanding your school schedule was, so Vinnie came to New York as often as he could. But it wasn't the same. Mentally and emotionally, you didn't think you could do it, and that killed you. You couldn't be a good girlfriend to him right now.

"I wanna be with you, but I don't wanna hurt you." you had told him the last time he came to see you.

The tears in his eyes broke the surface and they ran down his face silently. He sniffed and looked up in an attempt to keep the tears at bay.

"You know I love you." he whispered. "I flew to New York to get you back and I'd do it again."

He thought about that day often. He was confused, and sometimes angry. That maybe you were lying to him. That you were just trying to not hurt his feelings, but you'd get with someone else soon after.

But deep down, he knew you better than that.

--

In the following time after you officially parted ways, you saw so much of Vinnie's success online. How much he's done. He was even in New York just a couple weeks ago. Yes, you were a little disappointed at first that he didn't reach out, but you understood why he didn't. It wouldn't have been fair to either of you. And now you were right in front of him, but you didn't want to throw yourself at him in any way.

Your whole body seemed to be vibrating with energy.

"So..." he started. "You in a relationship or anything?"

You shook your head no and looked down. "You?"

"No," he mumbled and looked out to the darkness through the kitchen window. You don't know how you would feel if Vinnie were to have feelings strong enough to be with someone else. But you weren't in a place to judge.

You cleared your throat. "Well, what about Taylor?" you suggested, referring to Makayla's friend. "She seems interested in you."

By the look on his face, you knew it was a ridiculous proposition.

"Not at all." he said quickly. "I mean, she comes over a lot. And, we didn't sleep together or anything...but we made out heavily once."

Your eyes widened. "Why would you mess with her?”

Vinnie scoffed. "I told her from the jump I wasn't into her like that. But she's actually good at getting us drunk."

He came closer next to you, close enough to where your arms touched and he crossed his arms over his chest.

You tsked and turned from him, fiddling with the glasses. He took one and dried it off for you.

“I got it.”

He shrugged. “It’s my house. It’s the least I could do.”

"Maybe you could work it out with her." You said, going back to the previous subject. "Have you ever thought about-"

"No." he cut you off.

"But I mean-"

"What?" he asked as his eyes burned into yours. "You think I wanna settle? Just be in a relationship since it's better than nothing?"

"Well in general, if you like someone, don't let our past hold you back."

"Hold me back? That's exactly what I wanted. You told me that you couldn't be with me because of where we were at the time. So I waited. I figured one day we would both be ready to come back together. I didn't wanna be with someone else because it was 'good enough' at the time."

The kitchen lights then turned on rather suddenly, you and Vinnie both blinking to adjust to the harsh light.

Jett stood at the entryway, staring back at you both.

"It's late." Jett simply stated, but his facial features let you know that he was about to ask more questions.

"Yeah it is." you agreed before he could say anything else. You glanced at Vinnie briefly before walking away, and you heard his footsteps behind you.

And knowing Vinnie, he'd be knocking on your door to finish this conversation.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 6

Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked.

Warnings: Sex work; lingerie; reverse cowgirl; piv; unprotected sex; accidental fluff and angst; this one also wound up being way longer than I expected it to be

Notes: @blueeyesatnight —It's not That Yeehaw Motherfucker, but it's a start, right? (I'm still working on that one too I SWEAR)

“Put ‘em on.” 

It was a muffled order, murmured against your temple as you fished into the bag, past the layer of tissue paper. You couldn’t deny your giddy feeling, even if you fought to maintain a steady, calm expression. It was rare that your clients brought you gifts—but Jack wasn’t like the others. 

You bit back a scoff at your own foolish thought. The others would call you naïve for it, and you wouldn’t blame them. Well, you hadn’t been in this business nearly as long as some of them had.

“What is it?” You batted back before you could see it properly, “An ‘I Heart Cowboys’ t-shirt?” 

You already knew that it isn’t—at least, you suspected. The bag it was handed to you in was a nice one, with thick, rectangularly structured plastic and two silky fabric handles.

“You want one’a those? Should’a told me,” Jack murmured. You grinned as he curled his arms around your middle, cuddling against your back. “I’ll bring it next time.” 

“You’re just trying to get outta paying me real money. I can’t pay rent with t-shirts, Jack.”

“Now darlin’, you know I would never.” 

You grunted softly before you finally drew the gift out of its bag. Your heart ticked up in your chest at the sight. You’d figured it was something on the salacious side when your fingers had closed around it. The rough brush of lace against your fingertips had been indication enough. But when the black lace came into view, it still managed to take your breath away. You held it up to the light, eyeing the sheer fabric around the center of the bra. 

“Garter and panties are in there, too,” Jack murmured, “So?”

You felt him rest his chin on your shoulder. You gave him a sidelong glance, arching a brow. 

“You give these to your other friends?” 

“What other friends?” Jack cooed, beginning to sway you back and forth a bit. “I know how you don’t like to share.”  

“Oh, please." 

“Put ‘em on.”

“What, now?” You teased, wriggling against Jack. “Right here?” 

“Nn-nn, I want a little reveal. I’ll wait here.” Jack lowered a hand from your middle, giving your ass a sweet little swat. “Go on.” 

You smiled, unable to help it, and stepped around Jack. You took your damn time walking back toward your bathroom. You were more than comfortable leaving him alone in your room. Hell, it had hardly been the first time. The first time, you had been afraid to leave him alone for more than a few minutes. Well, you’d been new to the business then. But the agency was discreet, and vetted their clients well. 

Jack was too much of a smooth talker; his manners had seemed too good to be true. But he’d treated you well, paid on time, and tipped handsomely. He made small talk when he arrived, but it hadn’t been that wary, nervous chatter that a couple of other clients had leveled at you. Hell, you’d been the nervous one. 

You hadn’t expected Jack to come back after that, but he’d hung around like a bad smell. 

Now, you shrugged out of your robe, tossing it over the towel rod. You shifted from foot to foot, eyeing the ensemble you’d put on. Frankly, it hadn’t been anything special. You’d been so dolled up that first night with Jack that you’d hardly felt like yourself. Jack had seen that; he’d coaxed out of your heels, drawing your feet up into his lap and working the thin straps open with quick fingers. 

“There, that’s better, isn’t it?” He’d murmured, sweeping his fingers across your ankle. “More comfortable?” 

So when you'd heard that he'd wanted to see you again, that was what you’d gone for. Comfortable. Today, you’d opened the door to him in your robe, a bralette, and a pair of sleep shorts. He hadn’t seemed to mind. Hell, he’d greeted you as warmly as ever, along with a murmur of, “Brought you a little something.” 

Now, as you pulled the lingerie out of the bag, you couldn’t help but smile, and to wonder what had made him think of you when he saw them. They are beautiful—delicate, but clearly expensive. You didn’t hurry to change, either. Maybe it was mean, but you wanted to make him wait a little, the way that you’d felt he’d made you wait for him. Maybe it wasn’t fair to feel that way. He was just a client, someone who brushed in and out of your apartment. Hell, you didn’t have any contact with him outside of the agency. He booked you through them, contacted you through them. 

“I’m turnin’ into a pumpkin’ out here!” 

You grinned at the yell, the slight annoyance in his tone. Mission accomplished. 

“Calm down, cowboy.” 

You reached up, taking your robe and pulling it on, fastening the tie around your middle before you finally turned to leave. You leaned in the doorway, arms folded across your chest as you watched Jack. He was still by your bookshelf, peering at the titles. When he heard the slight creak of the floorboards, he turned to face you, eyes bright with expectation. His gaze dimmed just a little as his eyes swept from your head to your toes and up again. 

“They didn’t fit?” He asked softly, a thread of disappointment in his tone. 

"I don’t know,” You shrugged a little, lowering your hand to undo the tie. “You tell me.” 

You let the robe fall open, pushing the fabric back and resting your hand on your hip. Jack’s tongue swept over his lip as he crossed the room in even steps. His eyes covetously wandered your body before he let out a long, low whistle.

“Have I got good taste,” He murmured, sliding his hands over your sides and drawing you to straighten up. You scoffed. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy.” 

“That was very clever, putting this back on.” 

“You said you wanted a reveal, didn’t you?” 

Jack chuckled, nodding a little, taking hold of your hand as he led you deeper into your bedroom. 

“C’mere. Lemme get a better look at’chya.” 

You smiled, following him obligingly. He sat down on the edge of your bed, thumbing over your side tenderly. 

“Take this off,” He added, nodding toward your robe. You liked that about Jack. He told you exactly what he wanted the moment he wanted it. He never left you guessing. For some clients, that was half of the fun. For you, it could be a hell of a struggle. You reached up, gently pushing at the fabric of the robe where it rested on your shoulders before it slid down, letting it pool at your feet. You reached down, sliding your hands over his arms.

“Why are you still dressed, huh? You sounded so impatient, figured I’d open the door and you’d be all ready to go,” You teased. 

“C’mon, that ain’t fair,” Jack murmured, warm eyes flicking up to your face. “You know I like to take my time with you.” 

That was true enough. Usually your clients ordered your time for a couple of hours. Jack always ordered your time for the whole night—sometimes the next morning. You couldn’t help but smile. You reached down, cupping his cheeks gently. You’d been warned about this when you’d started. It wasn’t any agency rule, of course, it was left as a matter of preference. But the girls had all told you to stay away from it. With the clients before Jack, you had. With the other clients, you did, so long as they initiated it. 

But they weren’t Jack. 

You dipped your head, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Jack let out a soft hum, the feeling of it buzzing against your lips. His hands smoothed up over your thighs, giving them a gentle pat. You smiled, wiggling little and pressing into his warm, calloused hands. You giggled as he reached around, giving your ass a tender squeeze before using the grip to tug you into his lap. You grinned, straddling his lap and looping your arms around his shoulders. Jack pecked your lips once, twice, and then dipped his head, nuzzling at your jaw. You smiled, squirming in his lap as his mustache tickled your skin. You slid your hand up into his hair, gently ruffling the meticulously styled coif. 

“Goddamn, but I missed you, sweetheart,” Jack murmured tenderly against the hinge of your jaw. Your stomach was a flurry of butterflies. Your grip tightened slightly in his hair, keeping him close.

“I missed you, too, Jack.” 

It was a stupid thing to admit to. But maybe he didn’t buy it. Maybe he was certain that you said things like that all the time to your clients. Whether or not he cared—whether or not he took umbrage with your statement, Jack cupped your jaw and turned your head toward him, catching your lips in another passionate kiss. 

You hadn’t kissed him the first couple of times you’d been together. You’d been much newer then, and had heeded every word of advice that the agency gave you. Jack had understood, though he’d pouted so cutely when you’d turned your head from his, mumbled, “I shouldn’t.” 

Jack had murmured his understanding and instead pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder. He’d abided by your rule every time he’d seen you. You’d been the one to draw him into a kiss in a following tryst. You’d heard his interested hum, felt his lips pull with a smile. He’d given you a grin like the cat that had gotten the cream as the two of you had cuddled up and smooched in your afterglow. 

Now, Jack twisted, gently depositing you on the bed. He hardly let himself get far from you, even as he resituated himself on top of you. You shifted, pushing yourself back onto the bed a little bit, your knees bracketing his hips as his fingers teased and smoothed over the lace and straps of the garter. Your fingers slid from his hair to undo the buttons on his shirt. As each was undone, it revealed a new sliver of his tanned, muscled chest. You tugged the shirt up from his jeans before shoving the fabric from his shoulders. Jack shrugged it off, tossing it onto the side of the bed before cuddling close again. You sighed, tipping your head back as Jack’s lips trailed over your throat, down to where your breasts peeked out from the top of the bra. 

You bit your lip, looking down at him as he slid a hand up under your back, fingers expertly undoing the hooks. He pressed a tender kiss to your sternum before he gave the center a tug. You sat up just a little, shifting your arm to help him dispose of it. Your hands slid down, fingers scrabbling at Jack’s belt, your nails clacking against his wide belt buckle. 

He chuckled, a sweet, warm sound as he reached down, steadying your hands. 

“You got somewhere to be?” 

Your face warmed at his teasing, and you turned your head a touch from him as your embarrassment turned your stomach. He let out a soft tutting before he leaned up, nuzzling your cheek. With others, you played at shyness. It was always damnably real with Jack. He made you feel like he wasn’t simply there because he paid to be, and that you weren’t simply there because you were paid to. 

“Plannin’ on seein’ someone else tonight?” He added, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

“You know I’m not.” 

“Alright if you were.” 

“Jack,” You squirmed against him petulantly, heels kicking against the bed. 

“I wouldn’t hold it against ya.” 

“I’m not going to pass up my time with you. It’s so rare these days.” 

Maybe it was unfair of you to say, especially considering your function in his life. But you weren’t interested in him merely as a cash grab. That’s what made the time you spent with him so dangerous. Jack’s hands slid from your sides to cup your cheeks, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

“You really did miss me?” 

You knew he wasn’t teasing you, but it still made your body go hot with embarrassment. You couldn’t draw back; Jack was all over you. He had the strength advantage; his physique had never gone unnoticed. He’d never used it against you, of course, but it had been obvious in the way he’d held, gripped, turned and guided you in your encounters. Now, he squeezed your jaw to keep your focus. 

“Don’t make fun,” You mumbled. 

“I wouldn't. You have my word.” 

It was too close—too sincere. You carefully twisted your face out of his grip before you reached down, working pointedly at his belt buckle again. 

“Now hang on,” He chuckled, “I think you’re forgetting who’s in charge here.” 

He reared back, hooking his fingers in one of your garter straps and giving it a snap. You hissed, shifting against the pain before you reached up, tweaking Jack’s nipple. He groaned, slapping your thigh in return. Through the shift, the tweaks and teases, smiles had found their ways back onto your faces, the seriousness of the previous moment forgotten. 

“Which one of us is in charge here, then?” You pushed, batting your eyelashes. Jack grinned, hooking both hands in the band of the garter belt. 

“I’m not sure you want remindin’ of that, missy.” 

"Guess you'll just have to put me in my place, cowboy."

--  

You bit your lip at the sound of Jack’s groan. You leaned forward, resting your hands on his thighs as you beared down a touch more on his hard cock. 

“Goddamn, angel,” He sighed, smoothing his hand over your ass. “If this ain’t the prettiest picture, I don’t know what is.”

Your grin widened as your ass settled against the swell of his thighs, his length buried fully inside you. It was only a moment before you started to roll your hips, acclimating to the feeling of him. You couldn’t see him, your back to his face as you rode him, but Jack’s heady grunts and moans were enough to tell you that you were pleasing him. 

You gasped as you felt Jack sit up behind you. His cock shifted inside you as he cuddled up against your back, curling his arms around your middle. You shivered as he pressed his face into your neck. 

“Go on,” He urged, mustache prickling pleasantly against your neck. He gave your thighs a gentle squeeze, and his hips a shove. You huffed, shifting just a touch to tuck legs knees into a kneeling position. Jack took hold of your hands, gripping them and tugging them behind your back. You bit your lip, letting your eyes slide shut as you began to bounce on his lap. Jack hissed in a quiet breath, hand sliding down to flex against your thighs. 

“Like that?” You plied after a moment, voice shaking as you panted. 

“Just like that,” Jack murmured against the shell of your ear. “Always take such good care'a me, angel.” 

You tipped your head forward, cunt throbbing around his cock as you picked up your pace. Your hands flexed in Jack’s grip, fingers brushing against his chest. Jack chuckled behind you, tugging you more tightly against him. You gave your wrists a little wriggle, and Jack let out a quiet huff. 

“What’s the plan there, sweetheart?” 

“I just wanna touch you, Jack. Please?” You plied softly. Jack groaned softly against your shoulder. 

“Taking advantage of me, huh?” 

“Advantage?” You faltered.

“You know I can never say no to you.” 

You grinned, a flutter flash of warmth washing over you as Jack loosened his grip on your wrists. You leaned more heavily against his chest, lowering one hand to rest on his thigh and raising the other to stroke over his cheek. You tipped your head back against his shoulder, luxuriating in the feeling of his chest moving against your back, his kisses and sighs against your neck, and his cock driving up into you. 

“That’s it,” Jack urged as you began to bounce harder. He lowered his fingers to your pussy, swiping through the wetness gathered around your opening before slipping them up, slicking them across your clit. You hissed out a curse, pressing into his fingers and down against his cock. You whimpered as you felt the familiar sensation build in your belly, like a wire coiling into a spring. You picked your pace up, hinging forward and arching your back. 

“Fuck, go on,” Jack urged, sliding his hand along your back before hooking your hand on his shoulder to anchor you as you chased your pleasure. You whined, breathing his name out as your orgasm washed over you in waves. Jack nudged you forward as your cunt throbbed around him. He gripped your hips more tightly than he had, and you sagged back, just holding yourself up as he used your body roughly. You reached back, holding yourself up on a shaky arm, and palmed his ass, giving it an encouraging squeeze. Jack’s hips snapped more harshly, his breath puffing hotly against your neck. You moaned softly as you felt him curl over you, grinding more deeply into you as he came. 

Jack curled his arm around your middle, rolling the two of you to lay on your sides. You couldn’t have given less of a fuck that your head was at a slightly uncomfortable angle; your feet were pointed toward the pillows, your head by the end of the bed. But you heard a murmur of, “Lift your head up, darlin’.” You did, and a moment later, Jack tucked his rolled up shirt beneath your head. You smiled, cuddling back against him and resting your head on the shirt. You shut your eyes, nuzzling into the fabric and taking in a slow, steady whiff, catching on the scent of his woodsy cologne. You slid your hand over his arm, intertwining your fingers and giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

-- 

“We oughta get cleaned up.” 

His insistence was mumbled against your belly, though neither of you make a move to rectify that situation. You just reached down, combing your fingers through his slightly damp hair. 

“Probably,” You agreed with a wide yawn. Your hand fell from his head as Jack pushed himself up to lean over you, his eyes searching your face. You tipped your head to the side, searching his in return. He looked more tired than he had the last few times you’d seen him. In your hours in bed that evening, you’d spotted the odd bruise, a few new scratches and scars than there had been on him before. You raised your hands, sliding them gently over his shoulders. 

You didn't know what he did, but whatever it was, it put him through the wringer.

“Bath?” You offered, “Shower?” 

“Mmm…” Jack pursed his lips, directing his gaze upward as he considered.  

--  

You were certain he was half-asleep. His head was resting back against your shoulder, his eyes closed. The bubbles had all run out, leaving you room to admire him where he was cuddled back against your body. You eyed the steady rise and fall of his chest, the errant drift of his knee to and fro, bobbing above the water. You turned your head, nuzzling against his temple and letting your own eyes close. 

“...You’re not lonely without me, are you?” 

His question was practically whispered, and out of left field. Your heart ticked up in your chest. You swallowed thickly, keeping your eyes closed. 

“I’m not sure I should answer that, Jack.” 

“Why not? Afraid you’ll hurt my feelings?” 

There was a smile in his voice, but you couldn’t bring yourself to match it. 

“...Afraid I’ll say something stupid,” You admitted. 

“I’ve never known you to do that.” 

“First time for everything, right?” 

Jack huffed a soft laugh out before he reached down, drawing your hand up to rest on his chest. 

“...But you do miss me when I’m gone?” 

You didn’t know why he needed this reassurance. Maybe he missed you, too, and wanted to know it was mutual. Maybe he wanted to remind you both that this was contained, that it started and stopped at your doorstep, and your bank account. Nonetheless, you curled both hands around Jack’s, dropping a tender kiss to his head. 

“More than I should, cowboy.” 

Tag list: @leaveinthelurk ; @missredherring ; @fangirlfreakingout ; @stevie25 ; @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @karie-me-home ; @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly ; @guyfieriii (tried to tag and it won’t let me D: ) ; @moonlightburned ; @amneris21 ; @shiftingsands14 ; @cloudohell ; @blueeyesatnight (Tagged up top) ; @inlovewithhisblueeyes ; @reaperofmen

[scuttling]

Sweet Evening Breeze

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 5,042 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Naïve reader, Innocence kink, Oral sex, Unprotected sex, Previous bad sexual experience Summary: Being Jack Hotchner’s babysitter is a pretty great job. He’s an angel, most of the time, and his dad is so sweet and thoughtful, really takes care of you. Really takes care of you... *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! “Jack, buddy, time for breakfast,” you call down the hall for the third time. “We’ll play Legos later.” He shouts something nearly incomprehensible back, and you sigh as you stretch up, trying to reach the jam he likes on the top shelf of the cupboard.

Most of the time, the fact that Jack’s dad, Aaron, is very tall gives you butterflies in your stomach, but sometimes it’s just an inconvenience—like when he puts groceries up so high you don’t have a chance of reaching them.

“Dad did not say you could skip breakfast, and it’s not okay to lie. Little monster,” you mutter, and you can feel Aaron’s breath on the back of your neck when he chuckles softly. Whoops. You didn’t even know he was standing there. “I say that with full affection.”

He reaches around you to take down the jam, resting a hand on your lower back, probably for support. The bit of skin exposed by your stretching tingles at the touch.

“Of course, and so do I. Often.” You turn to face him, give him a grateful smile, and take the jar of jam.

“Thank you. Ugh, aren’t you miserable in that?” you ask, gesturing to his usual business suit. As Jack’s babysitter, you see Aaron in a suit almost every day—another thing that gives you butterflies—but you’re in the middle of a heatwave, and it’s 97 degrees in your little suburb of DC, which means it’s probably more like 115 downtown. That’s too hot to do anything, but especially in a suit and tie.

“It’s cool in here, but yes, I’ll probably be miserable the second I step foot outside.” You spread peanut butter on one English muffin and jam on another, laughing softly when a thought comes to you.

“Too bad you don’t have as much flexibility with your dress code as I do.”

At the start of this heatwave last week, you’d asked Aaron—after much nervous deliberation—if you could wear shorts and tank tops around the house instead of your usual jeans and a t-shirt or sweater. Your so-called uniform was self-imposed, because he’d told you from the start you could dress however you were comfortable, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You weren’t trying to show off your body, or tempt or tease, or anything like that; you were just extremely hot, especially playing outside with Jack.

He had agreed, of course, that you should dress for the weather, and that shorts and tank tops were fine. He also reminded you that you could use the pool whenever you wanted, whether he was home or not, and just thinking about taking a dip later is enough to make you sigh in relief.

“I don’t think anyone would be interested in seeing me in an outfit like that,” he jokes—sometimes people can’t tell when he’s joking, because he’s so dry, but you’re familiar with his humor by now—and you laugh again. It earns you a smile.

“I think it’s more important that you’re comfortable than what people think when they see you in something, but it would probably be a little distracting.” You’ve seen him in his swim trunks on more than one occasion, most recently with no shirt to accompany them, and you can attest to being very distracted that day. You were supposed to be keeping an eye on Jack, and you did, would never put him in danger, but your eyes had also been following the drops of water that dripped from Aaron’s hair, down his throat, over his chest…

You had been hot for more than one reason that day, and your butterflies moved a little bit lower.

You shake your head of those thoughts quickly, glance around you to see that Jack is still not in the kitchen. You sigh, and put the peanut butter muffin on a paper napkin, hand it to Aaron.

“I’m going to go get him, but have a good day, okay? Try to stay cool; maybe you can take a swim tonight when it’s not so hot.”

“Good idea. Maybe you can join me if you’re still here.” That was sweet of him to offer. You smile at his kindness, brush a hand over your head. You wish your hair wasn’t all over the place, clinging to the sweat on your neck, your temples, but humidity is not your friend. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Thanks, maybe I will.” He gathers his things to head out, and you steel yourself and head to Jack’s room, scoop him up, giggling, into your arms, and plop him down for breakfast.

The two of you spend the day inside, because even swimming is a nightmare when the sun is beating down the way it is. You play with Legos, watch a movie, do some coloring pages, and play learning games on his iPad.

At around three, Aaron texts you, lets you know he won’t be home tonight because of a case, and you mentally plan out a small, easy dinner for you and Jack, then a little more playtime, then bed for Jack and a swim for you after.

You tuck him in, turn on his nightlight, and close the door behind you, then head to your room to change into your bathing suit.

You usually wear a purple one piece with shorts over it, something you can play with Jack in without worrying about anything falling out, so you’re surprised to find a pale blue, floral print bikini on your bed—a very tiny bikini—with a sticky note on the tag.

Went shopping for Jack and this made me think of you. I hope you like it. - Aaron

The first two things to pop into your head are, it was so sweet of him to think of you while out shopping, and you’re really glad he’s not here to see you in it, because it only half-covers all the things it’s supposed to cover. You double check the tag, but it’s the right size, so it must just be the intended design. Your cheeks flush hot, but it also makes you feel good, to be wearing so little. Kind of wrong, but good in a way you can’t explain.

You grab a couple of beach towels and step out into the slightly cooler night air, sigh at the feel of it on so much of your skin. You lay out your towels on the lounge chair by the edge of the pool—maybe you’ll lay there and read or play on your phone after your swim—and then step into the pool.

The water is still so warm, and the contrast between it and the breeze that blows across the surface has goosebumps breaking out across your skin. You dip your head under the water, let your hair fall loose and luxuriously wet after being twisted up all day long, and when you open your eyes Aaron is standing at the edge of the pool; you gasp, startled by his sudden appearance, and then laugh lightly.

“Oh my god, you scared me. I thought you weren’t going to be home tonight?” You swim closer to the edge so you can see him better, and he crouches down to your level. He’s taken off his jacket and tie, loosened the collar of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves; your heart races a little at his proximity, and all the dark hair you’re presented with.

“Change of plans, we weren’t needed after all. I texted you, but I see your phone is over there; I’m sorry I scared you.” He looks you over, something calculating in his gaze, and then smiles softly. “You’re wearing the swimsuit I bought you. Do you like it?”

You can feel yourself flush, because you hadn’t anticipated him being home to see you in it, but there’s nothing you can do about that now.

“Yes, I like it. It’s pretty. Thank you.” He must be able to sense your apprehension, because he tilts his head curiously.

“If you don’t like it, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings. Don’t be shy.”

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I love it. That was so sweet of you.” You reach out a hand to rest on his arm, don’t want him to feel like you aren’t grateful. “It’s just a little… revealing.” He makes a soft noise of contemplation, reaches out to brush his fingers over your shoulder, over the strap.

“I was a little worried about that. Why don’t you get out of there and let me see? I can let you know if I think it’s too much.” You appreciate that he’d do that for you, and you respect his opinion, but you feel really exposed in it—and you’re not sure why that makes you feel so uncomfortable and so good at the same time.

Sure, he’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life, but there’s no way he’d ever look at you as anything other than the sitter. You’re just too… innocent.

All the same, you nod your head and lift yourself up out of the pool; Aaron moves back, helps you up, and guides you over to the lounge chair. He sits, and you stand.

From there, he looks slowly over your body; he lingers over your breasts, your hips, then asks you to turn so he can see the back. You swallow, self-conscious under his gaze.

“Have you ever been this undressed in front of a man?” he asks, his voice low, and your breath hitches. “I can tell you’re nervous, that’s all.”

“Um. Once,” you say, flushing. He hums, brushes a hand down the length of your arm, and you feel a chill. You turn back to face him, and he pats the lounge chair, encouraging you to sit next to him. You sit, cross legged, facing him, nervous, but… also not; it’s hard to explain.

“Were you completely naked?” The way he asks it is so casual, but being naked isn’t casual for you; you can barely bring yourself to think about being naked, let alone talk about it. With your employer.

But something about the way he asks it makes you want to answer, at the same time, and there’s almost no one you trust more than Aaron. He’s always been so good to you.

“No. I left something on.” It had been a bra, gray with a pink bow in the middle. You were more comfortable keeping it on, and your ex-boyfriend hadn’t cared. He hadn’t cared about much, it turns out.

“Was it during sex?” The way the word sounds coming out of his mouth makes you anxious, and excited; you can’t believe you’re having this conversation, and you also don’t want it to end.

“Yes, during... sex.” He nods, brings a hand to your cheek and brushes your wet hair back, tucks it behind your ear. Your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised the world around you is still so calm, quiet. Intimate.

“How many times have you had sex, sweet girl?” You close your eyes, embarrassed. You don’t want him to know how innocent you really are, not when he’s so much older and more experienced. He’ll laugh.

Then again, this is Aaron, and he’s only ever made you feel cared about and safe before. So maybe he won’t?

“Um. One time.”

“Just one time? That’s surprising to me; you’re so beautiful.” You shiver, maybe from being wet with the breeze on your skin, or maybe because he brushes his fingers over your lips, or maybe because he called you beautiful. No one’s ever called you beautiful. “Did it feel good?”

You’d wanted it to feel good; it did, for maybe a minute, and you think about that minute all the time, especially when you… when you slip your hand into your panties at night in your bed, thinking about Aaron’s broad shoulders, his thick forearms, his hands, his mouth...

“Kind of. And then no.” His hand freezes and he frowns. His voice is abruptly less low, more serious. There’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows you want to reach out and touch.

“Did he hurt you?” It had hurt, but you know he hadn’t meant for it to hurt. He wasn’t mean. He was just so eager to finish that once he started, he’d stopped caring if you were feeling good, so focused on his own body. You figured that’s just how guys are, and it made you never want to do it again—so you didn’t.

“Not on purpose,” is what you say. He covers your hand with his, big and warm and careful. You’ve always felt so comforted by his touch, and tonight is no exception.

“What happened?”

“It started quickly and ended quickly. I don’t think I was… prepared.” You’re blushing, hoping he understands your indirect statement so you don’t have to say it out loud. He rubs his thumb soothingly over the back of your hand, reaches up with the other to touch your flushed cheek.

“You weren’t wet?” You exhale, a little shaky, tell him no. “Are you wet now, sweetheart?” You’re almost ashamed to say, but he is asking...

“Very.” It’s just a whisper, but it makes him smile a little, touch your mouth again. You could get used to that.

“Good girl. Can I feel?” That gives you pause, for a moment, but thinking of him touching you where you’ve imagined for months—it’s too good of a prospect to pass up, no matter how nervous you are. You nod, and he moves his hand inside your swimsuit bottoms, brushes over your core, slips between your lips easily. He never takes his eyes off of yours. “It would feel really good to have sex now. Do you want to try again? You’re always taking such good care of us; I want to take care of you.”

You bite your lip, and he leans in slowly, presses his mouth to yours for a gentle kiss. You make a soft noise of pleasure, tilt your hips so you’re sliding over his hand, and he groans—it’s honestly one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. It means he wants you… never in a million years would you have guessed that.

“I want to try,” you breathe, and you feel bold, so you kiss him this time. He pulls you close, deepens the kiss, adds tongue, and you moan at the feel, clinging to his shirt. “Aaron.”

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” he says, voice low, and he moves his fingers up to the part of you that makes you shake with desperate need, rubs tight circles so you’re panting, chest heaving; you nod quickly and he picks you up, hand still moving inside your swimsuit, carries you to the sliding glass door and pushes it open with his elbow.

You assume you’ll head straight for the bedroom, but he stops in the kitchen, sets you on the counter and kisses you again, a little harder than you’ve experienced before; you love it, try your best to match the way his mouth moves, and his fingers press hard against your aching bud, making you gasp with pleasure.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?” he asks, a little breathless himself, and you smooth your fingers through his hair.

“Um. I think so. From touching myself like this.” He moves his fingers faster, and you press your palm against the counter for support, move your hips against his hand. It feels so good, so much better than when you do it that you could cry.

“Has someone else ever given you an orgasm?” You use the fingers in his hair to bring him to you for a kiss, something you both moan softly into.

“No. I want-I want you to be the first,” you murmur, and he closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and lifts you up again, this time carrying you to his bedroom and setting you on your feet by the bed. He looks down at you with eyes so dark and gorgeous, then asks if he can remove what little clothing you have on. You tell him yes, and he pushes down the bottoms, which you step carefully out of.

When his hands move to the top, you hesitate, always self-conscious about this; he leans in and presses delicious kisses to your neck, your shoulders, slides the straps down, and looks up at you with caring, gentle eyes. You nod, and he pulls your top off, too, leaving you completely naked in front of someone for the first time in your life.

It’s such a rush, you wish he hadn’t waited so long to initiate this.

“You are so incredibly beautiful,” he says, and with the way he‘s looking at you, you actually believe it. He takes your face in his hands, kisses your lips, then moves down your throat again, your chest—he pays your nipples a bit of attention, flicking his tongue, scraping his teeth, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. “So perfect.”

He puts his hands all over your body, sweeping over your arms, your waist, and he presses kisses to your stomach, your hips, your thighs. You want his mouth where his fingers were, but you don’t ask; it’s almost like he knows anyway, when he looks up at you from his knees.

“Has anyone ever tasted you?” You shake your head, and he puts his hands on your butt, squeezes softly, and guides you to lay back on the bed. “I want you to tell me how it feels, okay?”

Normally, you’re quiet out of necessity, because when you aren’t here you have an apartment you share with a roommate—even though most of the time, you sleep here whether you’re strictly required to or not. You’re quiet here too, because you’ve never wanted Aaron to know how he makes you feel, although now you’re really wishing you’d have found out sooner that he feels the same way. Imagine all the cool, quiet nights you could have spent on this bed, in his arms…

Shaking yourself out of the fantasy—because reality is literally happening, and it’s so much better—you nod, and he carefully spreads your thighs, leans in to tease his tongue along your slit, light and wet.

“Oh. Aaron.” He looks up, reaches a hand forward to twine your fingers together, and you squeeze them, moaning when he dips again, this time pressing his tongue inside you where you’re wettest. “Oh my-oh my god.” He leans in to press damp kisses to your lower belly.

“That’s right, sweetheart. I want you to come on my tongue—come on my tongue, don’t be shy.” Again, he slides it inside, brings his free hand up to rub you, and it’s not long before you do as he asks, shaking and tightening your grip on his hand. You’re almost embarrassed by how loud you are, but he is nothing but sweet when he comes up, whispers in your ear how well you did for him, how pleased he is to be the first to make you moan like that, to taste you.

He kisses your mouth so you can taste yourself, and groans when you reach for his head, hold him closer.

“Thank you,” you murmur, shaky, when the kiss breaks, and he rubs over your lips with his thumb like he did before, smiles softly.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweet girl. I told you I wanted to take care of you; I’m just so glad you let me.” You move your hands to the front of his shirt and rest them there, hoping he’ll take the hint, but he just gets a glimmer in his eye that makes the butterflies flutter low despite your very recent release. “Don’t be shy. Tell me what you want.” You flush, don’t know how to ask a man—especially a man like Aaron—to get naked for you. “Oh, there’s that blush. My sweet, innocent girl. You haven’t even been properly fucked, of course you don’t know how to ask for what you want. But I’ll teach you.”

He sits up, hovering over your body, gets his fingers on the buttons of his shirt and starts to slip them free. He has to unzip his pants to untuck it, and the sight and sound of that makes you whimper—you immediately tense, feel shame at being so vocal, but he just leans in to kiss you, soft and slow.

“You can’t wait for me to be naked too, can you? You want to see what a man looks like, feel what a man feels like. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” It comes out roughly, almost too low for even you to hear; you clear your throat and try again. “Yes, Aaron.” It earns you a slightly harder kiss, and he climbs off the bed to undress the rest of the way; your eyes are drawn to his erection as soon as it’s exposed, and he looks at you with nothing less than lust in his eyes. It makes you shiver and want to open your legs for him again.

“You’re staring. Have you touched a cock before—stroked it with your hand?”

“No. Can I?” you ask, sitting up against the pillows, and he nods, moves next to you, and takes your hand. You’re intimidated by the size of him, all the more so when he wraps your fingers around it, covers them with his, and strokes.

“Feels so good, baby,” he rumbles, slinging his free hand around your hip and holding you close to his body. He is so… just good looking, so different from your ex-boyfriend, from guys your age, and you look up at his face while you touch him, hoping to bring him even half as much pleasure as he brought you. Your eyes flick back down, though, after a short time, transfixed by the wet head disappearing into your fist. “Hmm. Good girl. Do you want to try putting your mouth on it?”

God, do you want to try that. You want to know what it tastes like, feels like on your tongue; you nod, scoot back a little so you can bend over him, and he puts his hands on your head, slowly guides your open mouth to hover over him.

“Careful with your teeth, and keep me nice and wet, okay? We'll go slowly.” He pushes your hair back from your face so he can see you better, which is sweet, and you nod, close your lips around him, let him show you how he wants you to do it.

He feels so big in your mouth, and you remember to be careful, to be wet, like he said. He’s not making you take him deeply, just a couple of inches, and when you’re not so nervous it feels really good, the weight of him against your tongue, his gentle hands teaching you what to do. It makes you feel useful, learning how he likes to be pleasured, and you enjoy finding ways to make yourself useful to Aaron.

“Perfect, perfect. Just like that—you’re doing great, sweetheart.” You hum around him, pleased that it feels good for him, and you’re stricken with the urge to feel him spilling into your mouth, but he groans and offers something even more intriguing. “Would you like to come sit in my lap? I want to press into your warm, tight, sweet pussy; I promise it will feel good, not like last time.” You make another noise, something eager, and he pulls you off and gets his hands on your waist, brings you up to rest against his thighs.

“Will it hurt?” you ask, just in case. You hadn’t thought to ask that last time. “You’re big; what if it doesn’t fit?” You look up at him, and warm, tender eyes peer into yours.

“It won’t hurt, and it will fit, I promise. We’ll make it fit. Lean up.” You stretch up a little, press your hands to his shoulders, and he rubs his hands soothingly over your body, kisses your chest, and then dips a finger inside you; you grip him tightly, moan, hold still while he moves it in and out, then adds another. “How does that feel? Don’t be shy.”

“Feels-feels good,” you breathe, and he pumps them together which feels so incredible, so new. He brings his free hand to your butt and squeezes softly.

“Good girl. I’m adding another. You’re so wet, it shouldn’t be a problem, but tell me if it’s uncomfortable.” The third finger makes you feel like you’re full up, a little snug, but you know you’ll need to get used to it if you want him inside; you breathe, will yourself to only feel the good, remind yourself that this isn’t like last time. Aaron is being so good to you; he won’t stop being good to you.

“Aaron.” It’s a gasp, a plea, a question, and he answers it by pulling his fingers out, putting his hands on your hips, and lining his cock up at your entrance, lowering you slowly onto it. You pant, moan as it slides in; it feels tight to you, and you’re so incredibly full, but his hands feel like safety and you’re not worried. He’s always taken care of you; he wouldn’t hurt you.

“You’re perfect, you’re doing so good. You feel so good.” He squeezes you, stretches up to brush his lips over yours. “We’re going to make you come again; I’ll give you the best night of your life, I promise.”

“Of course you will. This is already the best night of my life,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he kisses you harder; you can feel his hands tighten, and it doesn’t hurt, only makes you want more, rougher. You feel filthy for wanting that, but it’s Aaron, and you want any and everything he wants to give; you also want him to take anything he wants to take.

He moves your body up and down, a show of strength that makes you moan, just a string of desperate sounds you’re a little embarrassed of; he appreciates the noises you make, though, if the way he grips you is any indication, his eyes determined as he makes you bounce on his cock.

“Oh, yes baby, just like that. How does it feel, sweet girl?”

“Mmh, good, so good, so good,” you sigh, your butt making contact with his firm thighs each time he brings you down on him. “Feels so good to be… to have it inside me.”

Aaron hums, frowns just slightly.

“Tell me what it is, baby. Your innocent little mouth can be dirty for me, this once. What feels good? What’s inside you?” His voice is a little tense, like maybe he wants to finish, but he doesn't change a thing, doesn’t hurt you so he can get there faster. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, curl fingers into his hair.

“Your… It’s your cock, Aaron. Your cock feels so good inside me.” You’ve thought the word, never said it aloud, but it makes him groan deeply, so you vow to say it again at some point just to savor that reaction.

“Yes it does, yes it does. Feels so good inside your perfect pussy, my perfect, sweet girl.” His hands move you faster, and you want to help now that you know this is how he likes it; when the two of you work together, it’s quicker thrusts, harder thrusts, your breasts bouncing along with the rest of your body and making you feel filthy, indecent. Amazing.

You lean in for a kiss, and Aaron turns it into something deep and decadent, delicious; you pass moans back and forth, holding tightly to him, the both of you breaking a sweat even in the cool air. You’re so close, so close to the ultimate pleasure you felt with his head between your legs, and you can hear your moans change, eager, needy things.

“Aaron please. Please.” You take his face in your hands, look into his eyes, bounce on him and kiss him and plead for release against his lips, and he holds you so tightly and climaxes, spilling inside you and pumping up into you, breathless.

“Oh, good girl, you did that. You made me come, baby. Not so innocent anymore, are you?” You shake your head—you don’t feel innocent anymore, you feel good, you want more, want to chase the feelings you’ve felt tonight, including the one still building inside you. “Now let’s get you off. I want to feel it.” He digs his fingers into your hips, so hard you think it might bruise, but in your heightened state of arousal it just feels good; you keep moving until your orgasm takes control of you, makes you grip his hair hard in your fingers and slam yourself down on him.

“Yes, yes, mmm.” He brings a hand to your face, softly catches your jaw, and guides you to make eye contact while you ride him through it until you are both spent, sinking against the bed. He sweeps his hands over your body, kisses you softly, and you melt at his touch. “That was so incredible. Thank you.”

“I told you, you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to take care of you; been wanting that for some time,” he admits easily, touching your cheek. “I’m just glad I could give you a good experience after the bad one.”

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it.” Your voice is light, low, because saying things like this, talking about sex, is still so new to you. “I love being here for you, helping you with Jack, and anything else you need. Do you think you’ll want or need me like this again?”

“Oh, I don’t see how I could do without, if it’s something you want. Although I may have to return that swimsuit. It is pretty indecent,” he says with a somewhat guilty smile.

You figured as much, and for the first time tonight you feel very confident when you say, “No, I think I’d like to keep it.”

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[justgojoshoe]

Bloodshed Mafia!Geto Suguru X Fem! Assassin reader PART 2/2

TW! Mentions of killing and blood, Dub-con, Kidnaping, stripping, unprotected sex WRAP YOUR WILLYS!, BDSM, MINORS DNI, Dom! Suguru X bratty reader, a lick of degrading a bit, PRAISE LOTS. Corruption kink, size kink. Daddy kink.

[S/c= skin color

Y/n= your name 

h/c = hair color 

E/c= Eye color

Summary; As a high up assassin who was forced into this job you were ordered to kill the strongest mafia boss. You take on the job. You pretend to be a girl hoping to score, so you sign up for a show that would capture his attention 😏. When you’re plan to seduce him goes wrong and your boss reassigns the job what will you do when he comes to find you. “This is your fault pretty girl, you should’ve never tempted me, now you’ll never escape.”

Recap!

You should most definitely not be aroused but you can’t help it almost like he was meant for you and when you pull the knife on his neck he rests the gun against your head, long slender finger warming the trigger. Geto chuckles in amusement. “ what now doll?” He smirks.

Run. That’s what you do best right?

*****

The phone won’t shut the fuck up, “ Yes? Oh good you tracked her down? Bring her to me.” :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: READ PART ONE IF YOU HAVENT THOUGH ;)

After you had basically jumped off his lap and smirked you scat so quick, you basically threw yourself into your sleek black suv…. Not cool but practical. You drove all the way to your bosses corporate office, you sheepishly walked in. He eyed your figure your body suit hugging your curves just right.

“ You killed him?” His gravely voice boomed in your ears, speeding the rate of your heart. No, he’s not cute. You’re fucking terrified of this man. Standing at 6’1, jacked like a kangaroo on steroids. Plus there’s the fact he killed his family. He does NOT care what he has to do to get what he wants. The sides of his head are shaved and the top of his head is adorned with slicked back gray hair with a single white streak. His face definitely shows his age with frown lines and a wrinkled forehead. You gulped and closed your eyes.

“No, he caught me. I’m not killing him” you said your voice slightly shaking but you went on like you were confident. He glared at you his eyes practically turning red with his fury. “ Excuse me?” He seethed, his voice was dripping with rage.

“ I said I’m not killing I’ve been by your side since I was 16. I’ve never ONCE disobeyed you. This is the one time it’s too much. If you get mad I’ll quit or kill myself.” You used up all the courage you could muster for this very moment, you’ve been waiting to tell this man off your whole life at this point because when you were 16 you were still naïve and young. He changed you and this was your new life this is a whole different person from when you’re 16 and you’re done. He stayed quiet for a good 10 minutes scrutinizing your every word I am your body like it was some toy stabbed but you stood your ground you were done this is your last straw.

“ You will kill him” he challenged you. You sighed in response Pulled out a lighter and lit your fucking phone on fire, ripped off the suit and threw on a T-shirt and a pair of pants that you had on your back pack. Gave back all his guns and weapons you have and every last piece you had of him. You threw it in the fucking fire you were done and what he was scrambling to grab the fire extinguisher . You walked out but before you left you looked at above your shoulder.

“ I told you I’d quit. You taught me not to be scared of death and so I’m no longer scared of you kill me like you did my mom my whole family I dare you.” You saw red, but at the same time if your stomach was filled with the feeling of freedom. Felt so light If you walked on water you wouldn’t sink. You were ready for your new life. Fast forward to a couple days later you had found an apartment and you were living life pretty normally until you heard a knock see this is different because you didn’t have anyone know that that old stinky man is gone. You sighed and opened the door, to be met with two large and familiar men.

Oh god no. Your heart sunk to your feet, your face filled with both terror and realization. “ Get b-“ you struggle against the cloth pulled over your mouth as it interrupted you. You held you breath but it was no use as they just waited and you succumbed to the long awaited slumber. Tap. Tap. Tap.Tap.

The sound of expensive dress shoes hit the floor and you gasped in surprise, when you saw the mafia boss you tried to kill smirking at you I’m all his glory.

“ Geto Suguru.” You choked out. You were scared shitless but you weren’t about to go back to who you once were. “In the flesh” she smirked and licked his lips.

“Am I here Geto” he chuckled “ Call me Suguru, baby girl you’ll be here for a long time.” you opened your mouth to retaliate but your mind was stuck on the long time. “ You’re mine now. You were made for me. Now you will stay. Try and run I’ll give you 20 second head start. If you make it to an exit you leave if not you stay.” He smiled at me and you wasted no time before you jumped up and sprinted out of the crème colored room all the walls were pearly and shiny. The carpets were velvet red it’s like a palace hell it’s probably a castle. You make it to a door and you hear the taps of his shoes closing in but your free!

“ah ah ah, baby doll. I believe you loose baby” his smooth tone laced with that of lust was like a bedtime story so soothing and my heart is only beating out of my chest because I ran right? The butterflies are actually nausea right? He chuckles in a sadistic manner as he picks you up by my cheeks and rips my clothes to shreds whist throwing you on the bed in one fluid motion. You gasp in shock. What just happened? How am I naked? These thoughts run through your head amongst millions of others. He stalks towards like a wolf whose caught his prey. He hungrily bites his lips. He takes of his suit jacket , shirt and pants as he exposes erect cock. I just then realized my pussy is out. You blush and move your hand to cover your most intimate parts.

“ don’t be naughty kitten, move your hands” you clench around nothing hearing the sultury tone of his voice. “ You should let me go. All you want is a fuck right?” You try bargaining you don’t want your life to end. For all you know he wants you for a good fuck then a Bullet with be in your cracked skull. “ No, I want you to be mine. Body, heart and soul. I want you to not only love me but NEED me with every fiber of your being. Like I need you Y/n” you tear up, those words are things your heart yearned for. But you can’t be hurt not by him. He doesn’t remember but you do, how he saved you and was so kind. You pushed it down and weren’t sure till now. “ What did I do to earn your interest so much that you’re gonna lie?” “I don’t lie. This is your fault pretty girl, you should’ve never tempted me, now you’ll never escape. From the day I saved you to the day I met you again. Pretty lips so enticing. Eyes so enchanting. Heart so pure, I want to corrupt it. I want no one to touch you, love you even-“ you cut him off by jumping into kiss arms and kissing him.

He pinned you to the bed, devouring you like you were his last meal. He placed sloppy kisses to your jawline and collar bone down your stomach to your core. He went down nipped and licked at your folds looking at you waiting, waiting for the words he wants. For consent.

“ stop teasing and fuck me Suguru!” “ call me daddy kitten” You scream in anticipation you need him, maybe staying won’t be so bad? He used is nose to spread your folds and leave fat long licks across your pussy. He started slow then sped up using his tongue to circle, suck and nip at your clit. Your head is thrown back spewing nonsense the coils getting tighter, stomach hotter your so close your clenching around his digits. When did he put those in? “ Daddy, daddy I-“ you scream all you can focus on is that coil and it snapping it feels too good and you need to be pushed a bit farther. “ come for me Kitten” you never knew those words were what was gonna slam your orgasm into your body. Your eyes roll back and drool pools at the corners of your mouth. You felt something rock hard nudge your entrance.

You give him the okay before he inches in, slowly letting you feel the delicious stretch of his girth and length. You moan out the stretch is painful but in a good full kinda way. He bottoms out and you let out a content sigh. Without warning he grabs the hand cuffs and ties you up you open your mouth to protest but he kisses you before he puts a gag in. “ Baby, you’re about to feel real pleasure.” He smiles sweetly before ramming his cock in so far it slams against your cervix. “ yeah so fucking tight, my hole yeah?” You nod as he rams over and over and your spewing nonsense he drags his hips as he leans down and suck’s your nipple he maintains eye contact never looking away you struggling again the chains wanting to hold him see how his shoulder loom over yours. You cry out in pleasure as your toes grip the bed sheets he knows your close by the way your clenching. He rams you G spot like it’s his last mission. “ come for daddy baby, let me come in this tight pretty hole. Be my cumslut.” He coos and all you can do is whine and whimper with the gag on. Your eyes roll back as he massages your clit with his thumb. You feel the wave of warmth washing over you followed by release you clench so hard around his cock he can barley move. He growls and grunts in your ear as he cums shortly after your pussy milking him of his seed.

“Forever?” he said looking deep in your eyes. You giggle and wrap your pinkie with his “ forever.” You gaze in each other’s eyes coming down from the high you had it felt like fire burning between you two. Nothing else mattered but being in his arms.

“ round two?” he smirked

This is your forever.

——————————————————————————————————

THE END! My very first 2 parter done! I hoped you liked it!

what should I write next?

love,

your local unnie ♥️

[witchinghouracademy]

Chat - Giselle Jolly

1 - Fame

"I ain't never heard of her before arriving here."

"The dorm idol, silly! The Flower Scholar whosit."

"Guess the ones here are pretty devoted to her 'cuz I cannot STOP hearing about her now. Niche idols do got the most hardcore fans."

"I gotta say, her power over technology don't sound half bad. With something like that, taking over the world would be a breeze..."

"... Just a joke. (giggle)"

"A cute idol like me only wants to take over the hearts of my fans!"

2 - Fitting In

"Maybe I oughta ask for that transfer to Okeanos after all."

"All anyone here thinks about is programs and coding."

"Ain't got the sense for any of that. Been just playing around the machines themselves during dorm hours."

"All those zeroes and ones need somewhere to run."

"But I haven't gotten a lick of thanks around here! I got my new uniform all dirty for nothing!"

"Ah well, let me let you go. I gotta go finish that damned machine."

"Mh? Of course I'm finishing it. It-it's- I don't like working on it, really, it's just...! Ain't right to leave things half-done!"

3- When the Curtains Fall

"Folks talk about the Sakura Scholar in a past sense, right?"

"But I ain't seen any proof she's gone. She just wasn't seen no more."

"Gal had so many fans then she just done left them all hanging to dry without a peep."

"Not like any one of them bothered to check what happened."

"Once the fun's done with folks just forget all about you..."

"Ain't that the way."

✦ Giselle & Minami - What it takes.

Giselle: Well, now there's a face I was hoping to see! Pretty as a peach today too!

Minami: You're such a sweet talker! It's almost too much, I might just get a caries from it.

Giselle: Oh shucks, I try my best! All the great ones got charm about them, wouldn't ya agree?

Minami: I would not, no. If your achievements are great enough they'll speak for themselves. Literally, in the case of the Sakura Scholar.

Giselle: Thinkin' you can get far with no one else... Ain't that a bit naïve, dorm leader?

Minami: Not if you're good at what you do.

Giselle: Mhm. No reason to not be gifted and charming.

✦ Giselle & Jojo - Deals

Jojo: I told you, I don't know anything about that class.

Giselle: Aww, now I just can't believe that! Your brother was so helpful, and smart to boot! You oughta be cut from the same cloth!

Jojo: Intelligence manifests in many different ways.

Giselle: And I can tell you're a regular jack of all trades!

Jojo: ... You don't know when to give up.

Giselle: One of my many good qualities!

Jojo: Fine. I won't tutor you, but I'll see if I have any notes left from my first year.

Giselle: You got yourself a deal missy! O-ho-ho I do enjoy a good bargain.

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 3: Royal Flush

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list! Also, my idea accidentally turned out to be pretty similar to that of @mx-sinisters....

The ace. Prodigious, high-quality, the most valuable card in the deck; showing incredible amounts of talent and luck, whether in shooting or flying or sleight of hand. But not quite the golden child. Mysterious. Enigmatic. Phlegmatic. Didn’t so much bend the world to his whims as float through it, burdened by things no other could quite understand—after all, who can read the true emotions of a card without a face? “Black as the ace of spades,” one might say—about his morality, his history. Someone who was no stranger to death; someone who was a symbol of death. Solitary, closed-off, individual. The ace worked alone.

The king. A ruler. Brimming with strength, power, authority. A ruler not by birthright, but by the circumstance of his position, the place he held among the others in their little hodgepodge of a palace. Although, perhaps, he was always meant to be so, with the caring that he couldn’t help but carry with him, the fondness he couldn’t help but show. Even when he did his best to hide it, guard his heart. Even when it hurt him in the end. A ruler, but not a tyrant—or at least he tried not to be. Reliable, principled. The leader, the glue that held all the rest together, whether they wanted it or not. Whether he wanted it or not.

The queen. Royal, regal, also a ruler, but not quite in the same way as the king. Feminine, beautiful—someone who knew this, who claimed it like a weapon—but by no means matronly, domestic, subservient. Intelligent in her own right, claimed her own power. Because no way in hell would she claim anyone else’s. Not defined by her relationship to the king, or the ace or the jack or to…anyone, really. Independent. Self-assured. In chess, not cards, the most powerful piece—able to go wherever she desired, conquer nearly whatever she pleased. But this wasn’t a game of chess.

The jack. Called a “knave,” in the olden days. A youngster, inexperienced, unskilled, but clever—too much so for their own good. A jack of all trades, whose name echoed with the old fairy tales—Jack Frost, Jack and the Beanstalk, Jack the Giant Killer—that were retold over and over on the Earth of the past. Who loved tricks and mischief, solely for their own sake, their own fun. Unpredictable. Mercurial. Naïve. Who made mistakes and got into scrapes, but—through their own wit and ingenuity and a little bit of luck—always emerged victorious.

The ten. Underestimated, overlooked, since it wasn’t a face card like the others. But of the non-face cards, indisputably the most powerful, the most intelligent. And in conjunction with them all—sitting unassumingly at the end of the hand, loyally at the heels of the jack—could make something truly powerful.

The five of them. Ace, king, queen, jack, ten. A royal flush.

The rarest hand in all of poker.

The luckiest.

[tipsydipsydo]

Pairing: tall! & sub! Reader x dom! OT7 BTS

Gender of the Reader: male

Word Count: 2.3k  

Rating: 18+

Genre: Smut/PwP

Warnings: Dirty Language + Dirty Talk; Dom-/Sub-Dynamics; accidental overhearing of a phone call, Mentions of Exhibitionism & Voyeurism; Mentions of Sex Toys & Masturbation; slightly mentioned Double Penetration; mentions of Anal play; Praising; Petnames; some Degradation; Daddy-Kink; Teasing; slight Edging; the boys are teasing the poor reader to Death

A/N: Well- that was a quick writing. Instead of studying I decided to write this funny request and to use my procrastination in a better way than scrolling stressed through TikTok. I hope y’all like it!!

Status: unedited bc I am lazy and should study. 

Request: i want to request a drabble/one shot: sub taller male reader and his seven boyfriends in which he confidently talks naughty things with his friend on phone but when he realized his bf are watching, he became crazily shy because he is just a big cute boy, then his bf decided they want to test those ‘words’ he has said, poor boy =))

Requested by: anonymous 

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

After too many and super busy weeks full of work, you’ve finally managed to find a free afternoon in your schedule where your best friend and you have enough time for a nice, long telephone call on the couch. You are already over one and a half hour on the phone, exchanging the newest stuff that happened in your life with each other and joking around. Slowly your conversation turns their focus to your more private life and your bestie asks you about your polyamorous relationship with your boyfriends. At first just normal things like, how’s it going in general, how you all manage the relationship with all the different time schedules, how often it comes to fights and how you deal with that etc. Just normal stuff and  the ‘typical’ questions you’re already used to, when people realize that you’re not in a monogamous relationship. 

Your best friend and you grew up together. You met each other in elementary school, went through the curses of puberty as an inseparable team and even survived middle and high school thanks to the other one. Already in your teens, where both of you made your first experiences and got into your first relationships, your best friend had a guess that you’re not as straight as you want him to believe. No, they even assumed that you’re maybe not made for the typical monogamous relationship which the society preach every fucking day. 

Well, turns out that your best friend really knew you better than you did yourself back then but honestly, nowadays you’re thankful for their suggestions and that they gave you the save space you needed to dare to make new experiences in those directions. 

Nevertheless, they were still more than surprised when you introduced him to not only two or three boyfriends, no that you brought seven (!) other men to their birthday party two years ago. At first they were a little worried if you didn’t overload yourself with such a complex relationship dynamic and that it’ll turn out as a serious burden and not an enrichment for your life. Turns out, now it was their turn to make a false assumption about what’s the best for you and theu were more than happy to admit that everything turned out just fine. It truly makes their heart swell to hear the happiness in your voice through the phone everything you mention something about the boys. 

Quickly your phone call turn into an even more private talk and dedicate itself to the really interesting stuff. You’re sharing every detail in your life with another, so why should it stop when it comes to sex talk? You have absolutely no problem and any shame to talk freely with your best friend about your kinks and dirty thoughts. Sometimes you even think that you’re better informed about each other’s preferences better than your actual partner(s) are. 

“I think, I already told you that idea more than once... that I have a thing for exhibitionism and the thought of getting catched doing something ‘forbitten’ or ‘dirty’, right? Uhm... TMI but I don’t give a shit, whenever I am alone at home because they’re busy and we can’t meet for some days... I mastubate with some of the toys they’ve bought for me and imagine that they catch me. You know, when we have sessions with Dom and Sub Dynamics, they’re only temporarily and usually we go back to normal in the moment when the scene is over... that means, when I am alone and horny, I can do whatever I want to. I can jack off or fuck myself as much I desire and they wouldn’t say anything about it. It’s not like, I don’t appreciate my personal freedom when it comes to masturbation or that I want something completely different, no! We both already talked about that too, I don’t like the idea of Total Power Exchange, I prefer to be an independent person as soon as I walk out of the bedroom- okay, not only bedroom, we have sex in other places than the bedroom too- ANYWAY, what I wanted to say with that: ...”, you mutter and take a deep breath into your lungs. 

After holding such a long monologue your mouth dried up terribly and now you need quickly something to drink. You get up from the couch and walk over to the kitchen island to pour some soda into a glass. A satisfied hum leaves your throat after you took some gulps of your favourite sparkling sugar bomb. 

The whole time, where you moved around in the eat-in kitchen of the apartment, you are not that alone anymore as you thought you’d be, especially right in this moment. Namjoon, Hoseok and a boyish smirking Jimin joined you around ten minutes ago, leaning casually against the wall next to the door of the room and listen very interested to the conversation you have with your friend right now. They didn’t mean to overhear your private talk, they just wanted to know what kind of take-out food you’d prefer for tonight. 

Unfortunately your conversation turned out to be very, very interesting for them, so they decided to give you some more time to talk with your best friend about the sexual fantasies you have which they don’t know about... well, until now.

Hoseok texted the other boys in the group chat to join them in the living room as well, they need to hear those very important information too! 

Poor you, completely oblivious and naïve to what’s happening in this moment, not getting any kind of hint that not only your best friend would get those significant informations...

“...-what I actually wanted to say with that: I prefer to be independent in relation to all other non-sexual life-responsibilities. Well, that doesn’t mean we couldn’t increase the Erotic Power Exchange, right? To be very honest, I can’t get the fantasy of them taking my sextoys away and to forbid me to touch myself without their permission out of my head. I love to be their good boy and to get praises, I really do... but there is this thrill to be break the instructed rules, getting caught while doing it and getting punished for it. I want... I want to get called bad, filthy and dirty names, I want to be a disobedient, greedy and insatiable slut for them. I want to get spanked, edged and overstimulated, I want to get fucked into the mattress so bad, up to the point where I can’t get a single clear thought together and my brain turned to mush... I want to get used, ruined and wrecked by their cocks, getting my holes stuffed full with their cum and then plugged up, so nothing can run out anymore- God fuck, I should stop talking like that or I’ll get a serious problem! Well... sorry for so much detailed TMI, you know that this shit always happens when you tell me to stop overthinking and encourage me to spill everything that comes to my mind. Now you got every filthy detail you’ve asked for, you’re welcome.”, you joke sarcastically and facepalm yourself. You can’t believe how incredibly blunt and shameless you just threw your latest sex fantasy in every fucking detail at your poor best friend. 

Usually you’re more than shy to talk about such things, in your understanding the magic for your shameless mouth towards your best friend has to reside in the deep thrust you have in him and simply the knowledge that your relationship is platonic. It’s not like that you couldn’t trust your boyfriends wholeheartedly, god no! You know, that they would never kinkshame you for anything, 

it’s just... after sharing those thoughts it would result something out of it. You don’t want that they  think you’re a weirdo or that they only do specific things because they know it would turn you on. 

The other one just snorts in amusement when you voice this slight helpless apology, they can imagine the significant blush which has settled down on your cheeks. 

“Hey buddy, don’t apologize for that. There is nothing to apologizing for, I am way too curious for my own good as well and I need to make sure that you’re happy in your relationship, especially when it comes to the point if they are able to fulfill your sexual desires. I need to know that, believe me. Okay, there’s one thing... I knew you were submissive, my dude. But I didn’t expect that you’d be such a masochistic hoe and that you’d have such a thing for degradation, Jesus! Nevermind, more important: did you talked with them about that fantasy? Would they be down for this idea and would they like to be more in charge? Please do not tell me that you’re too shy to talk with them about it, not again! I tell you this every goddamn time, communication is key!”, your best friend says to you in a serious tone. 

Here you go again, getting scolded by your friend all over again. He is right, you know that... y’all already talked about ‘how to deal with certain kinks some of them or you have but the others aren’t into and how to not make them feel bad or insecure about it’ several times, you tend to overthink everything you have ever said to them all over again. You are always so flustered when seven pairs of eyes are looking at you, waiting for an answer. You are tall, even taller than Namjoon, but under their curious stares you feel always so small, fiddling with your fingers around like a little schoolboy. You love that about them, putting you into such a submissive place just with their aura and charisma and giving you the feeling as if they overtower you physically too. 

“I can absolutely agree with Y/BF/N, communication is key. Why didn’t you told us those nasty fantasies you have in your cute head up here, right away? Too shy again? Do we really need to call your best friend the next time to get some hints to your secret kinks, Babyboy?”, Taehyung rasps into your earshell and wraps his arms around you. He chuckles slightly as you squeak high-pitched in surprise. 

An equal surprised yelp of your best friend comes out of the speaker of your phone which takes Yoongi out of your hand and excuse you with the apology that ‘they need to have an important talk with you now and that you have to hang up unfortunately’. 

The display of your phone turns dark and Yoongi puts it on the surface of the kitchen island before he flashes you a dirty smile. That you’re mortified that they caught you spilling all those filthy fantasies to your best friend is the understatement of the century. Never and you mean never did you hoped so bad that the floor opens up and swallows you whole, saving you from this embarrassing misery. But Yoongi give you much time to drown in shame, coming up to you and connect your lips to a rough kiss. 

“God, I love it when our so sweet and shy Baby has such nasty and indecent fantasies in his head... why don’t you tell us these ideas in every single filthy detail once again? I think we could turn the information into some very good use, big boy~”, whispers the smaller one with blown-out eyes against your lips.

“...or would you prefer that we call you a needy cumslut, hm? The things I’ve heard give me the assumption that you want to get fucked stupid and pumped full with cum as if you are our personal playtoy?”, growls Jungkook and grabs himself a handful of your right asscheek, kneading it with a firm grip in his big palm. 

“Come on, big boy, admit that you want exactly the things Jungkook just said... I can feel how fucking hard you just got from his words... already so hard and swollen against my palm even though we barely touched you. You’re truly such a pathetic, needy slut... I bet you’d already cum in your pants if we just tease you enough... Am I right?”, chuckles Namjoon in his deep, arousal soaked timbre against your neck, nibbling at the sensitive spot of your Adam’s apple. 

“...what about we change our location to the bedroom and talk about the things you’ve said to Y/BF/N? Maybe we could try some of your newest kinks out? Would you like the thought of us watching you from the couch while you prepare your needy asshole for us? Showing us how you stuff you clenching rim with a girthy dildo? Wearing a cockring so you couldn’t cum without our permission? Prepping yourself all messy, whining for our finger, tongues and dicks in your ass like the greedy slut you are? Yeah, you’d love that thought.”, Seokjin teases you mercilessly, rolling your sensitive balls in his palm, just how you like it.  “Y-Yes, Daddies... I’d love to be a greedy cumslut for you... please turn me into one!”, you wisper. 

@cys-mental-escapades​; @bangtanloverboys​; @btsxmalereaders​

[mcmoth]

BOIS

The aro c!Tommy propoganda is done.

Here:

Friends can be Home, too

Summary:

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

'Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

 He couldn't doubt anymore.

A journey of introspection, self doubt, and realizing you're not alone.

Or read on ao3!

Warnings: swearing, internalized arophobia, which includes self doubt, a bit of self hate, that sort of stuff. Also, this will have like, mentions of attraction and all that stuff, and Tommy gets pretty confused, so if you'd like to avoid that? This isn't the fic for you, ig. Btw, as a reminder, this is all set in the dsmp universe and is not about the irl people in any way.

Now onto the fic!

Welp.

Tommy sure is ready to stab someone right now.

Well, not really. More accurately he wanted to run, or shrivel up into a fucked up raisin, or snap, or just exist in darkness right now. Because there were his two best friends, cuddling on the couch. And he was sat there, next to them, supposed to be enjoying movie night.

It's not like he wasn't happy for them. They can do what they want, he reminded himself, again and again. They're just expressing their love, they're just close, and Tommy has to stop being such a fucking oddball about it. This wasn't weird. It wasn't weird.

And he could even see Ranboo giving him looks, probably about to ask something stupid. But if he made any comment, expressed discomfort, that would just be him being a dick and a weirdo. He's not going to ruin this for them. He just has to… to ignore it. To ignore it. He can do that. Yes.

“You alright, Tommy?”

Tommy's jaw snapped, he could feel his teeth grinding, and the couch was feeling all too small. So with a fast raise to his feet, he stumbled away, throwing a brash “fine" Ranboo's way, something burning deep in the pit that was his chest.

It was fine. It was fine. Why wasn't it fine? What the fuck was wrong with him??

Maybe he was just…

Jealous.

 

***

 

“I think I have a crush on Hannah.”

Tubbo and Ranboo stilled. The silence was… bad.

“oh?”

Tommy gulped, anxiously crinkling the chip bag he got from targay. “Y-yeah.”

Tubbo hummed. “I've never seen you interact with her much. When… did that start?”

Tommy's mind buzzed, and he resisted crushing the food in his hands, reclining heavily against the backrest of the bench. “I-I don't know, uh, recently? I guess? She's just… nice. She uh…. Has pretty hair? And she gave me a flower once! That was just, swe- uh, poggers of her, so. Yeah. I just think… yeah.”

Tubbo nodded, head tilting. “Do you think she likes you back?”

Tommy's eyes widened, and he didn't know why he laughed, but he did, and when he responded, he himself was taken aback by the hiss accompanying the words. “No!! She- why would- no- no, I mean… m-ma- I don't know??”

Ranboo swung his tail. “She better not. I mean, how old is she?”

“What does that matter?”

Ranboo stared. “You’re a child. Technically.”

Tommy bristled. “Fuck you, I am a big man! I'll kill you!”

The conversation moved on after that, and Tommy, somewhere along the way, quickly got lost. Head filled with cotton, electricity running through his veins, feeling horribly, oddly, humiliated and strangely… dissatisfied.

They didn't care. And he just felt more confused than ever.

…Why did he even do that?

 

***

 

Tommy was walking, grass up to his knees, a lead in hand. When he reached the village, he tied it to a fence, patting his borrowed horse before placing feet on the path, comforted by the gravel crunching beneath his feet, the feel of the sun on his neck. He looked around, at the wooden houses and half stacked stalls and idle chatter. He looked around and he thought.

He thought back to older days. This was… strangely nostalgic. Walking alone, in an unfamiliar town, the vastness of the world enveloping him in it's many potentials. He still wasn't sure when he felt better. Running around on the streets, just trying to survive, noone by his side, weak but naïve, hopeful. Or now, with some people to care for and trust, a place to return to, enough food in his pack, but shouldered with the weight of a dozen betrayals, life slipping past him three times too many. In a sense, he was still just trying to survive. Everything was so different now, yet the same.

He supposes, one thing that remained, was the sense of loneliness.

He grasped the front of his shirt, taking in the beating of his heart, looking at the strangers mingling amongst themselves. At the pairs, at the couples, at the families, sharing laughs and smiles, a contrast to the furrowed brows or tired amusement of shopkeepers and the idle folk visiting them.

He had always wanted a family.

…there was one way to get a family.

Someone to share laughs with. Someone who would comfort you. Someone who would take your hand, or hold you through the night, and never even leave. Someone who promises to stay.

It was a nice thought.

So why was it so hard to conceptualize? To imagine, to picture someone actually coherent, to look at a person and go – yes. I want to be your partner.

...eugh. just that sentence made his whole nervous system do a double take.

But why? Why? Was it the betrayals? Was it some fucked up self conscious mind shit? Was that it? Was he just fucked up in the head? Maybe.

Maybe.

But as it is, he knew he liked girls. He did. He liked them. They were… they were nice. Like Niki, who smelled of baked goods, and had a soft smile, and who had once given him a hug when she found him crying during the revolution, and who looked very nice in dresses. Or Puffy, who had made him a pickaxe when he asked for one, and who opposed Jack in stealing his hotel, and who offered him therapy, and she had really cool horn rings. Or Hannah, with her red flowers, and pretty builds, and the way the nature seemed just a bit more lively with her around, and her laugh was bright with mischievous intent that he could empathize with. They… they were nice. Yeah. Most girls were so nice.

So why… why hadn't he found one that he could. Actually picture doing… anything. In his head. No kissing, no dates, none of that… shmuck. It was just… he could see many girls his age running around, just now, in front of his eyes, many running through his mind as he searched his memories. None of them… no. And he tried thinking of boys, but that didn't… no. Not that either. …Enbies?

No… no, nothing… nothing felt. Good. None of it felt good, he just felt sick, he just felt weird, he didn't even feel dirty per se, but more like he was charting into foreign grounds, into something alien, and none of the thoughts he forced to visualize behind his eyelids, fleeting from how quickly he shut them out, felt like him. It didn't feel like him.

His fingers trembled, his chest felt tight, throat choked, and his head, on his shoulders, heavy and woozy and oh so muddled. He felt his heart race. Was… was that it? Maybe that was a sign. People said heart racing was a sign of attraction. Was there anyone in particular who did that? Maybe he was wrong – he was not lacking or messed up or broken, he just had buried the feelings so deep below his ribs, underneath fabricated doubts and trauma and the disconnect he had with reality and relationships in general, and once he got over those barriers, and just found someone, he would experience that joy that everyone spoke about. That closeness. He just had to… allow himself to get closer. To know more people, know them better.

That was… that was probably it.

But no matter. He raised his eyes, his senses coming back to him like the wind blowing his hair out of his eyes, blinking at the noise around him.

After all, he still came here for a reason.

 

***

 

“Yeah, I like these ones the best,” Tubbo said as he handed Tommy the various colored discs. Tommy nodded, smiling as he sorted through them, writing down the names in his notepad, feeling little stones dig into his elbows. Tubbo joined him fully on the ground, laying down next to him. “What do you need these for, anyways?” he blinked, and there was a smirk growing on his face. “Are they for… someone?”

Tommy furrowed his brows, staring at the other. “What?”

Tubbo chuckled nervously, waving his hand around as he stumbled over his words. “You- you know. Like a gift? Are you going to… to try to, get someone?”

Tommy’s stare just became sharper, becoming even more confused. “What??” What the fuck was he talking about?

“You know, like a- a date?” Tommy blanked. “Cause- you know, you've been talking about girls a lot lately, and I just thought-"

“No.” Tommy interrupted, feeling numb. “No, it's not for a fucking girl.”

“Oh.” Tubbo laid on the grass, clearly uncomfortable. He began to tear up the leaf he had picked up. “Sorry, I just thought- I'm not really good at this whole thing… sorry for assuming. W- …what is the reason, then?”

Tommy sighed, thankful for the topic change. “It's for… you know how I’m going to therapy?”

Tubbo hummed in affirmation.

“Puffy suggested that, since I like music, I should like, indulge in that, use it to calm myself or give myself something to do, that junk. So I’ve just been. Collecting, I guess.” He looked over the list again, then closed the notepad and sat up, discs in hand. “I wanna build a place where I just keep all the records, maybe I’ll even sell the ones I don't like. Good business practice, you know?”

Tubbo brightened. “Oh! That sounds really cool! If you need help with the building part, I can help you, by the way!”

Tommy looked at Tubbo's grin, so sweet and infectious, and his heart thawed, thinking of working with Tubbo again, building towards something together. It was a nice thought. “Alright.”

It would be nice to be with Tubbo again.

 

***

 

Tommy felt miserable.

This… this was miserable. He didn't know why. It really shouldn't be – it was just music. He was just sorting through all of his music, picking ones he liked, picking ones to comfort him, he loved music, it was fine, it just…

Why did so many of the songs have to be about love.

It made him feel angry and hurt and alone in a particular way that was so familiar and yet so utterly different. Because when he felt alone before, he fought with himself the same, he sunk into the thoughts of being unlovable or broken or undeserving of company, but at least he could understand it. At least he could look back now and think “Dream was a bitch" and that would be some solace. At least he could have hope that even if he was unlovable, he could still love. Love others. Try to seek others. Even if he never got that back.

But now, hearing all the poetics and sweet confessions that were in such abundance, something that sounded so passionate and revered, so integral, it was like looking into another reality he didn't, couldn't, understand, and suddenly, he felt more alien than ever before.

And most importantly, how fucking stupid that was, that the thing that made him feel that way was love.

Love. The thing that supposedly drove the world, that made everyone happy. He thought he knew love. But maybe… maybe not. Maybe there has been something deeply, intangibly wrong about him this whole time, and he hadn't even known. Not to this extent.

Cause he knew before. Knew it in the unease in his bones, and the panic in his brain, and the annoyed buzz in his chest. But… but he had doubted.

He couldn't doubt anymore.

God….

He laid on the ground, head to the cold floor, the record still spinning. The noise bounced off the dark wooden walls and into his skull, grating and aching. He covered his ears, messed up his hair, breathed in and out. In and out. What was wrong. What was wrong.

The record fell to silence. Then it started back again, as it automatically swapped out. Next.

His fingers felt restless, his whole body did. He tapped his skull, feeling the thumps echo. Breathe in, and breathe out. Breathe-

“-ow will I ever know you enough to love you, if you're hiding who you are?

Don't ask me to explain-"

He startled, his breath catching. This disc was scratchier than the others. It felt different. Something in him drew in the lyrics, head loud. He blinked.

…He's not hiding. Is he? Hiding what? He’s- no. Just- Breathe in-

“-Who are you hiding from, across the table with a penny in each eye?

Don't ask me to explain, don’t ask me to explain-"

His breath escaped, arms trembling as his body froze. He didn't understand. He couldn't explain. He wanted to cry. Something was unravelling.

“I'd like to marry all of my close friends, and live in a big house together by an angry sea,”

He sobbed.

He did, he thought, with surprise, as the tears fell.

“Am I the devil's marbles don't move on without me,

Who will be watching my body when I sleep?

Who will I believe in?”

Something… yeah.

Something happened.

Because suddenly, all that stress, all that confusion, all that loathing, was detangling, and the tears ran deep, ran painful, silent, wheezing screams escaping as the sobs continued. He couldn't breathe. His chest was tight. His head swam, and he felt oh so light headed. Light. He felt light. Happy. He felt alive.

He felt understood.

He- he wanted that! He could- he wanted to live with his friends, with Tubbo with Ranboo. He wanted to stay as friends. He wanted them to protect him, to be able to trust them, to be able to protect them in turn, he wanted to reside with them, he wanted to sleep amongst them, to have them watch over him, safe, he wanted to wake up in the morning and see the sun rise with then, he wanted to have casual dinner with them, he wanted to grow old together with them. As friends. As friends.

Friends.

What a lovely thing…

He could… he could live with his friends…

He could build a family with his friends.

And he didn't even care at that moment that he didn't know how Tubbo and Ranboo would feel about that. He didn't care whether they'd want him at their house, whether they'd want him around at all. He didn't even care, at that moment, if he couldn’t join them.

Because he realized that it was a possibility at all. Just the prospect, just the thought, the realization, that spending your life, being intimate, finding a stable ground, with your friends, not romantic partner, was possible, that it was possible to not be able to feel otherwise, that it was shared by other people, who wrote this song, who sung it, who had thought about it…

It meant he couldn't be that alone after all.

“It's so easy to lie to myself,

And pretend that I could love you, but I can't"

And oh so comforting it was, that he couldn't.

 

***

 

“Ey, Ranboo! Bitchboy!”

Ranboo suppressed a smile, an exasperated sigh hissing through his teeth. Tail swishing, he glanced to the other boy, who was down below, standing in the snow.

“C'mere!! I gotta give you something.” He yelled.

Ranboo raised a brow, but complied, closing the window he had been looking out of. After making a quick detour to check on Michael, he made his way down the stairs and stepped out of the doorway and into the light. Tommy bounded to him, big grin on his face. He seemed jumpier than usual. Ranboo smiled in turn. “what is it?”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it, instead going to rummage through his bag. What he took out was a… box? “Here, fuckboy.”

Ranboo winced, taking the container. “Don't call me that.”

“Why, what does it mean?”

Ranboo stared. “Just…. Don't.”

Tommy blinked, laughing nervously. “o-okay.”

Moving on, Ranboo inspected the item in his hands. It was medium sized, and made of simple, but elegant, smooth black wood. On the top, there was a leather sign embedded in it, with the word Beloved stitched into it. His ears flickered. This seemed… awfully nice. “What’s in it?”

Tommy scoffed. “Just open it, you twat.”

Ranboo, with a glance, could see the anxious way Tommy was holding himself, seeming impatient and uncomfortable. So he wasted no more time, and clicked open the surprisingly sturdy iron latch after a moment of struggling, and what awaited him inside was…

“…Discs…?”

Ranboo held his breath, fingers twitching as he held the gift. …was it a gift?

Tommy was staring at the ground. “Yeah. You know, I’ve just been traveling around, collecting, and I wanted to…” He seemed to shake himself lightly, hands wringing. “I wanted to give you some, I guess. That… yeah. These are yours.”

Ranboo was stiff, still perceiving the actual gift in his hands, that looked hand made, that was hand picked, that Tommy had worked to attain, just to give to him. His tail curled, and he carefully, delicately closed it's lid and hugged it close to his chest. “I… Thank you. Thank- O-oh wow…”

Tommy scowled. “You look like a fish. It's not a big deal. Just… take a listen sometime, won't ya?”

“Y-yeah!” Ranboo reverently nodded, cursing the way his eyes felt misty. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll definitely listen, and cherish it. Thank you, Tommy.”

Tommy curtly nodded. “Alright. Pog.” And then, he was turning around, walking away with a quick “Share it with your family, too, some day. Bye.” Thrown or his shoulder.

And then, he was gone.

 

***

Tubbo heard music down the hall.

Ears tilting towards the pleasant sound, he skipped with bare feet over to the source, evening light casting warm glow through the windows as he went. When he arrived, to what was Michael's bedroom, he found Ranboo on the couch, curled gently over their son, head resting on his little head as he seemed to just… listen, wistful. Michael was listening too, letting out a little yawn as he turned his head to snuggle even deeper into his parent's warm embrace. Tubbo smiled softly at the scene.

Quietly, he patted over to them both, Ranboo eventually noticing him and watching him as he did. Tubbo buried a hand in Ranboo's hair, and the other leaned in. “What are you listening to?”

Ranboo didn't rush to explain, letting the comforting silence fill the space. When he spoke, it reminded Tubbo of soft flower petals and honey. “I didn't know Tommy's music taste was so…”

Tubbo blinked, turning to the disc lazily turning on the jukebox near them.

“-But in the end, I don't really care what you think,

Cause the bottom line is you make me happier than I’ve ever been...”

“wholesome.” He chuckled, fondly.

Tubbo hummed, unsurprised. “Tommy gave you these?”

Ranboo leaned more heavily in the couch. “Yeah. I don't know why, but…”

Tubbo's smile only deepened as he thought. Slowly, he replied, “I think he just wanted to show you he cared.”

Ranboo seemed to lose his breath a little, looking up at the other. “You think so…?”

Tubbo carded his fingers through Ranboo's hair, looking past Ranboo's twitching ears. “Tommy doesn't do things like these without reason. If he gave you something, it’s safe to say you mean a lot to him. He doesn't like to show it, usually, but… that I know.”

Ranboo stared at the turning of the discs, breathing softly. His tail curled around Michael. “Oh.”

Tubbo sat down at his feet and joined in.

Hearts warm, they laid there and listened until the sun had cast it's last rays and the jukebox no longer had a melody to spin.

 

***

 

Tommy sat behind the counter, feet on the counter, just trying to eat his discount chips while some people were being dumb children.

“Stop throwing the fucking food! I'll have to clean this up later!” He whined, to which Tubbo and Ranboo just threw him a glance, Tubbo’s apathetic and Ranboo's at least vaguely guilty, before Tubbo went right back and threw another gummy worm Ranboo's way.

Tommy scowled. “Seriously. At least pick them up and eat them.”

Ranboo made a face of disgust. “I'm not gonna eat candy off the floor, Tommy.”

“Yeah, some of us don't eat mud, Tommy.” Tubbo added.

“There’s no fucking mud here! It's a clean floor! You can totally pick them up and eat them, what the fuck!”

Tubbo raised his brows, staring. “Okay, then go and eat them, trash boy.”

“Okay, that's it.” Tommy raised to his feet, left his chip bag on the table and ran to Tubbo. Tubbo squawked, crawling onto the armchair he was reclining in to curl into a ball around his bag, but Tommy just threw himself onto the armchair with him, trying to reach for the candy. Which, considering the position, it was more like he was half-tickling, half hugging the other more than anything. “Give me that.”

Tubbo just burst out laughing, trying to hide deeper into the couch, attempting to kick the other away. “St-Stoppp!”

“C'mon, you disobeyed my shop's rules, I’m just confiscati-"

Something hit his head. Tommy stilled.

Ranboo peeked from behind his own candy bag, before digging into it again.

Tommy laid off of Tubbo slightly, raising like a puffed up cat. “Ranboo, you fuck!”

Tubbo laughed again, and Tommy was about to go on a murder spree, only for all the commotion to halt when they heard a sudden 4th voice.

Michael.

“Oh shit.”

Ranboo sighed. “He's awake. C'mon.”

Tubbo sighed as well, rolling out of the couch and dragging his feet towards the source of the oinks. “For the record, this is not my fault.”

Both of the other boys gave him the stink eye, but in the name of preserving needed ceasefire they held their tongues.

Michael was sitting up in Tommy's bed that resided in the backrooms, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and hiccuping. Tubbo reached for him, lifting him up. “Aww, did we wake you up? I'm sorry, little bossman.”

Michael clutched Tubbo's shirt, muttering something in piglin.

“He's asking what all that noise was.” Tommy quickly translated, before turning his eyes back to the kid and saying something soft in piglin back. Michael listened, seeming to quiet a little.

Ranboo, gathering that it was an affirmation, smiled and took one of Michael's hooves gently. “Yeah, we were just having fun. Do you want to have fun, too, Michael?”

Michael’s big eyes widened, and he wiggled in Tubbo's grip. “Ye! Ye!”

They chuckled, and Tubbo transferred his hold of Michael to Ranboo, who led the way in making it back to the front of the shop, chatting with his son all the while.

Tommy bumped his shoulder with Tubbo's as they walked, but didn't say anything further. Tubbo bit back a grin.

The next hour was spent feeding Michael and letting him listen to some new discs. Tommy even remembered he had some records that were in piglin, some songs, some stories, and put them on, which seemed to enrapture Michael quite a bit, immersed in the new voices and tales and familiarity. The three boys let him sit in Ranboo's lap and get lost in his own world, residing on a couch together and quietly chatting, around them comfortingly dark walls, bookshelves and the smell of wood and candles.

Eventually, the conversation steered.

“You know, Tommy, why don't you join us?”

…huh?

Tommy blinked, willing his breathing to restart and for the words to come. “W-what?”

Tubbo looked at him with warm eyes and a trepidant smile. “Like, how would you feel about coming to Snowchester? Live with us?”

Ranboo waved his hand. “Of course, you don't have to! But we just thought, you know, if you'd like a bit more, uh, company…”

“We want to be with you, is all.” Tubbo added quietly.

Tommy's heart raced, and he only blinked more, hands clutching the fabric of his pants. “B- be with me… are you…” he gulped down the butterflies clogging down his windpipes, still trying to understand that this is real. “are you sure…?”

Ranboo grinned, patting Michael's head idly. The piglin looked up at them. “Yeah! You're family, Tommy, after all.”

Tubbo tilted his head. As Tommy was still struggling to respond, he assured, “You don't have to if you don't want to, big man. No pressure.”

Tommy laughed, weak and breathless, but bright. “No, I-I’d- I'd really want that, but…” he gestured, trying to put his worries to sudden coherent sentences. “wouldn't that be… awkward? Like… you two, just, l-lovebirds," he chuckled clumsily, “and then there's… me, just, there?”

Tubbo shared a look with Ranboo, then turned back and laughed. “You won't be a third wheel, if that's what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, it's not like we’re really romantic partners, even, it'll be fine.” Ranboo said.

Tommy stilled.

Blinked.

“Uhw- what?”

The other two tensed, Tubbo quickly glancing at his husband before grimacing, thinking deep on how to explain it. “You know, we… we're not really… romantic? We just decided to marry? But we're… not platonic either, it's…”

“I-It's something inbetween. Queerplatonic is the word? I think?”

“It's hard to explain-"

“There's- there's a word for that? And you were- Like. Friends? Living together, this whole time??” Tommy reeled, head in hand.

“Well, not exactly friends, or at least, with how we decide to label our relationship, but… yes?”

“Oh my-" Tommy slumped forwards, now both of his hands holding his head upright, just. Breathing. “Shit. What the fuck. I…” he laughed, wrecked.

Tubbo and Ranboo stared at him, uncomfortable. Tubbo frowned. “Look, if you… if you're gonna say something, I’d rather-"

“No- nono, it's…” he raised his eyes, slowly, like coming out of a cave and into the light. His words tripped upon his tongue, but he was so eager to know. “So you two don't want… romantic partners?”

They blinked. “Not… particularly, no.” Ranboo replied. “…are you okay?”

Tommy laughed. It sounded stilted even to his ears, senses muddled as he was wrapped up in his own head, his own elated feelings, his heart nearly bursting at the seams. “I-I’m not alone.”

Tubbo stared, but then his eyes softened. He sighed, and his smile was immensely gentle, while looking at his friend. “Oh, Tommy…” Ranboo, beside him, wilted the same.

Michael, inbetween them, looked at all three of them silently.

“…Do you want a hug?” Tubbo quietly offered.

Tommy quickly nodded, slumping into Tubbo's side and burying his face in Tubbo's soft hair, not even caring for the way one of his horns poked into his cheek slightly. He held the other, and Tubbo held him. He felt the end of Ranboo's tail drape over his leg.

With a delicate tone and worn vocal chords, he quietly, and simply, admitted. “I'd love that. I'd really love that. Living with you three.”

Tubbo tightened his hold.

That night, Tommy fell asleep not alone, but with his two other closest people, his family. Safe, warm, with that insistent nagging at the back of his chest cavity, that told him he was alone, that he was wrong about himself, that he never even knew himself at all, finally silenced.

He had never felt more at home.

[obscureamor]

— something about you

⋯  ukai keishin x fem! reader

⋯  t/w  |  nsfw, noncon, choking, mentions of blood (you get cut on a thorn), degradation, ukai refers to himself as daddy, open ending (?), 18 y/o manager

»  ukai can’t get sugawara’s girlfriend out of his head. you plague his thoughts and have him taking action in the worst way possible.

✧  a/n  |  i was putting off posting this for the longest because i’m honestly so nervous about it sksjjss but! this started out as a thirst and then spiraled out of control, so i do hope you enjoy! also... i wasn’t lying when i said i’d make reader work at a flower shop.

The smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his clothes invades each and every one of your senses, eyes watering at the intrusive scent. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t— You can’t understand. And as Coach Ukai mouths at your neck, teeth nipping at the skin, as his warm hands find their way under your uniform top; you finally realize that he’s going to make sure you understand by the time he’s done with you. 

You were just so tantalizingly sweet. Sugawara Koushi’s precious little girlfriend. The backup setter that didn’t have much going on for him in terms of volleyball games, but who needed that when he had you by his side? You, who’d help manage the volleyball team. You, who’d always try to make small talk with Takeda-sensei and Ukai, profusely apologizing on your sudden— not so sudden —interruptions. 

“C-Coach? I... I—” you choke, words that you want to say getting caught and your throat hurts; the feeling of it constricting with every breath, mouth dry. It seems like all the water in your body is going to your eyes as he presses you harder into the alley wall. The darkness of the night paired with the dull lighting from the street lamp up above doesn’t let your mind fully register the color of his hair. And you think maybe, just maybe, you can picture Koushi biting at your neck and his hands gripping your hips so tight, too tight you know bruises will blossom and you’ll both blush about it the next day.

It’s Koushi. It’s Koushi. Until your mind tells you it’s not.

Koushi would never take you in a dirty alleyway outside your job. He would never slam you so hard into a brick wall, you feel as if something’s broken. And most importantly, he knew where you worked. The small little flower shop that seemed like the epitome of you or you, it. You shine as bright as the sunflowers you care for. You exude love like the roses you de-thorn. You're as calm and devoted like the lavender you use as filler. You don’t know how Ukai knew you’d be here— in this exact moment, at this exact time —flowers in hand because it’s yours and Koushi’s anniversary. 

Freesias, roses, and carnations bundled up and neatly tied. 

Scattered. Scattered all over the ground in the dim lighting, petals crushed and weeping and trembling as your lips part to choke out a sob, trembling as his hand starts to reach into your panties. Ukai doesn’t know what it is about you. He’s asked himself that question night after night of his hand wrapped around his cock, cigarette hanging loosely from his lips as he jacks off. His warm cum splattering on his shirtless chest as he gets off to the thought of you. 

“Been waiting for this... for so fucking long.” He breathes, pulling back from your neck to study your face but your eyes are locked onto the fallen bouquet behind him. “You’re such a teasing little slut.” 

Koushi would never call you such words... at least not with so much animosity laced within. If you try, like really, really try, you can once again make yourself believe it’s Koushi’s hand. Koushi’s fingers poking and prodding at your entrance.

Your teeth clench, jaw setting, and— 

There’s a loud smack that rings in your ears. It’s not your skin that burns. It’s not your skin that reddens at the contact. Ukai and you stare at each other as he pulls back, hand gripping his cheek as his other curls into a fist. 

Always the one to be respectful, apologies come rushing out of your mouth. It falls from your lips like cherry blossoms in the spring. Your fingers splaying out before you, a silent warning to not come any closer because ‘You can leave. I-I won't report this. Just please leave, Ukai...’ But you’re so silly. You’re so naïve. Ukai isn’t listening anymore, mind focused on only taking what he wants especially after that little stunt you just pulled. 

His hand falls to his side limply, staring at you with an expression you can’t read. You both can hear your panicked breathing. The way your lips part with words that can’t escape because you just want to get to Sugawara’s house. That’s all you want. That’s all you need, but when Ukai rushes towards you, fingers rooting and tugging you downward by your hair; you come to the conclusion that it’s no longer possible. 

Your back hits the cement harshly, wind getting knocked out of you and stems crushing under your weight. A stray thorn you forgot to take off pricking you, digging deep into the skin like Ukai’s fingers on your hips. A strangled scream leaves your parted lips as warmth sticks to your skin from the small puncture. 

“I-I need to—!” You need to what? You need to what? You don’t really know. Mind scrambling, thoughts running and scattering like petals in the wind. The only thing that registers is— “I-It hurts!” Your back arches, chest pushing into his, and when he places his hand on your chest, shoving you back down, the thorn shifts… a jagged line marring your skin. An even bigger cut oozing crimson that soaks the lone thorn. It’s no longer facing up from frantic shifts but stems still press into you uncomfortably. 

“Look at me.” It’s mumbled, his warm hand wrapping around your throat ever so softly. You don’t think you’ve ever heard Coach Ukai so desperate. Not when the team is about to lose. Not when the team has lost. This is a different desperation that’s running through his veins. It soaks into his actions like flowers soak up water. Your vision clouds more, bright blond being looked at through splotchy vision. Your shoulders raise, body tensing as you look off to the side. “Look at me!” he shouts, hand around your throat tightening with a grip so strong it almost kills you.

Stubborn. Always so stubborn. You don’t do it. Instead, clenching your eyes shut, lips wobbling as you choke out another sob. Sobbing as his hands start to work off your pants leaving your lower half bare before he works off his belt. You gulp in breaths, barely listening as his lips part to utter words of disdain towards you and ‘If you even think about fighting back again, I’ll ruin you, you little bitch.’ The words hold so much weight. They fester in your stomach and the urge to kick and scratch at Ukai wells up even stronger. 

“You slutty little manager.” His cock taps at your clit making you flinch. You can’t help but clench around nothing, an action you correlate with Koushi. And even though he’s not the one doing it, your body still reacts. “Always talking to me for a sliver of attention, huh!?” 

“That’s not true!” you cry, head shaking frantically. ‘Get away! Get away!’ is repeated over and over, breathing frantic and hands coming up to his biceps. His statement is the furthest from the truth. Your actions of respect, mistaken for want. Ukai says nothing as he starts to push in, leaning forward so his face is right above yours. His actions are brash, thrusts frantic but he holds you as if you’re a flower about to fall from its stem. Your eyes shimmer with already shedded tears, brows furrowed as you speak, “Please, take it out! Please!”

He’s so different from Koushi— the feeling of him. His movements. The words he says to you are so different, but when he kisses you so softly, so feather light it reminds you of Sugawara and your pussy just gushes at the thought. Every push and pull just makes you mewl, sobs and pleas swallowed by Ukai’s warm tongue.

“Does he fuck you like this?” No. “Does he make you feel this good, huh?” Yes and even better. 

Ten times better than Ukai could because Koushi knows your body. He sinks into you slowly and teases you so much you sob because you can’t take it anymore. He thrusts into you with such fervor, teasing voice asking, ‘You gonna cum on daddy’s cock like the little whore you are?’ Eyes scanning your body and hands gripping your heated flesh, lips mumbling words against yours. ‘My stupid little whore.’

“Daddy’s gonna fuck you so good.” Ukai’s voice cuts through your thoughts, cutting them away like garden shears to rose bushes in the summer. The sound of smacking reverberating throughout the alley leaves your ears ringing and your heart clenching in pain. An empty feeling in your chest blossoms because you wonder what Koushi’s thinking right now. 

“You want daddy to cum in this pretty little cunt?” He groans. The vein on his cock is pressing up against your walls so snuggly and dragging against your walls so deliciously it makes you moan. But still, you shake your head no.

“Please don’t, Ukai,” you murmur, “P-Please... Y-You can’t—!” 

“Yes I can and you better take every last. fucking. drop.” It’s snarled out, two fingers making their way into your mouth, calloused pads stroking the expanse of your tongue. The pink muscle writhes around his digits, trying to force him out but instead making him groan at your unconscious actions. “Tell me you want it.” 

Garbled noises and whimpers leave you as he shifts his hips, repeatedly hitting that spongy spot. You gasp, back arching and hands grasping at his shirt. Every thrust moves you. It shakes your entire being with how roughly he’s thrusting into you and why does it feel so good? The realization makes your mind go blank, only focused on Ukai’s cock now pressing flush against your cervix with every thrust. 

“N-Nnn... plea—” you try and force out, eyelids fluttering because too much is happening. You’re drunk off the feeling of him inside you but brought back down to earth as stems remind you of who you really belong to. 

Ukai picks up his pace, fingers leaving your mouth and instead taking place on your clit. He’s rubbing tight circles as he raises to get a better look at you. 

The tears in your eyes are now falling for a different reason. 

“Tell me you want it!” he repeats.

“I don’t! I don’t want it!” you wail. “Please don’t! You can’t— You can’t cum inside!”

“I can’t?” He pouts, words mockingly said in disbelief. He watches as you shake your head, trying to move away but your slutty cunt just keeps sucking him in, gummy walls just trapping him. The warmth makes his hips stutter, but he wills himself. “You let Sugawara cum in this pretty pussy? You let him hit it raw?” He’s nodding his head and you don’t know why you repeat the action.

You’re sure every inch of you is going to be marked with bruises as his hips snap into yours, nails scratching at his skin and legs locking up. ‘Please don’t cum in me’ seems like the only phrase you know, puffy lips parting as you mewl. Ukai can see you creaming all over his cock, a milky ring left around his dick as you cry, body betraying you and leaving you with such dread. It’s betraying you. It’s betraying Koushi by cumming on another man’s cock. And even though it’s forced you can’t help but like it, walls fluttering like butterflies in the summer. Flowers bloom in your throat as you try and breathe. It blocks your airway and leaves you loathing the very thing that gives you life. 

If you never met Koushi, would this still have happened? 

Butterflies turn into wasps. You can’t hate him when he has no control over this. 

The sight of you tensing, chest heaving has Ukai’s cock twitching. “I’m gonna— fuck!”

He pulls out... spilling himself on your lower half, shirt staining, and a gasp leaves you. It's silent before you can feel Ukai’s thumb draw soothing circles onto your hip. The action makes you want to hurl and the literal emptiness you feel when you stare at him makes you want to curl into yourself. Warmth seeps into your skin, eyes now focusing on the void sky as you will yourself to look down. Your lips tremble, shakily parting as you stare at the mess. There’s no way you can see Koushi like this. There’s no way you’re facing him with another man’s cum on—

“Let me drive you to Sugawara’s house...”

Freesias, roses, and carnations bundled up and neatly tied, left in a dirty alleyway as Koushi stares at his phone in his room. It’s bordering on 2am and he still hasn’t heard from you.

[helltore-a]

gallery tag re - dump.