#but a number of moots have asked if he us

[thehollowwriter]

Soooo. What if I made Finn being autistic or on the spectrum canon

[joelmillerisapunk]

I'll never stop makin' you feel this good

bfd!joel miller x f!reader

masterlist

↳ wordcount: 3,795

↳ summary: After returning to your hometown, you reconnect with your childhood friend Sarah and her father Joel, a retired firefighter. As you spend time with him, you can't deny the spark between you, and soon you find yourself on a date with Joel, where things quickly heat up and the chemistry between you becomes impossible to ignore.

~or~

↳ a dom!daddy date

↳ warnings: 18+, dom!Joel, implied age gap, light spanking, fingering, light male masterbation, public stuff? But nothing too wild.

↳ notes: my favorite line became the title since I couldn't find a song I liked. Ty @saradika-graphics as always for the dividers 💓 and tysm for the love and support on all my fics so far. As a brand new writer its been so incredibly validating. I've gained so many amazing followers, moots, and friends in the like two weeks I've been here. I LOVE YOU ❤️

After being away for several years to pursue your dreams of becoming a marine biologist, you return to your hometown to visit your family and your childhood friend Sarah Miller and her father Joel, a retired firefighter. Sarah was like a sister to you growing up, and you were excited to catch up with her and see how much she had grown.

As you walk up to the Miller's house, you can't help but feel a little nostalgic. You and Sarah used to play in the front yard for hours, pretending to be superheroes and exploring the neighborhood.

Joel greets you with a warm smile as he opens the door. "Howdy kiddo. Missed seein’ ya around," he says, extending his hand for a friendly handshake. And as your hand meets his, he takes in your appearance, he can't help but notice how much you've grown up, how much more mature you've become. He quickly clears his throat, trying to tame his thoughts.

You grin and shake his hand. "Hey, Mr. Miller. It's good to be back," you reply, trying to hide your nervousness.

"Mr. Miller makes me sound old. Just call me Joel,” he says, chuckling.

You giggle, "alright Joel it is."

Joel nods and stands straight. "Well, kiddo, how've you been? You look good."

"I've been really good, Mr. Miller - uh Joel. College is going well," you reply, feeling a little more at ease.

"College, huh? And what do you wanna be when you grow up?" Joel asks.

You giggle. “I'm not exactly five anymore, but I'm going to school to be a marine biologist," you say, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

Joel's face lights up in surprise. "Marine biologist... that's gotta be one dangerous job. You know, I saw a show on Netflix once about shark attacks. I thought a pretty thing like you shouldn't be near those monsters, they'll eat'cha whole."

You chuckle, "Yeah, they're quite terrifying, but I might have learned a thing or two in school.” You wink playfully.

“And just what do you learn about shark attacks in marine biology school?” Joel asks, skeptical.

You smile. “ Don't worry, I'll make sure to keep my professors in the loop," you reply, trying to keep a straight face.

Joel can't help but smirk, “alright darlin’, and moves to the side to let you inside.

After a few hours of catching up and reminiscing about old times with Sarah, it's time for you to leave. But just as you're about to head out the door, Joel stops you. "Uh hey, listen, could I interest you in dinner sometime? I know a good steakhouse nearby. I think we could have a good time and catch up," he says, with a hopeful expression on his face.

Caught off guard, you're unsure if he's asking you on a date, but it feels innocent enough, so you agree. "Yah, that'd be nice, Joel," you say, trying to keep a straight face. Secretly hoping it was intended for more.

"Great! I'll pick you up at eight, okay? Here, I'll text you the name of the place, and you can look it up if you'd like," Joel says, as he hands you his phone with the contact app already open.

You take his phone and place your number in it.

"Thanks, kiddo. Hey, you okay? You look a little anxious for a steak dinner," Joel says, noticing your nervousness.

"Not at all, looking forward to it," you reply, with a confident smile. You place a hand gently on his arm, feeling a warmth radiate between you two.

Joel smiles and says, "Alright, kiddo. I'll see you later, then."

"See ya later, Joel," you say, as you walk out the door, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation for your dinner date with Joel.

You're excited as you wait for Joel to pick you up for your dinner date. When he arrives, he knocks at your door, and when you open it, he says, "You ready to eat some steak, kiddo?"

You open the door, ready as ever. “Joel, you don't have to keep calling me kiddo. I'm not a child anymore.”

“Alright, darlin’, let's get going, then.” He holds out his hand, and you take it. When you get to his car, he opens the car door for you. You hurry in, eager to spend time with Joel.

“There's some great steak at this restaurant. You'll love the atmosphere there, it's a classy place. The staff is professional, not chatty, and very good customer service.” He smiles as he puts his car in gear and starts driving”

You smile and look forward as he drives. “I can't wait.”

When you arrive, he gets out and opens the door for you, then locks up his car. “Ladies first. That's how me and your old man were raised.” He laughs as you walk toward the restaurant.

You chuckle, “such a gentleman.” You get to a big glass door, a maitre d' greets you and seats you in a booth at a table for two. “Doesn't look too crowded tonight.” He takes off his jacket and hangs it on the back of his chair.

You take your coat off as well, revealing a very fitted dress. “It's beautiful, Joel.”

He looks at you and smiles, staring at you for a second “You look beautiful, very nice dress. You're much more grown up now than the last time I saw you.”

You feel yourself getting warm as you sit down, “thanks, you're not too bad yourself.” You manage to wink at Joel.

He laughs, “I'm sure you've got a lotta boys chasin’ you.” He pauses for a moment, eyeing you up and down before he continues, “that dress sure does suit you darlin’.” He grins mischievously.

You giggle, “well not exactly the boys I want to be chasing me.” You grin at him playfully. “I'm glad you like it, I just got it, actually.”

“Oh? And who exactly are you hoping to chase you.”

“I dunno, someone a little older, strong, I'm tired of boys.” You look into his eyes. “A real man who knows how to take care of a woman.”

He grins, leaning in a bit “So, you like a dominant man, huh? Would you say I fit the bill?”

You're a little surprised by Joel's straightforwardness but lean in closer, testing the waters a bit. “Well, I'm not so sure just how dominant you are, Mr. Miller, I might need you to show me.” You wink, biting your bottom lip.

He leans in even closer across the table and whispers in your ear. “Don't talk like that, or you're gonna get me all riled up. A girl like you should be careful about what you say.”

You whisper breathily in his ear, "I like a little danger.”

His eyes widen, shocked that you would say something so…naughty. “Are you tryin’ to get me to do something at the dinner table?” He says in a hushed tone. “Don't tempt me, baby.”

“Yes, sir.” You sit back and wink at him, liking his authoritative behavior but still feeling a bit defiant. You run your foot up his leg till it hits his thigh, your gaze locked onto his eyes.

He grins, placing his hand on your leg, slowly moving it up your dress, “You're playing with fire, darlin’.” His hand slowly makes its way up your leg, and you can feel the heat building between your legs.

You look into his eyes and challenge him, "Hmm, well, what exactly would you do with a girl like me?"

Joel's hand is now resting on your inner thigh, and you can feel his fingers lightly tracing circles on your skin. He leans in closer to you, "I think you already know what I'd do to you." You feel a shiver run down your spine.

The waiter comes to your table and asks if everything is alright, but you barely register his presence. All you can focus on is the feeling of Joel's hand on your thigh and the way his eyes are burning into yours. Joel leans back in his chair and sips his wine, never taking his eyes off of you. You can feel your heart racing as you stare back at him, wondering what he's going to do next.

The waiter brings your wine that Joel ordered, and you take a sip, feeling the warmth spread through your body. Joel's hand is still on your thigh, and you can feel him slowly sliding it up higher and higher.

"I love the way you breathe when I touch you. Makes me feel all-powerful." Joel's voice is filled with desire, and you can't help but feel the same way.

You look at him, challenging him, "You think you can tame me, Mr. Miller?"

Joel grins, "I don't like the word tame. I prefer the word... break. If I'm gonna take charge, I'm gonna take it completely, and this dress of yours ain't survivin' the night."

Your heart is pounding in your chest as Joel's hand reaches the top of your thigh. You can feel his fingers lightly grazing your wet panties, and you gasp at the sensation. "Think you can handle this old cowboy darlin’?" Joel's voice is low and dangerous, and you can feel yourself getting lost in his eyes.

You nod, unable to speak, as Joel's fingers start to move in slow circles over your clit. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and you moan softly as Joel's fingers quicken their pace. Suddenly, Joel pulls his hand away, leaving you wanting more. He stands up, offering to help you up as well. "You really think I’d let a pretty thing like you come in public? Come on, it’s time for us to eat in private."

You follow Joel out of the restaurant, feeling dizzy with lust. You can barely believe what just happened. As you walk to Joel's car, you can feel his hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards his black Mustang. You slide into the passenger seat, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Joel starts the car, and you take off towards Joel's place.

You feel so innocent and young next to Joel, but you love the feeling. You follow him through his house until you reach a small room with a couch, a TV on one side, and a fireplace on the other. Joel pours you a glass of wine and hands it to you, his eyes never leaving yours. You take a sip, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

He goes back to the kitchen to just grab the entire bottle. You make your way around, looking at all his stuff. You pick up a small carving, accidentally dropping it on the floor and bending over to pick it up, but your dress doesn't fully cover you. Joel walks back at the perfect time and can see everything, but you don't notice, so he's quiet and sets the bottle down before moving toward you.

"Oh, I like this little maneuver of yours,” Joel's voice is low and gravelly as he takes in the sight of you bent over, your dress riding up to reveal your lacy underwear. He steps closer to you, his hand tracing a path between your legs, stopping just shy of your center. "I like it a lot," he growls, his breath hot on your neck.

You gasp as you feel his fingers brush against your sensitive skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You're unable to resist the urge to push back against him, wanting more of his touch. Joel takes advantage of your position, his fingers slipping beneath your underwear as he explores your wet folds. You moan softly, your head falling back as he teases you with his touch.

"So, so wet for me," Joel murmurs in your ear, his fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. "I can feel how much you want me.” You can't deny it - you want him more than you've ever wanted anyone before. You push back against him, trying to get him to give you more. Joel chuckles, his fingers stilling for a moment before he gives you what you want. He plunges two fingers deep inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You cry out in pleasure, your body trembling as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. But just as you're about to come, Joel pulls away, leaving you wanting. You turn to look at him, your eyes pleading for more.

He grins wickedly, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Not yet, darlin’ hold on for me.” Joel stands up, walking over to the fireplace and stoking the flames. You can't take your eyes off of him, watching as he moves with a confidence and authority that makes your heart race.

He turns back to you, his eyes blazing with desire. "Take off your dress. I want to see you." You hesitate for a moment, but the look in Joel's eyes tells you that he's not going to take no for an answer. You stand up straight, reaching behind you to unzip your dress. As the dress falls to the ground, you stand before Joel in nothing but your underwear. He lets out a low whistle, his eyes taking in every inch of your body. "Fuck, you're beautiful," he growls, his eyes dark with desire.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as Joel's eyes roam over your body. You've never felt so vulnerable, so exposed - and yet so wanted. Joel reaches down, adjusting himself as he stares at you. "Take off your underwear, too. I want to see all of you."

You nod, your hands shaking as you slip your underwear down your legs. You step out of them, standing before Joel completely naked. He lets out a low groan, his eyes devouring every inch of your body. Joel reaches down, pulling his cock out of his jeans and boxers. He starts stroking himself, his eyes never leaving yours. "Watch me darlin’. Watch as I stroke my cock, thinking about all the things I'm gonna to do to you."

You can't take your eyes off of him as he strokes himself, his hand moving up and down his shaft. You've never seen anything so hot before. You watch as Joel continues to stroke himself, his eyes locked on yours. You can feel your body responding to the sight of him touching himself.

"C'mere darlin," he beckons, patting the space beside him. As you move to sit next to him, his fingers begin to trace a path up your leg, inching closer and closer to your wet center. Once there, his touch becomes more deliberate, circling your clit with a gentle touch that sends shivers down your spine. You can't help but moan softly, your hips bucking up to meet his skilled fingers.

He stops for a moment and with a firm but gentle grip, Joel guides you to turn over, positioning you face down, ass up on the couch, he finds your clit quickly again as his other hand comes down on your ass with a sharp smack, the sound echoing in the small room. The sting of his hand on your skin only serves to heighten your arousal. His hand comes down on your backside once again, the sound of his palm against your skin filling the room. The mixture of pleasure and pain is intoxicating, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Joel smirks, his hand coming down again and again, the pain mixing with pleasure in a way that leaves you dizzy.

"You like that, don't you?" Joel's voice is low and rough, his fingers still moving in slow circles over your clit. "You like it when I take charge, when you don’t have to do anything but what I tell you, no thinkin’ just doin’."

You nod, unable to speak. It's true - you do like it. You like the way Joel makes you feel helpless, his to do with as he pleases. Joel growls, his fingers plunging deep inside you again. This time, he doesn't stop, his hand moving faster and faster as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

You moan louder, your hips bucking up to meet his hand. Joel's other hand comes down on your ass again, only adding to the pleasure. Finally, Joel's fingers still, his fingers resting deep inside you as you come hard. You cry out, your body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you.

Joel pulls his fingers out of you slowly, holding them up to your lips. "Taste yourself. See how sweet you are." You open your mouth, your tongue darting out to taste your own juices. It's unlike anything you've ever tasted before, and you can't get enough.

Joel smirks, his hand moving up to your hair. He grips it tightly, pulling your head back so that you're looking up at him. "You're mine now, and I'll do whatever I want with you." All you can do is whimper in excitment, your heart racing in your chest. You've never felt so alive. Joel releases your hair, his hand moving back down to your thigh. "Good girl," he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.

You lean back against the couch, feeling boneless and sated. Joel leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you scream, again and again and again."

Joel stands up, his hands moving to the buttons on his own shirt. You watch as he undoes each one, revealing his muscular chest and arms. Your eyes widen as he kicks off his shoes and socks, followed by his pants and boxers. His cock stands at attention, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation. Joel's eyes follow your gaze, a smirk crossing his lips. "Like what you see, darlin'?" Joel steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to grab your ass.

Joel lifts you up with ease, his strong arms supporting your weight as your legs wrap around his waist. You can feel the head of his cock lightly brush against you, causing you to gasp at the contact. He takes a moment to look into your eyes, a smoldering gaze that makes your heart race.

With a gentle yet firm grip, he guides his cock to your entrance, teasing you with small thrusts that make you squirm with anticipation. You can feel how wet and ready you are for him, your body begging for more.

Joel then slowly pushes himself into you, filling you up completely. You let out a moan as he bottoms out, his cock buried deep inside you. He pauses for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size. You can feel the warmth and tension building up inside you, your body responding to his cock sitting inside you.

With ease, Joel carries you upstairs to his bed, never breaking eye contact with you. Once he reaches the bed, he tosses you down onto it, his body following you down. He positions himself at your entrance, teasing you with his cock. "You ready for me, darlin'?"

You nod, your body trembling with anticipation. Joel thrusts inside you, filling you up completely. You cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his back as he starts to move. His thrusts are hard and fast, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Joel's hands are on your hips, holding you in place as he fucks you. "You like that, darlin'? You like it when I fuck you like a dirty little slut?" Joel growls, his fingers digging into your hips. You moan, your body responding to his words. “Tell me how much you like it, darlin'. Tell me how much you love my cock inside you," Joel commands, his fingers tightening around your hips.

"I love it. I love your cock inside me. Please, don't stop," you beg.

Joel smirks, "I'll never stop fucking you, darlin'. I'll never stop making you feel this good." Joel's thrusts become more erratic as he chases his own release, his cock driving deeper into you with each stroke. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body begging for release.

"Come for me, darlin'. Come all over my cock," Joel growls, his voice deep and raw with desire.

His fingers tighten around your hips, pulling you closer as he pounds into you. You can feel every inch of him, his thick cock stretching you wide as he fucks you hard and fast.

Your body trembles with pleasure, your pussy clenching around him as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Joel's thrusts become more urgent, his hips slamming into yours as he chases his own release.

"Fuck, I'm close," he growls, his breath hot against your neck.

You can feel him tensing up, his cock swelling inside you as he gets closer and closer to the edge. Joel's thrusts become more erratic, his hips slamming into yours as he chases his own release.

With a loud groan, Joel stills, his cock buried deep inside you as he comes. You can feel him pulsing inside you, a feeling you never knew you'd love so much. Joel collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy as he pants against your neck.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling more content and satisfied than you ever have before. Joel's cock is still buried deep inside you, and you can feel him softening as he comes down from his high. You moan softly as he slips out of you, your body missing the feeling of him inside you.

Joel rolls over onto his back, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. You can see the satisfied look on his face, and you can't help but smile, your bodies entwined as you lay together.

Joel's cock is still glistening with your juices, and you can't help but reach out and touch him. You wrap your hand around his softening length, feeling him twitch at your touch. "You feel amazing," you murmur, your fingers tracing the veins that run along the length of his cock.

Joel smiles, his hand reaching out to touch your face. "You're amazing," he replies, his voice soft and filled with emotion.

You lay there together, your bodies entwined as you bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking. You feel more connected to Joel than ever before, your bodies and souls intertwined as you lay there in the peaceful silence, content and fulfilled in each other's arms.

[webbluvrsugar]

HIGH HEELS ‘N A PINT — EPISODE TWO.

(also known as: waitress au pt2)

cw: phone sex, solo masturbation, drabble (not a fic, just like my other works, it’s short.), no use of y/n.

a/n: I know I took long babes, but I really wanted to make sure you’d like this, especially since I’m now planning on turning this into a mini-series of drabbles, that said, enjoy! (for the people that voted fluff, don’t worry, it’ll come soon.)

PART ONE — PART TWO.

It’s been a few days since that… inconvenient interaction at your workplace. Sure, you may have fallen for the trick and ended up calling him after work that day, but it was just to blow off some steam.

Except that when you think about that day, all you can remember is the way he touched you, the way he pulled your hair and spanked you ‘till your ass got sore, the way he walked in your apartment like it was his and the way he immediately grabbed you by the hips.

Not the 300 dollar tip. Not the calm environment. Sex.

That’s all you could think about — hot and gross sex with a man you just found out to be Rafe Cameron.

So today, when it’s deep in the night and you can’t sleep, you think about calling him, a sigh escaping you as you roll on the sheets, the window open but still doing nothing to calm you down.

You’re seriously thinking about calling him, but then — your phone rings.

You pick up, his contact unsaved but you recognise the number too well. “What you doing right now?” He says almost immediately, his voice boyish, you can hear his grin though the phone.

“Trying to sleep.” You whisper against the phone, it’s a lie. “You’re interrupting me.” You sigh.

“Aahh, sorry ‘bout that.” You can hear ruffling in the background, the sound of a zipper being undone.

“Why’d you call me?” You ask, sitting up on your bed.

“Idunno, just did,” you grow quiet, his breath itches. “Just keep talking about whatever you girls talk about.”

“Well uh —“ you stop, you can hear a certain distinctive sound in the background, a certain ‘shlick, shlick, shlick’ ringing in your ears as long as small grunts on showing up slightly every minute that passes, you can almost identify what it is, makes your cheeks flush.

“What are you doing right now?” You ask, he doesn’t answer, he’s too focused on gripping the base of his cock harder and speeding up his movements, his palm moving with the sound of your voice as he can only think about you, about your naked body spread on his sheets as he pounds into you.

“Oh, me?” He chuckles, a groan escapes him. “Nah, ‘m just, uuuhhhh…” you giggle, he laughs, his pace speeds up. “You’d call it self care.”

You frown, breathing in and out, you know what he’s doing, he’s masturbating to you, to your voice, to the way you sound.

“Are you…jacking off to me?” You question, as if you don’t know.

“Mhmmmm.” He admits, a relieved sigh escaping him. “But, I ‘ain’t got a pretty picture of you so..” he all but moans, head kicking back against the wall, you can hear the small thud. “Gotta use your pretty voice.”

“My voice?” You question, your own hand slipping into your shirt.

“Yeah, my dick kinda likes it.”

taglist: @nemesyaaa @mymultiveres @thatswhytheycallme-lanita @sublimepenguinpeach-blog | moots: @fridays13th @babygorewhore @fae-of-prey

[thecapricunt1616]

Pearls - (c.b. one-shot)

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “Baby! Happy birthday- I’m sorry I musta woke you” he comes over, hugging you to his chest and kissing the top of your head “I got coffee all ready for you” he said and led you over to your usual spot at the island and setting down your mug, pouring you a cup and grabbing your favorite creamer from the fridge. It was creamer he made for you, fresh toasted hazelnuts and Indian vanilla beans that he made sure to take a few home whenever the restaurant got them imported. 

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pearls are associated with feminine energy, intuition, and nurturing qualities. Some say they can enhance a woman's natural grace and elegance, and connect her with her inner femininity. Also, In many traditions, pearls symbolize love, wisdom, and inner beauty. They are often exchanged as gifts to express deep affection and admiration. ♡ Summary: It's your birthday, and your man pulls out every stop to show you just how much he loves & worships you in every way. ♡ W/C: 4,600 ♡ Posted Date: 06/06/24 ♡ A/N: Hello! This is for my darling love @carmenberzattosgf - everyone say ' HAPPY BIRTHDAY DIRTY OLIVE MARTINI!!! ' RN!!!! She truly is the love of my tumblr life, I hope you enjoy this my sweetest moot!! I hope you also had a wonderful wonderful birthday. For all you folks that have asks rotting away in my inbox (STILL) i'm sorry :( I am still working I promise, But special days like this only come once per year we have to celebrate while we can! I hope you all enjoy this in the meantime :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT - Incl. but not limited to *ehehem* *cracks knuckles* ; Cockwarming, Spanking, Praise Kink, Choking (hands & arm), (kinda) bondage (it’s just gift ribbon so not really? But still restrained), Daddy!kink (this is mostly for dirty olive martinis reading pleasure & no one elses really in mind, kay, it’s martinis birthday, but you can read it if it’s yours - anywhore, if you don't like the d word SCOOT ALONG) it can be avoided though im not obnoxious w/ it, heavy cavity inducing fluff & aftercare, lowkey sugar daddy!carmy, Fem!/AFAB!Reader, R has long hair, No use of Y/N, Fem!Pet names (Babygirl, Sweetheart, Babe, Baby, Princess, Good Girl, Bunny/Kitten ETC), Established relationship, Unprotected PIV sex, Creampie/Breeding kink, & Other BDSM themes.

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

365. Another 365 days had passed, and you were another year older. Another year wiser and all that. It wasn’t usually a day that was out of the blue extraordinarily different then any of the other 364 days of the year, but Carmen made sure that now that you had been official for just about 8 months - it was a day to remember. 

He had this day marked in his apple calendar from the day you’d told him, which was your second date. He felt a bit … creepy doing that so soon. But he just brushed it off as telling himself he was bad with numbers, you were the first person to bring him out of his years-long dry spell, he’d seen you more then once, and didn’t just hook up and dip afterwards, so he figured if it did go anywhere, it couldn’t hurt to make sure it was documented. 

But the day had come, and Jesus fucking Christ was he nervous. He felt stupid for being nervous, you would probably laugh if you knew he was nervous. Tell him to cut it out, that it’s not that important - to which he would give you one of his little laughs. He had big plans for the day, which started with the day off of work, but him getting up at 5 am anyway to make you a gourmet Michelin starred breakfast in bed. 

He tried being quiet as he could, but so many years screaming (and being screamed at) in a commercial kitchen, and all the clanging of pots and pans - his hearing had been a bit dented. So you did wake up to the pleasant smell of coffee and bacon, and came out to see him standing there shirtless making some kind of caramelized French toast. “Shit” he hissed as he touched the pan on accident,  shaking his hand momentarily before continuing as he always did. 

He didn’t water burns anymore unless they bled, it was just a waste of time to him otherwise. “I’m surprised you still have tattoos on your hands” you said, causing him to jump a bit, startled, and turn around to face you, dropping his spatula on the island 

“Baby! Happy birthday- I’m sorry I musta woke you” he comes over, hugging you to his chest and kissing the top of your head “I got coffee all ready for you” he said and led you over to your usual spot at the island and setting down your mug, pouring you a cup and grabbing your favorite creamer from the fridge. It was creamer he made for you, fresh toasted hazelnuts and Indian vanilla beans that he made sure to take a few home whenever the restaurant got them imported. 

“I told you you didn’t have to do anything baby it’s just another day” you said and he mixed it up with a spoon, tapping it on the rim before dropping it off in the dishwasher. 

“That’s bullshit baby you know it- it’s your day, should be a national holiday” he joked, setting another piece of the home baked brioche bread in the vanilla caramel custard mix he’d whipped up with heavy cream and setting it in the pan, sprinkling some cinnamon on top. 

“Mm right. The national day of me where everyone has to bring me presents, and you have to cook me my favorite food. Is that-“

“Your creme brûlée French toast princess, it is” he finished for you and flipped it. The smell was mouth watering. You saw on the counter a bowl with buttery white fluff in it and knew he must have made the whip cream for it too. 

“How did I manage to land the best boyfriend ever?” You muse, taking a sip of your coffee he made you that was perfect per usual. He always made sure to memorize just how you like your food and drink, among other things about you that you were sure to come later. 

It wasn’t long before there was a plate being set in front of you with bacon and eggs and amazing looking French toast that was fucking filled with strawberry filling when you cracked it to cut it, you didn’t even know how the fuck he did that. He brought the dishes to the sink, rinsing them between nibbles of his own naked French toast. 

That was how it usually went, he cooked, then insisted on cleaning, after he made you a perfect and beautiful plate of food that was so stunning you hardly could handle eating it, all while he was nibbling the leftovers or the ‘failed portions’ he called them. You still enjoyed yourself, the food was so delicious how could you not. After you’d finished breakfast it was all up to you how you wanted to do your day. 

You were already over the moon he had taken the day off to be with you, so for now in the early 8 am sun you were sat out on the balcony, smushed together on a sun chair. His arms were wrapped securely around your back as you just sat, enjoying each other's silence. It was so nice to have him this way. 

“Do you want your gift now, or later?” He asked gently, continuing to drag his fingers up and down the length of your back. Your head popped up, fuck. The sun made his eyes impossibly blue. You didn’t think eyes could be that blue until you met Carmy. He was stunning, absolutely gorgeous. Like he was carved from stone. He always got all blushy when you told him that, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose doing that sweet pink you loved so much. 

“You got me a present?” You asked, happiness lacing your tone. You did tell him specifically you didn’t want or need anything, that you’d be beyond happy if he could just get the day off of work and spend it with you, and so when he told you he would be able to do that -  you were over the moon. 

“Maybe- I might have made reservations for dinner, too. So, how about that present sweetheart?” He asked and a smile curled on your lips. 

“You’re a sappy bear” you teased and kissed his lips lovingly before getting up, taking his hand with you and he followed leading you to the bedroom. 

“I love spoiling you, what can I say?” He reached under his side of the bed, pulling out a black and white bag from under his side of the bed that made you gasp a bit when you read the font. 

Chanel?

“Carmy- Carmy this is really-“

“You don’t have to wear it, if you hate it. It’s vintage, I called in a few favors with a friend I made in my time in Italy when I was doing some shadow work in the pastry side of things. It’s uh, so it’s the 97’ spring collection” he took out a black dress bag and your heart thumped against your ribs. You hadn’t ever owned something so high end before - let alone vintage. 

“So it’s kinda reflective of the more business chic look? I guess, that’s what she said was popular at the time” he unzipped it and you watched as he peeled back the fabric to reveal a stunning black dress with pearl buttons that were breathtaking. 

“Oh- Carmen” you whispered, stepping forward and touching the soft but thick fabric, it was stiff, nearly perfect. This wasn’t…a thrifted piece “Carmy who’s dress is this? I- I mean… you got it second hand, right?” You look at him, fingers grazing over one of the smooth buttons 

“No- no babe it. Yeah, this is…I guess you can call it one of a kind? They never put it into production not…not enough companies bought the design I guess, it’s been worn by one model one time baby, for like 10 minutes. It’s practically new-“

“That’s not-“ you shook your head “I don’t care if it was thrifted that feels kind of stupid to say, but you mean that I’m the only one to have this dress? Like…like, where did you even get it?” You questioned and he chuckled a bit. 

“I didn’t. I just got to see the photos of it, well- I didn’t have the time to go to the retired fashion house with my friend and look but she FaceTimed and I picked from what they had in your size. You don’t like it? Shit…” he muttered to himself looking back at the dress and you could practically hear the negative gears turning in his head

“I fuckin love it” you inturrupted and took the hanger from him, walking over to the mirror “holy fuck I’m like-“ you giggle “I’m look like I’m straight out of gossip girl- can I try it on? No! No. Later. Later- what time is our reservation?” You turn to him and he smiled at your enthusiasm. 

“It’s at 6- but you have other gifts not just that one baby” he took a box from the bag as well as a smaller box. 

“More-“ your jaw drops, walking over to the bed. You see the ribbon tying the bigger box together and bit your lip to contain your grin at your less than pure ideas. “I think you gave more than just the gift in the box” you undid the big luxurious bow, the tendrils of ribbon cascading all the way to the floor. There was plenty of it to use for activities later. 

“Is that so?” He held you from behind, chin on your shoulder as you flipped open the lid of the box, tugging open the tissue paper and gasping. 

“Are those-“

“More pearls” he held up the bag, by its handle, tugging off the dust bag to reveal sleek crocodile leather and a ‘Chanel’ logo clasp you could have only dreamed of when you were younger. 

“Holy fucking shit” you held it in your hands, nearly feeling like you should be wearing gloves because of how beautiful and precious the bag was. “You remembered that” you said as you thumbed over the pearls on the handle and he huffed a chuckle, patting your hip. 

“I try my best to remember everything I can about you, it’s kinda my job now” he kissed your cheek “so…y’like it?” He questioned. You were in shock, really. You didn’t even want to breach the thought in your mind of how much it might have costed him, over a birthday - just one day, just your day. 

You knew Carmy was fairly frugal, the man didn’t even invest in an extra dresser to store his beloved jeans in, until you moved in, of course. When you moved in - his apartment became much more alive in a literal sense and emotional one. You had put up artwork you’d found on your trips together to thrift stores, he told you that you had an eye for it, and of course he found you the cutest outfits in return for your decorating skills. 

You had found a total of 3 bear ash trays, 5 bear coffee mugs, a Smokey the Bear T shirt (he only wore it to bed since apparently, you teased,  he was too ‘cool guy’ to wear a printed shirt in public), a set of fourteen bowls, cups, and plates that were printed with what you both assumed was the California state bear  because there was absolutely the California state flag on one of the serving platters - but it was… hand painted? You both laughed until your ribs hurt when you found it, because what the hell was it doing in Chicago? Plus, the bears looked so silly. They became your favorite plates, the very ones you had your breakfast on a few hours prior. 

“No - I..I love it. I love it - I can’t believe you remembered my birthstone.” You said gently, looking at the beautiful gold clasp. You opened it, to see the embossed stamp inside ‘made in Italy’ your heart fluttered at the sight. “I love you” you turned around and hugged him tight. He rubbed your back, enveloping you in one of his big warm hugs, his strong arms rubbing over your back and he kissed your neck gently. He hadn’t shaved yet today, so his stubble scratched at your jaw as he kissed down, over your shoulder. 

You still hadn’t changed out of the velvet robe he’d gotten you a month or so ago, he loved that robe. He saw one just like it while you were snuggling In bed one night. It was hot pink, juicy couture. Something one of Natalie’s friends he crushed on would have worn back in 2005 at a sleepover. He had hunted all over the internet for it until he found it, $90 on depop but he bought it anyway since he’d absolutely scoured the sleepwear section at every thrift in Chicago for it, no dice. 

He tugged the shoulder down, kissing over the bare skin gently before resting his nose in the nook of your neck and holding you close. “I love you bear, so much” you manage to say without sounding as tear filled as you were. “You treat me so special” you sniffled a bit, pawing away your tears quickly so he wouldn’t have to see them. He hated seeing you cry. Even when they were happy tears, it made him want to cry - and he hated crying. 

“Open y’last gift- well, second t’last we’re picking up the last on the way t’dinner” he pecked your lips sweetly and urged you to sit on the bed, setting the small box in your palm and kissing your head. “Open baby. I think you’ll look amazing” he said as you untied the box and tugged it open to reveal 2 stunning mother of pearl earrings encased in gold. 

“So- they’re vintage. Like everything else, cause I know you like it more like me y’know - quality and all that shit. But, ok so” he picked one up and showed you “they’re from the 80s, but I thought the gold was super fuckin sick. So I got em- didn’t realize they were clip on- and I called them and the lady said that was the style? Er whatever? And that they’re heavy, so it’ll be more comfortable for-“

You interrupt him with a kiss, taking the box with fumbling hands and putting it to the side, cupping his cheeks. He hummed gently into you, his hands finding yours and giving them a light squeeze. You pulled away after a few moments of intense kissing, mostly tongue and teeth and small moans coming from the both of you. You pant softly, eyes flicking down to his now red kiss bitten lips before looking back up into his ones that you could only describe as resembling his birthstone. 

“I want you to tie me up, and fuck me like you own me, that is what I want for my birthday afternoon” you toss the ribbon from the purse box at his chest and it flutters down into his lap to which he watches it and looks back at you. 

“That seems like something I should get for my birthday and that’s not for 2 months. But okay - can’t tell y’no on your birthday” he untied your robe and tugged it off, brows raising when he realized you didn’t even bother to put on panties after last nights activities. “Fuck-” he mumbled, kissing down your neck and gently nipping at the tender skin. His mouth sent trails of fire down to the pit of your core, mouthing over you in a way that made you whimper beneath him prettily. 

“Need you so bad daddy” you laid back, hair splayed over the pillow beneath you. The way his eyes raked over your naked frame would have made you insecure if it had been any other hookup you had before him. With Carmy it was different, he was observing you, trying to decide which part of you he wanted to worship first - taking his time with you was his favorite thing to do. It was never mean, never teasing, but moreso savoring the moment, he savored every single second he had of you this way like the first time, every time. 

“I gotchu babygirl” he kissed down your chest, tongue swirling and dancing over your sensitive skin, while his warm palm - so warm, so - so warm, so warm that if you were made of sugar you’d be melting into him - well, you might as well should be considering how pliant you were to his touch - was kneading at the plush fat of your thigh as he ravished your top half. “So soft” he muttered into your skin, sucking little bruises into the flesh of your breast. You watched him, mumbling soft praises into each part of you as if he was telling each body part of yours individually how perfect and meant for him they were. How you were so, so beautiful. Flawless, that was a word he often liked to use. It honestly made you blush, but over the months it made you much more confident in yourself, the negative voices you heard in your mind were usually replaced by his real voice of praise. 

“N’smell so good kitten” he nuzzled his nose in the hill of your cleavage, inhaling. “Mmm- how’d I get so lucky t’have you, hmm? Such a pretty girl wanting to spend her special day with me” you smiled at that, your cheeks felt like they were on fire, so did your cunt- clenching and clit twitching at every praise. He knew what It did to you, how wild it drove you. 

“I ask myself how I got so lucky every day, take care of me so good” you took his wrist, moving his hand needily towards your pussy that was basically crying for attention at this point “please take care of me daddy” you said gently, voice wanton and needy. 

“Oh, princess, f’course- already so wet f’me huh?” he ran his fingers through your folds, earning a pretty moan out of you, your head falling back to the pillow in bliss. “Always so responsive t’me, so well behaved” he mused, easily finding your clit and rubbing light circles over the swollen nub. Your hips buck at the contact, a whine peeling from your lips absentmindedly and hand reaching up to roll your nipples between your fingers as he kissed down your sternum, and ribs, and stomach, trailing down to where you were needing him the most.

“S-so wet” you breathe, spreading your thighs wider to make room for him. 

“God- I could spend the rest of my fuckin’ life between these legs” he kissed the same plush of your thigh he’d been pawing at earlier, spreading your nether lips with his fingers and just admiring. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ seen- jesus” he leaned in, his mouth finally making contact with your warmest part, licking a stripe up with the pad of his tongue. The feeling of the pressure as he padded his tongue over your throbbing, sensitive bud, could only be explained as something otherworldly by the way fireworks sprayed behind your closed lids and back arched to the sky. “Taste even better” he mumbled, it was barely audible but you absolutely felt the sensation, as it caused your hips to grind against his face and other hand that wasn’t stimulating your nipples to find the back of his head and essentially ride his face from the bottom.

You felt his tongue lapping at your entrance, before lapping back up and kissing at your clit - basically making out with your pussy, it felt so incredible your brain felt like it could melt out of your ears. “H-holy fuck” you babbled, tugging at his hair in a way that made him groan. He wasn’t exactly a masochist, but he’d told you before he loved it when you left scabs on his back for a week and when you tugged his hair so hard that it hurt the next day it made him hard thinking about it- so you made sure to give him that whenever he made it possible. 

“Yea? Like that daddy?” you breathed, you loved this game you got into. You were there to serve, he was there to praise, the perfect duality for your mixture of kinks. 

“Always so good princess, y’know exactly how t’get me off” he placed a wet, intemerate kiss on your thigh, his chin leaving a print of your glistening creamy arousal and making a click noise at the soaked contact. The action made you clench, which in turn made him smile into your heat, nudging the bridge of his nose against your clit in the way that made your hips thresh beneath him. He chuckled into you, the vibration causing a pathetic whine to leave your lips. “Jumpy bunny, mm?” he mused before continuing

Your jaw fell slack orgasm closely approaching as his middle finger broached your entrance and he sunk in to his palm, curling his finger in a come here motion, as if he was beckoning your orgasm - and It was working. Each brush of the pad of his finger against your sweetest spot made a sweet whimper leave your lips. His lips attach to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against it like there was no tomorrow. Your spine arched to the sky, and his other arm came across your hips, holding you firmly in place. Since you could no longer wriggle away from the heavenly stimulation - you resorted to pathetic whines and cries. 

“I-I’m cumming- ohhh- oh daddy- fu-fuuuuhuuuck- shit- ah!” you squeak, mind going fuzzy and thighs quivering as unbeknownst to you you soaked your shared sheets, little hums and ‘oh’s’ stuttering from your lips. 

“Always takin’ me so good, mm babygirl? Even on your day” you came back to him grabbing your hips and rolling you over, looking over the hill of your shoulder as his knee held your thighs down and he grabbed the at least 4 feet of Chanel printed ribbon tugging your hands behind your back and you clasped your fingers into open-fingered fists due to your manicure Carmy always made sure was no more then a week old, smiling to yourself as you mushed your cheek against the mattress while you pull your knees underneath yourself to support your upper half. “Y’lucky Mike forced me into that year of cubscouts” he muttered as he tied a decently tight reef knot into the ribbon. You giggled a bit considering the memories he told you about that year of his life. His dad was the ‘den dad’ which was his ultimate demise as his dad thought masculinity was the end all be all - so made Carmy be the first kid to kill a rabbit during their hunting exercise. But, the other memories were quite funny of him getting lost in a canoe, his first time grilling a hot dog over a fire and setting it (and a tent) on fire, you both got a good kick whenever he talked about it.

Like Richie, which was unsurprising since he was basically his second older brother - Carmy loved to tell, and retell - and retell - stories about his beloved older brother. You had figured it was because of just how much he missed him. In between getting lost in your thoughts of why you loved your boyfriend so much, you felt a sharp smack on your ass. “Answer when I talk t’you, you know the rules” he said and you whimper at the sting to which he leans down and kisses the offended cheek, thats new.

“S-sorry Daddy- I didn’t listen, please- m’sorry, say it again” you beg, looking back at him while laying on your shoulder, eyes pleading. 

“M’only gonna be nice cause its y’r day. I said, D’you want me t’stretch you out or you want another?” he brought his dominant hand to your clit, middle and forefingers pinching the pulsing nub between and tugging it back and forth with a small click, click your wetness introduced with the motion. 

“No- no- stretch me, I want it hard” you plead, wiggling your ass towards him pathetically “Want bruises daddy” you begged and he bit his lip harshly, the already red abused flesh going white with the action. 

“No - Maybe when we get home, m’not leavin’ y’black and blue before a dinner like this, the food’ll be too good f’you to be whining ‘bout it hurtin’ n’wantin’ t’come home” he spanked you rough enough to leave a stinging mark. You whimpered at the force of it

“Ok- okay- yes sir” you agreed, “N-need your cock. Please- “ you begged. He tugged you up by your wrists, carefully of course, supporting most of your weight by your ribs with his forearm and his hand trailed up your body, finding your neck and gripping just hard enough for that yummy, light feeling to grace your head. Natures high. 

“Yeah kitten? Need it? Say it again, I love hearing you beg” he tightened his hand, a small smirk coming to your lips. He always gave you exactly what you needed. 

“Pl-please, Daddy, Need you so bad- need your cum - please” he brought his lips firmly to yours, swallowing your moans as he pushed inside of you, just his tip causing you to shudder in pleasure and whine into his mouth. He squeezed your throat harder, fucking up into you relentlessly. His heavy balls slapped against the meat of your ass, kissing along your hairline as he went on an expedition to chase your next orgasm. If anything, the man was determined in bed. 

“Yeah? Need me t’fill this pretty pussy up? Yea?” he growled in your ear, smacking down on your left cheek with his other hand as he continued. You fell slack against you, not minding he was holding you by the throat and fucking up in to you like a sex doll, it felt good to be used, by him anyway.

“Fill me- please fill me up daddy- Need it- n-need your cum” you whined out. Your voice didnt even sound like yours anymore, it was horse, fucked out, needy, whorish. “So bad- so bad daddy” you added. He grunted, his forearm replacing his wrist and pulling you back as he buried himself to the hilt. He was grunting, and whining, and moaning in a way that made your cunt squeeze his cock like a vice. You gasp as he started instead of thrusting in and out, pulling his hips up and down - bringing a sensation that was making you dizzy with pleasure.

Blood roared in your ears, your g-spot was being assaulted by his tip in such a way you thought you may die from how good you felt, and his hot, raspy moans and praises about how wet, and warm you felt, along with how your pussy was sucking his cock inside - you could have died right then and it would have been more then a satisfying death, and life considering all the joy you’d run into since you’d started seeing Carmy exclusively. Without warning, you soak the sheets and Carm’s thighs. 

The noises you were making were straight up pornographic, and that wasn't lost on Carm either. The orgasm that washed over you - you swore was nearly drug-like - you’d never done them, but you swore the full body orgasm that washed over your being was something akin to a fentanyl high. It was so good,that when you came to - you were untied, and Carmy was coaxing the straw of your lilac colored Stanley bottle to your lips. “Drink, hmm princess? Y’shakin, and that was a big mess, need y’water” he cooed, gently stroking your hair with his other hand. 

“Hmm?” you sit up, a bit afraid of how much time had been lost, that had never happened before. “What - wh-what happened?” you asked a bit worried. Carmy pulled you back to his chest, kissing your temple. 

“Baby, princess, shhh- shh- here, have some water mm?” he coaxed and brushed your sweat stuck hair from your skin, bringing a relief to your boiling hot neck. You finally obliged and took a big gulp, looking up at him with worried, but trusting eyes. “S’only been 10 minutes, y’were shakin then you closed y’r eyes f’r a bit, s’ok, y’r okay sweetheart” He assured and grabbed your hairtie from your wrist, carefully tying up your hair. 

“Thank you f’takin care of me” you mumbled, resting your cheek on his sweat-sticky chest, as perv-like as it was enjoying the scent of your mixed arousal in the bedroom and rubbing your hand over his chest lovingly.  “S’my job angel, Happy birthday baby girl”

[lazyjellyfish300]

If you’re willing, for a dash of angst-tober

Miguel meets you, for obvious reasons you can’t resist him. He’s sexy, smart, charmingly catty and unfunny in a cute way. No shit you’re in love, you two go on a couple dates but he’s oddly distant and you don’t know why.

He clearly feels the same but he’s holding back. Soon when you get tired of waiting for him. So you start seeing other guys, but they aren’t him. You’re consumed by longing, no other man can compare (how could they).

Miguel finally calls you back after a week. He says he’s sorry for blowing you off, and he’s ready to commit. Saying,

“I love you Gwen Stacey”

…..and years later that decision will come to haunt him hahahahahha hahah HAHAHAHAHAH

Only if you’re a willing and not a coward

😈😈😈

Never back down never whaaaat!!! 😈 Lol anyways here ya go moot, this one's for you. 🖤🖤 All hail your amazing brain for this idea! So beautifully angsty. Happy Angstober! 🎃 @miguel-ohara-wifey

would've been you 🍂

CW: MINORS DNI, X FEM!READER, READER IS MIGUEL'S VERSION OF GWEN STACY(READER IS NOT GWEN, AND obviously NOT ATSV), CANON DIVERGENCE, ANGST, NO HAPPY ENDING, DEATH, BLOOD, BREAKUP, RELATIONSHIP DIFFICULTY, NON GRAPHIC SMUT.

WORDS: 1.7K

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

Crimson. Not red. Not scarlet. Not cherry, but crimson. Crimson in particular. 

Crimson. Beautiful, deep crimson. Alluring, so calmly bewitching. Like the pleasant feeling that attacked every nerve in your body that rendered you with the consistency of a cloud after downing a glass of wine. Getting lost in the eyes of the lover who smiled from across the rim. The softest moan leaving your lips as you sat at the edge of his bed and felt the chill of the tension of the heated room spring goosebumps all over your naked body he was slowly undressing, laying you backwards on those silk sheets, thighs opening as his hands trailed fire and scored themselves to undying memory on the shadow of your skin.  

His eyes...

You stare at Miguel from across you at a restaurant, your lingering gaze he senses without even needing to meet it with his own. He simply brings his hand above the table, giving yours a tender squeeze as you peruse the menu. 

You realized then you might have been in love with him.

Your story was simple, transpiring like most any other couples who meet and wind up luckily in love. The outward beauty he possessed was increasingly obvious, but his deadpan demeanor and unserious quips were what endeared himself even more to you.

And he could only stand there in shocked disbelief. Almost like you were a stray cat that clung to an owner you selected by chance who originally thought himself incapable of returning such warmness. 

The hell you saw in a sad old man like him? He didn't understand it, but he couldn't help but welcome it. Your cheesy grin, the playful banter you met with his sarcastic remarks. 

"What are you making us for dinner?" You'd ask. 

"God, I don't know babe..." Miguel's fingers comb through his tousled locks of dark brown as he looked at the pitiful items in your sparce pantry. 

"Tomato reduction with melted mozzarella and cured meat, warmed in a flaky pastry?" You ask from the open freezer. 

"The shock?" He looks at you, quickly overshadowed by unamusement, however he still holds back a chuckle. "Hot Pockets?" 

"The highest level of cuisine!" You toss the box back onto the shelf,  "The way they come out of the microwave like Satan's taint around the edges yet Antarctica in the middle reallyyy sets them apart." 

"How else?" He smirks. 

"Just the way I like it." You hum as you dial the number for your favorite takeout place, not noticing the ache in his chest as he looked back at you. 

Even Miguel O'Hara wasn't immune to the temptation that came with breaking his own rules. 

The daughter of a police chief. 

Why, oh why, did it have to be you? 

Rules he watched bitterly as his own colleagues suffered countless times before, seemingly unfazed by their agony, almost a little sadistic as they cried for their dead loved ones. It was all a part of the plan. The unpleasant truth. 

You don't become Spider-Man by just putting on a suit. 

Feelings must take a backseat when the security of the multiverse, the entire foundation of the very fabric of millions of innocent lives were at stake. 

And how that foreign pain never quite made itself so painfully understood to him until it just so devastatingly involved the soul he fell so deeply and hopelessly in love with. 

And so, like with many of his dealings before, he left you high and dry. Protective measures he took like muscle memory. 

He would hurt you first before you could ever think about hurting him. 

Even if the heartbreak was by grand design. The fabric of the multiverse knitted permanently with the inevitable tragedy of your demise that could not be undone. 

"We can't.....we can't do this." He said simply before he left you like a ghost in the rain, turning away before you could see the tears that threatened to escape. Cursing his name. 

Run away, numb himself, just bottle it up like he always does when he's confronted with matters of the heart that even toyed with the idea of showing his belly. His vulnerability. His weak spot. Calls unanswered. A number out of service. 

He was never here and you never awakened the latent stirrings in his heart that just so ached for warm connection that you fulfilled at last. 

You cried. You cried a lot. Sobbed for his presence that left you with a hole in your chest. Who would you gripe about work to? Who would hear your ugly laugh besides him and find every part of you that you thought wasn't worth writing home about, to be the endless rumination that haunted his mind?

Nobody but him. Nobody like him anywhere. And so you trudged forward with your weary and flayed heart, trying to act like the gaping hole he left in it didn't make your lungs feel like they were full of water every time you breathed. 

Selfishly, spitefully trying to find a replacement in the arms of strangers. Hell, even some of them you knew. Ben Reilly. Peter B. Parker. His coworkers, his friends, even. 

He ruined your life and trampled your heart so you'd smite him back where it really hurts. That's right. You'd go so low as fucking Ben Reilly and Peter Parker. 

---

"Fuck, baby...did he ever fuck you like this?" 

"No..." You moan loudly, knowing damn well every time you closed your eyes you only saw the persistent layer of the damned red of his eyes.

Peter's cock wasn't as girthy as Miguel's,  but the length was close enough that if he fucked you deeply at just the right angle, it could spur vivid memories of all those nights, all those times Miguel O'Hara made love to you, fucked you senseless. 

You moan and sigh, touching yourself, loving the way this new man below you was putty in your hands while you put on a show. His lustful gaze for a moment you mistake for the feeling of being desired, being loved. For now, you figure, it's enough. 

But Peter couldn't fix it. Neither could Ben. 

Fucking Ben. 

That one really stabbed Miguel in the heart. Sinking so low that you'd give your body to a man who was nothing like him. Somebody he thought was below him. Somebody you knew damn well he disliked, and well, you gave over the most intimate parts of you he so foolishly thought you reserved for himself. 

He felt sick when he overheard him talking about it. How you moaned his name, whined so sweetly for him. How he ate you out. How he bent you over in the very bed you and him shared just weeks prior. 

A dull knife in his heart when he found out you even fell asleep together. 

Did he make your toes curl like he could? Did he make you cum? Did gracing the peaks of ecstasy with Ben feel anything like how it felt when you were with Miguel? 

Did those 7 goddamn months even fucking matter to you at all? 

----

Miguel calls you black out drunk, 

"Ben....fucking Ben...how COULD you?!" 

The shade of bleeding red he saw put the intensity of the natural crimson of his eyes to shame. 

You stayed silent. You got exactly what you wanted. The deadly blow had its intended effect. But it didn't feel as gratifying as you thought it would. It made you feel worse. Even as he was yelling over the phone. 

"How was he then? Is he as good as me? Did you think about me while he was fucking you? Did you even have the heart to take down our pictures together before you invited his slimy ass over?" 

Your chin trembles and Miguel stops when he finally hears you cry. 

And despite everything, he would take you back in a heartbeat. 

"Who's gonna be there to listen to me complain about work every day, huh?" Miguel sobs. "Who... who's gonna remind me to take out my contacts? H-How am I supposed to finish that fucking show we were watching together....?" He pauses, the anger tightening in his belly like a fist, 

"What do you see in him?" 

"Miguel?"

"Answer my fucking question. What do you see in him?!"

"Why do you keep talking about Ben?"

"Because Ben doesn't fucking love you the way I do!" He breaks down and your vision is completely clouded over in tears, hand shaking on the receiver as he finally admits what you so desperately wanted to hear. 

"I love you. Do you still love me?" 

"I n-never stopped loving you, Miggy..." You cry. 

"You still think of me?" 

"All the fucking time. I can't get you out of my head." 

"You want me?" He whispers.

"More than I've ever wanted anyone." 

"I'm coming over. Right now." 

-----

And, just for a moment. Simply loving you made him forget about the inevitable dread of losing you. 

It was a day just like any other day in the fall. When the dead leaves mixed with the rain and the ground was a soaked grey, reprieving the gloomy city from the consistent smog that covered the clouds. A remarkable chill in the air laced with nostalgia and petrichor that could be cured with a sweater, making the hot temperature of a warm beverage so inviting. 

It was wonderful day, and all because you stayed in bed together five minutes longer than you should have. Your coffee mug next to his, eggs on buttered toast, nudging his hip as you ate by the stove. Quiet domesticity with the intimate element of routine that  caused him to distinctly remember thinking:

"I can see this happening every day for the rest of my life." 

And he left. Had he known, had he guessed. He wouldn't have let you leave at all, just stay there safely snuggled with you against his chest. 

----

Crimson. Haunting, beautiful crimson. 

The sea that left your battered body covering the street while Miguel shook with grief. The blood loss was such that it exceeded the time it would take for your spirit to depart your body. The disturbing fact that you were barely holding on was even more painful. 

The devasting fact that you were probably suffering in your final moments and couldn't even see him or speak. He told you all of the things he was sorry for  in final confession, but it only came out as the distant echoings of his fading voice as the slow, delayed compassion of death quietly led you by the hand. 

"I love you....I'm not sorry for that..."He whispers, but the light in your eyes had already gone out.

---

[zaldritzosrose]

Let's Cause A Little Trouble (Pretty Boys x Dane!Reader)

Summary: You hadn't always been one to steadfastly worship your gods - you would pray before battle and such but nothing more. But when you heard tell of the mischief that surrounded Friday 13th, you felt inclined to celebrate a little more. Shenanigans and silliness with Uhtred and Finan was on the cards. But for your lovers...well, Sihtric and Osferth had something else planned to sate your need for mischief.

All inspired by a post and some research into the Norse Goddess Freya and the lore behind Friday 13th...enjoy!

CW: MINORS DNI, she/her pronouns, afab reader, Dane reader, romantic/polyamorous relationship with Osferth and Sihtric (p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), a nice ye olde trip to Paris, threesome, innuendo, profanity, Sihtric being dominant, Osferth being submissive, reader as a switch. Platonic relationship with Uhtred and Finan, Finan is big bro coded, Uhtred is mother hen, mentions of hunting (Blood Month).

Words: 5576

Happy Spooky Season! This is my first fic submission to our Fan Frankentober Event (masterlist will be found here) in collab with a few lovely moots! Head over to @fandomeventcenter for more info!

It was like the gods were on your side, or at least that’s what you kept telling everyone. 

You had always thought the stories of Freya and Friday 13th were nonsense. There was no reason for a number to be considered more sacred, important or whatever else than another. But the more you heard it, the more tempting the idea was. A day where mischief, sensuality and fun were to be had. That’s how it was described. All dedicated to the patron goddess of love and fertility. A goddess you, as a Dane believed in. 

And even more so now, when your two lovers overheard you discussing the day with a few more Danes in Rumcofa. Planning how to celebrate it, now it coincidentally fell during Blood Month. Fate seemed to have planned things perfectly.

Osferth was skeptical. He never belittled your beliefs; your differing religions were rarely a sore point in your relationship with the monk. But he wasn’t entirely convinced on using a sacred day to pursue mischief and depravity.

Sihtric however, was more than eager. Whether it was the heightened emotions he felt during Blood Month or his true belief in Friday 13th, you didn’t know. But you had never quite seen him so determined to honour a sacred day. And he was more than happy to take to convincing Osferth of its merit.

“Think of the fun we could have, Osferth!” Sihtric laughed, trying yet another tactic to bring the young monk to his way of thinking.

Osferth sighed, Sihtric was a relentless man, stubborn at the best of times. He knew well enough that it would only be a matter of time before he agreed to whatever Sihtric said. 

“How is it different from the fun we have now?” Osferth asked, pushing open the door to your house.

Both of them regularly walked in uninvited. It was simply habit that had the three of you living separately, but it also kept the intimate details of your relationship safe from more close-minded observers.

Sihtric opened his mouth to speak when you came hurrying out of your bedroom, piles of cloth in your arms. Neither of them questioned it, preparations for Blood Month were underway and everyone had been roped in to help.

“Are you still not convinced, Osferth?” you asked, placing the cloth into an already half full basket on your table.

Osferth looked between the two of you. Sihtric had a smug smile on his face while you busied yourself with the rest of your supplies for the hunt.

“I just…is this really important to you, my love?” Osferth asked, and the look you gave him at the endearment, the gentle blush on your cheeks.

You put down the rest of the cloth in your hands, turning to take his hands in yours.

“I suppose it is. I have never wanted to honour a sacred day before…but now I have you both.”

Sihtric’s smile only widened. It was like he could see Osferth’s mind changing. If there was anyone who could convince him, it was you.

“And if that sacred day just so happens to mean we can indulge ourselves more than usual, then where is the problem?” Sihtric took a few steps closer to Osferth, his hands coming to rest on the monk’s shoulders.

Between the two of you, Osferth’s resolve was slowly waning. Your fingers circled his palms while Sihtric’s larger hands travelled down and gripped his biceps tight.

With a soft sigh, Osferth nodded. What harm would a little mischief and carnality do?

The hunt was planned. Uhtred and Finan, however, had a little extra planning that they needed your help with. The hunt during Blood Month was a huge event, the entire town would happily get involved.

But this hunt in particular seemed more important than usual. Aethelstan, a royal son being raised in safety by Uhtred and the boys, was about to participate for the first time.

It wasn’t that Uhtred had never wanted him to participate, he just wanted him to truly be ready. But that didn’t mean Aethelstan’s first hunt was going to be an easy ride.

Finan had got wind of your interest in the mischief that came with Friday 13th and had convinced Uhtred to plan the hunt for that very day. What better way to test Aethelstan’s mettle than with a few well-placed obstacles?

Uhtred had agreed to the plan, on the promise that the pranks were to be harmless fun and nothing more. All that was left was to put said plan into action.

The boys waited for you in the woods outside Rumcofa. Sihtric had been put in charge of preparing Aethelstan to hunt, Osferth was in charge of the post hunt feast. 

With your laden basket tucked under your arm, your hurried steps took you out to meet your friends. 

“So, do you have everything?” Finan called, taking the basket from your hands.

Finan had given you a list of what they needed, and you had provided what you could. Cloth of all different colours and textures, apparently to make what would look like people. Something to throw off Aethelstan as he hunted.

Uhtred was just off in the distance, digging holes to cover with leaves and sticks. Not for Aethelstan, you weren’t all that cruel. These were for the boar he would be tasked to hunt. Traps to make sure he at least had a chance of succeeding.

“Do you really think he’s going to believe these are people?” 

Your voice held an air of disbelief, but Finan chose to ignore it. He began wrapping the cloth around sacks of what you guessed was hay. Bulked out enough to look like a torso from afar.

“The adrenaline of the hunt will get him; his mind will be in overdrive.” Finan explained, and you had to admit it made sense.

Hunts weren’t that different from battles, you wagered. Adrenaline, the need for survival coursing through your veins, making you focus on your goal not the details around you.

“We need to scare him a little, hmm? Spook him?��� you asked, taking a few rolls of cloth from the basket.

You had seen it before, hanging sheets from trees to spook kids during Samhain – harmless of course. There was no reason why it wouldn’t work now either.

You grabbed some rope from Uhtred’s pile, despite his protests and climbed up a nearby tree. It was makeshift, but as you hung the heavy cloth from a branch, it hung just loose enough to look like a cloaked body.

Finan watched, slowly cottoning on to what you meant by ‘spook him’. The ideas were simple, but that was the point. 

The whole of Rumcofa was out of their homes and ale flowed between man and woman alike. The cheers and laughter, you wagered, could probably be heard in the next two towns over.

But that was Blood Month. Anything short of mayhem would be a disappointment.

Tables were laden with food, all brought out into a makeshift town square. Children were running around, chasing each other and pretending to participate in the hunt that would soon come.

You were stood between Sihtric and Osferth. Your relationship was more of a known secret. No one asked, no one talked about it. The three of you simply existed. You were all happy, and that was all that mattered.

Osferth leaned against a nearby house, ale in hand. His free arm was wrapped around your waist, while Sihtric’s was wrapped around your shoulders. There was nowhere else you’d rather be, tucked between your warrior and your monk.

“Is our little Valkyrie ready for the hunt?” Sihtric whispered, leaning down and nudging your cheek with his nose.

Osferth chuckled, Sihtric’s nickname for you was a perfect description. You were fierce yet gentle, a formidable warrior and a beautiful woman.

“As ready as I could be. Not worried I’ll show you up, are you, boys?”

Now they both laughed, shaking their heads.

They knew you were only teasing, of course, but you enjoyed reminding them of your capabilities. You were a warrior long before you joined Uhtred’s service. Your relationship with Osferth had begun when he’d begged you to show him how to hold a sword.

Osferth had assumed the two of you were together, despite your denials. He had remained your friend at first, kept his distance when he’d seen how Sihtric looked at you. And Sihtric’s denials, or his trips to the different brothels wherever the group travelled. Months passed and the three of you were the closest of friends.

Until one night after a battle, a few months ago now. Osferth had been looking for Sihtric – though he couldn’t remember why now – and he could hear the faint sounds of both your voices. But the closer he got, the less it sounded like just a conversation.

It might have been the ale in his veins, but Osferth had found himself at the doorway. Motionless, watching the two of you. You laid out on a bed and Sihtric knelt between your thighs. He knew he should have walked away, but he hadn’t. Eyes locked on the way Sihtric’s hands gripped your body, your hands in his hair. 

Not a single thought had entered his mind until you’d called out to him.

“Are you going to watch or join in, baby monk?” 

Osferth had almost choked on his breath, not a sound leaving him. You wanted him to join in? When he didn’t answer, Sihtric had chimed in.

“Come on, Osferth…I don’t mind sharing.”

Sihtric had looked at him over the top of your thigh. There was a look in his eyes that Osferth had only seen when the Dane had looked at a woman. It hadn’t taken much more for Osferth to walk into the room.

Your hand reached out for him immediately and Sihtric had buried himself back down between your thighs. Osferth had let you pull him down on to the bed, your lips immediately claiming his and letting him swallow your moans.

Clothes were shed quickly, Osferth’s hands finding purchase wherever he could reach as Sihtric brought you closer and closer to release. Osferth had let you untie his trousers, your hand sliding beneath the fabric and wrapping around his already hardening length.

Somewhere in that time, one of Sihtric’s hands had also found its way beneath Osferth’s robe. Your lips enough to distract the monk from the quick path it made, higher and higher.

The mix of your soft skin beneath his palms, your lips making their way down his neck and Sihtric’s rougher hand joining yours beneath his clothes. Wrapping themselves around his length, a sensation he would never forget.

Osferth couldn’t have been sure who was touching him and where. But the sounds of your moans filled his ears and there was little thought left in his mind other than you and Sihtric.

That memory was fresh in Osferth’s mind now. Especially with your and Sihtric’s promise earlier of a little post-hunt mischief and pleasure. The relationship between the three of you was comfortable now, settled into your roles. As was his nature, Sihtric was a little more dominating than Osferth – he was more confident than the young monk romantically and Osferth was more than happy to let the Dane take charge when necessary.

You were comfortably in the middle, all dependant on what your boys needed when you were together. After a battle? None of you really took charge, you just let instinct take you. After a night of drinking, your boys were more than happy to spoil you as they would tell you, you deserved.

Tonight, however, would be an entire mystery.

The crowd cheered again as Aethelstan was led towards the woods, you and the boys following closely behind. Uhtred began to explain the rules, ignoring how you and Finan would snicker as if forgetting your plan for mischief was supposed to be a secret.

The boar squealed in the distance, held by a fellow warrior with a thick stretch of rope.

To his credit, Aethelstan looked nervous. You viewed the younger Saxon as something of a brother, doing what you could to look out for him.

Except for today, of course. But was a hunt without a little danger?

“Are you ready, Aethelstan?” you smiled, squeezing his shoulder as he stared at the boar in front of him.

He said nothing and you couldn’t help but laugh at the way his eyes got wider the longer he stared. Part of you wanted to boost his morale, but Finan was quicker than you to speak up.

“Oh, it’s just a wee boar! As long as you don’t get on the sharp end of those tusks…you’ll be fine!” Finan smacked Aethelstan on the back and you swore he went grey.

“That thing is small!?” Aethelstan choked out and you couldn’t hide your laugh.

“You are a man, aren’t you, Aethelstan? You did promise Uhtred you were ready…”

You were already walking off before Aethelstan could respond, hopping onto Finan’s back as the two of you began to imitate the boar. Screeching and squealing, your hands mimicking the tusks as Finan ran around.

The two of you kept running, earning exasperated looks from your friends. But today was all about mischief, and if there was anyone who fuelled the chaos within…it was Finan.

The Irishman was like an older brother who preferred to indulge your bad decisions that advise you against them. Which made him a perfect partner in crime for this most chaotic of days.

The boar had been released and as the squealing began to fade into the shadow of the forest, Uhtred signalled for the hunt to begin. Aethelstan was pushed to the front, instructed to listen out for particular sounds. The crackling of twigs, broken under the panicked feet of a boar, for example.

Uhtred and Sihtric entered behind him first, splitting up and heading for the outskirts of the forest. Finan, Osferth and you were next. Being a little nimbler than the boys, you took to clambering into the trees and over moss covered rocks. You and Finan had already devised a little extra plan of your own – outside of the agreed mischief with Uhtred. Your lord had wanted you both to go easy, temper down your wild natures.

But you and Finan had other plans.

In the distance, as you climbed onto a thick branch of a nearby tree, you could hear Uhtred and Sihtric hollering out to Aethelstan. Goading him, distracting him from the sounds of the boar he hunted.

Osferth was there to follow Aethelstan, keeping an eye on his nephew and making sure nothing actually harmful happened to him.

You could see Finan in the distance, ducked behind a larger rock as you made your way over to the first cloth and rope ghoul. All you needed to do was wait for Aethelstan to pass your way.

Finan joined in with the shouting, calling out to get the young Prince to run in your direction. And when you saw the orange glow of his torch in the distance. Just a few more steps…

Your fingers were itching in anticipation. The plan was simple and yet it had rarely failed you in the past.

Another shout from Finan had Aethelstan coming directly into your path.

“Come on…” you whispered and when he was a few feet from your branch when you loosened the knots.

There was just enough darkness to have the swinging sheet force a shriek of fear from Aethelstan. His torch thrown from his grasp in his surprise. His weapon swinging wildly in front of him.

You stifled a laugh, taking careful steps down the branch and away and onto the next distraction.

You could still hear the shouts of your friends, the screeches of the boar. But you could no longer see the light of their torches. You had hopped down from your perch on a smaller tree and looked around.

After a few scans of your surroundings, you realised you couldn’t recognise this bit of the forest.

“Shit…” you mumbled, straining your ears to hear which direction the hunting party was in.

You could only hope one of the boys would notice you absence.

Sihtric and Osferth had met in the middle, laughing every time they saw what could only be one of your and Finan’s supposed distractions.

“It’s good Finan’s finally found someone willing to indulge his…carry-ons,” Osferth chuckled, passing another of the cloth ghouls as they saw Aethelstan run past them.

“Aye, they’re as bad as each other…” Sihtric mused, pushing the sheet out of the way as they walked on.

The two walked a little further in, and soon realised they hadn’t seen you for a while. They soon passed Uhtred, who simply shrugged and gave them the direction he’d last glimpsed you in.

Both of them ran towards his inclination and when you were nowhere to be found, a small flicker of panic set in. You weren’t incapable of looking after yourself, but it didn’t stop the desperate need to find you.

As was his way, Sihtric took the lead.

“I will go look for her, you stay closer to Aethelstan and the others, so I know where to run back to.”

Osferth nodded, gripping Sihtric by the arm. Sihtric could see the panic in Osferth’s eyes and decided to give him a distraction of his own.

“Don’t worry, sweet boy, I’ll have our pretty girl back soon and you can have first look at our prize…” Sihtric’s fingers stroked at his jaw, tracing the sharp line before tugging him forward for a hurried kiss.

Osferth couldn’t say a word as Sihtric ran deeper into the forest, the hand that had been around Sihtric’s arm hung in the air. He watched for a few moments as his lover’s form disappeared into shadow before turning and heading back to the group.

All he had to do now, was wait.

You were just wandering now, the sounds of the hunt not seeming to get any closer. The woods outside Rumcofa weren’t dense in anyway, but they were well spread out. And now, every tree seemed to look the same.

With a sigh, you began to resign yourself to not getting back to Rumcofa before nightfall.

You sat down on the ground, leaning your back against a rock. Waiting.

And then you heard him. You’d know that voice anywhere.

Sihtric.

Calling out your name, coming closer and closer.

“Sihtric!” you called back, jumping up on the rock so he could see you.

The Dane broke into a run, crossing the distance between you in no time, a wide smile on his face. But when he reached you, you could see the slightest hint of something behind his eyes.

Like a predator who had caught its prey.

“They you are, pretty girl, you had us worried.” Sihtric smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you down to the ground with ease.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, toes just brushing the floor as he pressed his lips to yours.

“How could I be lost with a man like you looking for me?”

You could have sworn you heard Sihtric growl a little under his breath, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Someone has to keep you and our sweet monk in line, hmm? Keep you safe, protected and pleasured?”

That look in his eyes was back, and before you could say anything you felt yourself being lifted. Before you knew it, you could only see the leather of Sihtric’s armour covered back.

“What are you…?”

But you could barely speak as Sihtric span and took off running in the direction he had come from.

The predator surely had his prey, a successful hunt of his own.

Osferth couldn’t stay in the forest much longer, Finan, Uhtred and even Aethelstan were urging him to head back. He knew he should have dissuaded you from going off on your own. Or at least, he should have put a bit more effort into convincing you against it.

But he also knew Sihtric would bring you back.

He sat outside your house, the closest to the forest edge. Feet nervously tapping against the wood of the chair they rested on. And then he saw you both in the distance. You slung over Sihtric’s shoulder as he strode back into town.

“Osferth! I told you I would bring her back!”

Osferth wiped a hand over his face, as though trying to wipe the shock away. He walked down to meet Sihtric, a laugh leaving his lips as Sihtric’s hand landed with a smack to your backside.

“Better than any boar, I’d wager?” Sihtric continued and Osferth started to see where the Dane was going with this.

“Better and then some, and do I still get first look at our prize?” Osferth asked, walking around Sihtric and leaning to meet your face.

You narrowed your eyes a little, staring into Osferth’s bright blue orbs as he pretended to inspect you. He clicked his tongue, walking back around to stand in front of Sihtric, pressing a quick kiss to the Dane’s lips.

“You always know how to spoil me, Sihtric.” Osferth teased and he could see you wriggle a little in protest.

Sihtric laughed, holding you tighter as he walked ahead of Osferth and into your home. He didn’t put you down until he reached your bedroom. Unceremoniously throwing you onto your bed.

Your two boys stood before you, watching as you pushed your hair from your face.

“Alright, what is going on with you both?” you asked, moving to stand but letting out a breath of shock when Osferth gently pushed you back down.

“You had us worried, pretty girl.” Sihtric mused, stripping himself of his armour and placing it in a pile by your bed.

Osferth was already stripped on his armour pieces, left in only his lighter monk’s robe. He kept quiet, letting Sihtric take the lead until he found the right words.

Sihtric walked to stand behind Osferth. His hands starting on the monk’s shoulders before trailing a slow path down his chest before settling around his waist.

“You had our sweet boy especially worried; he was absolutely beside himself, weren’t you Osferth?”

Sihtric’s voice was smooth, sending a shiver down both of your spines. This was a side of Sihtric you both craved. The dominance, the primal edge to everything he did. And when Osferth didn’t answer, Sihtric gave his waist a squeeze.

“Use your words, Osferth. Tell our girl how worried you were…”

Osferth almost melted into Sihtric, his back pressed against his muscled chest. Sihtric’s face rested in the crook of his shoulder. His lips brushing against his ear as he spoke.”

“So worried, my love…” Osferth whispered, trying his best to ignore Sihtric’s fingers tracing patterns over his clothed stomach.

Sihtric gave him a gentle push, watching as you immediately let you legs spread to accommodate Osferth standing between them.

“What do you say you make it up to him, my darling?” he asked, keeping a hand on Osferth’s back while the other began to untie his robe.

Your body worked on instinct. Hands joining Sihtric’s to finish untying Osferth’s clothes. It wasn’t long before your monk was left in just a light shirt and his breeches. Your hands immediately dipped under his shirt, relishing at the way his eyes fluttered closed at the warmth of your palms on his skin.

Sihtric made quick work of removing the offending shirt, freeing Osferth’s lean body to your wandering hands.

“I am sorry for making you so worried, Osferth…I should have listened when you warned me,” you purred, leaning in a pressing a kiss to his stomach.

Your monk was usually like putty in your hands. Letting you and Sihtric take most of the control.

Maybe it was the hunt. Maybe the stories of Friday 13th held truth…but you saw a change in Osferth’s expression. His eyes darker, his shoulders squaring.

His hand came up, cupping your jaw and tilting your head to look at him.

“Yes, you should have. We were both worried about you, pretty girl…”

Oh, that name on Osferth’s tongue had a wave of desire shooting straight to your core. Hearing it from Sihtric was like pure, carnal lust. But from Osferth, it was sinful.

Sihtric smirked over the monk’s shoulder, looking down at your with eyes almost entirely eclipsed black with lust.

“Show her, Osferth, my sweet, sweet boy. Show her what you want in apology…”

This was where Sihtric shone. Commanding Osferth and you until the three of you were overcome with lust and desire.

Osferth was on you before you could speak. Long body pinning your to the fur covered bed below, hungry lips crashing to yours. Your hands instantly grasped at his shoulders, finding anything you could cling on to.

Sihtric made quick work of the rest of his own clothes, tossing behind him before joining you both on the bed. One of your hands immediately reached out for him, tugging him closer as his lips latched on to your neck and shoulders.

His hand trailed down Osferth’s back, pressing the monk’s body against yours and earning him a symphony of groans in return. His hand kept firm, setting a slow rhythm for Osferth’s hips as he began to grind against your core.

Your legs wrapped around Osferth’s waist, two sets of lips now devouring either side of your neck.

“Yes…” you sighed out as Osferth’s hips began to move faster and faster.

You could feel your release creeping up on you already, but you didn’t want to peak just yet. With a tight grip on Osferth’s shoulders, you pushed him back.

“Can I ride you, sweet boy? I know you like that?” you asked, feeling Sihtric smirk against your neck.

When it came to watching, this was Sihtric’s favourite position to see you and Osferth in. Watching your bodies move in synchronisation was almost always enough to have the Dane coming there and then.

Osferth responded by scrambling to lie down, the glimmer of dominance short lived in his need to have you.

The three of you shifted into position. Osferth laid out on his back, his cock hard and heavy in his breeches. You made quick work of the material, tugging it down a long with his boots. Your clothes followed, though you weren’t sure who took what item off.

But now you were a tangle of bare flesh. Osferth beneath you with Sihtric settled behind you.

“Ride him well, pretty girl, I think he’s earned it…” Sihtric growled into your ear, hands kneading at the swell of your breasts.

Your hips rolled slow at first, not enough to let Osferth’s cock slip inside. The monk’s hands were on your waist, helping you drag your slick cunt up and down his length.

“Oh, so good, my love,” Osferth side, his head already tilted and pressed into the pillow behind him. Eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

He was always so responsive, you and Sihtric having spent the months of your relationship teaching him every kind of pleasure you knew. And he was more than willing to experience everything you two gave him.

“Gods, I love you both like this. You’re both so beautiful like this...” Sihtric mumbled, pressing his chest to your back as his lips latched on to your neck.

His hands continued to knead at your breasts, tweaking your nipples between his fingers. His own cock pressed hard against the curve of your behind, already leaking in anticipation of getting to feel you around him.

But for now, it was Osferth’s turn. Half of Sihtric’s pleasure came from watching the two of you find your own.

You could feel Osferth twitching beneath you, sticky ropes already leaking on to his skin. The room was thick with the heat and sweat of your shared passions, slick bodies sliding easily against each other.

One of your hands rested on Osferth’s stomach while the other tangled into Sihtric’s hair, tugging hard as pleasure crept up your spine.

“Oh..fuck…gods…” you moaned out as what you knew wouldn’t be your last orgasm of the night crashed over you.

Heavy pants from Osferth began to tell you he was close, but Sihtric was quick to stop your movements. There was another pleasure he knew, despite Osferth keeping shy about it, that the monk enjoyed just as much as a ride.

Your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock.

Strong arms tugged you back, the aftershocks of your release still making your muscles quiver.

“Do you want her mouth, Os? Spill all over that tongue?” Sihtric grunted, instinctively letting a hand wander down to his own cock for a few quick tugs.

Osferth nodded, “Yes, please, yes…”

Sihtric wrapped a hand around the back of the monk’s neck, leaning over you and pulling him in for a hungry kiss. It was a clash of teeth and tongues, and you could only wriggle out from between them to watch.

It was the best thing about your relationship, you wagered. No one ever went untouched, unloved or unsatisfied. And there was little you found more arousing than your two boys tangled in their own passions.

“My boys,” you whispered, teeth chewing at your lip.

Sihtric’s free hand found Osferth’s hot length, wrapping around him loosely and giving him a few gentle strokes. It didn’t take much to have the monk panting into his mouth, right at the edge when Sihtric stopped.

“Kneel in front of her, sweet boy,” Sihtric ordered, tugging Osferth’s lip between his teeth as he pulled away.

Osferth was quick to comply, chest heaving as you planted yourself on all fours in front of him. His hand threaded into your hair, a long, drawn-out groan leaving his throat as your mouth engulfed him inch by inch until you could take no more.

Sihtric’s hands dipped between your thighs, spreading your juices over your skin while his other hand brought the swollen head of his cock between your folds from behind. Your body arched perfectly between them as you hungrily sucked at Osferth’s cock.

“Oh, sweet girl, taking him so well…are you ready for more?” Sihtric’s hand ran down your back, forcing it to arch just a little more, presenting yourself for the taking.

You mumbled around Osferth’s cock, sending the most delicious of vibrations down his body. His hand tightened in your hair as Sihtric pushed between your folds, splitting your slick cunt open with a growl. In response, your body slid forward, taking more of Osferth’s cock down your throat.

The two men slowly found a rhythm, matching the thrusts of the other until they were working in a carnal tandem.

Osferth could feel the sparks of arousal through his manhood, twitching against your tongue. He locked eyes with Sihtric, knowing the Dane would want them to come together.

“Just a little longer, Osferth, I know you can do it, sweet boy.”

The monk groaned low but nodded. His hand reaching out for Sihtric and the Dane complied, pulling Osferth closer and locking their lips in a messy kiss.

Soon, you were clenching around Sihtric’s cock. Your second release making your eyes roll back into your head from the overstimulation.

Sihtric and Osferth stayed locked in their kiss, tongues fighting for dominance while Sihtric’s hand grasped at the flesh of your ass.

Your rhythm over Osferth’s length became sloppy, but you didn’t let his cock slip from your mouth. Your tongue licked a stripe up the vein underneath as you came, moaning their names in a tangled mess. Over and over again like a prayer.

“Good girl, and such a good boy…” Sihtric praised, pressing his forehead against Osferth’s as he felt the beginnings of his own release.

“Come Osferth, come for us…” Sihtric’s voice was low, rough, thick with barely restrained desire.

His thrusts were sloppy as he saw Osferth speed up. All rhythm was lost but none of you cared. All that mattered was pleasure and release. Osferth groaned out your names, slamming his hips into your waiting mouth one last time. Painting the flesh of your throat with his seed and sighing your name when he saw you swallow.

Sihtric followed not long after, the beginnings of his release hitting him like a hammer. He was just fast enough as he pulled out, spilling the rest of his pearly seed on to the dip between your back and backside.

“Oh gods…” he groaned, tugging himself until he was sure he was entirely spent.

Osferth had already collapsed on to the bed, the poor monk always crashed after your couplings. You were lay flat across Osferth, head buried in his sweaty chest as he stroked your hair.

Sihtric found a rag, cleaning your back before joining you both in a tangled embrace of sweaty limbs.

The room hung heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, but none of you would have it any other way. The silence was comfortable, until you let out a soft giggle.

“So, shall we celebrate Friday 13th every time?”

Your two lovers laughed along with you, sleep creeping up on the three of you. But you weren’t wrong.

Friday 13th might just become a new tradition for you.

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[unma]

I'm not going to be able to write my typical long rambles for a bit (need to catch up on important work), but here's a short list of things I wanna talk about with the latest canto.

Spoilers, of course.

The entire Canto taking place after the ending of Don Quixote (the first Don, I will not call him the Actual Don because our Don is as much Don Quixote as he is) is not something I expected, but makes so much sense and made for a wonderful story. There are themes of identity, struggling to live under a broken system and GOD THE FAMILIAL TIES. THE FIGHT AGAINST THE TWO MIDBOSSES + THE PRIEST HAD SUCH MAGNIFICENT STORY BUILD UP. AND THE PRIEST'S ENTIRE MOVESET. UGGGH I WANNA TALK ABOTU IT

Hey. Outis. What did you mean by that. We all know what I'm talking about, right? This is the first time I know of that she's actually given even a smidge of info about herself somewhat directly. Somewhat. Everything else is just in how she knows things and acts. Here she is asking a very specific question and god, I need to know more about her now.

Good job Sinclair. And everyone else. But good job Sinclair.

Vergilius with Sanson's face/mask is cursed.

I continue to feel so so bad for the Bloodfiends. They did the best they could in a world that gave them only two horrible options. I couldn't help but compare La Manchaland to the Tokyo Ghoul:RE ending, because the hemobars reminded me of the artificial meat, except in TG:RE it worked and here, well. We saw how that went. I think it's a great idea to start with the after of their solution; this isn't a situation with a possible solution, they tried that and failed. Who knows if there is one that works? Does it matter now that they're all dead?

I'm going to be very weird about Camille once this is all said and done, but I do want to note that the pretty boy being turned into a flower and having a name very clearly gotten from Carmilla the flower (and maybe the book? Haven't read it yet so idk if he's taken from there) is very cheeky. I still wish I could've besting him up myself. This isn't me critiquing the writing, this is me being weird.

The QTE in the ending cutscene of the boss fight was cool and really added to the feeling of fighting against and overcoming a clearly superior foe.

I wanna hug Don Quixote the First. He's such a ray of sunshine and deserved better. Even if he was somewhat delusional, at least he genuinely cared for his family.

What happened to Hong Lu's sister? Did she just vanish? I didn't notice until later on, so I'll probably need to go back and check myself.

Bari is the Librarian of Death (edit: Nameless Bookhunter, thanks for the correction AE)? Idfk and idc for now. If Bari ends up showing up again or a moot of mine decides they wanna talk about it, maybe I'll look into it.

The familial themes here are most certainly also going to be related to Hong Lu's story, which once more is a reason I really should get to reading all the books for this game.

Ryoshu accepting death from the possibility of fighting Don Qui the second was really funny.

The abno fights here are really good, and I love how Limbus is making unbreakable coins the standard from now on. Makes it so you can't just blaze through fights taking no damage, and these battles genuinely feel difficult. That's good. Their designs and mechanics are also pretty easy to understand and match with their ego gifts pretty well. God I wish we had more Rupture ids that could stack as much count as the Lasso abno.

Sancho fight was cool as hell. The clashable 10 speed skill was so good and made it feel like a massive improvement on the Cassetti fight. So good. On use coin power did mess me up a little given it doesn't show up in the clash numbers, but that was on me for not reading tbh.

Fun fact: final boss can be Meatlantern soloed really easily. So easy in fact that that's how I cleared it. Doing it with a full team didn't end well for me. The solo's also really consistent, which is nice.

Mili song is really good. As usual. I need to go listen to it again. I need an in-game mix. I need it. The childishness of Sancho's side of the tune compared with the seriousness of first Don's side is lovely.

Also. Please, in the final clash where you use Don's base ego. I hope you looked at the name of the ego and the name of Don the First's attack. Please. It's such a good detail. And it's so much better when you remember that Sancho was always the one making weapons for Don. He calls Sancho's lances much more graceful than his. It's so lovely. You can tell these two genuinely love each other. It's so good.

Also the fact that basically every fixer we went in with got wiped out by weakened Bloodfiends really shows just how powerful these bloodfiends are. Camille had to resort to using ego gear to survive. Sheesh.

That'll be all for now. Expect a long ramble on any of these points when I'm more free, aka never.

[ihatedtoadmit]

Overflowing love

pairing: Bang Chan x gn! reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

word count: ~550

summary: You have a quiet moment with your busy boyfriend, using it to silently admire him.

a/n: This man is rotting my brain and I am partly blaming one of my moots.

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“What’re you doin’?” - he asked, the lilt of a giggle already grabbing onto the edge of his words. “Admiring you.” - I simply answered, not an ounce of embarrassment leaking from my voice.

He simply sighed, but I knew it was one filled with adoration, one that he always let out whenever his younger siblings or the members did something he secretly loved. And so, I only let my fingers wander freely over the expanse of tan skin, the digits regularly stopping at his dimples, as if that was their home to return to.

His eyes watched my face, that light burning inside, the one I loved seeing on him oh so much. I didn’t hesitate to caress the expanse of soft skin between his lips and eyes, tracing the lines under those wonderful crescents with impossible tenderness. I stopped my administrations for a few seconds, just staring into those warm nebulas, how an infinite number of stars seemed to twinkle in there, dancing in delight. I nearly melted on the spot, had Chan not had a steady hold on the sides of my hip.

“And what can I thank the occasion for, hm?” - he murmured, chest rumbling softly underneath me. “Thank yourself, for existing.” - the answer left my lips in a quiet whisper, his form tensing underneath me in return.

I could feel how his lungs stuttered, how the air stilled inside him as if it became solid matter, rendering him motionless as he just stared up at me with those wide eyes of his. The smile on my lips only grew wider as the skin underneath my fingertips grew warmer, his ears matching that exact same shade easily.

He broke out of my hold, shyness painting a new expression onto his face, eyes now too flustered to meet mine. I chased after him nevertheless, thumbs already caressing those flushed cheeks once more.

“Why’d you like to fluster me randomly so much?” - his question was so quiet I nearly didn’t even hear him.

I chuckled, gently pushing his face to meet mine.

“I don’t, I only state facts, my love.” - my answer was simple and to the point, expression only softening the more I watched this man of my dreams.

His own face started mimicking mine, lines melting with each passing second, a chuckle leaving him and etching itself into my brain, never to leave the vital organ.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, I wonder.” “Exist, my love.”

He chuckled once more, pressing a chaste kiss onto my cheeks, the action tender and speaking of thousands of words, all singing his love for me. And in turn, I poured my soul into each tiny movement that left my body, the kiss I oh so gently pressed onto his forehead, my fingers tangling into those untameable, chocolate curls. The small repositioning of my body, desperately wishing to perfectly mould into him and soak up his warmth, filling my entire being with a content feeling.

Chan only tightened his hold on me, only letting out a satisfied sigh once we were basically fused together, perfectly content with just laying in each other’s presence.

We both fell asleep like that, softly snoring with matching heartbeats, fingers laced together in an unbreakable hold.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Snapped

A/N: Ok, so, villain! Nanami isn't my cup of tea. For me, he's my comfort character, the one I go to at the end of the day for hugs and forehead kisses. However, as one of my moots said, with all the bullshit happening in my life at the moment regarding my job, Nanami would be so pissed off for me. Is this fic indulgent? Yes. And I don't care. However, it is my first time writing villain! Nanami and I'm not sure how well it's been portrayed. Pairing: Villain! Salaryman! Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader Warnings: MDNI, violence, gore, mentions of murder, death, general corporate shittiness Summary: In the midst of a layoff, your boyfriend Nanami snaps at his own office, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. Word Count: 2.7k

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Nanami’s jaw is tense, mouth set in a grim line as he exits his meeting. Another long day of listening to how the company’s profits didn’t meet the quarterly requirements, about how their stock value was plummeting, and how their finance experts must work harder at pushing their client portfolios into buying rather than selling.

He pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, sighing, wondering how to combat this feeling churning in his stomach. The sense of repulsion, knowing what he did for a living, this constant hook behind his navel, yanking, pulling, warning him that all he was doing was making rich people richer, enabling a gluttonous corporate’s insatiable appetite for more money. 

He checks his schedule, a slight crack of relief filling his being when he sees it’s lunchtime and he exits his office, slumping against the elevator wall, running his hands through his hair. The sun shines brightly outside, indifferent to the gathering gloom inside him as he walks to a restaurant nearby. He gives his order and walks back to work, sandwich in hand when his phone rings.

Your name flashes on the screen and he answers quickly, hoping a quick chat with you would pull him out of this foul mood…only to be hit with your weepy voice, making his eyes widen.

“Ken. I-I.” Your breath hitches and he quickly tries to calm you down. 

“Take a breath darling. Are you ok?” 

Your voice shudders as you continue. “I walked in today. Completely normal. Ready to take on the day. Except when I got to my office, our HR representative was waiting for me near the door. She led me into one of the huge conference rooms, the ones they save for guest visits and symposiums. There were like, at least 100 other people in there with me.” You pause to take a breath, tears leaking from your eyes, and continue.

“We were logged into a Zoom call and told by our CEO that the company’s profits were not high enough to keep up with their budgets. They went on and on about all these different numbers but in the end, none of it mattered. They told us they had no choice but to do a layoff.”

Nanami’s heart tightens in his chest. Trying not to let his feelings seep through, he asks, “And then what happened?”

You sniffle and carry on with your tale. “The HR representative told us to open our work laptops and that we would receive an email officially notifying us of the termination. It came not less than a minute after we all logged in. I have two weeks left. They’ll pay me out for that time whether I go in or not. And after that…” Your voice trails off, tears choking your throat.

Nanami listens patiently, but there’s a quiet, simmering rage underneath. “They let you go?”

“Yes. Me and my whole team.”

“Even though you guys delivered on a project that brought in almost 2.5 million dollars in profit?”

“That’s what I thought too. HR insists it was arbitrary and that they were only retaining teams that they thought would maximize their profits. I guess 2.5 million dollars isn’t considered a profit.” You laugh, the noise filled with bitter irony. “I thought I was more valuable than that. 4 years at this place, Kento, 4 years! I could understand if I wasn’t meeting deadlines or refusing to be a team player-”

“You went in on Sunday for the last 6 months and no one said a word of appreciation to you.” The blond salaryman can’t keep out the bite of irritation in his voice, aimed not at you, but your employer. “When was the last time you slept in on a Sunday? When we were able to get brunch, or simply lie in bed together? They didn’t even compensate you for it.”

 You hear the harsh tone in his voice and sniffle. “I’m sorry Ken I-”

“No.” He cuts you off. “Don’t apologize. I’m not mad at you darling. Please understand that. I just hate that they used you and that didn’t matter to them when they chose to let you go.”

“I have some savings but... Kento, I don’t think I can afford my share of the expenses soon. Rent, utilities.” His heart almost breaks at your next words. “I understand if you don’t think we should continue living together under these circumstances.”

A lump forms in his throat, so painful, so intense, threatening to consume him like a tumor. You chose to follow him outside of the world of sorcery. You chose to study at the same college he did. You chose to get a corporate job despite the talent you had for jujutsu. You did it for him. He thinks back to the days of you sharing a college dorm, broke students picking up small jobs at cafes and delivering groceries. The ratty apartment you’d both found with your first paychecks, the celebration the both of you had in the cramped kitchen when both of you landed your first serious jobs. The move to the nicer neighborhood, with a coded entrance, toasting each other, thinking you’d made it.

Only to be worn down by corporate mundaneness. That chewing feeling of being a cog in a machine, a hamster on a wheel, ever-turning, never-ending, stuck until you die. Money. The big controller of the universe. The ultimate checkmate to everything. Money. Money. Money.

“No.” His voice is gentle. “Don’t even for a second think about moving out. I love you darling. You’ll find something else. I can tide us over till then. We’ll just cut back on some of our other expenses till then. Ok?” The thought of coming home to an empty apartment weighed down on him. Even back in the olden days, the dorm, the ratty studio that you’d both shared, you had always been there. The concept of living alone was long since driven out of him. The idea was unbearable, coming home and not seeing you there. 

Your eyes fill with tears. “I love you too. Thank you.”

“No need.” Kento’s gruff voice calms you and you cling to it like a prayer. 

“I have to go. I need to surrender my laptop and badge. I’ll see you at home, ok?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. I’ll be home in a few hours.”

The line disconnects, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. Companies really didn’t care. It was all bullshit propaganda, the act of ‘being a family’. You were just a collateral statistic. With a groan he forces himself back to his own office, his cubicle, the appeal of the sandwich lost to him now. He forced himself to eat, knowing there was another block of meetings coming up and there was no guarantee about when he could catch a break again. To his displeasure, he sees his manager walking hurriedly in his direction, and averts his gaze, hoping to finish his lunch, but to no avail. 

“Nanami-San!” The man unctuously calls, putting both his hands on Nanami’s shoulders, setting his teeth on edge. A manila envelope is tucked in his armpit as his fingers dig into Nanami’s blazer. He had spent a grueling two hours with this person in an earlier meeting, where he had praised Nanami for being able to sell one of their poorer-performing stocks, raising its portfolio value. The celebratory way it had been said as if Nanami hadn’t conned their clients into buying mediocre stocks which wouldn’t fetch them any benefit in the long run, made the bile rise in his throat. The contempt he holds for this man is tangible, yet he swallows his feelings and pretends to look calm.

“Yes?” he asks politely, trying not to squirm away from his touch.

“Nanani-San, I have news! Very good news for you. Please come with me.” He pulls him away into a private meeting room, Nanami dubiously taking a seat and looking at the man wearily. His manager sits down opposite him with barely contained glee, setting down the manila envelope on the table. 

“They want to promote you Nanami-San!” he bursts out, as though the energy of containing this information was eating at him from the inside. For a second, Nanami’s face goes blank. Then he realizes what he’s just been told.

“A promotion?” he asks again carefully. 

“YES! You’ve been killing it with your clients, raising our stock portfolios, and our profit margin! Hard work deserves to be rewarded!”

Despite his distaste for the man, Nanami blinks and then feels his heart expand. It wouldn’t matter if you were laid off, with the promotion. He could take care of both of you, and you could be peacefully at home while you job-hunted. You wouldn’t need to be in a rush, could maybe take some time to yourself…make up for all those Sundays you went in. A weary smile touches Nanami’s lips as he imagines the life he could provide for you. Could it be, that there was a lining after all?

He glances back at his manager, who appears to have more to say. “Was that all…?”

His manager gives him a nauseatingly saccharine smile, and Nanami feels the temporary prick of joy vanish. 

“Well, the position you’d be up for is more of a leadership position. The higher-ups want to make sure you’re a man capable of navigating difficult situations. Sometimes, things must be done, even when they’re unpleasant.” Nanami’s stomach is roiling, but he swallows and looks at his manager squarely in the face.

“What do you need me to do?” he manages to clip out.

His manager pushes the manila envelope towards him. Feeling like he’s been given a sentence, Nanami opens the envelope, and from it, removes three employee dossiers. He recognized the names as he looked through them, three young men who had started here around the same time he had.

“We’re going to need you to tell these three people that they’re fired.”

His manager’s words fall into Nanami’s ears deafeningly. Swallowing, he looks at the man with narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry but…why?”

“They’re underperforming.”

“Their numbers are consistent.”

“Consistent is not the same as moving up.”

“So you want to fire them because they’re not bringing in more money? Is that all?” Nanami drops the dossiers onto the table, an acrid taste building up in the back of his throat. 

“Well, you would be firing them. Think of it as their three salaries combining to equal your promotion.”

A chill washes over Nanami’s body. “I refuse.”

“Don’t you want the promotion?” his manager cajoles him, like trying to mollify a child with a lollipop.

“How about I get the promotion first, then you ask this of me?”

“Ah…if only the world worked that way. But no. We need them removed first. And since you will be taking over the department they will be leaving…you have to do it.”

Nanami looks at his manager, at this greasy, servile man, who he has hated ever since he started working here. His smug face, as he waited to see what he would do. He thinks back to you, let go for no other reason than “it’s what’s best for the company”. A red haze fills his vision.

“You’re despicable.” Nanami says quietly, his hand curling into a fist, feeling a tremor of cursed energy flowing into his arm, something he hadn’t succumbed to since leaving Jujutsu High. A turquoise aura begins to envelop him. His manager appeared to have not noticed but continued to give him that leery grin. 

“It’s your life versus theirs Nanami-San. I imagine a wise man would do what he’s being asked.”

Nanami stands, his impressive height and build towering over the man. 

“Fuck you.” 

The blond raises his hand, which is glowing with cursed energy now. His manager stares at it, taken aback. With a swift moment, Nanami’s ratio technique hits him, cleaving his body straight down the middle into two halves, grotesquely falling to the floor with a splat, blood spraying everywhere, covering the walls, windows, and the door of the meeting room.

A terrified scream is heard outside. In a daze, Nanami leaves the conference room, indifferent to his coworkers who are now gaping at him and scrambling to get out of his way, several of them shouting in panic at his state, his crisp suit spattered with fresh blood.

He walked into the conference room where he knew the higher-ups were sitting for their next meeting, locking the door as he did so. The men all move away in shock, a few even call his name, but he simply doesn’t care. The meeting room fills with the horrified sounds of men pleading and begging for their lives, and in a spray of red…silence. 

Nanami unfeelingly walks to his car afterward and drives home. Later when you open the door, you gasp and cover your mouth.

“Kento! Are you ok? Did you get into a fight?”

When he simply sits down on your living room sofa, you try again. “Kento what-”

“Grab me the whiskey bottle, would you darling? Don’t bother with a glass.” Dumbstruck, you obey, and retrieve the bottle from your liquor cabinet and hand it to him. He takes a deep swig before setting the bottle down. His sharp eyes, the same color as the alcohol in the bottle, fixate on you.

“We need to leave. Now.”

“Wh-Why- Kento I need an explanation!” You take in his bloody appearance. “What happened?”

“I could get into details. But simply put, I killed my manager and all the higher-ups at my company.” He watches you intently, his sweet, innocent girlfriend, who deserved more than what life had handed you. Your eyes widen.

“Kento- you- you murdered those men in cold blood?” your voice is a hushed whisper, as you look at the man you had spent the last several years with. Not a capricious person at all, so there was nothing that could convince you that Kento snapping like this was a coincidence.

“Darling. There’s no point sugar-coating things. Yes, I killed them. Now the question is, are you coming with me, or staying here?” There’s no malice in his voice. It was a genuine choice he was offering to you. The murders were his cross to bear, and it wasn’t right to involve you if you didn’t want to be.

You cover your face, trying to organize your thoughts, trying to get your breath to even out. Kento reaches out and pulls you closer to him, leaving bloody fingerprints on your clothes. “We don’t have much time my love. If we want to disappear, then we have to do it now.”

You look at him, then, to his disbelief, you ask, “Where would we go?”

He takes a shuddering breath, relieved that you were in this together. “It’s not the police we need to worry about right now. It’s the sorcerers who will undoubtedly put two and two together and realize I’m the culprit. However, I’m hardly the first sorcerer to do a revenge killing against civilians.”

“You’re not?”

“There’s an underground network of sorcerers who went off the grid for similar reasons. It’s seedy, but darling…we’d be free. None of this corporate bullshit, or punching in and out on a clock. We’d take jobs only we wanted to take. Freelance assassins, essentially. We deserve this. Life is full of shit anyway. Might as well pick what we want to do right?”

His words hit you with clarity, and despite all the suddenness and ups and downs in the last ten minutes, your resolve steels. “How long do we have?”

“Not too long. Pack a bag, essentials only. I only have a vague idea of how to contact this network but I’ll figure something out. Now quickly.”

It takes less than 10 minutes for you to pack a suitcase. Your boyfriend slips out of his blood-stained garments and into fresh clothes, hurriedly packing another suitcase alongside you. You glance around the apartment one last time, a wistful look in your eyes as you remember how hard the both of you had worked to get here.

But Nanami was right. It was all bullshit. You hadn’t chosen to stay with him out of blind loyalty, but because deep down, you knew he always had the right reasons. The both of you look at each other, a deep connection of understanding passing between you both, and with a resolute goodbye to the past, walk out of your front door together, unsure of what lay ahead. 

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[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 8)

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y/ndevils00

liked by ehaula, lhughes_06, and 221,793 others

y/ndevils00 well, we tried!

devils lose 3-4 against the kitties tonight, giving us 1-1-1 so far in the season…. i guess the guys just wanted to even it out as soon as possible 🤷‍♀️

uncle haula-way opened up the penalties with a minor for hooking in the first period! and we ended that period scoreless and down by deux.

it ended up being a pretty uneventful second period until the kittens brought it up to 3-0, followed up directly by TWO tripping penalties made by swiss alps. he’s been thoroughly punished by not only being benched in the third by lindy, but also by me.

third period was OUR period! captain swiss and the ratty cat got into a kerscuffle, which landed them both in the slut box. and despite the fact that the old bat benched my bestie for the restie number 2, we got THREE goals and nearly tied up the game! but we didn’t, so it’s kind of a moot point.

p.s. Dmitry Kulikov, count your days, bitch 🫵��

tagged dawson1417, jackhughes, ehaula, tmeier96, nicohischier, jesperbratt, and john.marino97

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jackhughes dove, you can’t OPENLY threaten players

y/ndevils00 oh. why not?

jackhughes because you could lose your job??

y/ndevils00 but.. i can still threaten them in their dm’s, right?

jackhughes no?? HAVE YOU BEEN DOING THAT?!

y/ndevils00 i feel like i should be saying no

jackhughes oh my god

nicohischier we need to do some damage control

jackhughes @/nicohischier already on it

y/ndevils00 did i do an oopsie? ☹️

jackhughes it’s okay, love. just don’t do it again, please?

dawson1417 you threatened him? for ME?! i feel so loved 🥰

y/ndevils00 AND I’D DO IT AGAIN! nobody trips my bestie but me!

dawson1417 YEAH!

dawson1417 wait what?

nicohischier you still worked the word “slut” in there but it wasn’t to describe me, so i’ll take it

y/ndevils00 i did that just to appease you, my favorite little whore 🫶

nicohischier there it is

user06 i say, let y/n threaten players!

y/ndevils00 THANK YOU! i second this!

jackhughes no

y/ndevils00 :(

nicohischier did you just call coach Ruff an “old bat” ?

y/ndevils00 yeah, and what about it?

nicohischier i-

y/ndevils00 am i WRONG??

nicohischier i’m not going to answer that

y/ndevils00 well then i know your answer! your secret is safe with me 🤫

nicohischier i DIDN’T answer??

y/ndevils00 no, but i know what it would’ve been. we have the same mind

nicohischier i strongly disagree with that

john.marino97 i didn’t get a do better tonight. are you feeling okay?

y/ndevils00 can’t talk, i’m in johnny defense mode

john.marino97 you’re in what?? what are you doing?

y/ndevils00 writing an essay

john.marino97 i’m kind of afraid to ask, but about what?

y/ndevils00 how well you were playing tonight and how you didn’t deserve to be benched

john.marino97 oh? okay? and what do you plan to do with this essay?

y/ndevils00 i just emailed it to the old man

john.marino97 you emailed it to your dad?

y/ndevils00 i thought you were supposed to be smart…

john.marino97 oh god, you sent it to lindy

y/ndevils00 i sent it to lindy!

user93 y/n may be marino’s biggest problem but she’s also his biggest defender

tmeier96 i thought the benching was bad… i think you’re gonna be in my nightmares

y/ndevils00 good. i hope that’ll remind you to behave!

tmeier96 @/jackhughes help me please

jackhughes dude, idk what you want ME to do. i can’t control her, all i can do is hope she never gets arrested

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes i would never get arrested! the cops would have to catch me and they couldn’t do that

lhughes_06 y/n, you got winded walking up 6 steps. all the cops would have to do is WALK after you

jackhughes @/lhughes_06 if they tell her they have gum, she’ll come willingly

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes gum AND handcuffs? i’m sold!

jackhughes you know you’d be put INTO the handcuffs, right? you don’t get to just have them

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes oh i know 🤭

jackhughes i think we have a lot to discuss tonight

jackhughes we also need to talk about what you should and shouldn’t be putting on the internet

[loveephia]

hii this is my first time requesting (ever) 💀 and i read the “first kiss with kenma”, could i maybe request first kiss with sakusa? 😽💗

:¨ ·.· ¨: ハイキュー!! your first kiss with sakusa kiyoomi . . .

`· . ꔫ . . . suna ver. | kenma ver.

+ kuroo ver.

a/n: WOAH WHAT ngl i'm honored to be answering your first ever request. ALSO, I READ YOUR REPLIES ON MY SHADOWBAN SITUATION, AND THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!! ENJOY READING MOOT HEHEHE!!!

⚠ warning/s: none.

- sakusa kissed you first.

- a shocker, i know.

- it was during the first few months of you dating, and you, being the teddy bear girlfriend that you are, are always around sakusa. bugging him, even.

- since you know that sakusa doesn't really have a liking for physical contact, you shower him in words of affection, do acts of services, you name it!

- whatever gets his attention.

- "hey, omi, close your eyes." you instruct. he does as you say and waits impatiently for the next step, "now what?"

- "what do you see?"

- "nothing."

- "that's my world without you, omi."

- "that's it, i'm leaving." he gets up from his chair, all the while ignoring your laughter.

- later that day, you were approached by your friends at lunch. they usually gushed about their own boyfriends, even asking one another for advice.

- "_____ has been really kind to me lately. he's been treating me to my favorite muffins!"

- "i can't believe that _____ gave me a hug at the school entrance this morning. i'm so embarrassed.."

- "hey, y/n, how about you tell us some stories about you and japan's number one ace?" one of your friends teased.

- you widen your eyes at the sudden mention before coughing, "i told him a joke this morning. he seemed to find it funny." you giggled to yourself, replaying the memory in your imaginative mind.

- "that's it?" your friend asked, "no hand holding or anything?"

- another friend sighed, "don't expect so much from sakusa. after all, the only time he'll even come remotely close to people is in volleyball."

- your friends all laughed at that. you were starting to feel down about what they've said, mostly regarding your boyfriend.

- actually.. you don't even remember the last time you've touched sakusa.

- what if all this time you've just been a nuisance to him?

- maybe you should go talk to him about your troubles later..

- you excuse yourself from the group, all gloomy, and your friends notice. they make a mental note to apologize later.

- you're walking in the semi-empty hallways of itachiyama, about to enter your next class, when you bump into sakusa.

- he turns around harshly, about to scold whoever touched him, until he sees that it's just you. your expression was unsettling to sakusa because you were usually very cheerful and smiley.

- "what's wrong, y/n?" he asks.

- "should we, uhm.." you start, "break up?" your voice came out tiny, feeling meek.

- "wait, what?" you've never heard sakusa's tone so caught off guard before. he sounds genuinely confused.

- "aren't i bothering you?" you look up at him, "i've always wanted to hold your hand, hug you, kiss you even, but i don't think that you'll allow me, so i try to get your attention in other ways. i must be so annoying.."

- sakusa didn't expect this, but he definitely knew that this conversation would come up one day.

- he next does the unexpected. he pulls his mask down and gives you a kiss.

- quietly, sakusa has been jealous. he sees the way that you cling onto your friends, always giving them your loving hugs. his pride just.. didn't allow him to say anything.

- when he pulls away, he sees your face, shocked from what just happened. he can tell that you're hopelessly trying to process it all. he finds it cute.

- "i don't want to break up." he states factually. "i can't stand imagining you with another boy who'll get all of your love and affection. call me selfish, but i really like you."

- "and who said that you couldn't touch me? you're my girlfriend. do i have to remind you that once we get married in the future, we're gonna have to kiss—?" "o- okay, that's enough!"

- this was an unforgettable memory of yours, so much so that you shared it with sakusa's family, who are now known as your in-laws.

© lowercase intended | loveephia

[sillyyprinc3ss]

Million Dollar Man

leon kennedyid! (or or di) x femreader!

tag: sugar daddy! -but he doesn't pays cause he sucks- call sex! praising! also I would say feeling used...?and I think that would be it...

wc: 4.2k

note: uhm this is my first ever try so like if it's bad don't go after me... also he is kinda a douche bag and the situation is something that actually happened to me... -not all but i got inspiration from my life events cause it is that interesting, it sucks -

03:14

“Great…” You mutter to yourself as you see the blinding red lights of your alarm clock. It shines as if it was making fun out of you. You should really pull your shit together.

You look at it slowly calculating (you weren't quite a genius) how much time you had left to go on that stupid job interview. “You should really get a job, it's not that hard.” Everybody says, but they don't really get it. Yes, you want to get a job, and everytime anyone asks you about it it just makes you want to crawl your skin off. But of course you just flash a soft smile and say: “I've been working on it.” Bullshit. But who cares? You don't and no one should either.

You breathe softly trying to fall asleep. Inhale…Exhale…Inhale… “This doesn't work.” You try some more. Inhale…Exhale… You give up and roll around the bed to go and get your phone.

03:27.You see as you turn it on, once again the numbers just look like they are mocking you, who wouldn't? You browse around your phone. Instagram, as soon as you click on it you are getting out. Twitter, aww cute cat pic, “Same bestie same” you comment under a post of a girl you don't really know but you are moots with her or whatever. Tumblr, the writer you like hasn't posted anything, you log out.

You sigh softly, as your rotting brain thinks of something entertaining to do. Right then you remember you and your supposedly best friend (she probably hates you, everyone does) logged into some sketchy local “Findmeasugardaddy.com” type of web.

You try to log in. Error, the password inserted does not match up with the email address provided.“What was the damn password…” You say talking to yourself as if it was going to help you in something. You try again, entering successfully this time. You try to figure out how to see your profile, you surprisingly do it in no time.

“sillyprinc3ss18” Wow. You think to yourself, you look at the profile picture, your friend convinced you to upload one of your selfies. “Girl, you should put one of your pics. Bet that would attract more old men.” To be fair, you were quite a cutie, not much tits but a desirable ass.

Sadly you fucked up any chance with any guy, when you opened your mouth. You were weird, creepy even, (no offense) as pretty as you were you couldn't really bag any guy. So you reluctantly accepted after she insisted on it for a little.

You decide that that's enough of examining your profile as you read your bio: “8teen girl who isn't scared of being a little naughty…” Gosh I suck, you think to yourself. “Gosh I suck.” You say out loud this time, trying to express your feelings I guess.

You click on another page, “Hm… IM’s.” You say clicking on it, slightly nervous cause you really didn't know what to expect. Well unfortunately or by surprise… 0.

“0…? I thought desperate older men were here.” You say quite hurt by it. Not even a desperate old cranky man wants you? That's pathetic, but guess what's pathetic too? Exactly, you! You are pathetic really.

As you start to have an inner monologue as if you'll ever die a virgin or you should become a nun and embrace your fate, a red dot comes up in the IM section. You look at it for at least 5 seconds, blink a few times, just making sure this wasn't an hallucination from lack of sleep. Ok, so there's probably a mildly ugly old man who wants to chat with you. You balance your options and sort them out. Option 1, you open the IM and answer the guy who could be your father. Option 2, you ignore the IM, turn off your phone and be a responsible adult and sleep to not be a zombie on your job interview. Option 3, jerk off at the thought of an older man wanting to chat with you. (Hey I don't blame you! You have a terrible dad.)

You consider your options. “Hey maybe he's cute” you think to yourself, to be honest you always had a thing for men who could barely pull a hard on. You click on the red dot. “L3onK77 wants to text you. Accept the request?”

“Yes” “No”

You stare at the two options, slightly grateful at the double questioning the page is putting you through. You take a big breath and click on “Yes”

“- Hi there sweetheart. How are you?”

Wow, “sweetheart”... You would confront him on the pet name but you know better and to be fair an old guy calling you sweetheart makes you a little a horny… More than you would like to admit.

“- uhm… hi. i'm fine a little bored tbh.”

Not more than 10 seconds pass before a text pops up on your phone screen.

“- What a pity. Maybe I could entertain you a little, what do you say angel?”

“Angel” Wow. Just wow, you dirty little whore, your panties are getting wet just by the thought of it. You stare at the message for some time, enough time to make the older man type another text.

“- Guess that was pretty straightforward, sorry if I came out that strong. Let me just take it to the point and give you a preposition.”

Some seconds pass and he sends another message.

“- Since you are on this website I'll make it straight and easy. Would you be interested in becoming a sugar baby? Mine to be exact.”

Wow, thought maybe he was going to ask for nudes but he wants to pay you for just being pretty.

“- i don't know really… why would you want to do that in the first place?”

“- Cause I think you are damn cute. And would love to have a pretty little thing under my care.”

You are blushing. Oh my god, he is smooth. Should be named L3onK007, cause he is smooth as a spy.

“- i don't know :s what would I have to do in order to become your sugar baby…”

Tried to not seem so eager, but you were 2 seconds from becoming a gymnastics gold medal athlete from how many backflips you were about to do.

“- Glad you ask. Well it's really easy, you just have to give me your attention and loyalty. Can you do that for me angel?”

“- sure, seems like a good deal.”

You answer almost instantly, gosh you were such a whore for male attention, for any attention really.

“- Good girl. I'm Leon, but you shall call me Daddy. How would you like me to call you?"

“Leon…” You say out loud as soon as you see it on your screen. That's a nice name. “Is it moanable?” You ask yourself, will have to check later if an opportunity takes place.

“- uhm my name is [ ]… but you can just call me princess ig.”

“- Nice to meet you [ ]. And how old are you if you let me ask?”

“- just turned 18 like a month ago… what about you?”

You kind of panic when he doesn't answer right away. “Gosh I should have lied about my age… He probably thinks I'm a brat and a- Oh! He answered back!”

“- 18? Well you are just a baby aren't ya’ ? Happy late birthday then sweetheart. And answering your question, I just turned 47 some days ago. On the 31 to be more exact.”

Forty-fucking-seven. Forty seven years. Four. Seven. Holy shit, if you are lucky he’ll still have some hair on his scalp.

“- oh… happy late birthday too ig! could i ask you something tho?”

“- Sure thing sweetheart, ask till your little heart's content.”

“- could i see what you look like? im really curious…”

You type nervously, could never give love to an ugly man. You could be dumb, but not stupid.

“ - Well I guess you haven't seen my profile, cause I have my photo on there.”

Shit, now he thinks you are stupid too. You quickly go to his profile, close your eyes as you wait for his profile to load up. You stay some seconds with your eyes closed, you give up and tentatively open one of them. And holy heavens! The guy is a total babe, could be an American sweetheart and everything. You look at the profile pic, a photo of him with a fish he just catched. Total dad vibe. Gosh you hit the jackpot! Rich, hot, dilf. (Could be a Lana Del Rey song really) You look at it for about a minute more, his message pops up. Okay girl, you got to lock in.

“ - you are very good looking :3”

“ - Well thank you. But you are quite a sight for sore eyes darling ;).”

Holy shit! You have it in the bag girl. Now all you have to do is sit still and be pretty. “Don't fuck it up!” You think, and oh boy, if you fumble this up you could never forgive yourself, might as well kill yourself!

“- and… how are we going to this…? i mean this website is kind of shitty :/”

“- Yeah you are right princess. Here.”

“- (XXX)XXX-XXX.

“- That's my number, add me and we will talk about it.

Yeah if you fumble this you are definitely going to kill yourself. You quickly open your messages app and insert the number he just gave you with trembling thumbs. You triple check the number just in case. You add the contact as “Leon Sugar”.

“ - hii ^w^ it's me [ ]”

After no more than two seconds he answers. He is maybe eager for this too.

“- Hi baby. Wanna call?”

Right then your world just froze. Holy fucking shit. This guy is really being serious, and you can't do anything to prevent an unhealthy attachment that is taking place right fucking now.

“- uhh, hold on…"

“- Okay baby, just tell me when.”

Not just a minute passes when you text back.

“- okay im ready!”

Just as you hit send he calls you, you panic, a stab to the heart could have got a lower squeal out of you. You pick up after a few tones.

“Hi…?”

He immediately speaks, holy fuck his voice! Cult leader type of voice, deep and smooth like the purest silk from god knows where…You remain silent for some seconds.

“You there?”

“Sweetheart?”

You almost moan to the sound of his voice. Gosh, pull it together.

“Sorry… I just panicked for a while.” You say in a soft voice. You thank the heavens above that he can't see your face right now.

“Well aren't ya’ a sweet little thing?” He lets out a deep and rich chuckle, striking directly to your heart, and from your heart to your cunt. “Do I make ya’ nervous…? Is that why?” He says in a teasing voice.

“A little…” You admit with a slight crack on your voice.

“And why is that?” He asks right back, his voice somehow lowering at least an octave.

“I-I don't know… Cause I've never done anything like this at all…” You answer, thinking before you speak for once in your life, impressive.

“How can a pretty girl like ya’ never be pampered huh…? Next thing ya’ goin’ to say is that you never kissed anyone.” He speaks in the same tone as earlier. It was making you melt, transforming your brain into a mushy pink paste with glitter (cause let's face it, you certainly do not have many brain cells.)

“Uhm…” Damn he got you, bet he thinks you are a weirdo.

“...” A long silence stumbles upon the call. “You kiddin’?” He says after a few seconds.

“No… Daddy.” You say making a big pause before you call him like he asked to be called some minutes earlier, “Gosh it feels so weird…” You think to yourself.

“Well isn't that lovely? He says with a lighthearted chuckle. “So that makes ya’ a virgin too huh…?” He teases you again.

“...” Your silence says it all.

“Well sweetheart, let me tell ya’ that you shouldn't be embarrassed of it.” He says as he could sense your emotions through the call.

“But it's still embarrassing… You probably think that I'm a weirdo. No guy ever calls me back after a first date, they think I'm weird.” You say with a deep sadness in your voice.

“Well maybe ya’ are so weird cause ya’ just the peak of beauty, darling. Let me tell ya’, I wouldn't even care if you shot me I'll still be interested in ya’,.” Gosh he sounds like a Dad. Bet you aren't the only one calling him daddy.

You stay silent for a moment, his words sinking into the back of your brain. Maybe he was right.

“Hey, I have an idea.” He says as you think about what he had just said. “What about if we do a video call…? Maybe we can both loosen up.” He asks, his voice turning into a teasing flirty tone, leaving back the lighthearted voice he just spoke with.

Yeah no shit. This is really doing a 180° on your life. Your mind tries to run with all the possibilities you can think of, like one and a half to be exact.

“Uhm… Okay. Just wait a minute…” You say with a little bit of panic in your voice. “Gotta tidy my room a little…”

“Sure honey. Just tell me when ‘kay…?” He says with a voice that could make even a dentist have cavities.

You quickly incorporate yourself and look at the clock on your nightstand. “4:02” You say just loud enough for you to hear it. You run to the bathroom and inspect yourself in the mirror. “I can't put on makeup… Who could believe I look like that at 4 A.M…”. You slip your panties down and sit on the toilet, you look at the cute pair of panties as you take a quick piss. “I should wear a push-up bra… He won't notice…”. You quickly pace to your bed once again.

“Leo-” You stop yourself ashamed. “I mean… Daddy.” You say as you try to get him to give you his attention.

“Ya’ done baby…?” He says in a silky voice, somehow making him sound even hotter.

“Uhm… Yeah…” You say quickly putting on a push-up bra and a clean skimpy tank top. The ruffling of the clothes being heard by him.

“Ya’ undressin’ for me or somethin’ baby…?” He teases with a chuckle as low as a thunder.

“Uh- N-no…” You answer immediately with a soft yelp. “I was just changing into something more comfortable…"

Right then your phone begins to ring again. “Leon Sugar wants to video call you. Accept?” You see on your phone along with a bright green button. You bite your lip nervously and finally push the button for the video call to pull through. You quickly turn off your camera as you wait for it to connect.

After some seconds you see him. A little bit rougher than the photo but still good enough to eat. He moves his phone sideways so you could see him better. Wearing a dark blue rob that did nothing to cover his chest really, he had more tits than you, ouch. “Sweetheart?” He says placing his phone somewhere so it could stand on his own. “I can't see ya’ baby…” He says furrowing his brows as he looks closer to the screen of his phone.

You look around making sure there's nothing embarrassing to be ashamed of, no panties or plushies on the camera frame, alright.

“Uhm… Just a second my wifi is kind of bad…” You say as you look last time in a mirror that was in your room. You hesitantly look at the camera button, you click it and a small loading bubble appears, the camera is now on.

A soft whistle can be heard from the other side of the line. “Wow…” He says in a soft voice, a smirk plastered on his chiseled face. “Now I'm really curious about ya’…” He says looking unashamedly at the small part of cleavage you were kindly showing just for him. “Ya’ said ya’ changed for me… huh?” He's starting to sound like a frat boy now…

While he was talking you were more focused on how you looked on the camera. “Uhm.. Yeah.” You say shyly batting unconsciously your lashes. “My pajamas weren't a great option, y’know…?” You realize how your voice becomes more high-pitched, candied almost. You realize you are smiling foolishly in the camera, you stop and lock in. “So about the money-”

“Oh yeah the money…” He looks like he just discovered the cure for cancer. “How much would ya’ want your allowance to be…?” Is he really saying this? Might as well bankrupt him just by being pretty.

“Oh…” You say with your pretty lips forming a perfect circle. “Well I don't know really…” You say with a surprised look plastered on your face. “How much would you be willing to give me…?”

“How much do ya’ want? Name it, and I'll give you… until my last penny angel.” He says with a smug grin on his face.

“Uhm… Is 500 a lot…?” You ask, biting your lip nervously. “I really don't know… I'm sure I'm asking too much for just company and loyalty-”

“Ya’ got it, 500 weekly.” He says with a cheeky smile, almost endearing if it wasn't because you just met the guy and he's literally paying for your company.

“...500…1000…1500…” You count in your airy head. “Uhm isn't that quite a lot for a month…? That's more than the average check…”

“Well princesses need a lot of money to survive don't they…? To buy frilly dresses and pretty panties-”

“That's still too much money… Daddy…” Calling that it's still so unnatural, like giving a monkey mom a kitten to care for. “I meant like per month or so…” You say to him while looking elsewhere than the phone camera.

“Don't be silly, princess…” He says giving a soft sigh to the world. “Like I said- I want to take care of ya’, provide for ya’… To pamper ya” really. Treat ya’ like the princess ya’ are!” Whilst he was saying a monologue typical of a 40’s husband when his wife wanted to have a job, you were way too busy looking at his tits-

Oh my god… He may have double D’s. “Baby…?” He says snapping you out of your titty world.

“Uh… Yeah…?” You say blinking the nasty thoughts away, you doe eyes looking even more dolly than before. “Sorry I got distracted- So it will be 2 grand a month…?” You say trying to change the topic.

“That's right. Gonna spoil ya’ rotten darlin’.” He answers with a triumphant smile.

“But that's like, a ton of money… Like a TON.” You say with a soft frown looking at the total babe, *uhum*, handsome man that was on your screen.

“Daddy works for giving his little girl what she needs baby, to pamper her and spoil her, I've already said that honey.” He says growing rather irritated by your constant questioning.

“Yes I know it's just- I can't really conceive the idea of being paid just cause I'm pretty… It's like cheating! I feel like an imposter…” Doe eyes batting through the camera making his heart stop, then the tension went to his brain and then to his cock. Oopsies!

“Princess…” He says in a soft voice, almost like he was telling her daughter there wasn't any monster under her bed. “I know this is new…” Suddenly he stops talking, presumably thinking about something, soon after he speaks again. “Well maybe ya’ can do somethin’ for me…”

Your lost gaze that wandered around your room like you've never seen it before comes back to the screen quickly. “Yeah…?” You ask rather skeptical of what he was about to propose.

“When was the last time ya’ touched your princess bits, sweetheart…?” He says without mincing words. “Uhm…” You freeze, ok didn't think he would ask that wow… You wait a little before answering his bold question. “I-I don't really remember it…” You are such a liar! You were literally humping your pillow before deciding it was time to go to sleep. You quickly look at the right corner of your phone, 4:29. “You know it's kind of late and tomorrow I have a job interview…”

“Oh it won't be long princess… I just want to guide ya’…” He coos lovingly at her with a mellow voice. “I want ya’, to touch for me darling… Let me talk ya’ through it m’kay…?” As much embarrassing this seems to you, you can't help but want to please him. “What do ya’ say angel…?” You just nod frantically as you slide your panties down. He sees you shift in your position. “Show Daddy your panties darlin’, show to the camera how cute they are, hmm…?”

As soon as you had slided them off your dripping cunnie you show them to him, light blue with a bow at the front, cute, but what caught his attention was the visible wet patch it had formed. He whistles softly. “Ya’ got wet even without doing dirty talk baby…Your kitty is so good darling… I can smell it from here.” He says with a charming frat jock smile, you could bet your soul he was one in his teen years, but anyways. “Now use your pretty fingers and circle your nub, you know where that is hmm..?” He asks you as he was asking a dog if he was a good boy. You nod softly. “I knew you would, my smart girl…” He says while slowly palming himself through the thin fabric of his pajama trousers. You start letting out soft whimpers, catching his attention every time while he was trying to focus on himself. “Can ya’ show daddy your princess parts darlin’...?” You stop your motion looking directly into your phone camera. “Ya’ didn't like that huh…” He says with a sour chuckle. “Well don't worry darlin’, ya’ don't have to show me anything ya’ aren't comfortable with, ok princess…?” You just nod shyly and kept moving your fingers.

“Fit one of them in, c’mon baby…” He says with now, his cock out, but out of view from the camera of course, he's a gentleman after all! As he sees your face contorting -your puffy lips in a soft pout and your brows furrowed while you looked shyly at him through the device- he begins to pump his length up and down, just like he knows he likes. Your soft whimpers feeding his ego, therefore making his blood pump more and more to his brain below the waist. He just closes his eyes for a moment, the next second he opens them he is cumming non-stop to your airy moans and mewls. Guess he isn't the stallion he used to be in his twenties, gosh even thirties…

He looks at the time 4:52. He grunts softly, cleaning his hand on the side of the rob he was wearing. “Baby…” He says in a husky voice, making you stop, just when you were about to reach the peak! “Y-yes Daddy…?” You say slowing down your finger pumping. “I-I gotta go sweetie… It's late and I have a big money meeting tomorrow… okay?” You completely stop, was he literally telling you to fuck off cause he already cummed…? No, but you are overreacting in your mind, feeling so used and not even getting a reward out of it. But you just softly smile and say “It's alright, I understand it…” You say with a fake soft voice. “I knew you would understand it sweetheart…” He says with a pleased smile. “I'll text you tomorrow m’kay…? Love you, bye.” He quickly says and hangs up, not even giving you a chance to object about it, maybe that's why he did it that way.

Anyways now it's almost 5 am, and you have to wake up like… in an hour maybe…? Got to dress cute, cause “firsts impressions last”, not too prudy but also not showing your bra, you decide to get your shit together and walk to the bathroom to wash your face, you change into something more formal, a tube skirt and white crisp shirt, a short heels and you are on the go. How come with even extra time you are running late…? You take the bus, yeah, people stare at you, yeah, deal with it. You finally arrive at your destination after several bus stops, a corporation building, they say they were looking for a secretary… Who knows it could be like the movie and you start having a BDSM relationship with your boss and-

“Miss, Mr.Kennedy will see you now…” The assistant says from behind her desk, giving you a soft smile,you analyze her, she is truly an american beauty, high standard chick from uptown for sure. After her fake smile disappears you walk to the door of your probably next boss office. You knock on it twice, a husky rumble saying “Come in…” traveling through the sound waves. You slowly open the door, greeted by the back of Mr.Kennedy as he looked through the windows the city at his feet, he slowly turns around, his eyes slightly opening up further as he realizes who he is, she frowns softly, her mouth opening, ready to speak.

“Oh darlin’ thought I told you I was going to be the one to reach out to you didn't I…?”

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.2

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 11.4k

Rating: 18+

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss. Swearing, Alcohol. Sexual content (switch!reader, switch!yoongi; unprotected sex (plz be smart, use condoms); masturbation, both male and female receiving; oral sex, male receiving; powerplay with sub!yoongi; plenty of emotional, intense moments).

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout: to my lovely readers first, and my moots too. Thank you for staying around. This is all for you 💜

Here's part one, in case you missed it

And here's my complete masterlist, in case you're new HEHE

Six days went by without you seeing Yoongi. First you had your day-off, and though Yoongi waited for you by your tower, you didn't come. 

Truth was, you spent your day off working at the Firefly Ball at The Orchard, the retirement home you had been volunteering at for years. It took you about two and a half hours to realise you truly didn't have Yoongi's number, which reminded you of your short conversation before your non-kiss debacle. You couldn't tell him about not being there for the day; after all, you'd always gone on a walk even on your day-off during the previous weeks. Mostly, you couldn’t tell him about Laura helping you with the german short rows you needed to shape the sweater that had become his. You couldn’t tell him about Marvin trying to set you up with his lovely nephew — who is already very taken, of course, except Marvin doesn’t really like the girl and you’re already like family. You couldn’t tell him about that song you hate coming on thirteen times on the radio, and you couldn’t tell him about the excellent songs the people at The Orchard recommended you. You couldn’t tell him that you told Orla about him and Beatrice and she said she has some pictures of her in high school, from the days she started dating her future husband. You couldn’t tell him that she told you about Beatrice and Antonio, how she would have loved to spend more time with them, and get to know them, weren’t her husband so opposed to her hanging out with such ‘uncivilised extravagants’. Orla also told you about the samba that used to come from that house, how she loved walking by it. And then she asked to hear the young man play just once, with the guitar, because he was so good at it since when he was just a child and he must have become even better now that he’s a man.

The day after that, you did go to the beach, but this time it was Yoongi that didn't come. 

You had broken him, you told yourself. You had broken the beautiful, timid bond between the two of you. You had slashed it away. And once again, the day after that, you were left by yourself, dashing away from the tower before you could sink in the magnitude of your loneliness. 

You were sad. 

You felt like an empty fishbowl, a broken diapason no longer giving the right frequency. It was like a crack had damaged the truest, most intimate part of you. 

It was excruciating to feel so lost after knowing Yoongi for so little. It was as if the sun had dulled. You felt underwater, suffocated, with the ocean above you weighing you down. 

Being in that kind of mood meant that it was hard to convince you to join your coworker Hoseok at his friend's party — you had given up exclusively because the man was incredibly persistent and he was very hard to turn down. So you had done your hair up pretty and you had worn your cute white dress, checking yourself in the mirror before heading out, forcing yourself to put a spring in your step and not throw yourself at some regrettable glass of exceedingly sweet liquor. 

Once you reached the beach, you recognised the party immediately, a large group of people gathered around the fire, the full moon lulled by the sea as it laid a couple inches above the horizon. You scanned the crowd for the only person you knew, spotting the two bickering employees of the ice cream parlour. And a man that looked like the surf instructor who worked in the school a mile away from your tower. And there was Hoseok, surrounded by cheering people. Of course he was the life of the party; still, though everyone looked at him when he cracked a joke, he always looked at the same girl, over and over again. 

There she was then. His crush. 

And there he was. Yours. 

Yoongi, sitting on a bench, hands tucked in between his knees, shoulders squished together as he tried to make himself less noticeable. Maybe he didn’t want you to see him. 

Still, his shy wave in your direction made you change your mind. 

Confused, you made your way closer to him. To hell with fear, you would get your answers tonight. 

“Hi,” you spoke, and your voice could barely be heard with the crowd and the noise, the music, the chatting and screaming. 

Yet, Yoongi heard you. And he smiled. It was like getting kicked at the back of your knees. “Hello, Sunny.”

Your insides fluttered. You didn’t have much history with boys or men, only a couple relationships behind you and maybe three or four sexual partners with varying degrees of success. And apparently, Yoongi had been engineered to be your kryptonite. He was just the right side of shy, and introverted, and quiet and soft spoken, despite the bite in his sense of humour. After those initial adjustments during that first awkward dinner, he’d become so incredibly suited to you. As you looked at him, you suddenly felt so very known, maybe because anyone else at the party was more or less a stranger. 

And in all that strangeness, there was Yoongi’s warm, steady gaze. Familiar and gentle. To you, he was irresistible. You’d hoped that the days spent apart would have cooled your spirits; instead, seeing him again after so long made you appreciate those details you’d almost grown accustomed to. The way his hair curls softly when dried by the ocean breeze. The way his pale, pale skin contrasts so beautifully with the black of his hair. The way his gums show when he smiles, and how damn perfect his teeth are. And then those hands. Good lord, those hands. 

A part of your brain screeched to a halt. He’s abandoned you, Sunny. He’s left you alone. You left him alone once, after almost kissing him, and he realised you’re weird and embarrassing and inappropriate. And your sense of humour sucks. And you can’t make friends because when people get to know you they find you a lot worse than they thought you’d be. You frowned and shook your head at your own limiting beliefs, but you forgot to adjust your facial expression and your greeting to him came out sour. “Hello, Yoongi. Glad to see you.” You managed to pull your face into a smile. “Finally.” Very smooth, Sunny. Very damn unsuspectable.  

He blushed and looked down. “I was in the city. I had to deliver my mixtape.” The fact that he was seated, lower than you, and he had to tip his head back to look at your face made you even weaker. His jawline was splendid, but that was not the point. 

His glance was so intense, with his obsidian irises glimmering with the fire and the night sky. He looked beautiful and you were so damn fond of him. He was the best thing you had seen in a while, and quite definitely the most attractive man you had ever laid your eyes on. Had he put on something special tonight? 

You checked his outfit, but it was a simple black button down in some flowy, glossy material, some white flowers printed on it — probably lilies? — and he was wearing some undyed cotton jeans underneath. Plain, usual Yoongi fashion. 

And you checked his hair — slightly longer, but still inky black, still curled in the softest little bouncy waves at the bottom. It looked extra silky tonight. Very soft. The kind of soft you can comb your fingers through as you’re making out. The kind of soft you can caress as he’s kissing down your—

“You didn’t come either. On Tuesday,” he reminded you.

You shook the steamy thoughts off your brain, terrified by the way you were dangerously getting increasingly affected by his presence. “I had a day off for the Firefly Ball. At the retirement home,” you explained. “I always came here for our walks so I never really mentioned I have Tuesdays off. And then I didn’t have your number to call you.” You asked to sit beside him through awkward body language, a whirlwind of arms and wrists and hands until he nodded with a little laugh. 

He was impressed by the fact that you had come to meet him even when you could have slept in or done whatever it is that athletic, stunning, too-out-of-his-league girls do. “How was your time in the city?”

Boring. Sad. Lonely. Agonizingly slow. He had wanted to see you. He would have all summer with you; nevertheless, he would much prefer spending it in your arms, as your crush, rather than the sweet introvert who you pitied. He wanted to confess. He would do so at the end of the night, with the fireworks. He would sing you ballads all night and exchange shy or flirty looks and then he would confess. And if you liked him back, then good. 

If you didn’t… 

“It was sad… I don’t like the city. You can’t hear your thoughts.” He inched closer towards you. 

Sitting beside him had been an awful idea. He smelled like his usual self: a deeply set salty smell mixed with lemongrass and incense. Was it incense? Something spicy, but deep. It smelled like inspiration and artful meditation and invention. It also smelled like the kind of sex that resets your whole existence. What in the world do you mean? the rational side of your brain — not your strongest — objected, but it was quickly coerced into silence. “Excuse me, what?” You said, not even remembering what he’d told you mere seconds before. 

He tipped his head to the side and repeated. “I was saying the city is really loud. Lots of stuff happening and you can’t focus on your thoughts, because you know, the noise and stuff keep interrupting you and—”

You nodded eagerly in understanding, “Oh yes!” God, he must think you’re dumb or something. Of course he’s smart. Smarter than you, clearly. Living with all those academics must have helped with the braincells. His mom probably listened to Bach while pregnant. Or maybe he—

“How was the ball?” Yoongi asked, his face serene as he looked at you. And yet there was a certain gleam in his eyes, the kind of gleam you’d seen in the restless beast he’d become the last time you saw him, on his porch, drenched in rain, desperate, burning. 

You needed to slap your face and get your mind all in one place. Since you couldn’t quite slap yourself in public, you settled for a nice pinch to your leg and nodded, grounding yourself to the current conversation. “It went okay,” you replied. “The usual. Old people dancing, spiced punch, dreamy jazz and blues.”

And there it is, gummy grin all out. Perfectly symmetric pearly whites flashed to your face. “Seems like my kind of night.”

You snorted loudly, your laugh erupting without grace or composure. Yoongi was amused by it: he would make fun of himself forever if that meant making you happy like that. “You’re unbelievable” you murmured, half to him, half to yourself, for being this rowdy, antisocial mess.

Yoongi’s eyes fell to your lips. God, he loved them. So rosy, not too plump but always so happy. And he was pretty sure there were some freckles on them too. He was about to give in. There was nothing he wanted more than to touch your lips with his. Not even kiss you, just… Just touch you. 

“Come on, guitar boy, make your show!” a moderately tall, moderately tanned man hollered. He had impressive shoulders. “Who’s your friend?” he questioned, studying you. 

“____, this is Seokjin. You can call him Jin, but it’s better if you don’t call him at all.” Yoongi bared his teeth at the man as you introduced yourself, but it was only half disguised as a smile. Seokjin shrugged and cocked an eyebrow as he stared at Yoongi, daring him to make a move. 

It took half a second for Yoongi to realise how easily you and Seokjin would get along, how the adventurous, athletic, extremely sporty man could charm you with his stories and take you surfing at midnight to look at the stars from the sea, where no artificial lights could taint the immensity of the night. It bothered him. Bothered him and saddened him, and he just shook his head and let go. If that’s how it was supposed to go, then he would let it.

Seokjin passed a sticker-covered guitar to his friend, forcing the two of you up from your seats and away from the main location. It was just a few metres away, someplace more quiet, where the guitar could be heard over the blaring music. 

Only a couple people followed, and it felt like a true concert, a miniature one, mostly because of how skilled Yoongi was. After all, he is a professionist, and the fact that he has never mentioned playing live doesn’t make the experience any less exquisite. 

Soon more people were coming around, a few women sitting way too close for your eyes not to look at them with scorn. Were they thinking…?

No. You had no right to feel the tightening sensation around your stomach, not when Yoongi would look up and search for your eyes, to make sure you were watching — that you never stopped watching. You wouldn’t want him to find your eyes away from him to stare down at some dumb girl whose only fault was fawning over the same man you had a crush on. 

It was almost midnight when a loud beeping sound broke out from across the beach, blue lights in tow. The beach patrol. “This party is unauthorised!” An officer ordered from a megaphone. “You must leave the premises immediately.”

Your eyes met Yoongi’s, then Seokjin’s, whose face looked very white as he glared at a woman in shock, then in full-blazing hatred. No, not hatred: disappointment. The object of Seokjin’s pointed stare seemed equally shocked. 

Yoongi placed down the guitar, immediately reaching Seokjin and grabbing him by the shoulders — if it weren’t for the dramatic situation, the height difference would have been truly endearing, if slightly hilarious. “Didn’t you ask for a permit, you dumbhead?”

“I swear I did, Yoongi! Remember I made you check the papers? I did everything right!” Seokjin was panicking, staring at the other woman. “I did everything right, didn’t I?” At the woman’s silence, he asked again. “Didn’t I?”

“Officer! We have a permit!” Yoongi told the woman who arrived on the beach together with two colleagues. “We delivered it at the office and had it signed. This party is authorised.”

“We signed no permit,” her coworker stated coldly. “Leave the premises now.”

“Excuse me, officer, but my friend and I handed in the request personally,” Yoongi repeated, already losing his cool. The fact that he’d been sipping bourbon between a song and another didn’t help at all. He seemed ready to start a fight. 

The officer shook his head. “We have no permit for tonight.” 

“Listen, you—” Yoongi replied, visibly irritated, taking one more step forward.

You stopped Yoongi from pressing a finger against the fine shirt of the man’s uniform, doing the first thing that crossed your mind. You pulled him away and squatted down, pressing your shoulder to his stomach and picking him up effortlessly. 

With a kind smile, you tried to flatter the guard. “Officer, please excuse me. He has been really stressed over his job—”

“Sunny, what the hell are you—” Yoongi wiggled around a little, but you held him tighter. 

“Tonight he let loose a little, and drank a bit too much. Please excuse him.” You gave your most dazzling smile, looking sheepish, trying to project all your innocence and adorableness. 

“Don’t worry, ____. Do you need us to take you home?” the female officer intervened.

You shook your head. Apparently your good girl looks were giving you one more perk. “I’ll just walk him. Don’t worry. The people here are very cooperative, I’m sure you won’t have to deal with any issues.”

“Sunny! I swear to God—” Yoongi insisted, hitting his forearms against your back. 

“Easy, tiger,” you taunted him before waving at the beach patrol staff members before you turned and left. 

“Put me down!” Yoongi growled once you were a few feet away. 

“Shut the hell up,” you replied, calm and condescending. Yoongi felt a shiver roll down his spine, completely ignoring you as you went on chastising him. “Do you wanna end up in trouble?” you said, calmly, reasonably.

Heat started to warm his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the liquor. Sure, the alcohol made him more prone to a short temper, but he could still keep himself in check. This, however, this liquid warmth making him melt for you… This was all you. “We had the permit!” He complained, whiny, pliant, but still combative. 

“If you read the room a little, apparently Seokjin’s friend hadn’t handed it in, you dumbass.” Go figure, you were the one supposed to be the dull tool in the box. “You really thought it would be a good idea to lay a finger on an officer? After drinking? They could arrest you, Yoongi. And I won’t waste my pay on bailing you out of jail.”

“But I would have paid you back!” he protested while you opened the gate in his fence and dropped him down unceremoniously. He grunted a little and stormed off to the door as you followed him suit. 

“You would have slapped yourself at the thought of paying money to the fucking police!” you reminded him. “And it would be a big waste of money.” You stood behind him as he opened the door, then tried to slam it shut, almost causing it to hit you. The action made you startle, and maybe he didn’t want you to enter, but you also wanted to calm him down, and you deserved an apology about his lack of gratitude and basic decency. “Oh, come on, I just saved you at least a few hundred bucks, don’t be such a brat to me!”

He turned around with a cocky grin. “Or what? You’re gonna spank me?” He sealed his lips shut as soon as he realised what he’d just said.

Your face went dead serious, an eyebrow raised at him as your blood cooled significantly. A little cackle came out your throat as you said, your tone serious and dark. “Is that what you want?” It came out a bit more seductive than you intended.

“Don’t get all puffed-up now. Didn’t know you liked authority so much,” Yoongi’s body language got interesting: he conveyed challenge and curiosity as moved behind the kitchen island, putting an obstacle between the two of you.

“I don’t. I just think you're being a warmongering little shit.” You felt your body act on instinct, getting ready for the chase. You didn’t know exactly what was going on between the two of you. Actually you didn’t know anything at all. 

He licked his lips, looking at you from under his lashes. “That’s a difficult word for a lifeguard.”

That almost made you lose your cool, but you still managed to hold your horses since it was so obvious he was looking for a fight. “You think I’m dumb?” You asked, taking a slow step towards him. He took a step in the opposite direction. 

“No. But that’s a booksmart, not streetsmart kind of word.”

You took one more step towards him. “I might not be a little intellectual, like you fancy yourself, but I’ve read a few books, Yoongi.”

He bit his lip, put more distance towards the two of you. 

“What game are you playing, little mouse?” you taunted him. 

He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, blood rushing everywhere. He could tell his body was reacting in ways he was not proud of, grateful for the counter currently hiding his lap. “You might say you don’t like authority, but you sure like playing cops and robbers.”

You grinned at him and he grinned right back. With two large strides, you were on him, arms wrapped around his middle, and if it hadn’t been dangerous inside the kitchen, you would have tackled him with no effort whatsoever, his tipsy form completely incapable to stand a fight against your trained, honed and ready physique. “Gotcha,” you murmured in his ear and he just folded over himself, trying to hide from you the ridiculous state he was in. “What do you have to say about streetsmart nurses and puffed-up lifeguards? Still wanna start a fight?”

“Sunny…” he whispered, turning to stare at you. 

That day under the rain and that mad dash came back to you like a punch to the face. He was again dark eyed, pouty, beautiful. So easy; so, so easy to take. There, hanging from your very lips. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered back. “This is—”

He licked his lips, his eyes as if chasing shooting stars from your eyes to your mouth. “If you run this time, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it make sense.”

“How sober are you from one to ten?” Safety first, you told yourself. If he’s not sober there’s no chance you can kiss him, no chance to go further than this.

“Enough to tell you I’m not gonna regret this in the morning.” He was still caught in your arms, and it felt divine to feel the shape of you against him, warm and soft in the chill of an early summer night. His cheeks heated as he added, “Enough to tell you I’ve been thinking about this long before I had those drinks. Long before the party even started.”

Your hand moved to cup his cheek. “I’ve been thinking about this too.” 

He wanted to turn around, but he was not entirely proud of how affected he was by the current situation. However he did not fight it when you made him face you, your belly pressing against his, your breath catching in your throat. “I’m sorry— I—”

You shook your head and smiled as you looked down. “You thought about this, that day in the rain?”

“I’ve spent the last four days asking myself where I messed up,” he admitted, purring when you tentatively shifted against him. 

Your legs bracketed his, the puzzle of them causing him to hold his breath, then breathe out very slowly. He took a step back, but his arms were looped around you, so he managed to drag you with him until his back was pressed against the wall by the kitchen. 

“I thought I was… I thought you didn’t want this. I thought I was projecting my own desire, misreading the look on your face.” You shook your head and chuckled, your exhale caressing his chin. 

He licked his lip, then bit it a little and you stared at it, your eyes incapable of ungluing themselves from the glistening of moisture on his pouty mouth, so red, so plump, like ripe cherries. You tempted him, lowering yourself so close, your breath fanning over his lower face, close enough to kiss, yet not crossing the final inch yet. 

He whined, “Can’t you tell how much I want you, want this?” He shifted his hips and you both held your breath. “Like I wanted it then?”

Your hands moved to cradle his face, holding him as if he were delicate. “Then I can—?”

He nodded. “Yes.” Then more. “Fuck yes, please.”

You dove for him without hesitation. 

Kissing Yoongi must be what scientists feel when they discover some groundbreaking molecule that could cure some half-known disease. It’s revelating. 

You’ve been waiting your entire life for this. 

The kiss managed to stay innocent for two seconds more. Two seconds too many. 

Yoongi groaned against your mouth, then pulled you closer, pressing his hips against yours, then yielded again, maybe ashamed, maybe weakened by the sensation. 

You answered his need with your own, picking up where he left off. He gasped against your face, mouth sweetly parted, sloppy against your own, jaw slack as he got lost in sensation. 

“If you want to just make out, this is the right moment to tell me,” you advised him, but he shook his head, eyelids hanging half-open.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?” you asked, a smile on your lips, so amused at the idea that this intellectual, eloquent, intelligent man had turned wordless in your arms, with his body writhing against your own.

“Some words here and there,” he replied, then tilted his head back in a way that summoned every inch of instinct within you, your face nuzzling against the column of his throat as you started sucking at the side of his neck. 

“Like what?”

“Like ‘make out’, and ‘right moment’, and ‘little brat’,” he hummed, then moaned, his hips rolling so softly, so perfectly that you wondered what he would do once undressed against your naked body. 

“I didn’t say ‘little brat’,” you pointed out in between a bruise and a kiss. 

“Too bad. I must have been dreaming it all.” He hissed as his zipper pressed against him just a tad too hard. 

“I could still—” You smirked. “You want me to…” Your hand moved from his waist to his side to his thigh, then went back to his ass, cupping one cheek and pressing him against your hip. You bent to his ear. “You like being talked dirty to?”

He nodded, thankful that you were making sense of him. 

“Being told that you’ve been bad?”

He nodded again, feeling heat flush his cheeks further. 

You frowned, trying to find the right way to go about this. “That you’ve been driving me crazy? You flirty little demon…”

He smirked and threw his head back, puffing out a desperate little cackle, his brow furrowed. “Please, Sunny, God I’m hating these jeans, love.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise and you kissed him slowly this time, taking your time. Did you want to undress him? Here? In the kitchen?

You shrugged at yourself. “You want to go upstairs or?”

“Don’t care, please, just…”

You considered it for two seconds, then you stopped him, grabbing him by the face. “Okay, let’s be clear. You want me to… be a little harsh?”

He let his eyes roll close, head tipping back as if he couldn’t hold it anymore, resting it against the wall. “Yes. Please, yes.”

“You want me to manhandle you? Get rough?”

“Yes!” he confirmed, his tone definitive. 

“Okay, good.” You moved your hands to his wrists, currently at your sides, his hands frozen at your tapered waist, as if not sure where he was allowed to touch. You pinned his hands to the wall, then skillfully twisted your body so that he ended up with his back pressed to your front, his cheek against the wall. “Like this?”

“Yes. Sunny, love, this— Yes.” He was struggling to form sentences. God. He was one lucky mess. 

“Is this what you like?” Adrenaline rushed down your spine. God, he was wicked, and perfect, and so, so needy. “Answer me, my cute devil.” You pressed your lips to his ear. “Or do you want me to call you a dirty little freak?” You didn’t feel like cursing out insults at him, but this, all these pretty pet names? This you could do.

And Yoongi seemed to like them as he shivered again, whining, his hips shifting against the wall. 

You chuckled, curious, delighted. “Who would have thought pretty, dainty Yoongi wanted this… Because you want this, don’t you?” Apparently, just as much as he wanted this, as much as he was turned on by your rough treatment, your brain was turned on by the fact that he wanted you to administer it. You always thought your shape and build meant that you would always somehow be a challenge to your potential partners, usually aiming at the fit, buff type so that they could handle you. You’d never thought you’d be turned on at the idea of overpowering a smart, lithe, uncharacteristically agile little mouse such as Yoongi. And yet, here you were, soaked against his writhing body as it ricocheted between you and the wall. 

“I like this. I like this a— a lot,” he said, panting faintly as you breathed against his ear. “I like you a lot, ____. Please—”

You chuckled. “Oh, you like me? A lot?” Tentatively, you skimmed the shell of his ear with your lips, making him whimper. At the first sign of him breaking, you added the tip of your tongue, causing him to moan outright, his glutes flexing against your pelvis as he tried to find a sliver of pleasure. You wanted to touch him, and he seemed okay with the idea of doing this here and, on top of that it was vaguely turning you on too. “Would you still like me if I put my hand into your jeans and stroked you?”

“I think I’d go insane for you,” he confessed. 

“Is that your consent to me giving you a handjob, Yoongi?” You checked, your hands still on neutral ground, one pinning his wrists gently, the other helping you prop yourself up against the wall.

He nodded before speaking, “Yes, I do.”

In a second, your hand left the wall, undoing the buckle of his belt. 

“Where the hell did you learn how to undo a belt one-handed,” he mused. He hoped you would shut him up with your lips against his. Unfortunately you didn’t. 

“I’m a lowly nurse, right? A nurse needs to know how to work with buckles one-handed. Now will you… finally… stay put?” You asked, finding his cock and squeezing it in a way that made Yoongi’s knees grow weak. 

“You’d have half the fun,” he opposed, right as you started stroking him, his tip so wet it was ridiculous. He felt ridiculous.

You blushed as you put on your shameless, steel-spined persona and asked, “What got you so hard, Yoongi?” You took a break, trying to find the words, then let your curiosity out: there was no harshness in your tone, no command, no bitterness, just simple curiosity, soft amusement. “Does it make you hard for a woman to toss you around like her doll? Or do you like being fucked against the wall?” You made your way slow and gentle further down his jeans, finding his balls and squeezing them. 

“You’re not fucking me,” he objected with a weak smile. Yet, he was glad that was on the table. “Yet.” 

You shook your head, smiling softly, “Yet”. Precious, delicate, charming Yoongi truly loved being treated like an object. How surprising. “What do I need to do to shut your pretty bratty mouth? Maybe keeping it busy between my legs?”

He purred at the prospect.

“Maybe shutting it with my hand?” You felt shame creep to your cheeks, then let the thought out. “Maybe stuffing it with my panties?” You’d seen it once in a picture on an adult website and the image had never left your mind.

He threw his head back. This had to be a dream. A fantasy. You couldn’t be what he’d been dreaming of for years, and at the same time be the gentle, nurturing presence he had known in the last five weeks. “Please,” he begged again, his eyes rolling shut, his hair falling all over the place as his lips disclosed shyly. 

This time, of course, you weren’t afraid. You pressed your mouth to his, not without licking his lips first, coaxing his tongue to peak out and lick up against yours. 

His sex was hot, hard, and not too big, but definitely big enough to work with. He was pulsating in your hand already, smooth and needy as he thrusted into your fist. You dreamed about him moving inside you, with that fantastic bubble butt you’d eyed more than you’d like or care to admit. He kept moaning and groaning as you carefully stroked him, trying to accompany his movements with your own. You imagined what this could become if you were stroking him with a bit more lubrication, trying to invent a way to make your hand wet without having to part yourself from him. 

You pushed his jeans and underwear to his knees, then moved the hand you’d been using to pin his wrists, letting it climb beneath his shirt to massage his chest, his shoulders caving in beautifully as he pressed harder against the fingers currently pinching one of his nipples. You wished you could see the hollow you knew was now carved in between his shoulder blades, but you simply bent your head forward and kissed it from over his shirt, nuzzling your face against it. 

“I’m gonna use lube next time, so I can make it even wetter for you,” you mused. “I bet you’re a picky, fussy thing in bed.” You delivered a trail of kisses up his nape. “I’d love learning everything you like.”

He chuckled and admitted, “I’m afraid I won’t be as picky with you.”

“Then I’ll get very specific about new ways to make you come.” 

He turned his head to the side so he could see you in the corner of his eye. “I could… spit in your hand?”

You blinked once, twice. “Sure.”

He grabbed the hand in between his legs, brought it to his mouth and pressed the flat of his tongue against the centre of your palm, delivering a wide, sloppy lick. Your hand was salty with his sweat and arousal, but he was too needy to analyse the taste further as he brought your hand back on his erection. 

You stroked and his knees buckled, the both of you smirking and exhaling in unison. He held on for ten, maybe twelve commendable seconds, then crumbled adorably with a weak, soft moan.

He ended up spilling into your hand, your palm stroking even when he started shaking. You let him go only when he sobbed for you to stop; yet he turned his face to the side and kissed your chin, then your mouth, sloppily, and whispered, “Actually, keep—” you understood what he meant and resumed the—

“Sunny, love, fuck! Please, fuck!” His knees wobbled and his cock quivered just once, another shy dribble coming out. 

You supported him with an arm around his waist, his lithe physique crumbling over you, his head on your shoulder. 

“Yes,” he whispered, completely fucked out, so spent and adorably pliable. 

You turned him around and held him, letting him rest his cheek on your shoulder. “You okay, Yoongi?”

“Never been better,” he admitted, voice saccharine and exhausted, before he started to stir. “Fuck, I made a mess.”

You shrugged. “All chill, babe.” You stroked the small of his back. “What do you need, Yoongi?”

He shook his head. “Just hold me please, I’m not sure I can stand on my legs,” he admitted before cackling. “I wasn’t expecting this.” Once more he chuckled. “This is kinda embarrassing to me.”

You pressed your cheek to his hair. “I’ve never done something quite like this either.” You drew small circles on his back. “I don’t know what to do. Or what to say.” You nodded to yourself, waiting for something, some sort of signal that you hadn’t just ruined your friendship with him because you caved in to some preternatural instinct to ruin him. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asked, hesitating for a second before looking into your eyes. “I want to make you feel good too.” And next, he looked to the floor, his lips flushed in red, his cheeks a deep crimson. 

How dare he act shy after challenging you and letting you torture him like that? “You’re fucking impossible.” You grabbed his chin and made him look at you. “Ask it again. Look into my eyes and ask.”

“Fuck me, please.”

As a reward, you pressed your mouth to his, his hand grabbing your wrist and trying to bring it back to his length; however, you tutted and grinned. “Go upstairs, get ready. I’ll fix the mess you made on me and the floor.”

He puckered his lips and chased your mouth, holding you by your elbow. “Are we okay?”

You kissed him again, reassuring him. “We’re okay. I just need to see you come maybe three times more. Or maybe nine.”

He snickered. “So we’re cool with the idea of this being not platonic, like… at all?”

You stopped mid-breath. “I think this stopped being platonic the day I realised I ran because I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

“I thought you ran because you didn’t like me.” He didn’t care about his softening dick being out and covered in his release. He had more pressing matters at the moment, like your confession. 

“I ran because I wanted to press you up against the wall and make out with you and cover your neck in hickeys—”

“Seems like a great idea to me. I’m into that,” he admitted, acting pragmatic. 

You smiled mischievously. “Go upstairs and we can make that happen.”

“I need convincing,” he purred, haughty. 

The hand that had taken care of him so proficiently was still covered in his slick, and how convenient that was now. Lowering his trousers efficiently, you hit his left ass cheek, a wet squelching sound echoing in the kitchen. As he moaned, you shook your head, grinning just in time as he did. “I’ll give you more if you go upstairs and get all ready for me.”

He pouted and covered himself while you went to rinse your hands and grab a cloth. You marvelled at how, after maybe three or four visits at his house, you could move around so easily. Five minutes and the kitchen was clean, you heading up the stairs, following the mellow music coming from a room barely lit. 

There were a couple candles around the room, the smell of vanilla and bourbon drifting around freely, the mild orange halos of the flames contrasting with the full moon just out of the window. 

Yoongi was laying on the sheets, as lazy as a white Persian cat, stretched like a hedonist king. His hair melted into the darkness, and his eyes glimmered, dark and luscious, like black magnets, his skin pale, diaphanous and opaque like almond milk. 

He wasn’t naked yet, his white underwear the only hint that his skin tone is not the palest. 

You stopped by the threshold of his room, and stared at him like you’d never seen him before, never seen a man before, and from the reaction of your body ou do wonder if any of your previous partners really made sense, if you really should have slept with them considering how you are now burning for Yoongi. 

You kissed him tonight for the first time, you didn’t have the time to adjust from a platonic to a romantic or outright erotic disposition, and yet this feels the most natural, to the point that you question whether it’s always been desire right from the start. 

“Why are you standing there,” he asked, a gentle smile on his face. 

“You’re pretty to look at,” you admitted, with a little shake of your head and a helpless smile. 

He laughed shyly. “As much as I like being looked at, I have more pressing necessities at the moment.” He rose to his knees, moving closer to the edge of the bed. “Come, it’s your turn.”

You took a couple steps towards him, studying him some more. His chest was fairer than fair, the pink of his nipples perfectly matching the shade of his lips. It felt poetic to say the least. The shape of his torso made you think of Greek statues, balanced, lithe, mythological. 

“You know, you seem very tempting,” you told him, suddenly deprived of thoughts, words, just pure instinct left. 

“Why are you resisting, then.” 

He lured you in, like a mermaid, like an exotic, mesmerising bird of paradise. 

He cupped his palms around your waist and pulled you closer, making you kneel on the bed in front of him. “I’m going to dream of you in this dress.” 

“I’m going to dream of you up against that wall,” you countered. 

“Lovely to feel reciprocated.” His hand grazed your thigh, lifting the hem of your breezy sundress. “This colour makes you look unreal.” He skimmed the outside of your leg, his lashes lowered, his lips agape as he breathed in through his mouth. “LIke you just came out of seafoam.” HIs index finger continued its path upwards, stopping at the frilly hem of your panties. 

You exhaled slowly, your breath trembling. Despite being trained to act even during utmost emergencies, actual life-or-death situations, you can’t operate through Yoongi’s touch flooding your system with adrenaline and arousal. 

“Are you going to taste like seafoam too?” he said, tracing the hem of your underwear, inquisitive, shifting towards the inside of your thigh, venturing where your heat grew feverish, your core melting and dripping into the fabric. “Like saltwater, here?” 

The noise rumbling out of your throat was not entirely human and absolutely, not even remotely, coherent. 

He brushed his knuckle against the apex of your labia, which made you respond with a full body shiver, your torso tipping forward before you stabilised yourself with a hand pressed to his shoulder, your palm clammy, your grip urgent at first, then more controlled. 

“You’re so immensely beautiful, Sunny,” he whispered with awe, and that is the last thing you see before you let your eyes roll shut, overwhelmed by sensation, by pleasure. 

“Can I?” he asked, waiting at your threshold, lingering where the fabric of your panties wears thin and humid. 

You nodded, almost mindlessly, your eyes still closed. 

“Look me in the eye, Sunny. Show me you want this. Tell me,” he urged you. 

When your gaze does meet his, you’re caught in it, like black holes calling you to him, any chance of escape now useless, vain. “Please.”

“Please what,” he murmurs, teasing. 

“Touch me, please,” you reply, almost immediately. 

“Where?” 

“There,” you whine, your voice thin. “Be— between my legs.” The words stammer out of you, and Yoongi rewards you with a flirty smile, tongue peaking out. 

“You mean here,” he says, saccharine and yet dark, like molasses. 

“Under,” you whisper, tortured by the fact that the barrier of your panties is still there, between his fingers and your feverish skin. 

All patience thrown out of the window, you grab his hand, place it right where you want it, beneath the fabric, and sigh once you finally get exactly what you needed. 

Yoongi smiles, licking his lips before noting, “just as wet as I’d hoped.”

But the words don’t register: you are already out of this galaxy, eyes unseeing, ears unhearing, your mouth agape in a perfectly round shape, of which Yoongi takes ample advantage. 

He traces the rim of your lips with his free hand, then debates whether to slip his fingers inside your mouth. A few shallow gasps tell him enough of what he wanted the most. 

“I want to hear you, my little star.” The pet name coerces a whine from your throat. “Won’t you moan for me?”

You do. Of course you do, and Yoongi nods, pleased with himself. “Good girl,” he rewards you, his tone calm and deep, soothing. “The moment I saw you, I thought I was having visions.”

You gasp as he becomes more liberal with his touch: you’d manoeuvred him into touching you, but now he’s doing that unprompted, all on his own will.

“And now you’re here, like dripping sunlight on my bed,” he says, reverently, rapt. 

You moan his name and nod, engorged in the shallow gasps of your throat and the silky wet warmth of your core, where his fingers slide in and out, slow, accurate, thorough. 

Your hand cups the side of his neck, your eyes desperate as you hold his gaze, imploring him to subside the fire burning down your spine, melting your core and climbing back up with electric shivers across your entire back. 

“Kiss me,” you ask, your voice fragile and hoarse. 

He stares at your lips, licks his own and observes the wet pink of your tongue as your mirror neurons respond, mimicking him wetting his lips. 

This time, he does slip the flat of his thumb in your mouth, watching and craving the way your mouth closes around him, your eyes rolling shut, then your jaw going slack as a clever twist of his other hand catches you by surprise and coerces a broken plea from you. Pleasure burst from you like a pinched balloon, startling you with the unexpectedness. 

And Yoongi watches. 

He studies you, the way your hips buckle wild over his hand, the way you grip his forearm and push him deeper, until you can feel him pushing against the rim of your cervix, hard and deep where all your nerve endings seem to meet. 

It feels like drifting on the surface of the ocean, deprived of all thought, the overwhelming completeness of the universe surrounding you, transforming you into nothing but a recipient of all the sensation the world can offer. A sentient being: the most simple definition of life. 

And right now, with Yoongi coaxing every drop of pleasure from you, you are made of pure life. You are radiant and wide-open and all-encompassing. He stares at you, at the look in your eyes, the heaving of your chest. 

He nods to himself, so many things making sense all at once. Of course, we reproduce through sex. How can you be so full of life without it eventually spilling out of you? 

He gawks your reddened lips, cheeks and chest, pressing a kiss to your temple. “We should get you out of this dress,” he said, dragging his face down the side of your neck, reaching the base of it, nibbling at your collarbone as he starts undoing the buttons. “You’re made of fucking sunshine, Sunny. Sunshine and seawater,” he says reverently. 

You’re not sure this is actually happening. You must be hallucinating, because Yoongi pushes aside the front of your dress with his teeth and mouth, then repeats the motion to the strap of your bra, nudging it with his nose, sending electric zings through your shoulder, all the way down your arm, until the thrill reaches your fingertips. And just as you’ve come to terms with him kissing your neck, your chest, your collarbones and your shoulders, his mouth reaches your now bare breast, the precious petals of his lips pillowing your nipple. 

He makes quick, wicked eye contact with you before he turns wickeder still, and starts sucking. 

You groan a very unfeminine sound, but you’re both too far gone to mock your reaction. 

He’s undone the rest of your buttons, and you shrug off your dress, his hands urgently sliding to your back, then pressing to your ribs, pulling you closer to him, to his mouth. He hums in pleasure, his hair caressing your skin like dark silk. You reposition yourself so that your thighs bracket his, and the way your hips and his immediately start a game of tug-of-war drives you insane. It’s like you’ve been training your entire life to make this work, like you’ve always known this, you just needed him to unlock this part of yourself. 

You begin to grind against his leg, the friction of his thigh against your clothed core just perfect. 

“Perfect,” he says, as if reading your mind, hissing as his sex too finds just the right stimulation against your soft navel. His movements, the slow strokes, pull you even closer to the edge of your entire world. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt this before with any other man, be he fictional or real. “You feel divine, Sunny. You feel like Sunday morning.” He grabs the back of your head, nudges into your hair, inhales you, and he seems so lost in you it’s almost poetic. “You feel like sunshine, and breeze and…”

You grip his hair, pull him from the crook of your neck and stare at him, breathless and unfocused. And you just kiss him. 

He’s harmless in your arms. Entirely incapable of anything but kissing you. His arms fall at his sides, his hips halt, his mouth is the only moving part of him. He’s like a leaf drifting in your currents, and little does he know the tide has just turned. 

You unhook your own bra, take his hands in yours and place them against your breasts, that are now tender with pent-up pressure. You both gasp in the kiss as his palms, soft and silky, make contact with your skin. The way he fondles you feels like second nature. He’s made of nothing but instinct and will, he feels like an arrow, tracing the fastest, most effective way to go from where he is to where you need him to be. 

And no matter how much you’re loving your current predicament, you know you need more. You need him inside. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you pull him down with you, drag him on top of you, the kiss undisturbed, uninterrupted. “Naked, please, inside,” you whisper, the urgency in your voice leaving him stunned. 

He’s just so pliant. You’re pretty sure that if you asked him to throw himself off a cliff he would, as long as you’d kiss him at the bottom of it. 

Yoongi rocks his hips against you, and you both moan, a little lost. That’s when you realise his underwear feels a little bit damp where his tip rests, and that renews your motivation. You roll him over, rising above him, and he’s stunned, staring at your hair. 

“Lift it up for me, love,” you tell him, and you’re not sure where all this agency is coming from, but you know you have a list of things you’re going to regret not doing to him — another surprising aspect of what you feel for him. 

He arches his hips off the bed, obeying your request, and you slip his boxers off him. And he’s so perfect. Crouching down and tasting him is the first thing that comes to your mind and you don’t even question it. You bend down and you do. 

He moans, and you regret not getting the sound recorded. 

“Come up here… You’re gonna make a sorry mess of me, Sunny,” he says, and it comes out so embarrassed, and so entertained too. “Let me please you, ____. I’m begging, sweetheart.”

You keep working him lightly, with little touches and small licks, and gentle nudges, your lips drawing his length, your teeth brushing against his flesh as softly as a lover’s whisper. But as you do all that, you slip your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and drag the fabric off your hips, down your thighs, till it reaches your knees, then you readjust yourself so that you can remove the garment entirely. 

“Is this the right moment to tell you I’ve done this just once?” He asks. 

You freeze. “What?” 

“I know, I was very poorly adapted to society. I’m not… I’m not entirely sure I know how this works.”

You frown, but nod anyway. “Okay. This is definitely not going to last, but I’ll make it good. I promise.”

Yoongi bites his lip, again, an embarrassed and amused expression on his fine face. “I’ll do my best.” 

“I know you will,” you reassure him, taking his hand in yours and kissing his palm. And then you place yourself astride him. “But I’m staying on top just to keep you rooted.” 

“Thanks,” he says with a chuckle. He looks entirely adorable. You want to eat him, just for a quick second, like a cotton candy bunny. 

You’re also sure you don’t want to stretch. You just want to grind and take him inch by inch, using him to ready yourself, feeling your body adapt to him. 

When you grip him, he hisses, but refuses to stop watching. The first three inches feel like the most brilliant decision you’ve ever taken, and you move on them for a bunch of seconds, then nod to yourself. 

All the way. That’s what you want, and the realisation dawns on you like the first day of summer. 

You let yourself slide on him until your butt rests on his hips. 

You both exhale with the wonder of those who finally discover the world was built in Technicolor after a life in black-and-white. 

“Fuck. Condom. Forgot,” he says through gritted teeth. 

“If you’re clean then—” 

“Used it that one time,” he reassures you.

“Fuck, good,” you swear, and it is uncharacteristic of you, but he’s making you see stars. He’s thick and blunt inside you, so hot and smooth and his flesh has the perfect give. When you squish him, your inner muscles responding to the divine feel of him inside you, the poor boy hums a long, restrained sound that culminates in a tender gasp. His mouth is wide, his eyes squeezed shut instead. “This… this is what it must feel like,” he whispers. 

“Yes, when you’re lucky,” you confess before rolling your hips, making him drag along the most sensitive spot of your inner walls. 

“I know I’m lucky. I feel very fucking lucky, Sunny.” His hips jolt and you squeak at the sudden bump, the thrust making you tighten around him. “Dammit, that’s what you do when I push inside you?”

You nod, a roguish smirk on your lips. 

He cradles your hips and then holds you still, pushing once again inside you. This time it’s deliberate and thorough, as if he’s searching the right angle, friction, direction. And when he sees your jaw fall, your lips agape, he nods to himself, and repeats the movement, intentful. 

You squeeze him, not entirely coherent, and this time the both of you lose reason a little. 

It becomes mechanic, natural, a push and pull that requires no thinking and all moving. 

“I think I’m close,” he says. “Are you?”

You frown, because you are actually close, but quite surely not as close as he is. “Close, but it’s okay if—

He slips all the way out this time and moves his hand so that his thumb can dip between your folds, tracing the cleft that runs from your entrance to the turgid bud of nerves at the top of your sex. 

You moan his name in warning. “This you’ve done more than once, though.” The devil’s in the details and there are only so many details you can know before you’re entirely damned: from the way he’s touching you, you’re probably both destined for a very hot circle in hell. There’s no way you can do this just once, no way you’re going to do this in the quiet. You just let yourself moan, and he chuckles, but the sound is filled with awe. 

“If I could bottle the sound, I’d get drunk on it,” he murmurs, and that seems to justify the way he looks barely sober now — nothing to do with the drinks he had at the beach earlier. This one is entirely your own doing. 

You lower your hips so that you can grind against his shaft, while his fingers keep working you leisurely. 

“I thought I’d done enough of it, but that was before you,” he says. “You feel like warm butter, Sunny. Like damn velvet.” 

“I need—” 

“Inside. Yes, I know,” he whispers. His tone is knowing, and it clashes with his admitted inexperience. 

“How do you know?”

“Because I fucking need inside you too,” is his only explanation. “Or you can make me come this way,” he suggests, “Watch me ruin myself. Bet you’d get high from my utter humiliation.”

You shake your head a little, and bite your lip. The picture he’s painted in your head has nothing to do with humiliation. “It wouldn’t be that. It would be the hottest, sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Then bring it home, love,” he tells you with the flirtiest smile on his face.

So you pick up your pace, focus a little bit more on his tip and reach behind you to cup the rest of him. You slide the head of his dick inside you, work it with shallow, slow strokes, which makes him hiss. 

He doesn’t know how he finds the strength, but he manages to pull out just half a second before he reaches his orgasm. Just half a second of rationality before he loses himself entirely. 

And you know he’s let go: you can tell by the way his head tips back and he grunts in a way that doesn’t sound like him at all. It makes you shed your skin a little, and you allow yourself out of your shell. You ride him, hips swivelling like never before. You feel like water, and it seems absurd that no matter how much swimming, how much surfing, or how much sailing you’ve done in your life: you’ve never felt this fluid, this liquid before. You’re pure movement, and Yoongi can’t help but stare as you dance on top of him, like rain, like waves, like waterfalls. 

You grab at your chest, squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples as you ride him, your hair like a halo, dancing with your movements. His own hands join yours and you bend forward, pressing yourself against his palm. 

He’s still spilling himself under you, his orgasm reaching his stomach and his chest. It’s messy, and yet you’re entirely fascinated by it. You can feel his sex twitch and release itself against your folds, and you marvel at how sensitive your bodies can grow. 

It’s with his final thrusts that you finally reach the apex of your pleasure, and you part from him just quick enough to slide him inside you, his hiss going unnoticed as you finally, finally squeeze around him and there you go, tumbling down into pleasure, your downfall glorious and ruinous at the same time. 

You want him as close as you can and you just throw your body onto his, taking him to the hilt, gasping at how marvellous it is to be so full, to be this close, this uniquely twined with someone. It is not a tidy or poetic moment, your perspiration and his release mixing together on your and his chest as you embrace. You stare at each other, stupefied by the animalistic nature of your joining, both wide-eyed and desperate. And then you kiss him, like it’s the most obvious answer to this all.

“Are you alright,” you ask him once the kiss fades out, and he nods, his hands caressing the sides of your face, cradling it. 

“I’m sure that thing you did when you pulled me back in killed me once or twice,” he confesses. “But overall, I’ve never been better.”

His humour steals a chuckle from you. “I’m sorry about the mess,” you say, apologetic. 

He shakes his head with a mischievous smile on his face. “Sit up, Sunny. I have plans.”

You frown, not sure about his intentions. Does he mean ‘plans’ as in the sense that he needs you to leave?

You try to roll off him, a little upset, but he holds you still as soon as he realises you weren’t moving in the right direction. “No. Stay on top, just sit up, love.”

Your frown is still all out, but you do as he asks you. And right then you notice his eyes drifting down your torso, from your sticky, messy chest to your sticky, messy sex. 

He brings his hands to the side of your breasts, pushing them together, looks deep into your eyes as he sits up himself, the shift in the angle of him inside you making you gasp. He holds your gaze until he can’t anymore, then dives with his face for your chest, the mess transferring from your boobs to his cheeks. And once he starts licking and sucking, once you feel him twitch inside you, you know the night has just begun. 

“Guess this means you’re ready for your third time?” you say, teasing and gleeful. 

“After all, they do say ‘third time’s the charm’,” he quips. 

And boy, oh boy, aren’t they just right. 

September is no longer terrifying. Not as you and Yoongi glide across the linoleum floor of Juniper Hall, his friends — maybe yours too, at this point — stare at you from the refreshment table. The Winery Ball is splendid, as usual, the true event of the end of the season, the closing of another cycle. The Orchard organises it each year, giving a chance for the members of the retirement home to celebrate one evening with their families, but also a way to keep them occupied through the final days of summer, and a kind initiative to include them in the social life of their community. Socially, but also creatively, is one of the best examples of Honeycomb Cove. 

Somewhere around the room, Hoseok was also dancing with his now-girlfriend, and you could hear Seokjin’s shrill laughter as he listened to his partner’s winded and absurd stories, her sarcastic — though wildly entertaining — rants. 

In another corner of the room, the brightest one, with an arm lamp, Laura was working at a new cardigan in Yoongi’s favourite shade of lavender. She’d become entirely smitten with the guy, and he often visited to keep her company; however, you also suspected he came around to hang out with you, and just maybe to hear some of your childhood stories. Marvin had yet to come to terms with the fact that you were now very happily taken, but his nephew was very glad the matchmaking shenanigans had to come to a much-needed halt. After all, Marvin liked Yoongi very much, and he liked live music even more than that. He was secretly glad you’d found such a perfect match for yourself, though he would never admit that publicly.

Still, the person who enjoyed the music the most was Orla: she and Yoongi had bonded almost immediately, and he did love spending time with her the most. They spoke a little Portuguese together every now and then, and she was becoming rather committed to the idea of reaching a little more fluency before ‘laying to rest for good’, as she said. Yoongi’s eyes would always glow glossy at the way Orla would talk about her declining health and what was left of her lifespan, but the cloud of melancholy would always drift by quickly, and his eyes would light up in determination as he fought to keep her entertained for just one more day. 

Like so, your life had changed forever, and in the span of one summer, you had entered a new season in your life, one that would one day lead probably to marriage, and a family. A dog. Kids too, if you were so blessed. Or maybe you would just adopt — both you and Yoongi were rather open to the idea of that. 

But first, marriage: you had both been on the same page about that, and he hadn’t made it a secret he had every intention of keeping the engagement rather short. 

You stared at your hand, resting on his shoulder as you swayed to the music, his gentle samba playing from the speakers, the sound so familiar as the first time he’d played it for you in his home studio, the melody reminding you of every walk by the rising sun, of every wave crashing at your feet on the shore, of music by the fireplace, of stars making his hair glitter like the ocean at midnight, of making love in the deep quiet of the night, when you knew each other not by sight, but by touch and taste alone. 

He’d given you Beatrice’s ring earlier tonight: a bright yellow crystal surrounded by exquisite smaller stones, forming a star. He’d put it on your middle finger, then kissed your palm before he said, “We’ll move it on the right finger when you’re ready.” He’d been confident, and calm and trusting, and you’d felt like the time was right, then and there, but you decided to be considerate, and see how winter would play out. You would return to the Orchard full time in just ten days, but you felt excited, with your truck in Yoongi’s driveway and your scrubs and your knitting supplies waiting for you at his place, in a wardrobe he’d fixed for you. 

He’d made you move in with him a month after that first night, with the excuse of making you save on rent, and the promise of letting you split the bills, since you would have felt too much of a freeloader otherwise. 

Truth is, he paid the bills in full, and kept your money on the side, just in case you would need it someday — but that’s not something you needed to know yet, and he kept his little secret with a little smugness. 

“Have I touched on the subject of how much I love you in this dress tonight?” Yoongi said as his fingers lowered into the low scoop of the back of your dress, chastely caressing the naked skin at the small of your back. 

“I know for sure you have elaborated on how much you love me with no clothes on, but the part with my dress on no, you actually haven’t mentioned,” you replied, fond, but also quippish.

You’re rather fond of all the ways your inside jokes have lined up, with the way you’ve found a common sense of humour, and with how sensitive, how aligned you’ve become with each other. 

“I guess I have some shortcomings to make up for,” he conceded. 

“You can start by saying how much you love him.”

“Oh, an easy one, thank you,” he said before caressing your face, his palm cupping your chin before his lips landed on yours, light and loving. “I love you as wide as the sky, and as deep as the ocean,” he declared, with that little lull in his voice. He’d told you Antonio would always tell Beatrice so before resting his lips on her forehead, holding her. And a few weeks later, he’d barged in the kitchen as you were cooking, excited like a little kid on Christmas morning. 

“Found it! I found it!” he’d cheered. He’d dragged you to the living room, where a pile of VHS towered dangerously on top of the coffee table. He grabbed the remote, and rewinded the tape just a little. “Here,” he’d said, his voice elated. He’d held you tight, like you were his teddy bear, his comfort blanket, his lifeline. And with his chin resting over your shoulder, his arms wrapped snugly around you, you’d both faced the screen and he’d pressed play. 

The voice that came on was soft, like the sound of wind gushing through the branches of osmanthus trees in the garden. And there was the lull of that declaration, by now so familiar to your ears. With the same pattern of stresses, the same intonation, Antonio proclaimed his love to Beatrice on the occasion of their tenth anniversary, both dressed in white, both crowned in flowers, both barefoot in the garden. Right there, the declaration, like an oath and like a children's rhyme. 

“And I will love you true, always. As wide as the sky. As deep as the ocean.” 

Your and Yoongi’s eyes had sparkled with unshed tears that night, as you stood there, years after that video had been shot on a cheap camera. It felt powerful, being testimony to a love like that, long gone from the world, but still alive in the memory, and in Yoongi’s very existence. 

And now swaying in an improvised ballroom, not barefoot yet — but sometimes soon, with a priest and matching rings and emotional friends — you looked at Yoongi and replied, just as Beatrice had, “As bright as the sun, as soft as the moon.”

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! If you want to know more about this collab, you can head over here!!!

[the-smiling-doodler]

What is the difference between twitter and tumblr

there's a lot of differences between them, from community to functionality. we'd be here all week if i listed every single one, so i'm just gonna name a few: 1. the community on tumblr is a lot more chill than the one on twitter. tumblr users HIGHLY encourage curating your own experience, it's basically impossible to be on tumblr for a while without seeing at least one post encouraging you to unfollow/block people you dont vibe with, not respond to hateful asks and block mean anons, and filter tags you dont like. this isn't to say that other apps don't do the same thing, but in my experience, tumblr users are far more vocal about it. it's very ingrained in the app's culture as a whole. linking this back to the SC fandom real quick: I've only been faced with one drama on tumblr, compared to twitter where it seems like every fucking day some new shit pops up. tumblr-exclusive SC fans are largely unaware of any of the crazy shit that goes on on twitter. i keep saying this to my moots but it is genuinely far more peaceful on here than on twitter. 2. tumblr is also more slow-paced than twitter because the character limit on this app is HUGE (4096 characters per text block, and tumblr allows a total of 1000 content blocks per post, meaning that if you use every content block you have exclusively for text, the total character limit is 4,096,000 characters per post. thats like 630154 - 819200 words !! also, reblogs count as their own post, and you can reblog a post a near infinite number of times (ignoring the 250 post limit a day.)), which i think is part of the reason why this app is more chill. it's less stressful, it feels like you can take your time on here. this isn't mentioning that you can attach up to 10 images to a post, making tumblr a better app for both writers and artists compared to twitter. the more you stay on this app, the more you notice that a lot of posts are very long. 3. i've said this on another post of mine (which i really recommend reading if you have the time because i talk a lot about the importance of reblogging posts on tumblr, among other things), but I'll say it here again: while the community on tumblr is more chill, it's also very quiet. a lot of tumblr users have become very passive in their engagement with posts, only liking and never reblogging. in my personal experience, i've found that you get far more engagement and reach on twitter than on tumblr (emphasis on personal experience, because a few of my friends have told me that they actually get more interaction on tumblr than on twitter.) in short: twitter is where you go to get famous, tumblr is where you go to hang out with friends. 4. this point came from my friend @buggyboo-exe, he said: "I'd add the fact that Tumblr allows for more, how do I say, personal interaction? On Twitter sure, you can follow people and see just your follower's posts and everything but Tumblr not only has the ask box, it also gives you the feature to answer those asks privately. I think it's just easier to make friends on Tumblr and actually keep those friends long term than on Twitter. Likely due to the slow paced thing as well. I'm not sure how to explain it better. Tumblr also started the whole "moots" thing I believe so followers are always seen more as friends then anywhere else." I think this point is very solid because, yes, although I think twitter is better in terms of quantity of engagement, tumblr allows for deeper, more personal interaction. a lot of my closest friends on this fandom are ones I've made on tumblr. I feel way more comfortable goofing around and being silly with them publicly on here than on twitter.

5. this is something I wanted to add to the post i linked in point 3 but forgot to, and that is that tumblr is more or less timeless. it's very, very, VERY common to come across posts from as far back as 15 years ago. you basically never see twitter posts ever again if they weren't made this year, but on tumblr? it's not unusual to see a post from 2015 circulating. it's not weird to reblog art or writing from months or years ago. it's also not weird to go through an artist's blog and just reblog/like all their posts in one sitting. (also, reblogging a post means you get to keep a copy of it on your blog forever. meaning that even if a user deletes their blog, or deletes the post itself, as long as you've reblogged it it's never truly gone. reblog your favorite posts if you wanna keep them with you forever!!) 6. tumblr users REALLY stress anonymity. one of the first things i told my twitter mutuals was to PRIVATE YOUR LIKES AND FOLLOWING TABS !! no one wants or needs to see that stuff. this is your personal blog, you're allowed to and even encouraged to keep things about yourself private. it is usually extremely easy to tell who is and isnt a tumblr user, because twitter users tend to: have their likes and following visible, don't have a blog title, dont have a personal blog theme, and only like posts with little to no reblogs.

I'll cut myself off here because this post is getting very long, but yeah, there's a LOTTTT of differences. i hope this answered your question !! and to anyone reading this, feel free to ask me if you have any other questions about being on tumblr. I know a lot of you are new here and i LOVE to yap, so i'd be happy to answer !!

[cb-writes-stuff]

〜＊ New Blog Intro! ＊〜

Howdy! I’m CB, short for C. Brookes. Feel free to call me any derivation of those. I am 18, going into college for a degree in English. (Even though I’m an adult, don’t be weird.) He/him, please.

My blog (and brain) is currently dominated by:

[??? I don’t know]

Other posts are spices.

Asks/doodle requests are open!

Project Opal Masterpost

★ This is a colored text blog. I use lots of colored text because my eyes glaze over homochromatic text, it’s fun to have lots of colored text, and it’s pretty. ★

♦︎ About Me ♦︎

♥︎ I’m an American from the good ol’ South. Not much of an accent, but I have a birthright to the vernacular, the hospitality, and the home-cooked meals. ♥︎

♥︎ I’m just a freelance silly little guy. ♥︎

♥︎ I have ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder), also called Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Inattentive Type. I’m not at all hyperactive, so I prefer ADD. ♥︎

♥︎ I also have social anxiety, and a number of other suspected things! ♥︎

♥︎ I actually know very little about lots of things! Feel free to educate me. ♥︎

♥︎ I’m a yapper, if you couldn’t tell. ♥︎

♠︎ What I Post ♠︎

♥︎ Fandoms I post about: A Hat in Time, In Stars and Time, Hollow Knight, EPIC: The Musical, and… that’s about it, I think. ♥︎

♥︎ Fandoms I don’t post about: Pokémon, Baba Is You, Undertale, Deltarune, Portal (1 and 2), Stardew Valley, and I might add to this list later. ♥︎

♥︎ I’m writing a novel! I post (almost) daily word count updates, with little snippets of my favorite thing I wrote on a given day. ♥︎

♥︎ I also do art! Sometimes it’s doodles, sometimes it’s full-fledged art. ♥︎

★ I have a little AU idea percolating right now called In Hats and Time, a crossover between A Hat in Time and In Stars and Time. There’s not much on it right now, but there will be eventually! ★

♥︎ Japanese. The language itself, songs (especially Ado), and anything else that somehow isn’t either of those. ♥︎

♥︎ This is a no-swearing blog. You do you, but I don’t post or reblog anything with swearing. ♥︎

♥︎ In a similar vein, this is an SFW blog. We stay silly. ♥︎

♣︎ Tags ♣︎

#project opal - posts related to my current novel wip, Project Opal

#cb writing stuff - random posts, thoughts, and general yapping

#cb doodling stuff - my doodles

#cb drawing stuff - my more complete artwork, art projects, or illustrations

#cb defining stuff - the definitions of interesting words I come across

#cb answering stuff - answered asks, or anything from my inbox

#cbの日本語 - any of my posts that include Japanese in them

#cb progressing stuff - my writing progress updates #ihat / #in hats and time - any posts about the aforementioned AU

#siffrin and the craaaazy time loop - my liveblogged In Stars and Time playthrough

#i don’t tag my reblogs and i’m not about to start now - posts I reblogged responding to my moots

[starryriize]

assign your moots with their bias & a trope!! tell us why too 👀

| oh this made me giggle i love being cupid fr!! i’m not sure if these are tropes, but i hope you enjoy them <33 mwah mwah i love you (i also only did these for the mutuals that i talk to the most so to my other mutuals, i don't know you well enough to have a good judge of character)

@chiiyuuvv | anton & stolen glances !!

first up, YUVIE! ik you're super friendly BUT you're also quiet and reserved. so, i think having stolen glances with anton makes a lot of sense! you're both cute introverts 😭🥹 i could see anton being nervous to approach you, but you're also stealing glances at him and then both of you blushing when you look at each other at the same time

@kehnarii | fuma & love at first sight !!

heheehe my bae <33 i think you'd be so cute with fuma especially love at first sight!! idk i could see fuma literally speechless bc of your kind personality and the fact that you could pass as a model is an added bonus for him 🥹🤭 it's so cute bc you fall for him at first sight too :( arghhh you guys would be an adorable couple fr

@hyvelxve | seeun & christmas love !!

Ahh hyve!! my child :(( i could seeun seeing you in the falling snow and being all wide-eyed and like "woah...." 😭 idk what gave me this idea but falling in love at Christmas seems to fit you so well?? (i could be wrong tho 🥹) BUT idk seeun gives off cliche-holiday romance vibes like buying the same ornaments and he finds it cute that you like silly ornaments like him

@rizzkisworld | maki & return to hometown !!

i feel like you and maki were the childhood besties who separated to chase your own dreams. 😭 and you travel back home to see that maki has also come back to his roots !! very hometown love coded with all the grandmas asking you both, "when are you gonna confess" lmao 😭 it's very spur-of-the-moment confession in a little record store or smth (PLS THIS IS SO CUTE 🥹 y'all are the duo of the century in that town)

@yuniniverse | zhang hao & love letters !!

yuni! my first impression of you was that you're so fun to be around oh em gee😭 maybe it's bc of valentines but i just know that hao is a romantic (fight me on this i swear) it's like putting notes in your books when you're not looking 🤭 and you open it and you're kicking your feet giggling bc he sounds cheesy. you eventually write back notes and stick them in his books for him to find. 😭 ARGH this is tew tew cute

@cherrycolaberry | jaehyun & long train rides !!

maybe it was my first impression, but you have such a sweet and introverted personality 😌 (which i think jaehyun needs bc that man is energetic as hell)!! anyways, i could see him falling for you as you both are seated next to each other on the train! you realize that you have stuff in common and you would exchange numbers🤭 and that's how your relationship starts (stop i should write smth about this fr)

@cupidseok | eunseok & roommates to lovers !!

argh the loml! i feel like you fit the roommates-to-lovers trope so well 🤭 bear with me bc i can see you and eunseok being roommates under the circumstances that you both need places to stay bc apartments are expensive.😭 he thinks you're cute when you wake up needing coffee :( and then he brings home flowers home one day with a gift and tells you that he's liked you since you became his roommate 😭🥹

@lunicho | taesan & friends to lovers !!

bunny! the taesan to my leehan🧚🏼‍♀️!! anyways, i feel like you and taesan would instantly click 🤭 you're a really fun and relatable person so i could see taesan being your friend, best friend, to lover!! idk if it's me but i could see you guys meeting as strangers because you both took a walk at the same time 😭 instant BFFs me thinks, but then you guys go on dates and say things that friends don't say...which leads to you guys dating and being the cutest couple fr🥹

@leejeongz | jeonghyeon & falling first but he falls harder !!

eeeek maybe it's your vibes but i feel like jeonghyeon would fall for your cool, nonchalant vibes!! i could be wrong but i also think you guys have similar personalities...you fall first (bc who wouldn't 😭) and he slowly begins thinking about you more and more...leading to him falling for you harder 🥹🤭 he goes home kicking his feet and giggling in bed lmao