#also his outfits are impeccable

[doveshovel]

@alinasteelcrest did i do it right

[professionallydeadinside]

I really liked the ending of the new movie not having the mom and the paranormal expert (I may love the movie, but I suck at names) be dating or anything. They kinda left to up to interpretation! Also, my favorite was the medium.

Bullet Train Haunted Mansion au when?

/j

-Kirk anon

OOOO THE MEDIUM I'M PRETTY SURE HER NAME WAS HARRIET BUT SHE CAME ON SCREEN AND ALL MY FRIENDS AND I SCREAMED SHE WAS SO PRETTY

[quierd-kitten]

Sometimes I love being arospec and sometimes it's so irritating. Do I have a crush on this person or is it another intense squish???? I wanted to draw 20 pictures of how she looked painting her lips, but would I want to actually kiss her??? I liked sitting close to him because he makes me feel really safe, but so do my other friends but not as intensely??? They said they loved a goofy photo of me and now I'm smiley but also kind of nauseous.

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Hi! If youre still doing requests, i have kind of an odd ask , but maybe some of the upper moons' reactions to meeting Muzan's wife (reader). I also really like whipped!Muzan so maybe the other demons' reactions to seeing the demon king doting on his wife. Thank you very much :)

Hi Anon! (^○^.) I actually love this request, so thank you for sliding it into my askbox ♥

Honestly I love a powerful man - especially a powerful villain - who's just absolutely in love with their wife (♥ω♥.) and would do anything for them, it just brings me joy.

Anyway! I'm rambling abit, but here is your request! I hope I've done it justice (^ω^.) Please enjoy!

Come again to request whenever you want cause I'm always open.

Muzan Kibutsuji being whipped for his wife + Upper Moons Reactions - Headcannons:

You know those types of men that are just unmovable pillars of stone - who look like they were carved from the finest marble by the hands of angels - who are always impeccably dressed with a voice of icy poison and just command your attention?

Who turn to the softest love-struck mush when with their wife

yeah, that's Muzan Kibutsuji with his wife (aka. you)

The finest meals, clothes and jewelry are yours with a click of his fingers - all done to make you happy, to see you smile

Anything that you mention briefly - doesn't matter if it''s a book or a holiday - its yours by the end of the day

Just one smile and a fluttering of your eyelashes has muzan on his knees - a singular pout of your lips has his mind running wild

You just have to breathe and Muzan's heart squeezes, breath stuttering in his chest as he looks at you in adoration

You could ask for the world and he'd give it too you on a platter

Muzan worships you

Each touch from you is a blessing to his skin

Each kiss sealed into him

Each word of love that falls from your lips make him drunk to hear, each sentence thick with a love that leaves hearts in his eyes and his heart thumping wildly

He wants to wear you like a brand - each mark you leave on him (bite marks and all) are worn with pride - and you (and only you) get to touch and mark his skin in such sensual ways

Under his wedding ring, his finger holds your bite mark, something that he begs you to do each day - with love-struck tears pricking his eyes - and it always makes him feel like he's properly yours

"My Love," He purrs with a voice a think velvet "My wonderful wife, my moon and stars, I love you for ever and always" and he kisses you so softly

Sometimes you have to stop this man from wearing matching clothes with you - "But Beloved,"he whimpers with a face liked a kicked puppy "I want us to match" - because he will absolutely wear a matching couples outfit

Other days he just likes sharing the same colour palette

When you worship him by placing soft kisses to his skin - his wrists, knuckles and faces - Muzan feels like he's on cloud nine

Upper Moons Reactions:

When the upper moons first met you, it was by accident - pure accident -they'd been summoned and it just so happened that it was when muzan was just in the midst of kissing you and bathing you with compliments

Kokushibou doesn't even blink and just stands in position like a trained guard, this sight has been something he's accidentally stumbled upon a couple of times before and honestly it makes him miss his wife

Because this isn't the first time he's met you but rather the fifth, the first actually time he met you, you were incredibly respectful of him and actually treat him nicely - you became tea drinking buddies - so he quickly came to like you

Douma/Doma genuinely shrieks - like an honest to god scream - before quickly going to make fun (not a good idea) about how loving Muzan is and, "Why don't you treat us this way Muzan-sama~ You're breaking my heart~"

Akaza looks away from such an intimate scene with respect since it felt wrong to look upon his lord loving his wife - although his heart does ache for some reason when looking at such a perfect loving scene

Hantengu starts sobbing while apologizing anxiously - actually very jealous at how loving the scene is, he wants a wife and to dote on someone

Gyokko simply proclaims it as artful and simply leaves it as such

Daki Blushes a deep crimson - it makes her want a husband to dote on her so much

While Gyutaro simply sighs before looking away - much like kokushibou and akaza in respect - with jealous crawling up his ribs at such love, he wants somebody to dote on and love him so romantically

[pedroscowgirl]

Unspoken desires

hugh jackman x afab!reader

Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI!

age gap (reader 20s, hugh is 55), angst (no bad stuff), p in v , creampie (wrap it up), choking, talking about feelings, daddy issues (again)

Words: 5.1k

A/N: You can read this separately but i imagined this as a part 2 of this fic that i wrote :) enjoy! (i have so much hugh in my concepts it's bad)

MASTERLIST

Weeks had drifted by since you and Hugh first began your casual sleeping together, and what had once been a whirlwind of passion had gradually settled into something more routine. The excitement of your initial encounters had softened into a comfortable familiarity. The chemistry was still there, moments together still brought a sense of warmth and pleasure but the raw spark that had once set your skin on fire was slowly dimming. You found yourself wondering if Hugh felt it too, or if he was simply going along with the flow, just as you were.

Today, you were set to see Hugh again, but this time it wasn’t just a private rendezvous. Instead of meeting privately, you were headed to a small gathering at his apartment to celebrate the overwhelming success of the Deadpool and Wolverine movie, which had just hit theatres and shattered expectations at the box office. It was a big moment for Hugh, and he was proud of the film, so when he invited you to join in the celebration, you didn’t hesitate.

Choosing an outfit for the occasion felt like a delicate balance,you wanted to look stunning, but also to pay homage to Hugh’s iconic role. After sifting through your closet, you decided on a little black dress that hugged your curves in all the right places. It was simple yet elegant, with gold accents that gleamed under the light, a subtle nod to the yellow of Wolverine's costume. You paired it with matching accessories,a gold bracelet, earrings that caught the light, and heels that made you feel confident with each step. As you applied the finishing touches to your makeup, you couldn’t shake the feeling of anticipation mixed with a hint of uncertainty. This was more than just another night together, it was an event, a step into his world, however small.

When you finally arrived at Hugh’s apartment, the evening air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you felt when you thought of seeing him. As you stood at his door, you took a deep breath, willing yourself to enjoy the night no matter what. The door swung open, revealing Hugh dressed casually but impeccably, his smile as charming as ever. The sight of him sent a familiar flutter through your chest, but as you leaned in to greet him with a kiss on the mouth, a gesture that had become natural between you, but he shifted slightly, his lips brushing against your cheek instead. It was a small, almost imperceptible movement, but it caught you off guard. The kiss on the cheek was friendly, almost distant, and you couldn’t help but feel a sting of disappointment. It was as if the shift you had sensed over the past weeks was crystallizing in this single moment.

Hugh pulled you into a warm hug, his hand lingering on your back, but the initial awkwardness of the missed kiss lingered in the air. As you stepped inside, you noticed the apartment was already buzzing with energy. Laughter echoed from the living room, where a few of Hugh’s close friends, including Ryan and Blake, were already gathered, drinks in hand. The atmosphere was lively, the kind of joyous occasion that should have made you feel welcome and at ease, but instead, a small seed of doubt had taken root in your mind.

You knew Hugh was a private person, especially when it came to his relationships. He hadn’t told anyone about the two of you—not even Ryan and Blake, who were like family to him. It wasn’t hard to understand why. Hugh had confided in you once, in a quiet moment after you’d made love, that he sometimes felt self-conscious about the age gap between you. He’d joked about being “too old” for you, but there had been a seriousness in his eyes that told you it wasn’t just a passing thought. It was something that lingered at the back of his mind, and now, it seemed like that insecurity was starting to manifest in small, subtle ways.

Despite the initial awkwardness, you resolved not to let it ruin the night. This was Hugh’s moment to shine, and you were determined to be there for him. You pushed the doubts aside, telling yourself that there was no need to overthink things. After all, this was supposed to be a celebration, not a night to get lost in your thoughts. You grabbed a glass of champagne from the counter, smiling at Hugh as you joined the others in the living room. The conversation flowed easily, and soon, you found yourself laughing along with the group, the earlier tension beginning to fade into the background.

As the night wore on, you caught glimpses of Hugh across the room, his eyes occasionally meeting yours with a softness that reassured you, if only a little. There were moments when he would come over, resting his hand on your shoulder or leaning in to share a private joke, and for those brief intervals, it felt like nothing had changed. But then he would pull away, drawn back into the conversation with his friends, and you were left wondering if he was purposely keeping a distance, or if you were just imagining it.

Even more time passed, and you found yourself deep in conversation with one of the crew members from the film. The discussion was engaging, he was sharing behind-the-scenes stories about the production, and you were genuinely interested, laughing at the amusing anecdotes he recounted. But despite the lively conversation, a part of your attention remained elsewhere. You couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had lingered since your arrival.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Hugh across the room. He was standing with a small group, his handsome face lit up with that familiar, heart-melting smile of his. But what caught your attention wasn’t the smile itself, it was the person he was smiling at. Beside him was a stunning blonde woman, who looked to be in her late forties. She was effortlessly elegant, with a confidence that matched her beauty. As she spoke, Hugh laughed, his deep, warm laughter carrying across the room. But it was the way he looked at her that made your heart drop. There was a softness in his gaze, an ease that you hadn’t seen in him in a while.

A pang of jealousy surged through you, sharp and unexpected. You knew you had no right to feel this way. Hugh was a free man now, having finalized his divorce about a year ago. It had been a difficult time for him, and you had been there to support him, offering comfort when he needed it. But now, seeing him with someone else, that rational understanding faded into the background, replaced by a raw, unfiltered emotion. You couldn’t help it, you loved him. It wasn’t something you had intended or even expected when you first started seeing each other, but the more time you spent with Hugh, the more you realized just how deep your feelings ran.

It felt strange, almost surreal, to acknowledge it to yourself. Hugh was a man who seemed to have it all—charm, good looks, kindness, and a genuine warmth that made people feel at ease around him. He was sweet to everyone, always the gentleman, and his sincerity was what drew you to him in the first place. How could anyone not fall in love with him? But knowing this didn’t make it any easier to watch him with someone else, especially when the woman beside him was clearly just as taken by his charisma as you were.

You watched as she leaned in closer to him, her hand resting lightly on his muscular arm, her fingers brushing against the fabric of his shirt. The sight made your stomach twist into knots. It was a casual touch, nothing overtly intimate, but it spoke volumes. Hugh didn’t pull away,instead, he smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you found so endearing. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the room closing in around you as your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions—jealousy, insecurity, fear. Did she know him better than you did? Was she someone from his past, or perhaps someone new who had caught his eye? The questions swirled in your head, unanswered and tormenting.

You suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts. One of the people in your conversation circle was looking at you with concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice cutting through the noise in your mind. You forced a smile and nodded quickly as you tried to gather yourself. “I’m fine,” you managed to say, even though the words felt empty. But the last thing you wanted was to draw attention to yourself, especially when you were struggling to keep your emotions in check.

“Excuse me,” you added hastily, your voice barely steady. You needed to get away, to find a place where you could breathe and collect your thoughts. But the walls of the apartment seemed to be closing in on you, the lively chatter and laughter around you becoming overwhelming. And without waiting for a response, you turned and made your way toward the bathroom, your steps quickening as you navigated through the crowded room.

As you closed the bathroom door behind you, the noise of the party was muffled, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You leaned against the sink, staring at your reflection in the mirror with your heart still pounding in your chest. The image staring back at you was composed on the surface, but you could see the cracks just beneath, the vulnerability that you had been trying so hard to hide. It was hard to reconcile the feelings that had surged within you tonight. You hadn’t expected to feel so strongly, but now that you did, it was impossible to ignore.

The truth was, you didn’t just care about Hug, you were in love with him. And seeing him with someone else, seeing that look in his eyes that used to be directed at you, was a painful reminder that whatever you had was complicated and perhaps not as secure as you had hoped. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and tried to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You knew you couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, but for now, it was a safe haven where you could relax and decide how to face the rest of the night.

After a few minutes, you splashed some cool water on your face, hoping it would help clear your mind. The mirror reflected your slightly dampened makeup, but you quickly touched it up, not wanting anyone to see any sign of distress. You told yourself that tonight was about celebrating Hugh’s success, not about your complicated feelings. You could deal with those later, when you were alone and away from the prying eyes of his friends and colleagues.

When you finally felt composed enough to rejoin the party, you took one last deep breath and opened the bathroom door. The lively sounds of the gathering filled your ears again, and as you stepped back into the main room, you scanned the crowd, trying to locate Hugh without being too obvious.

And after trying to push through the rest of the evening with forced smiles and half-hearted conversations, you reached your breaking point. It was too much—the tension, the uncertainty, the way Hugh seemed so comfortable with someone else while you were left questioning everything. You decided you needed to get out of there, to put some distance between you and whatever this was becoming before you snapped in front of everyone.

Without saying a word, you started making your way toward the door, weaving through the remaining guests. You had almost reached the exit when you felt a strong hand wrap around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. You turned sharply to find Hugh standing behind you, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of confusion.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low but firm, clearly sensing that something was wrong.

You pulled your wrist from his grip, trying to avoid his gaze as you muttered, “I need some air.”

But Hugh wasn’t letting you go that easily. He stepped closer, his presence demanding your attention. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange all night. Talk to me.”

You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to admit what was really bothering you, especially when you knew you had no right to feel this way. But the frustration that had been building inside you all evening finally boiled over. You spun around to face him, your eyes flashing with anger.

“Nothing’s wrong, Hugh. I just need to get out of here, okay?” The words came out sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. All you wanted was to leave before you said something you couldn’t take back.

Hugh frowned, not buying your answer for a second. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s really going on,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He reached for your hand again, this time holding it more gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture that only made you more frustrated.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened just enough to keep you from leaving. “Hugh, just let me go,” you snapped, but he didn’t budge.

“Come with me,” he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle as he guided you toward the hallway that led to his bedroom. You followed him, more out of exasperation than anything else, knowing that this conversation wasn’t something you couldn’t avoid any longer.

Once inside his room, Hugh closed the door behind you, shutting out the noise of the party. The silence between you was thick with tension as you stood there, your arms crossed, staring at the floor. Hugh watched you, waiting for you to speak, but when you didn’t, he finally broke the silence.

“Why are you so upset?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if trying to coax the truth out of you.

You clenched your jaw, still refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m not upset,” you lied, the words bitter on your tongue. “I just… I just don’t want to be here right now.”

Hugh sighed, stepping closer until he was right in front of you. He reached out, placing a hand on your chin and gently lifting your face so you were forced to look at him. “I know you better than that. What’s really going on?”

His concern and tenderness only made you angrier. You wanted to push him away, to run out of the room and forget this whole night ever happened. But the emotions you had been holding back finally broke free, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“I saw you with her, Hugh!” you burst out, your voice shaking with frustration and hurt. “That woman, you were laughing with her, looking at her like she was the only person in the room. And I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do. I can’t help it.”

Hugh’s eyes widened in surprise, but he quickly recovered, his expression softening as he realized what had been bothering you. “You think… you think I’m interested in her?” he asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

You didn’t answer, but your silence spoke volumes. Hugh let out a breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process what you were saying. “She’s just a friend,” he said, his voice calm but insistent. “There’s nothing going on between us. I was just being friendly,” Hugh said, his tone dismissive.

You let out a sigh, your eyes narrowing as you locked onto his. “I know what your 'friendly' looks like, Hugh. I’ve seen you flirt before.” He hesitated, the realization of your words sinking in. Finally, he sighed, admitting, “Alright, maybe I was flirting a little. But there’s nothing official between us, for fucks sake I’m twice your age, so why does it bother you so much?” His voice carried a hint of annoyance as he met your gaze, clearly frustrated.

And as the heated exchange between you and Hugh unfolded in his bedroom, the air thick with tension and unspoken emotions, Hugh took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself. Instead of matching your rising anger, he opted for a calmer approach, his voice measured and gentle.

"Listen," he began, his eyes searching yours earnestly. "I never meant to hurt you. I just thought... given our age difference, that this was something light, something fun for both of us. You have your entire life ahead of you. You should be out there, enjoying yourself, experiencing things with people your own age. Building a future with someone who can match your energy, your plans, your dreams."

His words felt like a cold splash of water, momentarily drowning the flames of your anger. But soon, a different kind of heat rose within you,a mix of hurt and disbelief. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to process his confession.

"So, you think this is just a fling for me?" you choked out, voice quivering. "That I'm just... passing time with you until someone my age comes along?"

Hugh looked pained, but he held your gaze. "I just didn't want to hold you back. I thought keeping things casual was best for both of us."

A tear escaped, trailing down your cheek. "Hugh, you idiot," you whispered, voice breaking. "I don't care about your age. I don't care about any of that. I care about you. Can't you see that?"

He reached out, gently wiping the tear from your face with his thumb. "I just didn't want to be the reason you missed out on experiences, on opportunities."

You shook your head intensely. "The only thing I'd miss out on is being with you. Can't you understand that? It's not about age or experiences. It's about how I feel when I'm with you."

Before you could even form another sentence, Hugh's lips crashed onto yours with a passion that sent a jolt of electricity through your entire body. His kiss was intense, all-consuming, and filled with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. You could feel the urgency in the way he held you, his hands gripping your waist tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

Without breaking the kiss, Hugh swept you off your feet, his strong arms effortlessly lifting you from the floor. You clung to him, your heart pounding in your chest as he carried you over to the bed. There was something primal in his movements, a raw need that resonated deep within you. He laid you down with a surprising gentleness, as though you were the most precious thing in the world.

His hands moved to the zipper of your little black dress, slowly drawing it down with a deliberate precision that made your breath catch in your throat. The dress slipped down your shoulders, exposing your skin to the cool air, and he paused to admire the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire. His fingers brushed over the bare skin of your collarbone, sending shivers down your spine as the dress slid further down your body, finally pooling around your hips before he removed it entirely.

You were now laid bare before him, and the way he looked at you made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He began to undress himself, his movements quick and sure, until his clothes lay discarded on the floor. The sight of him standing there, naked and aroused, was enough to make your mouth go dry. His body was a masterpiece, every muscle perfectly defined, his skin stretched over a frame that was the epitome of masculine perfection.

No matter how many times you had seen him like this, it never failed to take your breath away. He was all hard lines and powerful muscles, his presence dominating the room in a way that made you feel both safe and utterly desired. Why would you ever want anyone else when this man was right here?

Hugh’s eyes roamed over your body, drinking in every curve, every inch of exposed skin. There was a possessiveness in his gaze, an intensity that made your pulse race. He climbed onto the bed, his hands finding your body as he began to explore you with his lips. He started at your neck, his mouth hot and wet against your skin as he kissed his way down to your collarbone. He took his time, savouring each kiss, each caress, as if he wanted to memorize the taste and feel of you.

When his lips reached your thighs, he paused, lifting his gaze to meet yours. The look in his eyes was nothing short of predatory, and it sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. He leaned down, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and then he bit down, just hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped at the sensation, your body tensing in response as a wave of heat pooled in your core.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking onto yours as he ran his tongue over the mark he had just made. “This is all mine, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice a low, possessive growl.

A whimper escaped your lips as you nodded, your voice trembling with need. “Yes, it’s all yours.”

A satisfied smirk curled his lips, and he didn’t waste another moment. He positioned himself between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he lined himself up with your entrance. He paused for a moment, just long enough to let the anticipation build, before slowly pushing inside. The sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy that made your breath catch in your throat.

He moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm at first, each thrust deep and measured, as if he wanted to savour every moment of being inside you. The way he moved, the way he filled you, it was as if he was made for you, fitting perfectly into every curve, every inch of you. Your body responded to his in kind, your hips rising to meet his as you moaned softly, lost in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Hugh’s hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you closer with each thrust as he set a steady pace. His mouth found yours again, kissing you with a passion that left you breathless. The kiss was deep, his tongue exploring your mouth in time with his movements, and it only served to heighten the pleasure coursing through your body. The connection between you was electric, a tangible bond that made every touch, every kiss, feel like fire on your skin.

As the intensity grew, he shifted slightly, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder to angle himself even deeper inside you. The new position made you gasp, your nails digging into his strong, muscular arm as the pleasure became almost unbearable. He watched your reaction with a mix of satisfaction and desire, clearly enjoying the way he was making you feel.

“Look at me, baby,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “Look at me while I make you feel good.”

You forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze. The intensity in his eyes was nearly too much to bear, but it made your heart race even faster. His thrusts grew more urgent, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The pressure was building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter with every movement, until you were teetering on the edge of release.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, his hand moved to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your neck with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. The sensation was intoxicating, the mixture of dominance and desire sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

“Cum on my dick, babygirl. Now,” he growled, his voice thick with authority and desire.

It was as if your body responded to his command on instinct. Your orgasm crashed over you with a force that left you trembling, your entire body shuddering as waves of pleasure rippled through you. You cried out, the sound escaping your lips before you could stop it, but Hugh quickly shushed you, his grip on your throat tightening slightly.

“Quiet, baby,” he murmured, his voice still rough with desire. “There are people here.”

But before you could fully recover from the intensity of your orgasm, he moved again, flipping you over and pulling you on top of him. His strength was evident as he guided you effortlessly, positioning you so that you were straddling him. “Ride me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

Your legs were shaky, still trembling from the powerful orgasm, but he was there to support you. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you lowered yourself onto him once again. The sensation of him filling you was overwhelming, but he held you steady, his strong arms lifting you up and down as if you weighed nothing.

As you rode him, he kept his hands on your thighs, his grip firm and possessive. The pleasure built again quickly, the intensity of the position driving you both closer to the edge. You could feel him tensing beneath you, his muscles tightening as he neared his own release.

Just as you were about to cum again, he gripped your thighs tighter, his fingers digging into your flesh as he thrust up into you with a powerful, final movement. “Fuck, I love you,” he groaned, the words spilling out in a raw, primal cry as he came deep inside you.

The confession sent you over the edge once more, your body shuddering as another powerful orgasm ripped through you. You collapsed against him, breathless and spent, as the reality of his words sunk in. He loved you.

As the intensity of the moment slowly faded, you both lay there, breathing heavily, your bodies still tangled together. The reality of what had just happened, Hugh's confession of love, the intensity of your connection, began to sink in, and you found yourself overwhelmed with a mixture of emotions. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, the rhythmic thud steadying you as you processed everything.

Hugh’s arms remained wrapped around you, his hold strong yet gentle, as if he was afraid to let you go. He hadn’t said anything since his declaration, and you could feel the tension in the air. There was a vulnerability in the way he held you, as if he was waiting for your response, unsure of what you might say.

You lifted your head slightly, looking up at him. His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw a mix of worry and hope, emotions that mirrored your own. He reached up, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch tender.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” he murmured softly, his voice still a little rough from the intensity of the moment. “It just… slipped out.”

You could see the uncertainty in his eyes, and it tugged at your heart. Hugh wasn’t the type to open up easily to you, to let his guard down, and the fact that he had done so now, meant more than words could express. But you also knew that he was scared, scared of what loving you might mean, of the risks it entailed, of the future that could be so uncertain.

“Did you mean it?” you asked quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Hugh hesitated for a moment before nodding, his gaze unwavering. “Yes,” he admitted. “I meant every word. I love you… but I didn’t want to say it like that. Not in the middle of—” He trailed off, clearly unsure of how to express himself.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for this man who had so completely captured your heart. “I love you too, Hugh,” you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “And I don’t care if it slipped out in the middle of… all that. I’m just glad you said it.”

His expression softened at your words, the tension in his body easing slightly. He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment as if to seal the promise between you.

“I’ve been trying to fight it,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve been telling myself that you deserve someone younger, someone who can give you a future… but I can’t fight how I feel anymore. I want to be with you, no matter what.”

Tears welled up in your eyes at his confession, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. All the doubts and fears you had been harboring seemed to melt away, leaving only the certainty that you wanted to be with him too, no matter what challenges might lie ahead.

“Hugh, I don’t care about any of that,” you said, your voice firm despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm you. “I love you, and that’s all that matters to me. We’ll figure everything else out together.”

His eyes searched yours, as if looking for any sign of doubt, but all he found was your unwavering commitment. A slow, relieved smile spread across his face, and he pulled you closer, holding you tightly against him as if he never wanted to let you go.

For a long while, the two of you lay there in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the warmth of each other’s embrace. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you, connected in a way that felt deeper and more meaningful than ever before.

Eventually, Hugh broke the silence, his voice low and filled with emotion. “I want to do this right,” he said softly. “I want to take you out, treat you like you deserve. I want us to build something real, something lasting.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. “I’d like that,” you replied, your voice equally soft. “But right now, I just want to stay here with you.”

Hugh chuckled, the sound deep and soothing. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, his arms tightening around you. “We have all the time in the world.”

And with that, the two of you drifted into a peaceful, contented silence, the future ahead of you no longer filled with uncertainty but with the promise of a love that was as deep and enduring as anything either of you had ever known.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell

[risestarkiss]

Being Big Red

Rise Ramblings #312

In “What Was Meant To Be” and “What They Became,” I discuss how the turtles were created by Draxum to be weapons and then how the boys were embraced by Splinter to be a part of the Hamato clan.

I also discussed how Splinter viewed television as a window into his former life. He used television as a means to drown himself in a never-ending cycle of reminiscing the past and mourning his former self.

Splinter’s crushing depression, though never voiced, impacted the turtles’ emotional growth and development. As a result, all four brothers had to cope with their father’s lack of attention and his expectations for their lives in their own way…

However, I believe that no one had more pressure placed on them than Raphael Hamato.

Raphael is naturally easy-going, sweet, fun-loving, and supportive. But, as the oldest/biggest turtle, he became the impromptu leader of their little team by default. Consequently, he takes on several different roles for the sake and well-being of his family.

Their day-to-day training regimen is directed completely by him.

He is the boys' moral compass and who they go to for guidance.

He's the team’s backbone, support, and backup, which often cumulates in him acting as a physical shield when things get rough.

And, most significantly, Raph is the leader even when he himself wants nothing more than to crumble to pieces.

Raph is so physically imposing, strong-willed, and devastatingly kind-hearted that it’s easy to expect these roles from him.

But, Raph is also just a child.

In reality, these roles should never have been Raph’s to bear…

Parentification is a process in which a child or adolescent is forced to act as a parent to their siblings (or to their actual parent) through providing emotional support (Emotional Parentification) or physical support (Instrumental Parentification) in order to maintain the household.

I believe that Raphael was subjected to both, but was especially subjected to the former.

All of the roles described above are the roles of a supportive parent to their children (or Sensei to their students.) To verify this claim, you needn’t look further than the roles that Splinter encompassed in any other iteration.

With Raph, none of this responsibility comes naturally. He has to work hard to live up to the pressures and expectations placed onto him, resulting in a dissonance between his responsibilities and his true nature.

I believe that you can see the evidence of this dissonance in his chosen form of dress.

Have you noticed that when Raph casually dresses himself, he mostly wears white?

Even Donnie picked up on this trend when he chose outfits for his brother in "The Clothes Don't Make The Turtle." (See "The Fashionista" for a full breakdown on Donnie's impeccable fashion sense.✨)

Yet, when Raphael is filling a role, or dressing to impress others, Red is his automatic go-to.

It’s almost as if the title of “The Red One” was not one that he chose, but one that was merely placed onto him.

But I digress...

Raph is able to be a pseudo-parent to his brothers and serves to fill in the gaps that their actual father could not fill. However, with no outlet for his own insecurities, all of that pressure had no relief.

And, if you understand chemistry, pressure, with no release, creates an explosion.

“Acting out” is an unhealthy defense mechanism in which one expresses their unacceptable feelings through physical actions.

In this case, the "unacceptable feeling" is disappointment, not at his brothers, or with his father, or with any external force, but with himself. And with no outlet and with no one to turn to for support, that disappointment turns into red hot anger.

He’s so disappointed with himself, in fact, that he reaches his breaking point.

Then finally, finally, he opens up.

And at long last, he gets the support he so desperately needed.

Thus, he is able to ultimately let it all go...

It's so lovely to see that his family does not disappoint.

○○○○

Next | Being Baby Blue • Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two • Orange, Baby!

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[beomie3]

txt on girlfriend day :3 (summer edition)

bf!txt x fem!reader (mostly fluff, some suggestive material)

⭐️ soobin

soob takes you camping!!

he is such a granola bf lolz, he literally knows everything about how to survive in the wild and you find it so attractive 🤭

he sets the tent up and lets you help him if you want, but mostly he wants his gf to relax in the shade, not overworking herself on her special day <3

"you deserve princess treatment every day of course," he pecks you on the cheek, interlacing his fingers with yours while you rock on the hammock together. "but today you are the queen of the entire universe!" he starts kissing your face everywhere and it soon escalates to a tickle fight.

once the tent is set up by the shore, you walk over to the dock which of course results in jumping into the lake together, fingers interlaced.

"three! two...!" and before he reaches one you're already running full speed towards the edge of the dock, pulling you along with him. you both reunite underwater, coming up for a breath only to meet your lips together and literally could not break them apart ^3^

after drying off, the two of you roast marshmallows as the sun sets, making smores for one another! he made you as many smores until your heart's content. "my baby needs to eat as much as she wants!" he loved seeing the look on your face when you took a bite like it was the best thing you'd ever tasted.

once it was dark and crickets chirped, the two of you got cozy in the tent under thick blankets, only the lantern's warm lighting illuminating his face as you looked into his dark brown eyes. he told you the story of the day he fell in love with you as he held you in his arms, his voice soothing you like no other.

a kiss turned into another, which turned into another, which then turned into a makeout, and then his shirt was off, and then the lantern was turned off and that's when you knew tonight would be an extra special night ;)

(currently working on turning this into a full fic! :P)

⭐️ yeonjun

junie takes you clothing shopping 😋

but first, he wakes you up with snuggles, (really passionate morning sex), and your favorite latte that he took the time to perfectly prepare before you awoke.

you both wear matching outfits ofc hehe.

he takes you to your favorite clothing stores. "get anything you want baby," he kisses the side of your neck before leaving the car and if you didn't have self-control you'd want him to rip your clothes off here and now :p

he always works so hard to be able to get you whatever you need and want, of course there is no problem spending it all on you!!

as someone with impeccable fashion sense, he helps you pick out some summer outfits that he had in mind.

he cannot contain his big grin when you walk out of the fitting room wearing the prettiest outfit ever! he is literally so grateful to have such a beauty like you <3

let's not forget, he also takes you to plenty of lingerie stores and you two have lots of fun there ;)

"this one is for tonight," you wink at him as you hold a red lace piece against your body and his mind goes to unexplainable places.

"can't wait to take it off of you," he whispers in your ear and the tension is already through the roof and you cannot wait to get home.

once you get home from dinner, you get straight to it and boy is it hot ;)

⭐️ beomgyu

you and gyu stay the weekend at your beach house :)

you two had met as kids and grew up together. you crossed paths because both of your families owned beach houses right next to each other! he was always the boy next door <3

anyway, it’s ten years later and you both now own one of the houses together as a vacation home. the two of you love to spend weekend getaways here!

you chase each other around the beach like you're young all over again, falling in love over and over and over again.

you go to the farmers market together and pick fresh groceries for tonight's dinner he is cooking for you :)

you get home, put a record on the turntable, and cook together. you sip red wine, slow dancing in the kitchen as the spaghetti noodles boil.

he serves your plate, carefully using spaghetti sauce to write "happy gf day baby <3" on the side of your plate and your heart melts.

dinner is so yummy and you eat it on the balcony, just watching the sun disappear beyond the horizon, feeling the damp ocean wind comb through your hair.

"you have some red sauce here!" you wipe his lip with your thumb and he wants nothing but to kiss you all over.

he carries you upstaris after dinner once the sun completely sets, laying you down on the queen bed you both share.

he wanted to do so much for you; run you a bath, give you a massage, sing you a song.. but right now, you could not keep your hands off of each other. your eyes said it all.

"i want to show you how much i love you," he whispered against your lips as he pulled you down down into the sheets with him.

(this is a snippet of the full version i've been writing that will be published soon!)

⭐️ taehyun

terry takes you to the national art museum in the city because he knows how much you love going to museums with him <3

he takes the cutest candid pics of you while you marvel over the paintings, sure to post them on his instagram and send them to his family🥺

he takes you out for boba after because how can it be a perfect day without boba??

plus he loves hearing when you compare his large shining eyes to boba pearls hehe.

you walk around a quaint park holding hands, stopping inside little shops and simply enjoying your time together.

he stops at a bench under a tree to get something from his bag. "i have something for you," he holds something behind his back. your face grows hot, stomach twisting with the question of what it might be.

he stretches out his hand, holding a small box, opening it to reveal a pink, sparkling promise ring. "i want to be with you foreve-" he barely gets his words out before you've jumped into his arms, squeezing his strong frame as hard as you could.

tears stain your cheeks. you cannot contain how grateful you are to have such an amazing boy in your life <3

" i want to be with you forever, tae," and you share the sweetest kiss. he's sure to take over 100 pictures of you with your new sparkly ring on too :)

⭐️ huening kai

kai takes you on a drive but you have no idea where he is taking you!

the car ride consists of you blasting music and singing your hearts out, listening to his amazing vocals. you could seriously listen to him sing all day.

you arrive at the spot; atop a tall hill and looking over the entire city. its golden hour, the sun is starting to set and he looks so beautiful in the orange-yellow light.

"close your eyes!" he yells once he leads you out of the car and you hear him rummaging around in the back seat.

you open your eyes when he tells you to as he pops open the trunk of his suv and behold! the cutest arrangement of things decorate large space.

fairy lights adorn the sign he made you reading "happy girlfriend's day to the best girl in the entire planet and universe!!!" with a bunch of colorful hearts and cute emojis he attempted to draw.

there are pillows and blankets and a basket of your favorite candies. he also got you plushies and packed a picnic of your favorite fast food because he just had to.

the two of you sat in the trunk eating an arrangement of your favorite food, candy, and soda. a bit unhealthy, but it’s your special treat that he knows you had been craving it the entire week.

after eating, you lay on top of his car watching the stars, sharing little kisses and giggling over inside jokes.

he hands you a small jar in which you discover holds tons of little pieces of paper. you read them one at a time. your eyes begin to well.

he had written over 100 different things he loves about you on each piece of paper.

"kai," you look at him, tears welling your eyes.

a million i love you’s are what you expressed through the tightest embrace.

note: each and every one of you are so so special, treat yourself to a little something today :) here is a little treat, i <3 you!! also, please let me know if you’d like me to turn any of these into full length stories💓

[forlix]

𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬, 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 !・h.h.

— you’re just trying to do your job; your client has other ideas.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・1.3k 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・idol!hyunjin x gn!makeup artist!reader 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・very suggestive so mdni, reader implied to be shorter than hyunjin 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, flirting, humor, big fwb vibes

𝐚/𝐧・this took me less than half an hour to write i am actually the biggest sucker for this trope. also, we hit another milestone recently!! i appreciate all of you immensely; look forward to more ♡

[!]・hi hey hello as of one month later a full-length fic based on this au has been posted!! here it is; you can read the two in any order. ok bye much love

“Five ‘til!” A crew member calls into a walkie-talkie, and you’re so surprised by this information that you stumble right over him, your heel ungracefully ramming into the poor man’s toes. 

You apologize hurriedly, bowing yourself out of the awkward situation—and then you check your watch. 7:55 P.M. A quiet "shit" leaves your lips as it dawns on you that you'd completely lost track of time.

Briefly, you contemplate your predicament, drumming the palette of makeup you’re holding in your right hand against the palm of your left: do I have to? Is it really necessary? But you know your answer even as you’re asking yourself the questions. You’re damn meticulous—sometimes to a fault, but always to your own satisfaction.

You had a vision, and you’re going to see it through.

With impeccable timing, your coworker appears out of nowhere, and you fasten a hand around her arm. “Hey, where are the members again?”

“Stage left.” Then she registers your question in full, and snaps her eyes to your face; stylists were supposed to have finished up with their respective members nearly an hour ago. “Hang on, are you out of your mind—”

“I won’t be a minute!” You call, scurrying away.

“You won’t be employed!” She returns, but you’ve already disappeared into the curtains’ dense shadows.

You jog a short distance, turn a few corners, and finally spot the eight members clad in outfits of varying amounts of silver and black, every inch of them so sparkly that they’re reflective, even with how little light reaches this part of the stage.

You’re looking for one man in particular, though, and you single him out right away: long, black locks falling into his eyes as he adjusts his microphone, broad shoulders and tall frame flattered perfectly by an obsidian suit, looking like he fell off a Paris Fashion Week runway and into a wormhole that teleported him to Osaka.

All your doing, by the way.

“Hwang Hyunjin!” You shout, and he (along with several of the other members) whips around at the sound. And Hyunjin furrows a perfect brow when his stylist materializes before him, four minutes to curtain up, wielding a palette of makeup like it’s a baseball bat.

“Are you out of your mind?” He calls.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” You lift a pointer finger into the air and curl it twice. “Come here. Hurry."

Hyunjin gives the others an apologetic glance before hurrying over, and you are met with a blast of Byredo Blanche when he arrives in front of you, the expression on his face equal parts amused and confused.

“Down,” you say, flicking open the eyeshadow palette with one hand.

And then Hyunjin understands. A loud, uninhibited laugh leaves his lips, a sound you’ve become so accustomed to by now that you’re completely oblivious to the fact that only you bring it out of him.

“You really are something,” he says, spreading his feet apart until he’s brought himself to your eye level.

With that, you get to work, one hand gathering some eyeshadow on the pads of your fingers, the other moving to hold his shoulder. Brushes are luxuries you can’t afford right now.

“Close your eyes,” you direct, your voice softer now that your face is only inches away from his, and Hyunjin heeds your words obediently. You begin to dab the crimson powder against the curve of his lids, careful to avoid messing up the rest of his eye makeup. His lashes flutter involuntarily at your gentle touch.

“A shadow to match the lip,” you murmur absently. “I pictured it and knew it had to happen."

Hyunjin makes a sound of approval, and then there is that smirk on his face, the one you’ve learned only means trouble. “You’ve been thinking about my face the whole night, then?”

“No. I’ve been thinking about whether vegetables can feel pain,” you deadpan. “Yes, I've been thinking about your face. It’s my job.”

“Is that all?”

“Sure is.” You blow gently on his finished eye and move on to the other. “Now save your voice for the stage.”

He obliges, but that dreadful, self-assured expression remains on his face, and you're immeasurably grateful that he can’t see the blush that you’re well aware paints your cheeks.

“Done,” you say a minute later, straightening with a confident flourish. And you think you could squeal when Hyunjin opens his eyes, and you see that the exact effect you’d hoped for has been realized: a splash of maroon that is both subtle and seductive, sleek and suave; that not only accentuates the shape of his eyes but pulls attention to his lips, which are dyed a similar hue. Damn, you’re good at your job.

“I don’t have a mirror,” you say, looking around. “I can use my phone if you want to—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “I trust you.”

You grin at this. “Good. Because you look sexy as hell."

Upon hearing your words, he straightens to his full height. You don’t think much of this at first, too busy re-examining the masterpiece you’ve created on his eyelids, but in the blink of an eye you’re suddenly aware that Hyunjin is standing conspicuously and intentionally close to you. You instinctively move away, but you’re too late; he’s already guiding your back to the wall behind you, his body enclosing yours against the smooth surface.

You send a panicked look over Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to realize that the two of you are completely out of anyone’s line of vision. That doesn’t stop the sharp hiss that leaves your lips: “Hyunjin, are you cr—”

But then there is a familiar gust of breath against your skin, a thumb over your cheekbone.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself when you get like this; all bossy and concentrated, an ambitious glint in your eyes, an air of confidence in your gait. He always thinks it’s ironic that your job is to make him look good when all he’s ever done is admire your beauty, so effortless and profuse that it feels timeless, like freshly bloomed forget-me-nots.

He knows he shouldn’t—but that makes him want to more.

When your lips meet, they move together with an ease and familiarity that reveal how many times you’ve done this before. He brings a hand to the small of your back, and you tangle your stained fingers in his luscious hair, the delicious pressure of his mouth upon yours rendering your reluctance (and the eyeshadow palette, which clatters noisily to the floor) momentarily forgotten.

As the kiss deepens, the bridges of your noses slide together; your every sense becomes overwhelmed by the slippery plush of his full lips and the warm caress of his large hands; you drink in the rosy musk of his cologne like your cells need it to live as opposed to oxygen. The tip of Hyunjin’s tongue teases the seam of your lips, as if requesting access, and you grant it to him with a light moan that is both blissful and thoroughly exasperated. When he hears the gorgeous sound, he has half a mind to scoop you up and leave the venue then and there.

Then, a voice bellows from not too far away: “One minute, everyone! Places, places!”

You’re so startled that you not only break away from him but jump a meter into the air, giving Hyunjin’s bicep a hearty slap on your way down. But he is entirely unbothered, dipping his head to press a trail of light kisses along your jaw instead.

“You’ll be watching the performance, yes?” He murmurs against the sensitive skin.

“Of course, what else—”

“—don’t take your eyes off me.”

And the words throw your heart against your ribs like uncooked French fries in a vat of oil.

He is just about to walk away when you realize how decidedly disheveled you’ve left him, and you yank him back to you with a fresh wave of panic. You wipe at his smudged lipstick with the cuffs of your sleeves; nitpick his hair until every strand is back in its proper place. Only when you’ve gotten rid of all the incriminating evidence do you permit him to leave.

“Thank you very much,” he says, bending into a gracious bow, the perfect image of professionalism. The facade is given away only by the upturned corner of his still-flushed lips.

“Break a leg,” you return drily.

The last thing you hear is that stupid, bright laugh before Hyunjin rejoins his members, and they step into the strobe lights together.

Even when the concert begins and the stadium is drowned in fanatical screams, the heartbeat in your ears remains the loudest sound of all—and you bury your burning face in your hands.

Hwang Hyunjin will be the death of you.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[kkuzushi]

Haii! Ive read your sub Heizou fic and omg... I kept thinking about scaramouche while reading it. I've also taken a liking to your page! Your writing is soo goodnendksjdnxw sub scaramouche fic when? 🥰🥰🎀🎀

(I feel like in going to interact with your page alot so can I be 🎸 anon? >_<)

“ 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝗮 𝘁𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 ”

✦ 𝗰haracters: sub!scaramouche x dom!reader

✦ 𝗰w: mirror sex (at the end), implied orgasm denial, implied overstimulation, slight choking, cock can be interpreted as strap

✦ 𝘄ord count: 1.02k

✦ 𝗻otes: You’re always welcome to my page, lovely 🎸. This is written especially for you. <3

It became a routine for Scaramouche to send pictures of himself when wearing different outfits. It was just a time to time update, like you had asked, but he had gotten unexpectedly used to it.

For a man who has impeccable fashion taste, you would always shower him with compliments with every picture he sent—because of that, he saw it as a way to get your attention.

As usual, you received a notification from Scaramouche and it was a mirror shot. The picture was enough to make you smile but what took your attention was the message he sent after it.

"It's been a week, when are you coming over?"

Scaramouche had gotten clingy as well after establishing a relationship.. or maybe there's something he's after.

"My schedule's packed for this week, maybe by the end of the month we get to spend time again."

You replied, which he immediately read. It took a while for him to respond as it turns out, he was preparing another picture for you. Only this time, his shirt was lifted up, his teeth biting on the fabric to expose his stomach.

"How about right now?" He sent with the picture.

You could almost read where he's going along with this but you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

After a few back and forth bickering, his pictures and messages had only gotten more and more explicit.

"My bed's missing you."

"Wanna show me what 34+35 is equal to?"

"Something wants to be filled and it's not my expectations."

If only he knew how much you actually wanted to rail him right now. If your schedule wasn't so packed, you'd be having your way with him.

Though who said you can't? It didn't take long for you to arrive at his place, a sight you could never get tired of unfolding right before you.

Scaramouche's nails clawed your back, almost holding for dear life as you mindlessly pounded him to oblivion.

"Wait..! Too full~!!" His grip around you tightened as he squealed with every thrust you give him.

"For someone so teasing, you sure can't take a lot," You commented, grabbing his thighs to push back, spreading it out even more.

Scaramouche's eyes narrowed down at you, biting his lips gently before speaking, "I didn't expect that simple words would provoke you."

His statement made you chuckle before closing the distance between the two of you. His legs spread apart as you pushed your cock all the way inside, resting close to his prostate, making him squirm from the sensation.

"It didn't provoke me, Scara," you cooed to his ear, "It only motivated me."

Before he could respond, you bucked your hips, finally hitting his prostate. Scaramouche's eyes widened as he lets out what could only be described as a scream.

"ngAHh~!! ♡ ♡" His back arched from the sudden thrust to his prostate, a hoarse moan was forced out of him, eyes rolling back from the pleasure.

Your back has been marked to the core by his nails, it was painful yet you enjoyed the feeling—after all, it was the result of having your way with him.

Scaramouche's thighs starts to tremble, his head rolling back as moans after moans stream out of his throat.

Just the way his body reacts to his prostate getting abused turned you on, how could you ever get tired of fucking this man?

"Do I fuck you good, Scaramouche?" You grunted, hands on his waist to keep yourself moving on the same pace. The only answer given to you were mewls, poor Scaramouche can't even think properly as he seems to be seeing stars now.

"aH~ aH!~ goofmgnh~ sho goodddh~!! ♡" A few minutes after your question, Scaramouche starts to ramble, his tongue lolling out of his mouth with every word he says.

His cock was leaking precum, spilling all the way to his thighs. If he wasn't so focused on having your permission, he would've finished since then—but only good boys get that, right?

The sound of skin hitting skin was loud as you fucked Scaramouche harshly yet his moans were still louder than anything else. His pretty body was filled with fresh bitemarks and hickeys, even on places that's exposed easily. Not to worry, he won't be complaining anytime soon.

"fuck..! fuck! mnghah..!" He squealed as he watched your cock disappearing with every thrust you give, almost like his hole was sucking it in. His inner walls tightened, receiving a moan from you, "hagh- g-gonna cum!~ ♡"

His words served as a signal as you swiftly changed his position, turning him around to make him face his bedroom mirror. Scaramouche's eyes widened after realising your intentions.

"N-not like thisfhAHH~♡♡!!" Words were cut once his felt your cock fucking him in a rougher pace. You pinned his hands on his back, your free hand crawling up and wrapping around his neck so tenderly.

"Look at yourself as you cum," You whispered to his ear, your eyes staring at his in the mirror. The way you talked to him didn't help, everything was deliberately turning him on, his back arching further as he felt his body grow weak.

He was close, so close to finishing. Scaramouche knew that if he disobeyed this one last command from you, it's back to square one. His eyes never left the mirror, scanning the way his body gets pounded by you. The sight alone was making him scream in pleasure.

"mngha- cummi— i'm cummingghhaHH~!! ♡♡♡" Scaramouche's eyes rolled back, a long moan flowing out his mouth as his cock squirted cum all over the place, even reaching the mirror.

Once the white fluid stops spilling out of him, his volume decreased. What could only be heard now are heavy pants from him, his chest heaving with every breath he took.

"We're not yet done," his eyes widened once more as he hears you speak down to his nape, "You still have to make me cum, remember?"

Exhaustion has never felt this pleasing, Scaramouche knew he was in for a long night, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

[hotjaneaustenmenpoll]

Semi-Final Two

Propaganda...

Mr Knightley (2009):

Johnny Lee Miller as Knightley is JUST SO. I mean the way he says "if I loved you less I might be able to talk about it more" IS JUUUST. The dance scene. The tentative shy smiles. The fact you can see in his eyes the entire time " I am completely in love with this woman. She'll never love me back BUT I DO NOT CARE I'LL LOVE HER FROM A DISTANCE ANYWAY" IS JUUUUUUST

We need to appreciate Mr Knightley more for both his snark and for those soft eyes just so full of love for Emma

GIF by dearemma

I was just going to send in the actual dance but the little panic he has when Emma says she knows his secret is just soo charming. There was some thread on twitter a few years ago about how a romcom man's most important quality is knowing how to look at a woman and JLM is just the master of it in this Emma

I really feel like the pictures say it all. He stands there, head tilted to one side. He is listening to you. His posture is relaxed. His gaze open, frank, candid. He's not trying at all. He just is.And that's why he is Knightley.

GIF by night-unfurls-its-splendour

Some propaganda, not just for Jonny Lee Miller, but the general interpretation of 09 Knightley. I have some excerpts here from my review of the 09 adaptation:

What I really think is great about the 2009 interpretation of Mr. Knightley is what an easy and comforting presence he is, without being apologetic when he scolds Emma. I think this is communicated especially well by how often we are actually shown Mr. Knightley taking his almost-daily walks to Hartfield, how smoothly he comes and goes, and how happy Emma is every time she sees him coming up the path (usually, just at the perfect moment when she needs something to put her back to rights.)

Here is Emma, feeling lonely after Miss Taylor's wedding. And in the background, walking up to Hartfield--there's Knightley. He's always been there for her, and he always will be.

And also this Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight this outfit and why I love it: This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding of her home.

Additionally, Jonny Lee Miller captures Knightley’s playful qualities, and his exasperation is so endearing

GIF by christophernolan

GIF by sashajames

GIF by christophernolan

I can’t be the only one tickled by this Knightley’s frustration with Emma! JLM FTW!

Jonny Lee Miller is mesmerizing in any role he inhabits. It’s 2009 Knightly all the way.

no but can you actually go vote for mr knightley he was FOUNDATIONAL for 16 year old me my favourite portrayal of my favourite austen man cannot fall at this hurdle!!!

He is my ultimate Austen Dream Man, I'm with him until the end. Honestly this adaptation is my very favorite of them all (P&P 1995 is a VERY close second) because it made me fall in love with Emma as a story? Honestly no other adaptation or indeed even my reading of the book made me love it quite as much. My crush on JLM goes back to 1995 and I do think he is one of the better actors of his generation - his range alone is just impeccable. The fact that he can go from Sick Boy to Mr. Knightley to Sherlock to Jordan Chase is really something. Of all the actors I know, his range is the most impressive. But i love how bright and sunny this adaptation is. The colors, it is as vibrant as Emma should be! The Kate Beckinsale Emma is dark and terrifying to me, not at all suitable an adaptation. I like the Paltrow Emma a lot, but it's got the same issue the 2005 P&P has for me -- it's just too short. This is tonally just right, and the casting is lovely, and JLM is just at his dashing best. His face is so expressive, he is so capable of communicating so much without saying a word. His open jealousy of Frank Churchill is delightful to watch. His face when Emma tells him his secret is out at the ball! JLM is maybe the most underrated actor of his generation and I LOVE that he has been multiple Austen heroes. I maintain that in a future adaptation of Pride & Prejudice, an older JLM would make an EXCELLENT Mr. Bennet. He would convey the right amount of grumpy but fond beautifully.

Look. Do people realize JLM hates wearing period clothing AND hates dancing? And yet in Emma he's sashaying around in pink jackets looking amazing and is THAT convincing? That's called BRILLIANT ACTING!!

A tiny bit of Mr Knightley 2009 propaganda but I love that they put in that bit from the book where he looks like he's going to kiss Emma's hand when he's saying goodbye but then he hesitates and doesn't and I just...it's such a tiny detail but conveys so much!

GIF by myforeverworldofmovie

It’s the only Emma adaptation that really hits the romance notes well. Knightley’s crowning moment of awesome really feels like it (when he rescues Harriet from humiliation) and his subsequent dancing with Emma does make you feel a shift in their relations. Love this adaptation. - This Knightley and Emma in particular are equals. They quarrel, not because he’s telling her off, but because they can have an argument because they know each other, trust each other and care about each others opinions, and there is never a sense of domination of one over the other. This adds so much fire to the romance, and it’s so unusual for a romance of that era (or even one written today!!). - Emma is rich, clever and beautiful and as powerful as a woman of her age and situation could be at the time and she married Knightley for no other reason but because he’s her best friend and his company for the rest of her life will enrich her. - He even leaves his house to move in with her!

Captain Wentworth (1995):

Ciaran Hinds has that perfect ruggedness yet friendliness to his face that makes him the perfect charming Wentworth. And all of the longing that he manages to convey in his eyes is so hot.

Wentworth may be angry/resentful with Anne but in general he is charming and the best friend you could ever have. Ciaran gets the pleasant parts of his character and brings them out, while keeping a guarded coolness (protective camouflage) with Anne.

GIF by molinaesque

I dunno if this counts as propaganda or not, but Ciaran Hinds has a face that looks like it was jackhammered out of a shale cliff.

If a line like 'I am half agony...half hope' comes out of a face like that you know that man has a soul for poetry.

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.  

This is propaganda for the next round because I need my boy to be a finalist! But this letter is all the persuasion I need to know that he is a winner

Ciarán Hinds in this is a whole other level of "a good man" He makes Anne's decision at the end so much more perfect.

[theelvenhaven]

Married to Thranduil

Flirting with you while intoxicated

A/N: Thank you @nerdysimpy for the Thranduil idea. Love those bestie privileges. It's my first Thranduil post and I am still getting a feel for his character so forgive me for not making this very long or if it's not wholly ic.

Warnings: NSFWish

****

❁ Thranduil has a really high tolerance for alcohol and rarely indulges himself beyond a glass or two of Dorwinion red.

❁ But there are times where has a bit too much to drink- whether that is in your shared chambers or at a festival.

❁ With the Dorwinion wine being so good and the talk that seems to keep going on and on it's no wonder one glass turns to two, three, four, five and more.

❁ When Thranduil flirts usually it is a bit sophisticated and formal even though you two are married, he likes to try to be poetic and above his station even to his spouse.

❁ He never fails though to make you blush in his complex flirty compliments about how you're his starlight, and how beautiful you are in several different poetic ways.

❁ But when Thranduil has filled his cups and has had a little too much to drink, he becomes a little more blunt and a little less poetic.

❁ At first they still will be suave and a little more on the chaste side of things;

❁ "My starlight, you look ever so ravishing tonight, you're glowing brighter than even the candle light."

❁ "That outfit suits you well, and shows you off perfectly, starlight. Your taste is impeccable."

❁ He will chastely, but no less seductively, offer little touches here or there.

❁ Like brushing your hair out of your face, tracing your jaw as he does so, holding your hand, a hand coming to rest on your knee chastely.

❁ But as he gets more intoxicated the touches become a little more intense and less chaste.

❁ The notes of seduction are definitely known as his hand wanders up higher on your leg, his face flushing a light pink and his lips twitching into a smirk as he eyes you.

❁ Though he is intoxicated, and would want the whole world to know you are his, he doesn't want anyone to overhear any of the flirting he does with you.

❁ So while he holds your thigh, with his thumb gently drawing circles, he leans over to whisper in your ear, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

❁ Whispering to you all the things he wants to do to you, even if you are in public.

❁ "My starlight it would be positively divine to ravish you right here, I'm aching to feel you."

❁ "You look divine in your outfit, but by Iluvatar I know you look better out of it and laying on our bed bare for me to see."

❁ He'll spend his time teasing you physically, his hidden hand brushing against your most private places but never fully touching you.

❁ Thranduil likes to watch you squirm and see the different expressions, the sounds of your shaky breaths knowing it's all him having that affect on you.

❁ He is also stealing kisses to your lips, not afraid of who it is that might see his loving display of affection for you, emboldened to let propriety fall to the way side.

❁ Nor is he afraid to be steeling kisses on your neck as he brushes your hair away, or nipping at your ear when he leans in close to whisper into it.

❁ Now when the tipsy flirting starts it is a perfect to give into his whims and steal him away for the evening and back to your bed chamber to make love all night long.

❁ But if you continue to let him drink, Thranduil is mostly all bark with no bite as he gets too woozy to be able to do any of lascivious things he's been whispering to you.

❁ On those walks back to your chambers with his arm around your shoulder, holding him up as you two walk back to your bed chambers.

❁ Thranduil will need to be laid down, and e won't bother to undress for the evening but he will coax you into laying down with him at the very least.

❁ He will press soft but sloppy kisses to your face, and pull you in close with him, snuggling close to you.

❁ He loves and adores you and feels so safe and comfortable with you before finally the alcohol wins out and brings him to fall asleep with you tangled in his hold.

****

Tags: @saviorsong @lilmelily @dicksoutformtl @fandomhoe101 @celebrimbor-telperinquar @red-riding @miriel-estelwen @ta-ka-shi-ma @nerdysimpy @thegirlwithoutaname87 @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @eternalabysss @noldorinpainter

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ every week is fashion week ]❜

ft. wade wilson x gn! reader — marvel

╰₊✧ playing dress to impress with deadpool┊0.6k words

contains: wade being wade and probably ooc because he’s a bitch to write for

➤ author's note: gaming with him could fix me honestly

╰₊✧ when you hear him yelling and swearing insults like a sailor, you assume that he was playing some sort of rage game or a first-person shooter that he sucked at, but when you enter his room to see what all the commotion is about, you’ll see him hunched over on his ipad playing roblox like a child. the moment he sees you, he’s going to force you to download the app if you didn’t have it already and have you duo with him to have cute matching couple outfits.

╰₊✧ he knows nearly every code that’s active, has vip unlocked, and theorizes about the story behind it all like the lore whore he is. it sounds crazy to you how such a dress-up game could contain little details about a doppelganger replacing the nail tech, a mysterious organization, and something called the “flesh room, but you suppose that every generation needs to have an innocent-looking media hiding dark secrets.

╰₊✧ speaking of generations, you’re a hundred percent sure he’s too old to be playing this game and the way he bullies other players who are likely children makes you think that he was a regina george equivalent back in the day. he claims you only think that because he’s a harsh critic who rarely gives out anything higher than three stars, but it’s clear that he forgets that it’s a game for kids and gets carried away often.

“what the hell is that?! that’s not 2000s, that’s 2010s, dumbass!”

“babe, i’m pretty sure that they weren’t even born yet in the 2000s.”

“whatever, it’s still the ugliest fucking skirt i’ve ever seen.”

╰₊✧ he’s super competitive and petty with a capital “p,” strutting his model around to scope out the competition and singing a little improvised song under his breath along with the background music (some crazy stuff comes out of his mouth, things that make you whip your head around to stare at him while he acts like he didn’t just say the wildest shit for the sake of a rhyme). every round is like a different episode of reality television, and wade is constantly beefing with other contestants like it’s high school again.

“ooh, she ate.”

“...really?”

“yeah, she ‘ate’... OFF MY PLATE! THIS BITCH IS COPYING ME!”

╰₊✧ because his fashion sense is impeccable and his creativity is off the charts, he gets copied a lot and he will walk up to them to confront them about it. if they try to walk away or insist they aren’t, he’ll menacingly follow them around with a bloodlust that somehow permeates the screen until they finally change. you need to remind him to stop scaring the children, yet he never listens because it’s not like they can hear him roasting them on an open fire anyway.

╰₊✧ he always lands in the top five and carries you when doing duos because you refuse to spend a cent on roblox, but he can get pretty pissy when an outfit (or player) he didn’t like places higher than him. every time he quits and puts down his tablet to do something else, you’ll find him playing again with his feet in the air swinging like a teen girl writing in their diary about their crush an hour later. you’ll also hear him trying to convince logan to play with him too, although he’ll never be successful in this lifetime.

╰₊✧ gives an extra star to anyone coming out on the runway who forgot or didn’t have enough time to pick out a hairstyle in “bald solidarity”

╰₊✧ his favorite pose is pose 28, referencing the meme of “pussy facing the word” as his reasoning because of course it is.

[wardenparker]

American as Apple Pie

Jack Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12k Warnings: Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mention of shooting/guns but the context is carnival games, cheesy flirting, Jack being Jack. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Going to a Fourth of July party with your girlfriends turns out to be an unexpected whirlwind. Notes: It wouldn't be a holiday without a little fic to celebrate. Independence Day seemed best acknowledged with a heavy dose of Jack's good natured charm. 🎆🎇💗🤍💙

The Statesman Fourth of July celebration in Louisville, Kentucky is one of the biggest and loudest in the area. It was an excuse to drape everything in red, white and blue, perfect your Uncle Sam costume, and play Lee Greenwood’s ‘Proud to be an American’ on repeat. There is a special whiskey barrel that is opened every year since its founding in 1919. Huge grills are rolled out to cook hamburger and hotdogs by the thousands as it’s an open party for everyone. Ending in a spectacular fireworks show that lights up the sky.

Some friends wanted to go. Girls from the office who were looking for a more festive holiday celebration than watching their siblings' kids play in the pool and playing cornhole while their aunts bitched about grocery prices. Not having anything better to do, you had thrown on the only red, white, and blue clothes you had in your closet and punctuated the look with red lipstick just for fun. Maybe you'll have one too many and flirt with a cowboy. That wouldn't be too bad.

The bolero he normally wears around his neck with the button down and sports coat had been traded for an open collared shirt, a print of U.S flags on them. His normally painted on jeans exchanged for white shorts and cowboy boots changed out with boat shoes. Still, the black Stetson is firmly on his head, although the mustache was still impeccably groomed and no one would mistake him for anything but a cowboy as he drinks from a long neck bottle to beat the mid afternoon heat.

The music filtering through speakers all over the Statesman Distillery property is obviously country, but the actual number of Stetsons in the sea of guests is staggering even to a Louisville resident. It's that time of the year, you suppose, making your way toward one of the many drink carts with your friends as you scope out the crowd.

“Weeeeeellllll, holy shit.” Tequila whistles, twisting his neck as he looks over at the margarita cart, smirking at the choice of drink. “Get a good look at the shorts on those legs.” He nods, making Jack follow his gaze to the group of women who obviously just arrived.

"God bless the USA." Rum pronounces solemnly, only lifting his Stetson from his head to place it over his heart in salute to the group of four ladies in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen that are now getting their drinks.

“Goddamn I love the summer.” Jack whistles, winking at the one in the red top when she looks over at them. “Happy fourth ladies!” He calls out, lifting his beer towards them.

"Happy Fourth!" You call back, raising the frozen margarita you've just been served in their direction as you friends giggle mercilessly around you. The three men who are not bothering to censor their ogling are dressed in some of the worst outfits here. Tiny white booty shorts on one, a stars and stripes Kiss the Cook apron on the tallest, and the third wearing neon red shorts and a muscle tank depicting a bald eagle wearing sunglasses that says You Free Tonight? underneath.

"Rocks Paper Scissors for the tall one?" You friend Madi proposes to the group, eyeing the youngest and buffest of the men like he's the snack she didn't know she was craving.

“No, you can have him.” Tina snorts. “I’ve got my eye on the one with the eagle on his shirt.” She admits, drooling herself at the virile display of man, who can also enjoy themselves.

“Have fun,” you snort, shaking your head and focusing on your drink. “I came here to drink and to line dance very poorly, not to get picked up.”

“Why can’t we have it all?” Madi asks, giggling when the one in the apron motions the group over when no one has looked away.

“I’m not sure white shorts is the guy to break my dry spell,” you mumble to them with an amused grin as the four of you strut over to the men who were watching you. “And you two already called dibs on the others.”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll ride his mustache.” Sandra snorts, smirking slightly at the group of men. “I’m sure my fiancé wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure.” Tina giggles. “We’ll just call Brad up and let him know you’ll be late for dinner because you found a cowboy at a party.”

“He’ll understand.” All of you laugh, knowing that he definitely would not understand. He loved her completely and was lucky enough that she was just as crazy about him. Their wedding is only three months away.

“Ladies.” Kiss the Cook tips his hat gallantly and lets his eyes sweep over every single one of you. “A very happy Independence Day to you beauties.”

All three men clock the ring on the statuesque brunette’s hand and immediately understands that she is off limits. The other two tip their hats as well and Jack grins. “Can we offer you something to eat?”

There is a split second before you look over to fully take in the third man of the group that you’re apparently now hanging out with, and instantly regret the snap judgement made from yards away just a minute or two before. He’s only smaller by comparison, broad shoulders and a strikingly cut jaw accented by the aviator sunglasses he’s wearing and leading down to biceps as thick as his neck and hands that — fuck, if you’d seen his hands beforehand you wouldn’t have said a damn thing, he makes that beer bottle look like a doll accessory. “Ah—We—um, sure,” you manage to blurt out, nodding self-consciously and absolutely aware that your friends are never going to let you live down getting flustered in front of the cowboy.

Madi grins at the way you are suddenly tripping over yourself to accept the offer of a burger. “If we’re gonna eat, maybe we can know who is offering us a plate?” She asks, smiling flirtatiously at the taller man holding the spatula. The three men chuckle. “We go by our work nicknames.” Jack offers, pointing at Rum to start. “Ryan, also known as Rum. Because he can get any party started.” He introduces him with a grin. “Next, we have our ‘kiss the cook’, Luke, who we call Tequila. He thinks he can make clothes come off.” Tequila rolls his eyes and shoves Jack slightly as the older man tips his hat towards you girls. “And I’m Jack, otherwise known as Whiskey.” Tina grins. “Why do they call you that?” She asks, making Jack chuckle. “Because I go down as smooth as the finest whiskey.” He boasts, tipping his aviators down so his eyes find you again and he shoots you a confident wink.

“So you work here then, I assume?” Guys who work for a distillery having boozy nicknames it’s so far off base, but Jack’s declaration that he ‘goes down like the finest whiskey’ has you thinking mustache ride thoughts all over again and if you could do it you might just slap yourself for something so obvious. On the other hand? No man should be able to make a wink look as smooth as he just did.

“Only if you want us to.” Rum smirks at Tina and tips his hat back slightly. “Otherwise we can be whatever you want. Spies, cowboys, hell, maybe all three.” Tequila huffs a cough and slaps Rum on the back. “Are you ladies burger or hot dog kind of women?” He asks, changing the subject.

“I think there’s a rule that you have to have a hot dog on the Fourth of July, isn’t there?” Tina replies, batting her eyelashes pointedly.

“Absolutely.” Tequila agrees. “Now the question is-“ he points the tongs at all of you seriously. “Are you a chili cheese dog person or a peppers and onions person?”

The question sparks a full culinary debate, as Tina insists only mustard is necessary, Sandra and Madi are fans of peppers and onions any way they can get them, and you just shrug over it all because there's no point in trying to be dainty with a hot dog. A chili cheese dog is the only way to go.

Jack chuckles as the girls are chattering, except the one in the red. “You are awful quiet, sugar.” He comments. “Not choosy?”

"Very choosy," you tell him, laughing a little about how involved your friends are getting in this debate with the other two guys. "Chili cheese dog every time. But my friends like to pretend that it's possible to be dainty while eating a hot dog. I'd rather enjoy something delicious."

Jack grins at your answer and points a finger up to tip his hat back on his head. “No, you just gotta jump in and devour it.” He hums, his smirk slightly dirty.

"Whoever put you three in one place today is a menace," you inform him with a deeper, rounder laugh. "But I totally agree. The only way is to jump in."

Jack chuckles, leaning in a little closer to you. “Not true.” He coos. “We were brought together for a good time.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.

It can be both," you concede, getting a whiff of an expensive, musky cologne under the grill and sunscreen smell that hangs all around this booth.

“Well then.” Jack snorts, tapping his bottle against your margarita glass. “To being a menace.” He offers with a smirk.

"Here." A long sip of your drink hides a flustered grin, but you don't mind having run into someone this charming and handsome right off the bat. You and your friends will wander away in due time, and they'll become a fun anecdote for the office, and probably material for the spank bank of each and every member of your group as well.

“So what made you decide to join our little celebration?” Jack asks without any sense of irony despite the bash being massive. There are bounce houses and carnival style game booths set up. Along with all kinds of food and drink.

"Girls' day out." Ordinarily you might feel bad for Sandra, being slightly singled out while the other three of you are being shamelessly flirted with, but she's chatting with Kiss the Cook as well and having a grand time. "When your day is office, home, and back again, sometimes a party is just what you need."

“Oh I understand.” He promises, even if his work is not as traditionally boring all the time, there are plenty of days that the paperwork tedium gets to him.

"Your days are probably a lot more fun than ours." Without knowing that you're reading his thoughts, you just decide to make conversation and enjoy whatever comes from it.

“Some days. Others it’s slower than molasses dripping off a spoon.” He likes the fact that you aren’t just flirting, there’s interesting conversation blooming. “Although I’m enjoying right now.”

"This must be one of the more fun workdays each year." Why wouldn't it be? There are half-dressed women all over the places, and whatever the orientation of these three might be, they're all definitely interested in women. You sip your drink again and find that your head tilts slightly in his direction instinctively. "We're not going to get you in trouble, are we?"

“Nah.” Jack waves away your concern, secretly touched that you would be worried about that. “Well just call this….public relations.” He teases, winking at you again. “How does that sound, sugar?”

"Like you should be a politician," you snort, but honestly you don't mind. It's been a while since you just flirted for the hell of it and it's fun.

Jack wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Sugar, you are breaking my heart.” He groans. “I would never want to be lumped in with those lyin’, thievin’ scumbags.” He shakes his head and puts his beer down to lay his hand over his heart. “I’m a patriot.”

Somehow that only makes you laugh more, and when you meet his eyes again it's with warm cheeks and a bright smile. "My apologies," you hum, tipping your margarita in his direction again like a salute. "We'll stick to drinking and flirting. No filibusters today."

“Now hold on….” Jack leans closer and chuckles. “Depends on what kind of filibuster we are talkin’ about.” He drawls. “Some of them can be a good time.” His eyes slide up and down your body suggestively.

Raising one eyebrow at him, sip your sour-sweet vacations through the bright pink straw and smirk. “You want to have a prolonged speech that stalls all activity about my body? Seems counterintuitive, cowboy.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand darlin’.” He leans in even closer. “We ain’t talkin’ during my filibuster, we’re just prolonging the main event.” He explains.

One second your head is tiled and the next second you're clamping your mouth shut on a bitten lip. He's just gone from casually flirting to casually painting a mental image that will last you weeks. "You're pretty sure of yourself, cowboy," you hum when you remember how to speak again.

“Have to be.” He admits, truth more than cockiness in his words. “You don’t have to accept, but….” He smirks. “You could always consider it your patriotic booty.” His pun is horrible and he knows it, but he uses it proudly. With the same confidence he wears his Fourth of July outfit.

You snort before you can stop yourself, shaking your head at him as you wave off the laugh as good natured. "That's awful." The play on 'patriotic duty' is absurd, but somehow he manages to make it circle back to charming in a way that is fairly impressive. From most guys it would just sound cheesy or plain bad.

“It is, isn’t it?” He agrees with a grin. “Really awful.” He reaches for his beer again and finishes it in one long swallow.

"Worst line I've heard in a very long time." Even though you're agreeing, you chuckle and shake your head. Why the hell not? When was the last time you just cut loose and had some fun? Can you even remember? "It's...not a no, though."

“Hmmmm.” He lifts a brow and smirks at you again as he reaches into the cooler next to him for another beer. “Well then, I better make sure that you are fed, sugar.” He tells you. “‘Cause you might be in for a hell of a night.”

"You promise a girl a hell of a lot." But for some reason you don't think he's lying, or even exaggerating that much. Maybe it's wishful thinking, you can't tell, but Jack fixes up your hot dog with flare and hands it over just as you finish your margarita.

He takes your empty glass and chuckles. “Would you like another frosty margarita? Or perhaps the blackberry old fashions that are being made?” He asks, pointing to another stand just a few feet away, featuring the ‘87 single barrel that Jack loves.

"I think I have to have whiskey this time, don't I?" Given his nickname, it would almost seem rude not to. Especially when you've decided to encourage him. At least you've been polite enough not to let your eyes wander down and inspect those tiny little shorts he has on.

“Right away.” Jack gives you a two fingered salute before he spins on his heel and hurries towards the booth to collect you the best blackberry old fashion you’ve ever had.

Sandra scrambles over during the momentary pause, searching your face for anything besides the focused attention you're paying to the cowboy's ass as he walks away. "Are we rescuing or retreating?" She murmurs, hot dog in hand but ready to bounce in a heartbeat if you need it. "Actually?" Glancing up at her, you offer a sideways grin of defeat. "I think I'm gonna hang out a while. Hot-but-cheesy cowboy kinda got to me. I wanna see how this plays out."

“Really?” Her brow shoots up and she grins at you. “Takin’ that mustache for a ride?” She teases. “I’m jealous. He’s got a fantastic one.”

"I'll tell Brad to grow one before the wedding," you tease, barely managing not to snort again with laughter as Jack heads back your way.

“Ladies.” Jack smiles with a charming aplomb as he hands you the old fashion he had made for you, and offers Sandra the one he had gotten for himself.

"Oh, I'm alright." Sandra insists, smiling her thanks but not taking the drinks. "Designated driver. I had my one and now I'm set for the day." That smile flashes over at you, and she squeezes your hip gently but encouragingly. "I think we're going to wander. You want to come?"

It's a clear chance to break away if you have suddenly changed your mind and you want to, but you shake your head and lean over to kiss your friend's cheek. "I'll catch up with you guys later," you tell her, though at present you aren't actually sure if you will or not.

“I’ll keep her entertained.” Jack promises when your friend’s eyes turn towards him and he can read a slight warning in them. “And return her to you when she’s bored with me.” He adds.

“You have our numbers,” Sandra reminds you. “One text and we come running.” She blows you a kiss before stepping away, satisfied that Jack will at least be respectful as well as pretty, and that’s worth its weight in gold.

“You don’t have to stay.” Jack hums. “But I’ll make sure you don’t regret it if you do.”

"Promises, promises," you sing song, but rather than letting the moment get heavy you take a first bite of your hot dog and groan happily.

He chuckles and lets you enjoy the hotdog, admiring the way you save a dollop of mustard before it escapes and takes a sip of his drink. “After you eat, are you wanting to dance or maybe play a few games?”

"Either." Pleased with the idea that he might put a little more work into this than just fucking you and having a nap after, you end up smirking a little before the last bite of your food. "Both?"

“Done.” He agrees easily, holding out a napkin for you like a gentlemen. Other agents have taken over the grills because Tequila and Rum have magically disappeared with your friends. “Games first, let your hotdog settle.”

Gone in mere minutes, you make sure you haven't smeared your mouth with mustard or chili before picking up the drink he brought you and motioning ahead of you toward the rest of the fair. "Lead the way, cowboy."

The first booth is one that all the agents have been warned to throw. It’s the shooting gallery. He grins as he cocks his head to the side. “Whatcha think?”

"I can't say I'm much with a gun. Besides maybe a Super Soaker." The big plushies and toys behind the counter look just as inviting as they're supposed to, though, and you shrug. "But what the hell. Think you can give me a few pointers?"

“Let’s see how you do and maybe I’ll help you win a prize?” Despite the warning, Champ won’t be too mad if he shows off just a little. Especially since all the prizes have been paid for by Statesman already, leaving the game free to play.

"I have a feeling I'm about to embarrass myself for your amusement." Despite that, you laugh and take your place at the booth. The moving targets are fairly standard — bright yellow duck-like figures that do not resemble the actual animals but look more like rubber duckies that will fall over on the track when shot. "Here goes nothing," you decide, figuring that if you get even two you'll be extremely proud of yourself.

Jack uses this to his advantage and presses close behind you, holding your elbow up. “Steady.” He murmurs in your ear.

"Hell of a thing to say to a girl when you're that close," you mumble, but the smirk in your voice is obvious.

“I can always say more.” He teases playfully, nudging your arm up slightly. “Be a good girl and take a deep breath.”

It's almost frustrating how well that works on you, making you inhale sharply and shallowly at the words and completely giving yourself away before you can follow the direction and inhale slowly like he's told you to.

You miss, but it was actually closer than Jack had figured the first shot would be. “Good job!” He praises, reaching for your hips and shifting your core slightly, brining you back against him more. “Try again, sugar.”

Whatever the cologne is he's wearing, it reminds you of a campfire in the middle of a forest and that might be fogging your mind more than helping you concentrate. Again, you inhale deeply and squeeze the triggering, putting far more work into this silly shooting game than you need to but finding that you actually clip one of the targets this time and manage to almost knock it over.

“Almost got it.” Jack hums in approval. “Let’s see you knock that same one down.”

Utter concentration isn't possible with him pressed up against you, but you breathe again and call yourself to order, managing to breathe and aim and drop your elbow and all of those other things in just the right harmony to actually knock over one of the targets on the next try. It's not enough to get you a prize, but it's enough to have you doing a little wiggled dance of celebration that all the effort paid off.

Jack chuckles, happy with your achievement. “Good job, sugar.” He praises. “You did a good job.”

"Not bad for an accountant," you joke, turning a little to beam at him.

“Not too bad at all.” He winks, nodding to the game handler as they set the target back up. “Now I want you to pick out which prize you want.” He tells you, taking the gun from your hand.

"Cocky." You smirk at him but glance back at the booth and consider the options hanging from the top of the booth. Right in front, there is a white teddy bear with blue and red stars wearing a Statesman t-shirt. "How about that one right there?"

Jack hums in approval and looks towards the attendant. “Ten shots in a row.” The kid, who can’t be more than seventeen explains. “Knock all ten down and you win the prize.”

There's no way he'll do it, but you step far enough away to give him room and wave one hand toward the little metal duckies. "Show off for me, cowboy."

Jack settles his hat more firmly on his head and since it’s ten shots, he picks up another gun to have one in each hand. “Oh I will.” He promises as he sends both weapons twirling around his trigger fingers in a smooth gun trick.

Despite literally asking him to show off, your eyes still widen with the trick and you're left half-giggling and half-staring as he knocks down every single target with grace and seemingly no effort at all.

The targets are easy and Jack might have been showing off just a tad by alternating shots with both hands, making sure that you know he’s just as accurate with both hands. The targets are down and he turns towards you with a grin. “Your prize, sugar.” He bows as the stuffed bear is handed to you.

More than a little surprised by the display that was just put on for your benefit, you choke out a laugh, thank the kid running the booth, and positively curtsy to Jack in exchange for the bow. “Alright, I admit it,” you laugh in utter surprise, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek like a fairy tale princess bestowing a token. “I’m very impressed.”

“Good.” Jack smirks slightly and looks at the bear. “I think it’s always important to impress a lady.”

“Consider us deeply impressed indeed,” you joke, holding up the bear beside you like it might have had an opinion in the matter all its own.

Jack smirks slightly. “Do you want to play some more games or dance?”

“I don’t see how we could do any better at the games.” ‘We’ here meaning him — your own performance was dismal but that hardly matters. He’s smiling at you like he wants to make you scream in the best way possible and you want to see if he moves as well on the dance floor if he claims to in bed. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jack takes the hand that is holding your drink and carries it for you. Looping his arm through yours so you can still hold your bear. “We’ll let him watch and learn.” He jokes, motioning to where other stuffed animals are resting while couples cut up the large dance floor.

“For when all the other bears decide to have a hoedown of their own?” That’s about the cutest thing you can think of — aside from him — and you grin at the idea. “I like that. Teddy Bear Hoedown is like a sequel to the Teddy Bear Picnic.”

He chuckles and you go over to the large table, setting down your bear in a particular spot. “He will be safe.” Jack promises you.

“So full of promises today.” The little coo in your voice is teasing, but maybe that’s just how he is? Reassuring and protective is not a bad combination in a man. Not at all.

“My momma always said never make promises you can’t keep.” Even with your drink in your hand after he presses it to you, Jack sweeps you up in his arms to take you out to the dance floor.

“And you always do what your momma tells you to, like a good southern gentleman.” It’s just a guess, but as he twirls you around to settle against him, cradling you in his arms so you can drink and dance while you away with the slower tempo song that’s playing, you just have to grin. “Very smooth,” you admit without a hint of begrudging in the compliment.

“Sugar, all my moves are smooth.” Jack boast, smirking as he gently glides around the floor with you, taking special care not to jostle your drink. The next song will be faster, but right now, the breathless couples are resting slightly with the bluesy sounds of Patsy Cline crooning to them.

“I’m starting to get that.” Not that you mind. Coming to this whole big carnival for the holiday was just for fun after all. But you glance over at Jack after taking the last sip of your drink and find your smile going a little lopsided. It isn’t the booze. He is that handsome.

He hums, his voice a little rusty as he starts to quietly sing along with the song. Only slightly off key as he serenades you with a grin on his face. One that tells you he’s well aware that he’s not the best singer, but he enjoys being a little silly.

Maybe it’s silly. Or maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s because it’s both, you start singing along with him, quietly and just a tad off key. Two silly, awkward, imperfect little people out there on the dance floor swaying in each other’s arms and singing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ to each other like a chest moment from a 90s romantic comedy. It’s impossible not to look at his lips at least a few times, both of you grinning when one of you flubs a lyric. And at the end of the song when he twirls you around again to land tight against his chest? The only possible place you can look are his eyes or those lips again, like a magnet pulling you in.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to his lips, basically asking for him to kiss you. He leans in slightly right before the song changes and is incredibly peppy. A song to line dance to. “Oops.” Jack smirks.

One another day or with another man it might have annoyed or frustrated you to be more or less cockblocked by a deejay. Today? With Jack? Your answer to it all is just to snort in amusement at how pleased with himself he looks and let yourself get all swept up in the dance. It was barely an hour ago that you met him. It does no one any harm to spend a little more time together before things get frisky.

The beat is easy to dance to and despite the fact that you might not know all the steps, Jack does. “Just follow me, sugar.”

The trouble with line dancing is that if you don't know every move you end up looking like an idiot, but you nod and decide to put a little bit more trust in him for the time being. If you were about to kiss the guy, you should at least be able to do that, right? "I'm with you," you promise him, knowing you can keep up.

Jack files into the natural line that forms, partners slightly in front of their men and everyone starts to move together. ‘Heel, toe, dosey doe, come on baby. Let’s boot-scoot.”

Able to pick it up step by step, you follow Jack's lead for movement and watch the couple in front of you the once or twice you get confused, until you're very smoothly and easily moving through the dance with glee. It's such a simple thing but so welcome, and utterly fun to boot.

You are laughing and that is all that matters as Jack grabs your waist to pick you up and spin you around before setting you back down in time with the other couples on the floor. “Having fun?”

“Every second I possibly can,” you answer with a light, bubbling giggle. He’s a strong lead — which is wonderful in a dance partner but gives you ideas about what he could be like in bed. Not to mention how strong he is…

“Good.” Jack is almost ninety-nine percent certain that he is taking you home tonight, but he wants you to enjoy yourself.

"And I hope you are, too?" Glancing back at him as he turns you, you raise one eyebrow at him in question.

“No doubt, sugar.” Jack is a shameless flirt, but oftentimes it’s not leading to more than that. Unless it’s his mission to seduce a target. This- this is just for him and he likes that you are having fun with his corny nature. “Best damn party I’ve been to in forever.” He promises. “Company makes it good.”

“Company is what matters.” And maybe it’s the silliness of it all again, but you throw him a wink before the dance has you turning again. He seems to like a like cheese with his flirting, and frankly that just makes it more fun for you.

The song finishes up and Jack decides that he will twirl you around once more and dip you down low, just to make you giggle. People clap and he grins at you over his aviators. “Another dance, or another drink, sugar?”

“One more dance?” He’s far too much fun like this, with moves even you have to admit he can be proud of, and you’ll be damned if you’re going to give that fun up just yet. Besides which…it might be a bit embarrassing for the guy whose nickname is Whiskey to find out you’re a bit of a lightweight.

He waggles his brows when the song turns to another slow one, meant to press bodies together. “Never turn down a chance to hold a beautiful woman close.” He promises as he tugs you in.

“I don’t believe you do.” It may be a small moment of teasing but the fact that he doesn’t take himself too seriously speaks volumes to you. Relaxed and confident are too things that don’t always compliment each other well — it can come off as pure arrogance whereas he’s cocky in a way that is a bit cheeky and fun. Everything about the man is over the top. “But then,” you hum, winking for good measure. “Neither do I.”

“Really?” Jack’s grin blows into a fully devilish smile and he looks around speculatively. “And which beautiful woman would you choose?” He asks with a chuckle.

For his amusement, you make a show of surveying the room even while you’re pressed tight up against him, and nudge him slightly when you spot a cute girl in the corner being talked at by some other guests she doesn’t seem to be too interested in. “Do you see the cute little redhead over there?” Your own nose points the way to him when you nod. “In the corner? She’s at a table with a blonde, but these two guys keep trying to flirt with her. I think she’s talk rather be flirting with her blonde friend.”

“Good call.” Jack snorts. “That’s Grenadine.” He explains. “She works at Statesman too.” It’s interesting that you seem to have an eye for agents.

“Does everybody get a booze related nickname?” You ask, amused at the idea of it. If you all got accounting nicknames, things would start sounding weird very fast at the office.

“Mixers count.” Jack chuckles. “It makes it easy when there’s twelve John’s working around the place.” He reasons.

"Fair enough, I guess." That does, logistically, make a bit of sense. And frames Statesman as a fairly whimsical place to work in the process. After twirling around the dance floor a little more, you hum softly to yourself and lift your head, raising one eyebrow in question. "Did you always want to work in the booze biz?" He seems silly enough to appreciate the phrasing, and you grin. "Or do you want to be something else when you grow up?"

“Just wanted to raise some hell.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Was in the Navy for a little bit. Found out I like the freedom of the private world better.”

“Rules.” You huff dramatically, blowing a raspberry to make him laugh. “Who needs ‘em?”

Jack laughs, a full belly laugh of good humor. “Exactly.” He agrees. “Plus the pay is better.”

“There’s that too.” A nod of agreement comes on the end of your own laughter. “Distilleries pay well? I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.”

“Good enough to buy corny outfits for the Fourth of July picnic.” He jokes, taking his aviators off and turning them around to perch on your nose.

“That’s what your shorts need!” You tease, cackling out loud and pushing his sunglasses a little further up your nose. “Ears of corn! The perfect symbol of Americana.”

Jack laughs again. “I’ll have to see if I can order some for next year.” He hums.

"Perfect." The grin you aim at him is almost blinding. "I guess I'll have to come back and see if you found any."

His smug smirk deepens and he waggles his brows. “Yeah?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have to model them for you.” He suggests. “Make sure they are cheesy enough. Rum talked me out of my Daisy Dukes of Freedom.”

"Oh my god..." You barely manage not to snort with laughter over that image. "Do I want to know?"

“Silkies.” He explains. “Running shorts in the military are…brief.” He hums with a grin. “I had some American Flag ones but then Rum was complaining my upper thighs were too white to wear them.”

"Your friend's objection was your lack of tan?" That only makes you laugh harder, and by the end of the song you're practically clinging to each other as you share that laughter between you. "I dunno, Jack." With your lips pursed, you correct yourself. "Whiskey." He's sure as hell smooth, so why not just use the nickname? "I think you might have to do a little tanning so you can wear them again."

“Well I left my speedo in Italy.” He chuckles. “So how do you suggest I tan?”

That opens up a whole new line of questioning, but in this moment you just flash him an even bigger grin. "Nude, hopefully."

He pretends to be shocked, mouth opened and he reaches for his chest as if he is clutching pearls. “Why I declare!” He drawls. “That is such a scandalous suggestion.” His lips curl into a smirk. “I love scandal.”

"I had a feeling you might." The song is over, your revolving has stopped, and as the next — much more upbeat — song begins, you tilt your head slightly to the edge of the dance floor. "You wanna go be scandalous, Whiskey?"

“Is that an offer?” He asks, lifting a brow and giving you a chance to change your mind. He loves to flirt and have a good time, but he wants it to be enthusiastic.

Hadn't he caught you staring at his lips maybe fifteen minutes ago? Was it really only just a few dances since then? It seemed like days spent basking in his energy and charm. Ah well. Why the fuck not? The Founding Fathers were all freaks anyway, might as well celebrate their way. "Yes."

Well, sugar…” Jack sweeps his hat off his head and holds it over his heart. “You just made my damn year.” He promises with a wink. “And I guarantee I’ll make yours.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, cowboy.” Something tells you he’s bragging with plenty of proof to back him up, but you still give him a crooked smile as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “I’m going to tell my friends not to wait for me.”

“I’ll go collect Mr. Bear for you while you do that, sugar.” He nods and sets his hat back on his head and moves away so you can text your friends privately.

Sliding open your phone, the group chat you have with your friends is full of photos, videos, and excitement shared between them during the day. You’ve been apart from them longer than you expected but they seem to be having a ball — though Rum and Tequila don’t feature in any of the photos or videos so it seems like you’re the only one who stuck with an interested fella today.

Don’t wait up for me, ladies. You type out, and send along a selfie of you wearing Jack’s aviators with him picking up your prize bear off the table in the background. Gonna save a horse by riding that cowboy.

The answers that come back are swift and all congratulating you. Teasing you about your quick change of mind.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you all the gossip tomorrow. You write back, barely smothering a grin and you have to bite your lip to keep it at bay. I’ll send you guys a photo of his place and the address when we get there. If you never see me again, tell the cops it was the cheesy pickup lines that convinced me to go with him.

Jack watches you giggle as you put your phone away and walks back to your side with the bear. “See? Safe and sound.”

"Both of you." And something tight and gnarled in your heart seems to breathe more easily in a way you don't quite understand. It's an excitement you haven't felt in a very long time. "Lead the way," you say, accepting the bear happily when Jack deposits him in your arms.

“Did you ride with your friends, or do you want to follow me?” Jack’s Bronco is close to the party, having been here for hours bringing in coolers and helping to set up. He pauses by it and taps the side. “Give you a ride to your car if you want?”

“We all rode together, so I guess I have to beg a ride with you.” Saying it out loud makes it feel very real, but for some reason you’re not nervous. There is a tingle of anticipation and excitement but no worries.

Jack nods and opens the door to the passenger side for you. “Then let me give you the address of where we are going.”

“Thank you.” For both the door and for his understanding, you offer him a soft smile as you climb into the Bronco. So many men these days take the sensible precautions of women they’ve just met as an insult. It’s nice to not have to skirt the line and simply be upfront with him.

He smirks at you as he whips out his phone and opens it up to air drop you a location. “Nothing but details, sugar.”

“Which is the same thing the girls are gonna say to me tomorrow,” you tease, sitting back in the buttery soft seats as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Then I better make sure you got nothin’ but good things to say.” Jack chuckles.

“I guess you’d better.” And you wink, even though the promise makes you squirm slightly in your seat.

“I don’t live too far.” Jack converses as he drives, wanting to you at ease. “That way I can be in the office easily in an emergency.”

“Like oh no, the whiskey isn’t old enough yet?” You ask, confused as to what kind of emergency a distillery could possibly have.

He chuckles. “Or the storage tanks collapsed and flooded the complex in raw, unbarreled whiskey.” He counters. “Thieves. Corporate spies.” He doesn’t get into the extra security Statesman has, that would be a little much for you to understand.

“Corporate spies. Thieves. You make it sound so…” Searching for the word, you notice he never even gets on a highway to get back to his place. He’s simply driving through a suburb as ramblingly as he pleases, and then turns down a long country road. “So very much like the beginning of a self-discovery novel, where the main character is just a lowly employee who finds out their job is really just a cover for something illegal or magical.” Grinning at him, you turn in the front seat and look at him instead of the drive. “Need an accountant? The place sounds fun.”

“Never know, maybe we could.” He chuckles, knowing he would enjoy seeing you around the office more. Might actually want to sit behind his desk more often if he could expect a view like you.

“Never know,” you agree, but your attention is quickly diverted by the little white-painted farmhouse with its picket fence and big shady trees outside that he pulls up beside. “It’s so cute!” You exclaim, having expected to see him living in something huge or deeply masculine. A house you’d see on Yellowstone or picture Clint Eastwood outside.

“Thanks.” He shoots the house a proud smirk. “My great-grandaddy built the place with his own two hands.”

“I love it even more now.” Madi would point out that you’re a sucker for a family story, and she would be right.

Jack is proud of the restoration and tasteful updates that have been done to the old place, an homage to the past. “Then you’ll love it when I tell you that they are buried up on that hill.” He chuckles, pointing to a little fenced off area around a large magnolia tree.

“Being a sentimental man runs in your family. I do like that.” When he pauses in sliding out of the Bronco to open your door and raises an eyebrow at you, you fluster. “Not that I assume you might be sentimental about me,” you clarify immediately. “Just that I appreciate a man who isn’t afraid to be passionate.”

“Sugar, that is something you’ll get to witness firsthand.” He promises as he climbs out and saunters around the front to help you out.

It’s a beautiful little place he’s got, and when he helps you out of the car you can see the wrap around porch does go all the way around, and that the house has been added on to in back. Maybe the second level was an add-on as well, you can’t quite tell. But it speaks to generations of love and stubbornness to stay here and add to this old place instead of moving or building new, and you like that. Loving and stubborn isn’t a bad combination by any means.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack offers. “Water, Coke?” He doesn’t just want to ply you with alcohol, so he offers other things, even though he is walking towards the bar cart in the corner.

“You can make two of whatever you’re drinking.” Whether that’s alcoholic or not, you have a feeling you’ll be putting your glass aside in favor of paying attention to other things soon enough.

“Hmmmm.” The countertop ice maker is put to use after you tell him this and Jack adds a little flair to his movements as combines orange vodka, pineapple juice and peach schnapps into a shaker and mixes it up before straining the cold alcoholic drink into two glasses and floats some blue raspberry vodka onto the top. “Here you go sugar.” He hands it to you with a wink.

“Do you have friends called Vodka and Schnapps, too?” It’s just a light tease, but he poured and mixed and assembled the drink so deliberately that you found yourself mesmerized by his movements. “Or one with the same name as whatever this drink is?”

“There are colleagues by those names.” He admits with a grin and takes a sip of his drink and groans in approval. “But this one was made just for you.” He hum. “I call this ‘Lick Her Right’.”

“Shit, Jack.” You end up smothering flustered giggles as you have your head at him and try a sip of the fruity sweet cocktail. It’s every bit as delicious as you expected and doesn’t taste a thing like alcohol — which probably means it’s the strongest drink you’ve had all day.

He chuckles at your cute little giggle. “Sweet with just a touch of twang,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you and leaning in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek next to your ear. “Just like the best pussy.” He murmurs in your ear. “Like I’m betting your pussy tastes.”

“Need you to do one thing for me before I let you find out,” you murmur, finding that just as you expected you’ve only had a few sips of the drink before something much more enticing has been presented to you.

“And what’s that, sugar?” Right now, he will offer you the moon. Give you whatever he needs to be able to strip off those tiny shorts of yours and drape your legs over his shoulders for a private Independence Day celebration.

“You’re gonna need to kiss me, cowboy.”

He laughs, tossing his head back and reaching up to take off his hat. “Much obliged to, sugar.” He promises before he swoops in for a kiss, his tongue still cold and fruity from the cocktail as he slides it into your mouth.

He’s playful and enthusiastic, two things you all but demand from a lover, and your arms slide around each other with greedy intensity as the rest of the room goes blank around you.

Jack’s drink is all but forgotten when he sets it on the table and pulls you closer, letting your body press against his as he plunders your mouth and groans in happiness that you accepted his invitation to come back to his place.

The half-wall behind you becomes the perfect thing to lean back against as Jack presses in, holding you as close as he is holding the last shred of decency you’ve got as you plunder each other’s mouths eagerly. You’re damn lucky your glasses didn’t get so thoroughly tossed aside that they fell over and stained his rug, but right now all you care about is chasing that sticky sweet taste from each other’s tongues.

His hands slide under your tiny little tank top, fingers pinching the back of your bra strap and unhooking it with one hand while the other slides under the cup to posses one breast. Keeping his tongue tangled with yours as he moans at the soft fullness of it, the hard nipple against his palm.

It's so smooth you might have barely noticed the movement at all, except his hands are hot and callused and the touch of them on your skin makes you moan into the messy kiss with enthusiasm. Nothing but the perfect heat and heaviness of him can penetrate your mind at this point — and that includes the heaviness growing hard in his own shorts as you both do your best to stay as pressed against the other's body as possible.

Jack presses his cock against your tiny shorts, grinding into you as he paws and plucks at your tit, pulling the most beautiful sounds from your throat as he slides his other hand to your neglected breast to give it the same treatment.

Pressed between Jack and the wall, your own hands wander freely. Mapping his body from broad shoulders down to slim waist, there is no hesitation there when you slide one hand into the back pocket of his shorts and pull him forward, inviting him to grind into you just as much as he likes as he swallows your moans.

There’s nothing wrong with a little over the clothing humping in Jack’s mind. Grinding against you and squeezing your tits as he kisses you is just the warm up for the night, although it feels pretty fucking good as you pull him closer.

The world has gone the most gorgeous shade of blank, narrowing down to just Jack, and when you finally can’t breathe in any more of him and have to break the kiss for air, the matching groans you let out are sweeter than any other sound.

You’re gorgeously giving and soft. Yielding to him. He reluctantly releases one breast and pulls back just a bare two inches to slide his hand between to you pop the button open on your shorts. His hand immediately sliding inside to delve into your panties.

“Fucking—” The rest of the curse, whatever it is, gets swallowed up by your moan as his thick fingers make quick work of finding your slick and swollen clit to draw circles around it that have you seeing double.

You’re wet and nothing is sexier to Jack than a wet pussy on an eager woman. He groans into your mouth. “Already so wet.” He rasps. “Want to see how much wetter you can get.”

“Before I dehydrate?” You huff, growling into a kiss with ferocity and angling your hips to try to get him to slide his fingers inside you. Not that it’s been very long at all since he first kissed you, but you’re on fire with wanting him and have been for hours. “Or before you finally fuck me?”

He chuckles into your mouth and bites at your lower lip. “Both?” He teases, rubbing your clit again before he finally gives you what you want and slowly sinks two fingers into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Shaking as he twists his wrist and presses the heel of his palm against your clit, you’re even more pinned against the wall behind you than you were a second ago. Far from finding it confining, your fingers dig into Jack’s broad shoulders with enthusiasm as you cling to him in that moment.

“That’s it.” He groans, feeling your walls pulse around his fingers and he hums in approval. “You’re little pussy likes my fingers.” He coos. “Why don’t you cum on them for me?”

If you could ever cum on command, it would probably be right now. It would be for the pair of thick fingers curled so perfectly inside your cunt every time he pumps them inside you that your vision whites out a little at the edges. It would be for the man who makes you simultaneously tense and limp with need. As it is, your toes are curling in your sneakers and you're about damn ready to flood his hand any second while the only sound you can make as an incoherent moan.

“Sugar, sugar, sugar.” He groans. “You’re so close.” He continues to finger you, loving how your eyes are rolling back. “Just let go and give it to me.” He begs. “I want to strip you down and eat your pussy, but I can’t until you cum for me.”

The absolute whimper of frustration on your lips and hearing what's coming next mighty really be what does it. What has you moaning his name into the warm evening air and holding onto him so tightly that your fingernails leave neat little half-moon shapes at the base of his skull. When you cum it's full force, with shaking legs and an arching back, and all you can think — when you eventually get your thoughts back after the fireworks subside in all your nerves — is how fucking glad you are that you took a chance on going home with this man.

Jack loves to see a woman cum. Always beautiful and you are no exception. The hollow of your throat is the perfect place to moan his praise, the white shorts he’s wearing becoming damp and showing it as he leaks pre-cum into the material. His fingers are soaked and making the most obscene sounds as he pumps them into your cunt until your entire body sags against the wall and is only held upright by his pinning you there. Then he slows his wrist and ease you to a stop as you pant his name. “Good girl.” Jack rasps against your throat. “Now I want to see what kind of mess your pussy made.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a second,” you huff, giggling under your own breath and a little dizzy. If he can do that with his hand, the rest of him is going to reduce you to a puddle. “Stripping is tricky when my legs are wobbly.”

He chuckles and pulls his hand out of your shorts to grab your thighs. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He promises, pulling you up into his arms and guiding your legs around his waist as he pulls away from the wall to carry you through the house to his bedroom.

It only encourages you, which you’re sure was his intention, you steal kisses and swoon at this strength as you carries you down a hallway. By the time he turns into his room you’ve found the spot on the long column of his throat that makes him moan when you suck on it, and the bruise you’ve left there will be sure you remind of you every time he looks in a mirror for at least the next few days.

Jack’s bed is large, inviting and it’s not as heavily masculine as you might expect. The comforter is pillowy when he lays you down and smirks as he pulls back to look at you. “Now it’ll be easy to strip you down and not worry about those legs, except for how they look on my shoulders.” He boasts.

“I think I’m past the point in my dignity where I can dispute that,” you tease, wishing he hadn’t stood up fully because now he’s too far away for you to grab.

Jack unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders. Revealing the shape of his hard cock pressing through the white shorts and he grins down at you. “We will just have to have an undignified time then.”

“Deeply undignified, I hope.” You agree, letting your eyes wander down the length of his body and darken all over again at the sight of what is waiting for you.

“Is there any other kind of sex?” Jack snorts, quickly unbuttoning and stripping down his shorts to groan in relief when his cock bounces free.

If you were going to debate with him, whatever argument you had gets lost on your tongue. He's a mouthwatering sight — veiny, cut, and curved just right so you know you're not only going to have him pulsing against your g-spot later but you're going to be cross-eyed and breathless while he's at it. "Fuck I hope not," you grin, licking your lips. "At least not tonight."

He smirks proudly and kneels on the bed, shuffling closer to reach for your shorts. He drags them over your hips along with your panties while you lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs and toss them on the floor. Eager to spread your thighs and get a good look at that slick pussy.

Sure it was only five minutes ago that your legs were shaking in his living room, but when he very surely moves your ankles to open your legs wide on top of his bed, your fingers drop between your spread legs without hesitation. His eyes on your pussy have you craving touch all over again.

There’s only your shirt left and Jack hates for the material to conceal your tits from his eyes, so he slides his hands up, grabbing the hem of it to pull over your head, unable to resist dipping his head down and lapping at a hard nipple.

It was barely a scrap of a shirt and this is so much better — tits free for his attention and back arching up to meet his mouth just as eagerly as he dips his head. The cool air in his room makes your already hard nipples peak even tighter, but all you can think about is the heat of his mouth and the heaviness against your thigh. Every inch of him feels incredible and he's not even inside you yet.

He lavished attention on one, then the other before he pulls away with a pop and a grin as he starts to slink back down your body. Intentions clear as he scrapes his teeth over the top of your mound and pulls your legs up onto his shoulders to cradle his head.

"Jack..." his name is a whine from your lips as he kisses the insides of his thighs, and one of your hands fists in his hair to tug encouragingly at the short strands.

He chuckles and blows a little air on your pussy to hear you whine again, your hips jerking up to try to meet his mouth. “Now, let’s get down to the business at hand.” He intones seriously. “You’ve got a pretty pussy that is begging to be eaten.” He looks up into your eyes and winks. “And I’m just the cowboy for the job.”

He dives in like a man starved, making you feel like every single woman whose pussy he tried to eat over the years must have denied him otherwise there wouldn't be any reason to be this voracious. That first lap at your slit has you gasping sharply, eyes rolling back in your head and tugging tighter on his hair in needy, silent gratitude. You'll be lucky if you can form any words beyond his name in all this. His name and endless repetitions of 'yes' or 'fuck'. But that's all you need.

Anything that Jack sets out to do, he does with vigor and eating your pussy is no different. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling your hips up to his month as he devours you. Wanting to feel the sting of your hands pulling at his hair while his tongue carves a path through your folds.

He means to overwhelm your senses entirely and he's doing a damn good job, right down to how tightly he manages to hold you in place while he leaves no part of your soaking wet pussy untouched. Maybe at another time you might have fought of wrestled or taken some of the lead, but he's swept you away so entirely today that all of your usual sass is reduced to whimpers and moans under his attention. Probably because the attention of that long tongue of his is well worth submitting to.

He had been right, you do taste delicious. Making him even more ravenous as he explores what makes you whimper and whine his name as his tongue laps at your swollen clit.

Every time your hips twist or roll to beg for a specific kind of friction. he seems to be anticipating it. He reads the waves of your body like it's a second language, intuiting what you need and giving it to you with growls and groans of his own that vibrate through you and make you see wave after wave of stars.

His mustache is coated with your juices, his chin slick with them, and still he continues to devour you. Licking into you and pushing his tongue into your pussy like he is starved for you, his hooked nose pressed against your clit as he groans in pleasure.

It doesn’t matter how long you lay spread out like this. Or how long Jack spends devouring you like you’re his new favorite dessert. The walls could crumble down around you and you would still be begging for more.

Jack can feel your body start to tense, your thighs tightening around his head briefly and then relaxing only to do it again. He holds them loosely, wanting you to squeeze him and he rolls his tongue back up to your clit to lap at it.

The second time you cum for him isn't like being carried away on an ocean wave. Even the arch of your back is like being washed out to sea, and the roaring of your blood in your ears making you feel like you've just crashed on top of a wave in some dramatic engraving. It's like all of your senses are both being hugged tight and being blasted wide open and you're drowning in every sensation but your nerves are tingling with life as you float back down to earth in his bed.

Humming softly, the pads of his thumbs rub your inner thighs, soothing you as your breath starts to slow down. You had screamed loud enough to wake the dead. A feat that has Jack feeling mighty smug as he watches your closed eyes bounce around under your lids.

"Fucking hell," you manage, once you stop panting and have the presence of mind to push up on your elbows to be able to see him more fully.

Smirking up at you, he winks as he unfurls himself from between your thighs to rest on his knees. “How are we doing so far?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. “Feeling patriotic yet? Or should we really make you see fireworks?”

"I think we'd both be missing out if we gave up now." After all, you've barely done a thing for him. And if his cock feels half as good as it looks, you refuse to miss out on that.

“I have to admit, I’m dying to know what you feel like around my cock.” Jack confesses, his hand squeezing his cock and pumping it lightly.

"I think it's time for you to find out." There is a smirk curling in the corner of your mouth as you sit up, and with one hand beckon him closer. "Don't you?"

“Yes ma’am.” He hums. “Do you want to save or horse, or see if I can hold on for eight seconds?” His brow arches in question and he wonders what you will say.

“On your back, Jack.” You grin up at him, already shifting over to switch places. Even if this isn’t where you end up, you want to ride that handsome cowboy for at least a little while.

“Never say I don’t follow a lady’s orders.” Jack drawls as he lays down, tucking one hand behind his head and the other still pumping his cock languidly.

“Not if you know what’s good for you.” That smirk stays in place as you straddle his hips and lift yourself up, braced for your cunt to be so wet from his attention that he slides inside you right up to your throat.

Jack helps, holding his cock up for you line up. “Take your time, sugar.” He coos, watching you with a predatory gaze. “It takes time to make sure you are seated right.”

“Not too long.” A moan escapes your lips as you sink down, but you take him at a slow, steady pace. “I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

“And here I thought I couldn’t be the one to break your dry streak.” He teases, having read your lips from the margarita stand with the assistance of his glasses. He had turned off the special features before he put them on your nose earlier.

“Were you spyin’ on me earlier?” The best you can do with him halfway inside you is to raise one eyebrow as if you vaguely disapprove, but it doesn’t hold a single drop of water when you let out a shuddering little gasp and take more.

“I can read lips.” He admits with a grin. “Don’t worry, sugar, I didn’t hold it against you. Just made me want you more.”

"Now I feel like I ought to have made it harder for you," you purr, but the truth is that he'd had you from the first real smile. Not the smirks, not the intrigue of just being handsome in general. The first time Jack genuinely smiled at you, you had felt your heart beat a little faster. Now it's your pussy that's reacting to him, though, and you shift your weight to lean back and give him a long view of your whole body as you start to bounce on his cock. Whatever his reason for being interested in you, it is well worth it.

“Jesus Christ.” Jack hisses, sliding his hands up to your tits again. “You are such a pretty thing, so fucking beautiful.” He groans, admiring the view as you use him.

"View can't be as good as mine." Panting between each word is the only way to get them out, because your mind is so fuzzy all over again from how good he feels that all you can focus on is how well he fills you.

He would have to disagree, but you steal his ability to speak when you roll your hips and squeeze him tight. All he can do is groan and squeeze your tits harshly before sliding his hands down to your hips.

"Hold on, handsome." It doesn't take more than a few movements of your hips to establish a rhythm, and one that you're both thoroughly enjoying. With Jack's fingers curling insistently into your flesh, you pick up the pace and let your eyes slide shut in bliss.

Jack groans your name again and again when you fully seat him inside you. Giving you the encouragement and praise through the panted words.

It's a damn good thing that his bed isn't an antique like his house. Once you get going, with his encouragements and your own seemingly insatiable thirst for this man, it would be a damn shame to sacrifice an heirloom to your shared lust. The sheer power and force of your enthusiasm with his strength makes it feel like you're going to fuck each other into the stratosphere to begin with, there's no reason to lose furniture.

“That’s it, sugar.” Jack slaps your flank in encouragement and moans when you roll your hips down at little harder. “Fuck, you do know how to ride a man, don’t you?” He counts his lucky stars you wanted to come home with him. “Ride me hard.”

He might have been the one to make the joke about lasting the length of the ride, but you have no intention of getting bucked while you're on him. The prominent veins of his cock scrub your walls like they were made for you, bringing deeps moans and shuddering growls of his name from your lips with every bounce and rock of your body on his.

Bracing his feet on the bed, Jack tilts his hips up, changing the angle and he chokes out a sound of approval when you squeal in pleasure. “There it is.”

It's the exact angle you need to have the head of his cock battering against your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure, and right now you're prepared to swear that no one has ever managed to find the spot that perfectly before. Just like his fingers curling against it earlier, your vision whites out as your eyes slide shut again and you could swear this is what being on fire feels like as you cry his name out in that quiet little farmhouse.

When your pace stalls, Jack picks up the slack. Driving up into you while your walls convulse and you shake on top of him. Groaning out your name raspily as he works himself towards that same peak you are currently cresting.

It's so easy to fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest with both hands and letting him take over the pace. Your third orgasm ripples through you so sharply and definitively that you practically scream, but his arms are there to catch you and pin you to his chest while he races toward his own pleasure.

It only takes a few driving thrusts until his holding you tight, locking his arms around you and grinding up into you. Your name is moaned into his ear as he floods your fluttering pussy with his cum. “Fuck sugar.” He groans. “Little pussy is milking my cock like a dream.”

"I'm afraid..." You're both panting, and you rest your forehead on his rising chest for a beat and giggle to yourself. The flow of endorphins is making you feel so light you could fly. "I've been neglecting her. She was hungry."

“Pussy like that needs to be seen to frequently.” Jack chuckles breathlessly and strokes your back as the sweat clinging to your bodies starts to dry and cool. “I’ll be happy to make sure that happens.”

"Oh yeah?" In the bliss of the moment, when you pull back to look him in the eye, it's like you're seeing a completely different side of the needy and addictive man who was pushing you up against a wall a mere hour ago. This Jack is soft at the edges, boyish and gleeful, not to mention beautifully relaxed as he cradles your body against him. "Thinkin' about asking me out, cowboy?"

“Considering it.” He admits before that soft smile curves into more of a smirk. “I think it would be my patriotic booty to keep you satisfied.” It’s the repeat of the joke from earlier, but completely worth it because of how cheesy it is. “What do you say, sugar?” He asks. “Want to make everyday Independence Day?”

"I think it's only right." Stretching slightly, the tip of your nose nearly touches his and you dip your head barely lower to hover above his mouth. A single centimeter of movement and you would be kissing him. "It'd be a damn shame to never ride my new favorite steed again."

“Damn shame.” He agrees. Since you’ve been in his house, the sun has slipped below the horizon and he reaches up to cup your cheek just as the first muted boom of the fireworks from Statesman is heard. “Happy Fourth of July, sugar.” Jack murmurs before he crushes his lips to yours, happy that he had decided to go to the celebration rather than taking a mission. He had never had a better Fourth than this one.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[kenneduck]

His name is Kalen! (75 years old... or the equivalent of a 15 year old Hylian!) (Also a bluegill!) Made a diplomat for @werewolfsister 's call for diplomatic zoras!

Kalen is from a small domain within a freshwater lake! His grammie used to represent his township, but due to age, he's taken on the duties of representing his domain!

Which... is very small!

When Kalen isn't out for diplomatic meetings to trade the farm goods from his domain for other supplies, he's at home helping his ma and pappy with farming!

He's the youngest diplomat he knows! And well... he doesn't know much outside of that!

You WILL catch him staring at bubbles... humming and picking at the algae on his outfit... and about anything else besides paying attention to diplomatic meetings! He's quite young.. and still learning how to be professional! But don't worry, he's great at trade! His grammie's algae recipes are considered quite luxurious delicacies to many domains! There's no denying such impeccable food!! (Even if the delegate has no idea what he is doing. And wants to pet your pet goldfish)

[aliyah4]

The life I would like to have if I had the chance to be the obedient Muslimah of a man: 

1. Wear the Burqa, or at least the Niqab so that no other man but my husband sees me.

2. Do the big cleaning every day. Because my husband deserves to live in a pleasant and healthy home.

3. Obedience to my husband. Because he is the man of the house and I belong to him. I obey all his requests and I always put his well-being before mine.

4. Refuse any sexual act. My husband has legitimate rights over my body, and it is my duty to satisfy all his sexual needs.

5. Impeccable hygiene. To always be attractive to my husband, and to perform my daily prayers.

6. No leisure. Leisure does not bring anything, and does not contribute to my husband's happiness, so my free time will only be devoted to my husband and my religious activities such as prayer, reading the Quran and working on my Arabic language. 

7. Prepare Halal meals. As a wife, I am responsible for the meals and I must ensure that they are compliant. 

8. Support my husband. I will always support my husband, and I will only give my opinions on his request, I will ensure that I never influence his choice, he is the only one responsible for the home and all decisions come to him. 

9. I do not own or manage money. All expenses are controlled and made by my husband. I must also be content with the bare minimum in order to allow my husband to use the money for his own pleasure. 

10. My husband decides my appearance. He will choose my outfits, hairstyles and others in order to suit him best. 

11. No longer watch television. It is unthinkable for me to continue watching TV and seeing men, sometimes naked, This would be a total lack of respect towards my husband 

12. Having an authoritarian husband. It is impossible for me to imagine living with a husband who is too gentle. I need a husband who is not afraid and who is ready to raise his hand to me when I make mistakes. He has the right to expect the best from his wife, and correcting me will help me in the future 

13. Getting up earlier than my husband. In order to be pretty for him and to prepare his breakfast so that it is ready when he wakes up.

[pillow-anime-talk]

Good evening I’d like Poseidon RoR and a fem reader. With a fem reader asking prompt 53 to Hades RoR.

# tags: scenario; current married relationship and kinda fwb; romance; pwp; goddess!reader; nsfw

warnings: mention of sex and sexual activities, size kink, threesome (m/f/m), double fuck, overstimulation, praising, boobs play

includes: female reader ft. poseidon & hades {ror}

author’s note: last but not least! thank you very much :)

53. “Wanna join?”

Your body moved fluidly while shiny eyes adoringly gazing at the man opposite you; both hands gripping tightly onto his muscular shoulders. Poseidon’s hands were placed on your firm butt cheeks, and your pussy was loudly hitting his wet cock every time you bounced on him.

Your huge bedroom was heavily steamed by your breaths, and the only sound spreading around the room was your long moan and the gasps of your husband, the god of the seas, oceans and all bodies of water adored by the Greeks. Lost in the blue of his eyes, you couldn’t stop another loud sigh that escaped from between your lips swollen from kissing. The eternally cold and gloomy Poseidon seemed to be more alive next to you; hence a slight smile appeared on his face as soon as his gaze was caught by your breasts and a drop of sweat running down your sternum.

“You should become a goddess of debauchery.” He whispered directly into your ear, tightening his fingers on your skin, and you only giggled, changing the pace of your movements to a much slower one. “Such a good whore.”

“You like it, don’t you, Poseidon, my love?” You replied with a slight madness in your eye, to which your husband only snorted with laughter. A quick moment later, you felt your body rise and drift in the air, and then your back touched the sheets on the bed. Before you could catch your breath, the lord of water began to fuck you like there was no tomorrow. Your mouth screamed the man’s name faster before your brain thought about it, and you automatically tightened your hands on your husband’s skin. You felt the orgasm approaching and taking over your body. However, before you gave yourself over to the carnal pleasure, your head fell to the right side towards the door. It was on their threshold that through your hazy vision you noticed a tall figure with a male silhouette.

Poseidon certainly sensed the presence of the intruder, but his zero shame allowed him to continue fucking your sore pussy and nibbling on your left, next right, nipple. After releasing another moan from between his lips, the figure began to take on sharper shapes. After a few longer seconds, you realized that the figure standing in the entrance to the bedroom was Poseidon’s older brother – king Hades. He was dressed in his typical black outfit, silver jewelry with the addition of obsidian, and his hairstyle was impeccably done. Before you spoke, Hades rolled his eyes. “Your behavior are about to cause a flood in Halheim.” He said disconsolately, although you both knew that the sight that greeted him was not at all unattractive or annoying. Leaving aside the issues of his brother over your body, your tired figure, predatory look and saliva leaking from the corner of your mouth were one of the most beautiful views Hades had seen in a long time, leaving the world of the dead. You couldn’t pass him by indifferently, knowing how lonely your brother-in-law was; he rarely visited his younger brothers or other Greek gods, he was rather focused on himself and his duties.

“... Wanna join?” You asked in a confident tone, knowing perfectly well that your husband wouldn’t refuse you anything. You could ask him for a star from the sky, and he would get you three of them, knowing perfectly well that they would beautifully decorate your cleavage and ears. You could say that you don’t like kale, and he would get rid of it in the entire kingdom, apologizing to you for this oversight. You could also invite his brother to your bedroom, and he would eagerly await how Hades would take care of your pretty plump mouth and sweet clit.

There was no need to wait long for an answer to your question; on the way to the huge marital bed, Hades got rid of his coat, pants, shoes and shirt. His cock seemed to be the hardest thing in the world, and when your body was thrown again, you could swear that you would cum on your husband’s stomach. This time you were riding Poseidon, and Hades stopped behind your back. While your partner was playing with your nipples one more time, the older man kissed your left shoulder. You felt his dick touch your back, and his hair tickled your skin and forehead.

“You’re quite brave, Y/N.” He said quietly, and you shivered at the sound of his voice and breath on your body. You felt his gaze surround you with an invisible aura.

“After all, I am the wife of Poseidon, the king of every ocean.” You answered, looking down at the aforementioned.

“From today on, also the lover of the lord of death and the dead.” Hades corrected you, simultaneously entering your other, tight hole from behind. The size filling you made you cry out, tightly gripping your husband’s waist. You had never felt such overwhelming energy on your own and in your body. “You are an amazing goddess of sky, Y/N.”

“… She knows about it, Hades... You better fuck her good, brother. I don’t want my queen to be dissatisfied.” Your conversation was interrupted by the blond god, who was measuring his siblings with a cold gaze.

“Don’t worry about that, Poseidon. She will certainly be very pleased.” He bit your earlobe, causing your whole body to tremble.