#come get yourself some absolute bbs

[vitiligorakebaby]

Got bored and made some random lil Bugsnax buggy bois. And seeing free baby grumpus adopts inspired me to give these bbs away for whoever wants em! Snak appreciation time!

Got a Strabby based on chocolate-covered strawberries, a Kweeble based on red kiwi, a Wee Mewon based on yellow watermelon, and a Baby Cakelegs based on devil's food cake!

First come, first serve, just comment below for them!:

Chocolate-covered Strabby: Belongs to @fanartalchemist

Red Kweeble: Finally found a home with @the-named-anon

Yellow Wee Mewon: Belongs to @eveeonaartz

Baby Devil-legs: Belongs to @eveeonaartz as well!

[bloodibambiidoll]

I'm asking waayyy too much BUT ITS THE LAST ONE I PINKY PROMISE( for today. . .)

Anyyywaayyssss, okay so what if weird girl!reader was hanging around n climbing trees or something (bc I do that-) and JJ sees her and he's like "girl wtf r u doing up there" and blah blah blah it's there first time meeting too (it would be fun if rafe sees this and they're not dating yet n he gets a lil jelly hehe)

VERY RANDOM BUT MY HEAD JUST WORKS LIKE THATTT

Ty bb🪽🫀

Omg yes!! This is such a cutie idea!! I actually had this pic saved on her Pinterest board bc she absolutely climbs trees. Sometimes she just climbs a little too high… Jealous!Rafe, fluff, lovesick!Rafe 18+MNDI!

(Also in another world Jj & Weird!girl would be so cute actually)

“What’re you doing up there?” The sound of someone’s voice nearly has you falling off the tree branch you’re perched on as your hand flies to chest and a surprised gasp leaves you. You look below you to see a head of messy blonde hair and ocean blue eyes squinting up at you through the sun. You’ve never met him, but recognize him of course, it’s not like the island is particularly big so you’ve seen everyone at least once. Jj Maybank, he’s from the cut so it makes sense that you’ve never really crossed paths. He’s cute though.

“Umm… I��m doing pretty much exactly what it looks like I’m doing, sitting in a tree.” You let out a little small chuckle as you look down at him. “What are you doing down there?”

“Well, I’m exactly what it looks like I’m doing, walking on the ground.” You snort at that, giving him a playful roll of your eyes. “I know, I’m hilarious. I was just makin’ sure you weren’t stuck up there or anything.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say stuck. I’d say I may have flown too close to the sun climbing up this high.” You shrug as you kick your dangling feet back and forth.

“Soooo… you’re stuck then?” Jj smirks up at you as he adjusts the cap on his head so it’s facing backwards. It gives you a better view of his face, he’s cute. Maybe if you weren’t already so invested in Rafe you would definitely be interested in him.

“I mean, mentally? Yes. Physically? No. I could get down whenever I want, actually.” Your voice is sickly sweet and Jj wonders why he’s never talked to you before. He’s seen you around and he’s always thought you were hot. That whole semi creepy but still angelic vibe you give off really does it for him.

“Yeah? You need some help?” He chuckles and leans his hand against the trunk of the tree, out stretching his neck and accentuating his jaw. He looks like he’d be nice to bite.

“She’s good, Maybank.” Your head whips around to see Rafe walking down the dirt path with a stone cold look set on his face. “I can help my girl. You can fuck off now.”

“Rafey! Hi!” You smile wide as you wave down at him enthusiastically. You sent him a picture of you up in the tree telling him you might need a little help getting down and he immediately dropped everything to come to your rescue.

“Rafey, huh? That’s adorable, truly.” Jj smirks at Rafe and it has him breathing out hard through his nostrils. He’s been trying really hard not to beat every man who looks at you to a pulp but seeing fucking Jj Maybank smirking up at you while you giggle is making him see red.

“Shut the fuck up, Pogue. Didn’t I tell you to fuck off? I suggest you do before we have an actual problem.” Rafe takes a few steps towards him, his eyes are like blue fire as he glares at Jj like he wants to burn him alive. It’s kind of hot. If you’re being honest with yourself.

“Okaaaay, I think that’s enough. I’m good Jj, thank you for offering to help me, you’re sweet.” You give him a saccharine smile and it makes him swoon just a little. You are so cute that if he wasn’t trying to stay off the cops radar he would probably stand here and fuck with Rafe even more.

“Yeah, no problem, sweetheart. See ya around, let me know if pretty boy over here decides to fuck you over, I don’t mind being your rebound.” Jj bites his lip as he winks at you before turning to walk off. Rafe wants to chase after him and wipe that smug ass look off his face by shoving it into the dirt.

“Raaaafe.” You snap your fingers to get his attention and it pulls him out of his rage filled trance. He looks up at you, smiling down at him so sweetly and he almost forgets who Jj Maybank even is. Almost. He still wants to kick his fucking ass.

“Hmm? Yeah baby?”

“Can you help me get down now?” He giggle and Rafe swears it’s his favorite sound other than when you scream for him while you fall apart in his cock.

“Oh shit, yeah. C’mere.” Rafe moves so he’s directly under you with his arms outstretched. “Jump down, I’ll catch you.”

“I don’t know, Rafe. I’m pretty high up.” Your expression turns nervous so Rafe leans up so he can hit the bottom of your shoe with the tips of his fingers.

“You’re not even that high, see? Just fuckin’ jump. Promise I won’t let you fall.” He shakes his hands above his head and gives you that semi goofy, reassuring smile that’s reserved only for you.

“Okay. Fine.” You let out a dramatic sigh before bracing your hands on the branch so you can push yourself down into Rafe’s arms. A little squeal leaves you when he grips onto your hips and pulls you against his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck so you can plant a messy smooch on his lips. “My savior!! How will I ever repay you, fair knight?”

“Pft. You’re so fuckin’ dramatic.” Rafe snorts as he lightly sets you down on the ground.

“I’m dramatic? You were about to beat Jj’s ass for trying to help me!” You laugh, jokingly pushing your hand into his shoulder.

“Nah, he was doing more than just trynna help you.” Rafe grabs onto your hand so he can pull you closer against his chest. “He was fucking flirting with you and you’re mine.”

“Yours, huh? Guess I missed the letter in the mail that said we were official.”

“Oh my god, you’re so dumb.” Rafe throws his head back with a groan but you can see the smile painted across your lips. “I thought I made it pretty fuckin’ clear that you’re my girl.”

“Hmmm… I don’t know, might need you to spell it out for me.” Your giggle makes butterflies erupt in his stomach and Rafe never believed in that butterflies in your tummy bullshit until he met you.

“Ugh. You’re a brat, you know that?” You shrug, letting out a satisfied hum. “Fine. Be my girlfriend?”

“Uh, duh, I already am.” He rolls his eyes and you give him a satisfied smile. “Just wanted to hear you say it.”

“You’re sooo in for it when we get back to my place. Brat.” He grips onto your neck, pulling your lips against his in a rough kiss. “Car. Let’s go.”

“Okay, okay, sooo bosssy.” He smacks your ass and you yelp, running full speed toward his truck.

“Oh hell nah! Get your lil ass back here!!”

Taglist: @babygorewhore @strawberrydolly333 @starkeysprincess @sturnioloshacker @nemesyaaa @rafeinterlude @loserboysandlithium

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider is @strangergraphics

[l0v3tast3]

Ok but older perv bf ghost would be such a menace like he would destroy your cunt in his back seat and then shake ur dads hand.( these older bf hcs make me go feral bb)

anon you are so right. he'll be so mean but like it's literally his fault that he's hot asf and u just wanna jump on him 24/7 ??? anyways tysm for the request and the kind words i hope you enjoy this anon !! ◝(⁰▿⁰)◜

✎ tags: mdni! nsft, f!reader, age gap (r is 20's, simon is late 30's), dumbification, conditioning (consensual), orgasm control, spanking, degradation/praise kink, overstimulation/edging, car s3x, size difference/kink, possessive!simon, c0ckwarming

✎ word count: 1.8k words (not proofread)

masterlist | requests are open!

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who wants to see you become absolutely brainless because of him. you're such a smart girl usually, among the top of your class at university, and simon just loves to see that whole façade crumble away. he knows a good fucking is just what you need to unwind from your classes, and he is more than happy to give it to you.

✧ ˖ ° seeing you go all dumb on his cock makes simon nearly giddy, the feeling of how you stop pushing at his abs and just take it once he bullies his dick in far enough to fill your brain with him instead of whatever you're studying, the sight of your eyes rolling back and your little hands weakly grabbing at whatever they can reach for some semblance of grounding yourself. you know just as well as simon does that it's useless; he makes damn sure that you have nowhere to run to when he has you in his hold.

✧ ˖ ° another thing he makes sure of is that you steadily become the one to come onto him first. simon wants you to be his own little nymphomaniac, addicted to his cock, to him. it all works towards melting your brain quicker and quicker each time. there's a certain dedication he puts towards it- even by the time he was done with you the first time you slept together, he's planning it out, figuring out which muscles to press into to get you to mewl for him, just the right angle to pound his dick into you, how much you can take before he starts seeing dew drops collecting on your waterline.

✧ ˖ ° even outside of the bedroom (or kitchen, or living room, wherever he has yet to christen next in his house) simon's working on it. he'll give you so many hoodies, jackets, boxers, anything that smells like him that you want, and then he tells you that if you're going to touch yourself without him that you better be at least wearing his clothes while you do it. eventually you'll get to the point where you can't get off without the thought of him, without his scent, then without him. there's no doubt either that whenever you do get worked up without him, simon makes sure that you always tell him. text him, call him, send a damn carrier pigeon with a letter, he doesn't care, but he's going to guide you through every orgasm you have.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who can get to be a mean dom. he loves punishing you for whatever reason he can find, especially when you touch yourself without telling him. simon is an experienced special ops soldier who's used his hands to torture people as much as he's used them to pleasure you, so he has not a single problem with knowing how to get the truth out of you. obviously he doesn't torture you, though (not in a way you don't like).

✧ ˖ ° if it's been a long stretch of time where you haven't been able to see each other, he'll pull you onto his lap and start out all soft. he'll run his hands all over you, move his lips against yours sweet and slow, whisper about how much he missed his pretty little girl. he'll listen with a happy hum while you tell him how much you missed him, how much you need him. he'll guide your hips lightly when you can't help but start grinding against his thigh, hands pushing up your skirt to see which pair of underwear he gets to rip apart this time. and then he'll ask you how much you missed him.

✧ ˖ ° from the start you know the question is a double-edged sword, but you always answer truthfully. it only took you one lesson to learn that simon knows when you lie to him (he didn't let you cum for three days while he kept you at his house the entire time). he always appreciates the truth, praises you for being such a good girl for him when you honestly tell him that you only touched yourself during the short phone calls he was allowed while he was away. there's a little part of him that's always a bit disappointed though, the same part that turns into glee when you sheepishly admit that you couldn't wait for him.

✧ ˖ ° simon's always a bit too quick at flipping you over so your laying face-down over his thighs. one hand wraps around your neck to pull you up and arch your back, the other flipping up your skirt and grabbing roughly at your squishy ass. "couldn't fuckin' wait f'me, huh? y'so desperate for cock that y'can't follow simple orders? thought i already taught ya how to be patient," he spits, letting you fall back against the couch so his hand can move down to plant itself across your back. that's when he starts, not even waiting for you to try to apologize meekly or defend yourself. slaps that leave bruises you'll be feeling for days rain down across your ass and simon makes you count each one. if you lose count or stop, he'll push open your legs to smack your cunt and start all over. simon doesn't let up until you're sniffling and whining and your underwear is soaked through (which of course he makes fun of you for).

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who really is an absolute menace with you. he dangles your pleasure over your head like something he grabbed for you out of the cabinets, keeping it just out of your reach until he decides to give it to you. there won't ever be a moment where simon doesn't have most, if not all of the control. there's something about having that command over you, feeling you hand over your trust, your body and mind to him that's addicting. so no matter how cruel he can get, he'll always make sure to ply you with as many orgasms as you can handle (and then some) to show his appreciation.

✧ ˖ ° his brutishness can come in the form of wanting to see just how messy he can get you to be. he'll bury his face and fingers into your cunt until there's a puddle forming underneath you, and when he's done there, simon stuffs you full with his cock and fucks you until your makeup is running with your tears and smearing across the sheets. he'll rip off the clothes that bar him from seeing your gorgeous body so that you have to wear something of his afterwards. and god help you if he wants to fuck in the backseat of his car before you both go someplace. which, (not) shockingly, is something he wants to do before he meets your parents.

✧ ˖ ° with the car parked not too far from your parents house in some spot where people won't think to give the tinted windows a second look, he'll have you working your way down on his cock. every time you whine about how you're going to be late, they're going to know, they won't be happy, simon gives your ass a sharp slap and snaps his hips up into yours. "would y'rather i fuck you in your room while they're home? don't think you can keep quiet enough for that," he mocks, his tone condescending despite the fact that he's already planning on doing just that at some point.

✧ ˖ ° once you're practically limp against his body, letting him use you like his personal toy, he'll finally cum. you finish with him, your third orgasm in less than an hour, as he buries his cock to the hilt inside you and grinds his hips up. once you're semi-conscious again he helps you put on your underwear and pants and gives you his hoodie. and after you've taken off your ruined makeup and redid at least some of it, you'll drive the remaining minute to your parents house, where simon seems to know just how to get them to love him. meanwhile, you'll be shifting in your seat next to him while his cum creates a stain on your jeans.

✧ ˖ ° pervy older boyfriend!simon who wants you to be with him basically 24/7 while he's not away on missions. you're his girlfriend, of course he wants to spend as much time as he can with you! never mind the fact that this man has probably been boxing away his libido for years. so while he's at his home, so will you be.

✧ ˖ ° you'll find that any clothes you bring over to your stays with simon don't really go missing as much as he blatantly makes them unwearable for you as long as you insist on still bringing them. why would you have any need for those when he has plenty for you? it's not like you'll be wearing clothes much anyway while he has you. it's a lesson you learn quickly to pack light, otherwise you'll be going home with scraps of fabric. simon doesn't not like your clothes (he thinks your style is adorable on you), but the way you smell like him with his hoodies and shirts, the way they're basically dresses on you serving to remind how much bigger he is than you, it drives him even crazier.

✧ ˖ ° because of how touch-starved (and horny) he is, simon prefers to always physically have you close to him. which means lots of cockwarming; he won't lie about how much he loves watching you try your very best not to squirm on his lap, not to lose yourself to how full you always feel with him inside you. whether you're watching a movie or he's working in his office or even just trying to sit down for a meal, simon will preemptively have you sinking down on his cock, chastising you about how eager you always are for him to just fuck you. it's nearly torture for him just the same as you, but the difference is that he has a lot more self-control than you do- just enough to give your thigh a stinging pinch every time you move a muscle.

✧ ˖ ° no matter how long he keeps you there, it'll always turn into simon pushing you against the nearest table or wall and fucking away the last few straggling thoughts in your head. he always waits until your breathing gets ragged and your nails are digging in hard. until you're panting against his neck from the effort it takes to not bounce yourself on his dick. until you're begging. "what? turned y'into that much of a whore that y'can't go five minutes without my cock? fine." he'll say it as if he's doing you a favor, as if he's going out of his way to satisfy the nymphomaniac that he himself has proudly created.

[roguishcat]

Upon reflection, I find you perfect

This is for an ask by @pebble-bb where Astarion gets to see his reflection for the first time. Absolutely lovely idea and I'm sorry it took me ages to actually post it!

@busy-baker has already posted hers because she is amazing! The writing is gorgeous, tender and beautiful! Here is the link so check it out!

This has no beta. So I apologise in advance for mistakes.

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Astarion x female Reader

"What have you got there, love?"

"Nothing!" you say a little too quickly and attempt to hide the package behind your back.

Astarion clicks his tongue and slips his long fingers under your chin, tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look straight at him.

"Tsk, cheeky pup. Lies don't become you. Out with it!" he says in a stern voice, but his eyes shine with mirth and his lips twist into a smile.

"What are you hiding that has you flustered such a fetching shade of red, hm?" he lifts his other hand to push your hair back and expose your neck. Soft digits touch skin, making you shiver.

"Nothing?" you try again, wriggling away from him, but you know it is futile. When one becomes the subject of a vampire's attention, one does not get away until the said vampire decides to set the victim free. And Astarion obviously has no intention of doing that.

"I see. Well, this nothing must be worth something, seeing as you are ready to risk baiting a predator to conceal it. Is it really a wise move to entice me when I'm itching for any excuse to devour you?"

As pleasant as that sounds, you have to be out of the inn and on your way. You have an appointment with an artificer that you must keep. It was difficult enough to convince him to take on the project, as he stated that he 'was an inventor and objects of petty vanity were beneath him'. It took coin, promises of securing rare materials, and some thinly veiled threats for the ingenious but somewhat mad artificer to begrudgingly agree to work on your project.

But you know what Astarion is like. You have to tell him something or he will not let you out of his sight at all.

"Fine. It’s a present for you, happy? "

You give a petulant pout which only makes his smile grow wider.

"Aren't I lucky that you want to spoil me? And my goodness, how your heart flutters!" he chuckles and places a kiss over the bitemarks on your neck. "Must be a very, very special present."

"It is, but it's not done yet. So you better not try to take a peek!" you push against his chest.

"Oh my sweet, you wound me! Are you insinuating that I will try to steal it and see what is inside?"

"Not insinuating, telling you outright that you better not go snooping through my things."

"Fine!" he sighs, pretending to be hurt by your words. "I will not go through your things. Cross my heart and hope to- well, you get it," he grins and finally moves, allowing you to get up.

You have the package in your hands and clutch it to close to your chest. You can feel ruby red eyes follow your every movement and try to ignore him as you quickly dress, keeping the present close at all times lest Astarion decides to swipe it when he thinks you are distracted.

Several hours later you find yourself stomping your way back to the inn, absolutely livid, fingers twitching as you try to contain your anger.

That ass! How in the world did Astarion manage to replace your package with a near identical one? You looked like such an idiot, standing in the middle of the forge and gawking at the unexpected contents that spilled out as soon as you unwrapped it.

Astarion gets away with a lot when it comes to you, with you having near no immunity to his charms. But not this time! You are in a terrible mood and he is going to hear all about it!

You storm into your shared room, pushing the door with too much force. It slams against the wall and bounces back with a loud protest, almost hitting you in the face.

“Astarion, you are unbelievable!" You point an accusatory finger in his general direction. "I have half a mind to-”

Then you stop abruptly as you notice shards of glass scattered about the floor, tens of your reflections frowning back at you.

“Oh yes, darling, I do apologise. I- I’m afraid I couldn’t resist,” Astarion's back is to you and he makes no move to turn around.

“What happened?” you ask softly, picking up what is left of the mirror off the floor. This clearly is no accident. It has been smashed violently and, from the looks of it, repeatedly.

“You know how it is sometimes,” Astarion says woodenly. “Butterfingers, I’m afraid.”

You take a tray off the table and put the remains of the mirror on it with shaking fingers. Distracted and barely paying attention to what you are doing, you accidentally pierce one finger with a jagged edge. Blood pebbles on skin, but you care little. The wound does not worry you as much as Astarion's lack of reaction to the smell of your blood.

Choosing to deal with one issue at a time, you set the tray aside and walk towards Astarion. His head is hanging low, silver curls somehow looking lacklustre as they hang limply over his eyes.

“My love,” you tilt his head, and although he does not resist, he keeps looking down rather than at you. “Can you please tell me what actually happened?”

Looking downcast, Astarion takes a breath he doesn’t need and swallows, fingers fidgeting nervously in his lap.

“I didn’t believe it at first. But once I realised… ” he finally lifts his face to look at you, his expression momentarily child-like as he recalls making this wonderful discovery. "My own reflection. At first, I was elated. Drinking myself in, turning my face this way and that. But then,” his lips twist, smile turning sardonic, “I looked into my eyes and saw the eyes of a monster staring back. I guess it isn’t often one looks into a mirror and is met with an abomination.”

“Don’t say that,” you plead. You want to hug him, kiss the hurt away. But you feel that this is not the time for touch, no matter how well-intentioned and comforting.

“For years I couldn’t remember what my eyes looked like. Could hardly map out my face from touches and ministrations, through blows and cuts. But now…”

“Now?” you echo, wanting to press your face into the crook of Astarion’s neck and hold him close.

“I guess actually seeing myself as a vampire for the first time brought about the feelings of disgust and self-loathing that I thought I was getting rather good at dealing with,” he gives a little mirthless chuckle, tossing his hair back. Curls fall back into place and as Astarion's face settles into a neutral expression he might as well be a statue. Eerily still and lifeless.

You say nothing at first, letting the silence stretch and gingerly lay a hand on top of his. He does not attempt to move it away. After a while, he turns his hand palm up to interlock his fingers with yours.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” you begin cautiously. “I thought you would love it.”

You feel like crying. You should have asked. Perhaps if Astarion knew about what you have been planning, this would have gone better.

“I did, if only for a moment,” he nods. “It was perfect until it felt tainted.”

 Astarion pulls you towards him and you settle into his lap, putting your head on his chest. His hands snake round you and he hugs you close, his shoulders relaxing gradually.

“But this just makes me more determined than anything to enjoy my reflection again, once these feelings pass,” he murmurs.

You look up at your vampire, brushing an errant curl back into place with loving, gentle fingers. "I want to tell you who I see when I look at you."

"Oh, I'm well aware of what you see," he says quietly. "I've long accepted the cards fate dealt me. But it's sweet of you to try."

"Hush, you," you put your fingers on his lips. "Just let me speak."

He doesn’t try to move away or attempt to contradict you. Instead, Astarion looks at you with genuine vulnerability that he allows few to see. You want to tell him how much he makes your heart race, his nearness making you feel dizzy and overwhelmed. You want to tell him how brave, how amazing he was when facing Cazador. How you felt proud of him, honoured to be at his side as he refused to give in to temptation. But there would be other times for that.

"When I look at you, I see a hero,” you try to condense all you feel into few words. “The one we are all indebted to. Savior of Baldur's Gate."

"It does have a rather nice ring to it," he nods.

"Hm, does it not?"

“So my being celebrated is the only reason you are sticking around then?” he teases.

"Maybe in part,” you shrug, corners of your mouth twitching. “But you are so much more than that. I see my best friend, lover, confidant. Someone I can trust with my life. Someone I put my faith in-”

"Well, the jury is still out on whether trusting me is sensible."

"Don’t interrupt,” you move to nip his earlobe with blunt teeth, his mouth immediately clicking closed as he supresses a moan by burying his face in your hair. “And I see someone who trusts me in return. Even if you are very vocal about my battle plans being borderline suicidal, you still have my back."

Astarion mutters something into your hair but otherwise does not attempt to interrupt you.

"You make me laugh. You say the weirdest shit and no matter how awful I'm feeling at the time, your words take my mind off it."

You sit up and gently cup Astarion’s face. Red eyes lock with yours.

"My love, you have survived so much, you are so brave and strong. These feelings, the shadows that haunt you still... You will overcome all of it.”

Astarion does not say anything at first, then he puts his hands over yours, moving his face forward until your foreheads touch.

“I will overcome this,” he says quietly, but with determination. “We have been through so much already! Besides,” he moves his hand to wipe a tear off your cheek, “I would very much like to see us standing side by side. As equals.”

His lips quirk into a smile. It is ghost of a smile still, but it makes you release a shuddering breath of relief.

“I would love that too. More than anything,” you admit.

He kisses your temple and his eyes are drawn to the slowly bleeding cut on your finger.

“Oh dear, it seems that you injured yourself there, you sweet fool,” he admonishes you teasingly, putting your finger into his mouth and lapping at the digit.

You feel your cheeks warm. How is it that he still manages to make you blush with so little effort? It is ridiculous how much you are infatuated with this man.

"And for the record,” you clear your throat, so your voice doesn’t tremble, “I happen to like your fangs and eyes. As an elf or as a vampire, you cut a dashing figure."

Astarion smirks, ruby eyes on your face. He withdraws your finger from his mouth with a pop, giving it a kiss. “How ever did you manage to create such a mirror?”

“Well, it wasn’t actually done. Not properly,” you grumble, remember that you are meant to be annoyed at him for stealing the mirror. “Which is why I told you to stay out of my stuff!” you punch his biceps playfully. He catches your fist and gives it a nip.

“Well, as I admitted earlier, I couldn’t resist taking a peek. Not when you flushed so deliciously when I tried to get an answer from you.”

“You are incorrigible! Had you actually waited, the mirror wouldn’t be so murky and would be floor-length. I have been planning it for weeks, I have you know!”

“My, my,” he gives an amused, toothy grin, “weeks of sneaking about behind my back and I was none-the-wiser! And just when I think that I’ve learned everything about you, you turn around and surprise me with something like that. What a naughty, clever girl,” he purrs against your neck, humming in approval when he hears you gasp at the sensation.

“I believe that we might just call on that artificer after all.”

“We? Who said anything about you being invited along?”

“Hence my inviting myself along, darling. Honestly. Do keep up!” the words are punctuated with shallow nips on your neck, asking for permission.

“Fine,” you laugh, threading your fingers through silver curls. “But just a quick bite, we have to leave straight after. We might be in luck, that man is so fickle and forgetful, he probably hasn’t noticed that I was gone a while.”

You feel fangs pierce skin and then a pleasant, familiar numbness as your vampire drinks, humming in delight as your blood hits his tongue and the taste briefly overwhelms him.

"Perhaps," he resurfaces, lapping at runaway droplets, "that artificer of yours might wait a while still. Give us enough time to indulge in a quick afternoon delight even?"

"Astarion! No!"

"Yes."

"No!"

He doesn't answer this time, but you feel his palm against your side, fingers making their descent deliciously, torturously slow.

You grip them firmly, ignoring the way your heart beats wildly, which Astarion picks up on and tries to move in for a kiss. You turn your face at the last moment, his cool lips meeting your cheek.

"Tsk, you're no fun," he chuckles, moving back enough for you to scramble away.

"Because you are the designated 'fun one' in this relationship," you tug sharply at your shirt and clear your throat. "You're coming?"

"Apparently not anytime soon," he grins at your unamused look." But I will walk down to the forge with you. Since you asked so nicely."

A few weeks later in spite of some minor mishaps, your project is complete. You can scarcely believe it and hope that Astarion will not find the experience overwhelming.

And this is how you and Astarion find yourself standing hand in hand in front of the improved, bronze-backed mirror, the artificer's magic tweaking its properties and supposedly making it as good as any other mirror out there.

"Ready, my love?" you give his hand a light squeeze.

"With you by my side? Always."

And so Astarion lifts his hand and pulls the fabric off with a flourish.

"Show off," you mutter, making him grin widely as fabric flutters through the air, falls on the floor and finally stills.

You look at Astarion, watching his face closely as his eyes widen and his mouth falls open slightly. Feeling his fingers tremble, you give them a reassuring squeeze and turn away from your vampire to look at the mirror.

And there you are. Side by side. As equals. Not just lovers, but comrades-in-arms, friends. Because come hell or high water, you are there for each other.

"Oh my," you hear Astarion breathe out as he studies his face, "I can see why you can't keep your hands to yourself, my sweet! I'm simply stunning!"

"And humble, too," you tease, enjoying the way Astarion’s eyes light up in delight.

The setting sun frames Astarion's face and threads through his curls, making him shine and glow so beautifully you feel overwhelmed.

With some effort, Astarion tears his eyes away from his reflection and focuses on you.

“Thank you.”

A kiss on your temple.

“Thank you.”

Another on your cheek.

“Thank you.”

His lips find yours. The kiss is languid, unhurried, perfect.

It is a kiss that is full of hope for the future. Your shared future. The future filled with warm, golden days and cool silvery nights. The future where everything seems possible.

Tag list:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale, @clazberryk

@anukulee, @preciouslittlebhaalbae,

@sh3rl0ck

[here2bbtstrash]

crybaby (explicit)

genre: all pwp all smut babeyyyyyy

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: your boyfriend has always mixed his pleasure with pain.

word count: 4.3k

contains: explicit sexual content!!!!!! like that's the whole fic lmao 😵‍💫 established relationship, marathon sex, wrist restraints/bondage, cocky yet eager sub!jungkook 🥵, soft dom!reader but she can be a lil tough, clothed tit play, objectification, she calls him bunny which i think is cute 🥺, spitting, dick riding, unprotected sex, fingers in mouth, humping/grinding, jk has a nipple piercing 🙈, overstimulation/multiple orgasms - for both of them hehe, vibrator use, jungkook (and reader!) pushing himself to his limits bc..... he's jungkook, he cries 🥲, reader finds it hot 👀, a lottttt of sweat & cum lol, cum licking/eating, blowjob, maybe some subspace if you squint, winners never quit 💪, talk of coming dry at the end, jk is kind of a little shit lmaooooo - alright i think that's it 😩

A/N: not me barely managing to get this up before the ticket sales start 😅 happy hunger games to y'all who have codes!!! this fic is a birthday gift to my love, my angel, my cunning linguist @moni-logues 💜 HAPPY (yesterday) BIRTHDAY bb, can't wait to marry you on our first date, it is the joy of my life to build castles in the air with you~

and god bless jk for his lives the past few weeks bc they breathed so much life into this regular degular "sub!jk" fic idea. i'm v obsessed with his personality and the way he always pushes himself "just a little more", whether it's in staying up til 5 am singing karaoke on his couch or giving his absolute all in a workout. just so in love with our bunny tbh, so i hope you enjoy this spicy version of him too!! 🥰

read on AO3!

~*~

You know your boyfriend has always mixed his pleasure with pain.

He stays up late even when he’s exhausted, likes to do his workouts to failure, could spend hours in a tattoo session with the needle pressed to his skin and his bones humming from the buzz. Always holding out for as long as he can, always wanting just a little bit more before he calls it quits, even when it’s hard, even when it hurts. Because he wants to test his limits.

And today, you want to test them, too.

That’s why you text him to meet you in the bedroom, let him find you in nothing but one of his oversized Carhartt shirts, kneeling up on the bed as you affix a pair of purple silk restraints to the headboard.

There’s the soft creak of the mattress from Jungkook’s added weight, and you feel the heat of him as he crowds you from behind, hands dragging up the curve of your hips and taking the hem of your borrowed shirt with it.

“This was the emergency, huh?” The low murmur of his voice is chased by the cool touch of his lip ring as he drags his mouth up the nape of your neck. A blossom of arousal starts to unfurl in your core. “Wanted to use these?”

“Yeah,” you answer, feigning nonchalance as you give the silk a firm tug to test that it holds. Satisfied, you let yourself sink back into Jungkook’s touch, dropping your head against his shoulder and smiling when he leans down to brush his lips over yours. He hums a soft little sound into your mouth.

You cup your hand to the nape of his neck when you pull away to finish the thought. “Thought we could try them on you.”

The words are seemingly all your boyfriend needs to hear; he drops down onto the mattress so hard that he bounces a little. You can’t help but laugh at the way he scrambles to strip out of his sweatshirt, like he’s being timed, then hurriedly centers himself on the pillows, eyes glinting dark with desire.

When you first started talking to Jungkook, everything about him made you expect that he would be the one to call the shots. The good looks, the tattoos and piercings, the muscles— and definitely the motorcycle. But once you’d sat across from him at dinner on your first official date, only to watch him blush and fumble his way through a conversation, you started to suspect that maybe he preferred to follow rather than lead.

That thought was certainly confirmed the next time you saw him out in public: it’d been a full two weeks since your first date, with nothing but radio silence between you since. You were admittedly maybe a little too drunk when you spotted him out with his friends at the same bar you’d been dragged to by yours— drunk enough to have no problem walking right up to him to read him for filth, in front of all of his friends, for ghosting you.

Except he’d just blinked those big brown eyes up at you, mouth dropped open in disbelief, and quietly admitted that he’d been waiting all this time for you to text him.

One of his friends had clapped him on the back, laughing loudly as he corroborated Jungkook’s confession. “He’s been having midnight karaoke pity parties because he never heard from you. Please take this boy out again before his neighbors have him evicted!”

That night told you everything you needed to know about how the dynamics in your relationship would work out. That if you wanted something, there was a very good chance Jungkook wanted it, too.

Which is why it doesn’t surprise you that your boyfriend is already sprawled out half-naked on the bed beneath you, arms folded behind his head in a way that makes his biceps bulge, dangerously attractive.

His mouth pulls into a cocky, flirtatious grin. “Ah, so you wanna use me?”

“I do,” you murmur, straddling your thighs over his torso and leaning up to take the smooth purple silk between your fingers. He offers you one hand before you even have to ask for it, and takes advantage of the other’s last few minutes of freedom to paw at you over your shirt. His tattooed fingers seek out your breast and squeeze, his thumb flicking lazy strokes over your nipple.

You tug the knot of the restraint to tighten it, then look back just as Jungkook closes his lips around the clothed bud of your breast. The rough drag of cotton against your sensitive skin makes you hot all over, your nipple stiffening easily at the rub of his insistent tongue.

“How’s that? Too tight?”

He smirks with your tit still in his mouth, soaking a wet spot into your shirt, teeth scraping gently. “Could be tighter.”

“You are such a show-off,” you huff, more endeared than aggravated as you redo the knot, this time as tight as you can manage. Jungkook pulls against it teasingly, but it does actually seem to hold him in place, and you can feel a dull thud between your legs at the flex of his muscles on full display, the image of him already half-helpless beneath you.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook,” he says, as if in explanation, giving your breast a final playful jiggle before you tug his other hand off to tie it up, too.

“Well, Jeon Jungkook,” you retort with a smirk and a grunt of effort as you lean over him to tug the knot tight. You glance down to find him already using the leverage of his restraints to pull himself up so that he can continue to nuzzle his face into your shirt between your tits, abdominals shaking a little from the effort, undeterred despite the loss of both of his hands.

You take his jaw in your grip and scoot yourself further down his body, dipping in to plant a kiss on his soft lips.

“Are you gonna be a good little toy for me?”

“Uh-huh,” he grunts, and you enjoy the tease of hovering just past where he can reach, watching him strain up toward your mouth to seek another kiss and fall ever so short.

You can feel arousal already dripping from your folds as you slide further down the bed, slipping off from on top of Jungkook to easily rid him of his joggers and briefs. His dick smacks against his stomach, thick and hard; wet, too, at the pretty brown tip. You toss his clothes over the edge of the bed, then strip your own shirt to follow before lowering yourself between his spread legs.

The muscles in Jungkook’s thighs tighten with visible anticipation as you hover above his cock, letting the heat of your breath fan out over him, not unlike the warm afternoon air leaking in through the cracked bedroom window, the first taste of spring. You can hear the wet clicks of Jungkook’s tongue in his mouth.

“Easy, bunny,” you murmur, and then you work up a mouthful of saliva and spit it right onto the head of his dick.

He hisses in a breath at the splatter of it, then gasps a soft little sound when you take him in your hand to slip your fist down the length of him. That’s Jungkook all over; always so eager, always so sensitive.

“What do you think?” you muse, your mouth ticking up as you feel Jungkook’s hips roll into your grasp. “Think it’s ready for me, baby?”

“‘Sready,” he grunts, teeth clenched. “Use it, jagi.”

You waste no time, crawling back up Jungkook’s body to settle your hips over his, flattening your palms against his chest. He’s still squirming, thighs flexing against the bed as he rocks up in a desperate attempt to find the wet heat of your cunt, and you giggle as you work yourself backwards until the head of his dick catches on your entrance.

It’s a bit of a stretch, but you’re wet enough to take it. You bite down on a smug smile as you manage to seat yourself on him hands-free.

“Fuck, love when you do that.” Jungkook’s voice is a low growl, and you slide a hand up the firm definition in his chest and slowly start to rock yourself along his length. His cock fills you up like he was made for it; you can feel every detail of him drag against your ridges, trailing sparks of pleasure as you tilt your hips to drive him right into your sweet spot.

Jungkook’s head kicks back against the pillow as a groan rips through him. There’s a gentle crease in his brow, furrowed in the way that tells you it’s so good: the tight heat of your pussy, the slick stretch of it when you work it on him. You ride him rough, make him take it like a good boy.

Another noise stutters out of Jungkook, chased this time by a huff of breath that it takes you a second to realize is a laugh, the tone caught halfway between shy and horny. You watch the way he squirms, restless against his restraints, like he can’t help himself.

He answers before you can ask. “The way your tits— fuckin’ bounce— fuck, I wanna touch you.”

The feeling sinks in as you watch him writhe beneath you, as you shove your hips back harder to pull more desperate sounds out of him. It’s fun, not letting him have what he wants, makes you drip that much more down the length of him.

“You can’t.”

“I know,” he grunts, wrists tugging uselessly. “It’s hot— that I can’t.”

“It is,” you concede, feigning composure despite the hitch in your breath, the way you’re already close to the edge and pushed that much closer by having Jungkook like this. Tied up, all yours, free to do with as you please.

And still fighting against his fucking restraints.

“Think I could rip these?”

It’s like your body acts faster than your pleasure-driven mind can keep up with: all at once, you’re tracing the pouted curve of Jungkook’s bottom lip, then slipping two fingers past it into the heat of his mouth.

“Shh, bunny,” you murmur. He blinks up at you, glassy-eyed as you pet over his tongue, all lush and wet on your fingertips. “Toys don’t talk.”

You press down more firmly as if for emphasis, enjoying how his soft parts give so easily to your touch, and then Jungkook outright moans around your fingers in his mouth.

The needy little sound makes your pussy pulse hot between your thighs.

“Fuck,” you hiss as you take him to the hilt, changing the stroke of your hips to grind against your toy, used solely to get yourself off now. Humping, really, rubbing your clit over the smooth skin of his abdomen where he’s blooming feverglow, flushed with need. Jungkook’s eyes flicker back in his head at the way your pussy’s taking him, squeezed tight like a vice and gushing wet. Working raw sounds out of him, his jaw gone slack; you can feel the blunt edge of his teeth and his heavy, shaky breath on the palm of your hand.

Your thighs shift to spread wider and the next drag of your clit is at just the right angle that pleasure surges up in you, undeniable, overwhelming. It’s all you can do now to chase your release, to keep rocking yourself into it, Jungkook’s thick cock plugged up inside of you and drool slicking out of his mouth to drip down your wrist.

“Gonna make myself come on my pretty little toy,” you manage to gasp.

Jungkook’s eyes find yours, burning intensity, the way he gets, and then he closes his lips tight around your fingers in his mouth and sucks, as if he’s begging to be used, and it sends you over the edge all at once. Your head tips back as your orgasm kicks through you, white noise pleasure, enough to get lost in.

Hips still rolling, you grind yourself through it, the waves of your climax swelling and receding again, until you finally drop forward against Jungkook’s chest, breathless and buzzing all over.

You let your fingers slip out of his mouth, exhale a laugh as they skip over the defined ridges of his stomach when you wipe your hand dry, taking full advantage of the fact that he’s powerless to stop you.

“Shit, that was hot.”

Jungkook’s voice is hoarse with desire as you shift to find the curve of his neck under your mouth, trailing kisses until your lips brush over the pretty lines of ink just behind his ear. He’s still thick and stiff inside you, with a steady pulse-throb that tells you how badly he needs to come, how worked up he is from being used as your personal hump-toy.

“Yeah,” you echo, paired with a tentative rock of your hips that makes your cunt flutter, overstimulated, tugs a little whine out of Jungkook, too. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth as you breathe against his flushed skin.

“Think I— wanna keep using my toy. Kinda feel like being greedy.”

Jungkook’s cock twitches, shameless, at your admission, again when you flick a thumb over the silver jewelry studded through his nipple. There’s a part of you that wants to keep him like this, his leaking-hard dick filling you up while you purr nasty shit in his ear, just to see if he can come from it.

“Might ride it until I break it.” You scrape your teeth up his neck and he moans. “Gonna take all I can give you, bunny?”

His throat jumps visibly as he swallows, fights to gasp a desperate “uh-huh”. Answers with his body, too, arching up to press himself deeper into you, rubbing the slick, hot tip of his cock into your front wall in just the right way to melt pleasure down your spine. You reward his eager submission with a soft kiss, then lick along the seam of his lips, enjoying the sweet little noises that pour into your mouth when you open him up.

Still intertwined, his tongue stroking over yours, your hand goes fumbling for the nightstand, comes away with the slender cylinder of your vibrator, and switches it on before slipping it down to press between your bodies.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook groans as you nestle the shuddering bullet between your folds and find the bud of your clit. You know he can feel it too from the way his hips jerk beneath you, the steady buzz engulfing his cock as you squeeze your pussy around him, all lush sensitivity from your first orgasm. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“You can.” The words are hardly more than a warm exhale from your mouth to his, your lips brushing. “But I’m not gonna stop.”

You don’t give him time to respond or even heave in another gasp of air before your thumb finds the button at the base of your vibrator, clicks it once, then again.

“F— ahh!”

Jungkook’s body jolts like a live wire as he falls apart beneath you. You sit up to take in the whole of him, your free palm slipping to the jut of his hip, fingertips splayed out and pressed heavy to anchor.

Pinned down and helpless, he trembles through the hot rush of his release, dick buried deep and pulsing as it all comes spilling out of him.

“That’s it, baby,” you coo. Your nails scratch lovingly against his skin to coax him out of it— taking such good care of your toy. His breath is punching out of his chest in these ragged, overwhelmed gasps, sweat glittering at his temples while he whimpers through the comedown. So fucking beautiful like this.

The hum of the vibrator rolls through you, strong enough with the change in angle that your eyes drop shut to focus on the feeling.

Jungkook whines when you circle your hips with him still tucked up inside of you— it’s a wrecked little noise, high and sweet, underscored by the thick squelch of his cum starting to leak back down his shaft. Your thighs tense just right from the filthy sound of it, and then it’s all throbbing velvet glow in your core as you clench up and come on his cock again.

“Fuuuuuck, bunny,” you groan up to the ceiling, your head tipped back as it washes over you. “God, yeah.”

You flick the vibrator off when it gets to be too much, let it go rolling down the mattress— the bedroom feels bigger for the silence. Sweat slicks at the back of your knees, warm spring breeze still licking through the window to flutter the sheer-gauze curtains.

You’re fluttering too, all over: the kick of your heartbeat, the breath stuttering out of your lungs. The throb of your cunt, split open and drooling out juice, messy-wet fresh fruit.

The sound of the bedsheets shifting has your lashes flickering open again, and there’s Jungkook. Dark hair fanned out on the pillow, wrists bound, and that look in his eyes. Like he can take a little more. Like he’s waiting for your cue. Like there’s this whole-heart want brimming up inside of him, making his blood run hot.

He’s still hard between your legs.

“Go on then,” you tell him. “Give me another one.”

With a concentrated growl, Jungkook flattens his feet to the bed, grips tighter to his restraints for leverage, and starts to pound up into you. You can feel an overstimulated shudder in the stroke of his hips, how his cockhead twitches, sensitive, as it rubs over your g-spot. But he doesn’t stop; doesn’t even lose his rhythm.

He fucks you like a machine, and it’s all you can do to brace your palms against his chest and tip forward, rocking yourself down to meet him thrust for thrust.

The harsh slap of body on body is almost enough to drown out the rest: your open-mouthed panting, Jungkook’s groan when your nails dig crescent moon slivers into his tan skin, the gravel edge to your words, “Yeah, like that, fuck me just like that.”

It takes you a second to notice, the sound buried beneath it all, but then it floats through— Jungkook’s sucking his breath in through his teeth now, his jaw tight. You can see the jump of a muscle working there.

“Does it hurt, baby?” you gasp, more air than voice.

Jungkook’s head drops back against the pillow, brow pinched from the focus of keeping his pace steady. He’s breathless, too, when he answers: “Feels good.”

“Feels good because it hurts, huh? Is that how you like it?”

A strangled noise tears out of his throat, and he shoves up even harder, like he wants to fuck you into the shape of him. You splay one hand over the column of his throat and watch his pretty brown eyes blink-blink back at you, and then you have to bury your moans in the crook of his neck as you come hard.

The world around you returns a little at a time. First, the tremble of your tired thighs, the dull ache that’s already started to bloom at the bend of your knees. Then, Jungkook’s body curved up against yours, hips still slow-rolling as you exhale in hot, jagged bursts against his skin. There’s the distinct drip of his cum sliding out of you, and all the sticky-wet places where it’s slicked up the swell of your ass.

“Shit,” you laugh when you manage to find the breath for it. “That was crazy.”

Jungkook shifts a little, but doesn’t respond, and then he makes this wet, soft gasp. You realize he’s shaking beneath you.

You sit up so fast the room spins; your tether is Jungkook’s face, cupped lovingly now between your palms.

“Oh, baby.”

A fat teardrop traces a path down his cheek. Another threatens the dark border of his lashes. He can’t wipe them away with his wrists tied up, but you can see him trying to hold back even as a sob shudders through him, his chest heaving.

“You okay, my love?” you murmur, swiping a thumb across his face. He sniffles, nods, hiccups a little. The tip of his nose is flushed pink. “Shoulda told me to stop, if it was too much.”

“It feels good,” he insists, and his voice cracks around the words. “It’s just a lot. But ‘m not— don’t wanna stop.”

“No? You sure?”

Jungkook sucks his lip ring into his mouth as he nods again, sniffs again. That sends a bolt of something through you.

“You’ve been so good to me,” you praise, and you tip your ass back until his softening cock slips out, smeared glossy-white with your shared release. Jungkook’s still wound-up, pulled so tight inside himself that he flinches when you slip a hand down to ease his legs apart, sliding lower on the bed to slot yourself between them.

“Can I take care of you, bun?” The question’s posed sweetly, chased with a flutter of your lashes and kisses dropped down on the flat plane of his abdomen. “I’ll be gentle.”

He whimpers— answers in the way his hips lift up to meet your mouth.

Your hands press flat to Jungkook’s broad thighs, and you can feel the overwhelmed static-shiver beneath your palms, little tremors that jolt through his muscles. Head dipped low, you drag your tongue up his length and it punches a thick sob out of him, hips stirring like he’s trying to crawl up the bed. But you just keep going, pin him down and make him take it, working broad flat stripes over the whole of his shaft, root to tip. Tasting him, salt and slick and your own heady flavor; you lick him clean.

Jungkook comes quietly this time, feet flexing restless on the bed as you tongue it all out of him. You swipe two fingers through the mess on his stomach and suck that up, too.

Humming around the digits in your mouth, you surface from between Jungkook’s legs to take him in: eyes closed, face wet with tears. You can see the rise and fall of his chest as he gasps for air, shaky, coming down from it.

“Alright baby,” you soothe, shifting up to straddle his chest, knees sinking into the sheets. “All done now, just breathe. Gonna untie you.”

Reaching up, you gently tug open the knot on one restraint, then the other, easing Jungkook’s limp arms to the mattress. Your thumbs find his wrists to massage soft love-circles in case he’s gone numb there, gently coaxing him back to earth.

“Did so good for me, bunny.”

There’s a whimper, and then Jungkook’s surging up to kiss you, forceful enough that you give a little hum of surprise against his lips.

His hands are all over you, all at once, tugging at your legs to drag them forward until you’re flat on your back on the mattress. Your sore thighs shake when he shoves them up and apart, and then a sharp buzz rolls right over the bud of your clit and you keen. Fuck, when did he even grab the vibrator?

“Wanna make you come again,” he pants, and you smile even as your spine arches off the bed. Of course. You should’ve known.

It’s Jungkook all over, you think, hyper-focused on your pleasure even when he’s out of commission, and then you feel the head of his cock push inside and you both gasp. Your cunt aches, so swollen that it’s like he’s stretching you out all over again when you take him to the hilt.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. Jungkook’s hips snap, punctuated by a strangled grunt of effort, but he keeps going, making soft little sweet-pain whines with every thrust, brow scrunched as he brute-forces his way well past overstimulation.

He’s still crying, you realize.

Tears roll down his face and drip onto your collarbone, and everything’s somehow hotter for it. His length is slick, painted in the stored-up remnants of his cum, and you can hear the squish of your folds at the base of his cock each time he fucks it all back into you, so dirty it makes your head spin.

“J-just like that, baby,” you groan, overwhelmed; you can barely get the words out. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Jungkook buries his face in the crook of your neck, and you can feel him shaking, dripping, still rabbiting his hips into you, and then the hum of pleasure reverberating through your body explodes. Your clit throbs with an orgasm that feels endless, dizzying, divine. Jungkook outright sobs as your walls pulse pulse pulse around him, begging for every last drop.

When it’s all too much, you swat at his hand, mumbling shapes that aren’t words until the vibrator’s switched off and tossed away. He pulls out with a thick wet sound and the hiss of his breath between his teeth.

Together, you come down slow. Exhaling staccato, limbs tangled, bodies flushed and sweat-sticking.

Jungkook moves first: flops onto the mattress next to you, entirely exhausted, the way you’ve seen him get after a particularly rough workout. Scrubs at his face with one hand, this shy laugh fluttering out of him. “Can’t believe I cried. Ah, so embarrassing.”

You turn onto your side, tugging his hand away so you can press a kiss to his open palm. “Don’t ask me why but… in the moment? Very hot, actually.” A flush colors his cheeks and you giggle. “My perfect little crybaby.”

He flashes you his signature cocky grin, eyes squeezing shut as it morphs into something nearer to a wince. “Fuck, I’m so sweaty.” A breathless gasp, again. “And my dick hurts. I think I came dry that last time.”

��Poor baby,” you coo, not quite sincere. “You really could’ve stopped at… what, three?”

Eyes closed and still smirking, he shakes his head, damp hair falling in his face. “No I couldn’t have— I’m Jeon Jungkook.”

“You certainly are.”

[haerni]

심재윤 ✶ 𝑮UESS WE’RE 𝑴EANT TO 𝑩E

𝒞ontent . fluff ﾉ strangers to lover ﾉ meet cute ﾉ down bad sim jaeyun ﾉ love at first sight ﾉ attempt at crack ﾉ layla is the greatest wingdog ever . minimal proofread ﾉ 1.2k words .

ℒove notes . erm.. smth about jake this week has me whipping out my phone and typing all this this is literally so self indulgent & just cute layla (my bb)

wherein a cute dog suddenly comes out of nowhere, and you just can’t really help yourself and get to know her handsome dad.

having a dog has a lot of benefits.

for one, they reduce stress according to a research by just simply petting them it lowers the cortisol hormones, or whatever that was.

two, they stave off loneliness—if someone were to ask jake how he is after having layla, he definitely would say how amazing he’s been and how happy he is. after all, layla is just the cutest. unlike some dog his friend has, but that’s beside the point—sim jaeyun doesn’t need anything else.

and for the last one, is that they provide companionship! layla is a smart dog, just like jake. like father like daughter, some would say.

who knew that a simple detour from the dog park and layla’s incessant want to go to the nearest neighborhood has jake left with no choice but to comply. who could say no to that cute face? layla has been a good girl, right? so why not take another thirty minutes walk? sure it might be a little weird that she specifically wanted to go there, but it is probably nothing right?

but when sim jaeyun said they provide companionship, layla had a different idea about it.

jake never knew there was this side of the city, the wind blew just a little colder, the aroma of the flowers that were displayed outside hangs in the air and not far from where they came from, a small quaint bakery shop comes into view. layla who is visibly ecstatic as if she had walk down this road numerous times, which jake has suspected that maybe when the dog walker—his mom—has been taking his baby all this time.

not much is there to work in your little humble shop, as expected on a wednesday noon.

the bell chimes with its usual rhythm, there’s not much customer at this time of the day. usually, you would be greeted by a beautiful classy woman who seems to be middle age, but has a young heart with her cute little dog, whom she called layla.

but you supposed mrs. sim is pre-occupied as of the moment, because why the fuck is there a cute guy at your shop with the same dog who you give free treats every wednesday at noon, instead of mrs. sim who smiles warmly and orders her favorite blueberry cheesecake with hot tea on the side?

oh my gosh. there’s a cute guy at your store and he is obviously new — you would’ve definitely remembered that face anywhere — and you have to act normal now. you straighten up as you ready your usual greetings to any customers.

a soft ambiance wafts through the air as jaeyun walks in. as layla basically drags him in faster and further into the shop, not really noticing upfront because he was too busy looking for signs and posters if pets were even allowed in here. not really wanting to cause any trouble or pay any fine — though let’s be real, he is more concerned if layla were to have a record than to pay a measly fine that wouldn’t put a single dent in his bank account. though the amount of few pets that are scattered across those tables tells him that it’s fine.

before he knew it he was right in front of the counter, with disheveled hair and a little breath and layla wagging her tail swiftly with shiny eyes as if expecting something.

“hi layla!” a soft voice suddenly spoke and as if on cue layla barks and tilts her head — so layla knows you?

his eyes now meet yours.

as if the world is getting a little faster, is this what they say in the movies? though, he thinks it was a little different. your eyes are pretty — you are pretty. it’s absolutely breathtaking — you are breathtaking. does the light give you a different kind of glow? you were absolutely beautiful with your apron a little tattered on the side — he can definitely buy you a new one if you let him — your little hairs astray to your face is perfect, can you get anymore amazing?

is he going insane? was this normal? is any of it normal? is he even normal at all?

because why is jaeyun seeing you in the kitchen with the same apron you wear right now, a small smile on your face, a spatula in your hand, the aroma that permeates through the entire walls of the house, your house. and he doesn’t know what you are cooking, but right there and then sim jaeyun knew. why was he fantasizing your future? together?!

he’s definitely gone insane.

why is he looking at you like a deer in the headlights? is your hair okay? is there any dirt in your face? are you really going to embarrass yourself first before you even have a chance to get to know this cute guy?

gathering yourself, mustering up to talk to this man — who you think is probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen? hello? — you really need to get yourself together.

“hi? i’m yn, can i get you anything?” you cringe slightly from your voice.

a minute passes and the atmosphere grew to be more awkward than you had initially anticipated.

you try again, no matter how embarrassing it is and how much you want the ground to swallow you up. “uhm—”

“can i get your cake?” what.

someone please strike down jaeyun right this instant. why the fuck did he say that to you? great. now you think he’s a creep.

now how did he even mess up between asking you for your number that was supposed to be later and also asking for that carrot cake that looks so tasty in your menu?

“pardon?”

jake panics at that, “no, omg i’m so sorry! that’s not what i meant- wait no! i meant it, but i mean it differently, but i also mean it.”

wonderful. now he’s rambling and fumbling in front of you, what more can be worse than this?

and then he hears you chuckle. oh god now you’re laughing — how can someone laugh as gracefully as you? — but no, wait are you laughing at him? you sound so heavenly though. wait no, focus sim jaeyun!

jake lets out a sigh, a shy smile hanging on his lips, a hand coming up to his neck. “—i’m sorry, i don’t know what i’m doing.”

“no, you’re fine! i should be the one who’s sorry for laughing, that was totally unprofessional of me.” you frantically waved your hands in front of you.

jake finds your mannerisms adorable, “you’re okay,” he reassures you, feeling a little sorry. “let’s start over, shall we?”

“yeah,” you breathe out. “i would like that very much.”

the smiles forming in your faces are contagious.

“hi, i’m yn. would you like anything?” you start again.

surprisingly enough, jake didn’t mess up this time. thank goodness you were willing to start over — he might as well die from the utter humiliation he just felt a while ago — but he’s glad he didn’t.

“hello, pretty. i’m jaeyun, can i get that carrot cake?”

and if he’s lucky, your number will find its way to his contacts, just like how he found your quaint shop.

he’s glad he let layla drag him all the way to you.

𖹭 likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! this was so rushed omg

[wqnwoos]

wonwoo barely has time to register that you’re home before you’re grabbing his arm and quite literally tugging him towards the front door.

“babe — ba — what are you doing?” he splutters helplessly, trying to dig his heels in, but some burning enthusiasm seems to have taken over your body.

“wonwoo, it’s raining!”

and you swing the door open simultaneous to him freeing his arm, but that doesn’t matter to you — you’re already dashing out into the sheets of water drumming down on concrete. leaving him standing in the doorway, perplexed, amused, and slightly horrified.

it’s been a while since it’s rained in your area, and wonwoo figures that’s what has you lifting your arms and spinning around, laughing giddily with a sudden rush of euphoria; your eyes closed, clothes drenched, and the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen lifting your lips.

“you’re insane,” he calls, from where he stands, perfectly dry.

(you’re beautiful, he adds, silently.)

your eyes open, then, landing on him, and your smile shifts to something a little more pleading. “dance with me!” you yell, reaching for him, but he’s already shaking his head, laughing:

“absolutely not.”

you retrace your steps, back towards him, grabbing his hands with your wet ones, and shaking them a little — “please,” you say, with widened, beseeching eyes. “just this one time.”

he doesn’t even have time to say no — you’re pulling him into the rain before he can stop you. water drums against his skin; raindrops run rivers down his shirt and his glasses; and somehow, he’s still looking at you.

“dance with me,” you repeat, softer now that you’ve won, and he’s out here getting soaked right beside you.

“there’s no music,” wonwoo replies, one hand pushing wet hair away from your forehead, sliding down to cup your cheek after.

“we don’t need music,” you dismiss easily, smilingly. “dance with me.”

it only takes him a moment to give in, with the smallest of sighs — “just this one time.” he echoes your words back to you, but he can’t help thinking that he’d do this a thousand times over, as long as it was with you.

“and don’t blame me when you wake up sick tomorrow,” he adds, already reaching for your waist, “you did this to yourself.”

you don’t even bother with a verbal response; just one smiling kiss pressed to his cheek as you wrap your arms around him. it makes him smile. the simplest things make him smile, when they’re done by you.

“i think,” he says after a moment, mumbled so softly you barely catch him under the sound of the rain, “this isn’t really dancing. we’re just hugging.”

you don’t care. you just press yourself closer to him, murmuring something about how dancing is overrated, anyway. it makes wonwoo laugh, you feel the vibrations when your head rests on him, and then suddenly he’s kissing you, with intensity so unexpected you almost stumble — and would have, if his arm hadn’t been steadying you from behind.

and just as quickly as it comes, the moment is gone — not forever, but to a tidy little corner of your mind where you preserve the good things. a treasure trove of all the things that keep you going; and the man in front of you, with his forehead pressed against yours, a breathless laugh falling from his lips, is the most precious of them all.

“i love you,” you breathe. it’s barely even a sound, and yet he still catches it. and he still smiles like it’s the first time you’ve told him, when it must be the millionth, at least.

one more kiss, softer and swifter, still smiling as he presses it to your lips, and then wonwoo’s taking your hand.

“i love you too.” (and he says it like a promise, like he always does.) “let’s go inside, you idiot.”

an / requested by an anon!! hope u like it bb 💗 inspired by real events it was storming SO MUCH last night and i went out on the roof and had an excellent time (unfortunately without wonwoo.)

perm taglist: @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud @graybaeismytae @hannyoontify @sahazzy @dokyeomin @icyminghao @smilehui @nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts @astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager @qaramu @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9

[grandlinedreams]

hiii i hope you’re having a great day/night!!

may i request a not really physically affectionate reader with zoro law or ace coming to them drunk being really excited and kissing&leaving lipstick marks all over their faces. it could be a hc type thing or whatever you like if you’re not comfortable w that!

also I absolutely love your writing ♥︎♥︎♥︎

hi there!! I hope that you're having a wonderful day/night too bb!! absolutely you can! This is my first attempt at a reaction type of post so I hope that this is to your liking!! and thank-you so much!!

[heads up!: mention of alcohol consumption, being drunk, tw for vomiting in Ace's]

Zoro ㅡ Alcohol is his forte, not yours. It isn't that you're opposed entirely to the idea of drinking, just that you're not as accustomed to it as he is ㅡ and as such, your tolerance for it (especially the stronger stuff) is not the strongest.

"Having fun?" He asks, amused by the flush of pink that's spread across your cheeks and bridge of your nose, the glossy, unfocused quality of your gaze. It'd been a playful challenge from Usopp that even he has higher tolerance than you and now the sharp-shooter is sprawled out a few feet away, fast asleep.

You nod enthusiastically, giggling when Zoro reaches to stop the unsteady bob with his hand. "Man, you're absolutely trashed," he comments. "We need to get you some water before you end up regretting this. Come on."

He reaches for your hand to help you up, steadying the way you sway before leading you towards the kitchen. You're still giggling when he guides you into a seat and retrieves a glass of water for you, pushing it towards you.

"Just how much did you have to drink, anyways?" He asks, reaching to thumb at your cheek affectionately ㅡ and watches you lean into it rather than pulling away. Affection is also far from something you normally indulge in very often, and he can't deny that it's nice to see this side of you.

"Not much," you answer at last, foggy mind finally registering Zoro's question, studying him for a moment. "C'mere." You add the forward curl of your hand to emphasize your words, pouting when he laughs. "I said c'mere!"

"Will you drink that water if I do?" Your head bobbles in a clumsy nod again and he leans forward to comply with your wish, only to blink as you lurch forward to press your lips to his cheek. They're cool and a little sticky, smelling of whatever alcohol you've drank ㅡ but you're on a determined self-imposed mission of peppering his face with kisses. It's a little silly with the way you add a verbal "mwah!" at the end of each one, but it still makes Zoro's own cheeks flush all the same.

"All done," you report when you finally sit back, satisfied with the little marks you've left across his skin, and you reach for the glass of water to drink it, as you'd promised. Zoro is silent for several moments. You won't remember this, he's almost certain ㅡ but now all he can think about is how cute you are when you drink.

ㅡ

Law ㅡ "I think that's enough for tonight." Nimble fingers pluck the half-finished glass of alcohol from your grip, ignoring your pout as he hands it off to Clione, who gladly downs it.

"Spoil-sport," you huff, and Law raises an eyebrow. It's not every day that he gets to witness you acting more like a child than adult, and he'll admit that the way you sulk is amusing.

"You'll thank me in the morning." He reaches for your wrist and gently tugs you up, relying on the fact that the others are in varying stages of inebriation to cover for him being so forward with you in front of the others.

He's already had a drink or two, though he stopped when Ikkaku pointed out that you'd been roped into a drinking game with some of the others. Guiding you to the bathroom, he leans in the doorway to watch you sway as you reluctantly ready yourself for bed, studying your own reddened cheeks in the mirror.

"I could've finished my drink," you tell him petulantly, and he watches you struggle to climb into bed. Another reason he's grateful that no one else will remember much about this evening ㅡ he doesn't need them knowing that it's been months since you last slept in the crew bunkhouse.

"I'm sure you could've, but I'm doing myself a favor when I'm the one who's going to have to look after you when you end up with a hangover." Hat tossed gently to the side, he moves to slip into bed beside you and frowns warily when he finds you eyeing him. "What is it? You're not going to throw up right now, are you?"

You shake your head and lean up, your lips on his cheek before he can ask what you're up to. Slow and a little clumsy, each kiss you press is intentional ㅡ his jaw, his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his forehead ㅡ and you giggle when you pull away to admire your handiwork. "Now you can't be grumpy," you tell him.

Your own perchance for physical affection is usually on par with his, but it's clear that however many drinks you've had have pushed aside your own personal boundaries.

"Aww, you're blushing!" You crow, and he scowls at the fit of giggles that follows. You're lucky that he loves you, and you're lucky that you're cute.

"Whatever," he grouses, reaching to cover your eyes with a hand. "Go to sleep. And don't puke in my bed, got it?"

ㅡ

Ace ㅡ "See? I told you this was a bad idea."

"Shut up," you groan, venom absent from your tone for the way you're forced to stop walking in order to halt the vicious spin of your head. "I don't drink much, you know that."

"I do," Ace agrees, "which is why I'm telling you it was a bad idea." He pauses, head tilting in thought. "Not gonna lie, it was hot to watch you drink them under the table, though. Who knew you had it in you, huh?"

He waits for you to answer and when you don't, he turns to find you half-way into an alley, emptying the contents of your stomach as quietly as you can. That kind of thing doesn't disgust Ace, however, and he hurries to rub your back until the shuddering heave of your body has stopped. "Feel better?"

"Much," you rasp, fumbling for the strap of your canteen and chugging from it greedily. Ace waits until you're satisfied that you've rinsed your mouth clean before he loops his arm around your waist and continues guiding you back towards the Moby Dick. "Still think I'm hot?"

"Absolutely, babe." Ace's answer is swift and as honest as it always is, which makes your heart do something funny as you turn to look at his side-profile. It doesn't take long for him to notice, his expression somewhere between confusion and concern as you come to a stop. "What is it? Gonna get sick again?"

You shake your head. "No, I just really want to kiss you right now." There's the answering spark of fire from Ace's fingers in response, though you take advantage of his momentary fluster to cup his face between your hands and promptly pepper his face with kisses.

Clustered over his freckles, the tip of his nose, eyebrows and even his eyelids, it's several long moments before you pull away. "There," you say, and Ace wonders if you're sober enough to realize his face has gone roughly the temperature of the sun from your burst of affection. "Come on, I wanna go to bed."

Ace lets you pull him along, still dazed by the lingering warmth of your lips on his skin. He goes to bed without washing his face, eager to soak in this side of you that's far less reserved with your affection ㅡ and when the men of his division point out in the morning that he has your lipstick dotted across his face, all he does is grin.

[ivystoryweaver]

hi ivy!!!!

congratulations on the anniversary, I think you’re doing amazing and I’m really impressed with the frequency at which you put out stories

Could you please write me some thing super soft with Santi? That’s my baby. Maybe something smut but loving and communication, ys know, LaL style

love you

When You Come Back Home

"But on really good days, you get a picture of him."

Awww hey bb, you are so sweet. ILY! The muse has been kind lately - you know it ebbs and flows, so it's always nice to catch up. (Until I went on vacation, that is)

Yes ofc Santi is your baby, I'm so honored you trust me to write something soft, especially mentioning the amazing LAL! Leather and Lace is sooo good and you're a genius at world building.

Word Count: 3.9k

Santiago x f!reader, fluff, married life, flirting, dirty talk, lingerie, oral, fingering, p in v, language, absolute smitten husband!Santiago

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Gazing listlessly out the window, you idly pass your off day, waiting for word from your husband. Despite the ease electronic communication provides you, Santiago writes you letters, and sends polaroids. It may be the thing you love about him most - he wants you to have something tangible when he's not there to hold you, kiss you and gaze into your eyes.

Your collection of polaroids covers the side of the fridge, top to bottom, the bulletin board behind your bedroom door, you have a few on the bathroom mirror and even a couple in your car. Most of them tell the story, through scenery, of each and every place he's visited or worked.

But on really good days, you get a picture of him.

Santiago practically vibrates with energy - always on the move, ready for a mission or an adventure. When he's home, he inevitably takes on a project, hosts an entertaining barbecue, whisks you away to a special trip, and his stamina is no less vigorous when he gets you alone, between the sheets.

The mail truck rumbles around the corner onto your street, nudging you out of idleness. You rise to your feet, ready to collect the mail the moment the truck pulls up to the next driveway. Your bare feet hit the sizzling Florida pavement, hurrying you toward your destination.

But there is no letter, not today.

Slightly deflated, you rush back inside, grateful as the air conditioning kisses your skin. That's the thing about snail mail: it's unpredictable, which makes receiving it such a delight. Oh well, at least you'll be able to see your husband's face later when he calls.

Shuffling to the kitchen, you pour yourself some fruit infused water, rolling your eyes at how quickly the Florida heat can parch your throat.

Then you hear the front door open. The voice of your husband almost makes you drop your glass.

"Oh my god, Santi!" You screech, rounding the corner and flying into his waiting arms.

"Heyyy, mi cielo," he breathes against your ear as he holds you close. He's not a tall man, but he's a solid wall of strength - his forearms flexing along the curve of your back as he molds your body to his.

"How...are you here?" You gasp, sinking your fingers into the thickness of his salt and pepper curls.

"Home early," he states the obvious. "Missed you too much." His mouth chases after yours, tasting your soft lips one at a time. The heat of his breath melts you in his embrace, and it occurs to you that this experience far surpasses a new Polaroid.

"Let me take you out tonight, bebécita," he hums against your mouth between kisses. "Got you something pretty to wear."

You assume he's brought you a dress, but it's something much more...shiny.

"Don't ask me where it came from. I don't think you want to know," he cryptically warns, earthy eyes sparkling with a playful glimmer.

"Please tell me there were no drug lords involved," you half joke as he fastens a gorgeous diamond bracelet around your wrist. "Florida is way too close to all that shit."

"No drug lords. I promise." He grins, kissing your mouth for good measure.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Music pulses, colorful lights flash - the tang of alcohol fills the air. Santiago's hips move expertly to a familiar tune, the Spanish lyrics energizing the delicious Bachata he leads. You gladly follow, feeling success as a dancer, simply by matching his movement and energy.

Spinning you a few extra times to show you off, Santi grins as you laugh delightedly. You tend to recharge with alone time, but your husband needs this - friends, fun and some sort of action. You gladly give it to him, knowing that when he gets you home, you will have him all to yourself for days on end, with no one to disrupt your bubble.

“Mi cielo," he cinches you tightly against him, the shift of his hips pulsing against yours, urging you to drag him by the collar to a dark corner. "Ready to go?"

You know he's not ready. But he checks in with you, just to be sure, to give you an out.

"Already tired after one dance, Garcia?" You tease, syncing the movement of his body with your own, the motion honestly a tad scandalous for the dance floor. "Thought you wanted to show me off tonight. Me and this mysterious bracelet."

He smiles brightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight as he dips you and finishes the song with a flourish - trumpets wailing as the bongos boom out a fantastic finale.

"They're good," you huff out breathlessly, motioning toward the live band on the stage.

He nods, leading you by the hand toward the bar as the band eases into the next dance - a merengue.

The night goes on this way, with a generous amount of alcohol, a group of your best friends and a few sensational slow dances that have you desperate to get him alone.

During one particularly smooth Rumba, he kisses a trail down the side of your neck, the tequila lowering his inhibitions to a scandalous level. "Ready now, Señora Garcia?" He smoothly husks, working his lips over yours and stealing your breath as his hips once again swirl into yours.

"Si, mi amor," you gush back to him, noticing the sparkle of your bracelet as he leads you outside by the hand.

A ride share carries you safely home, but Santi's long, dextrous fingers have already temptingly edged under the hem of your shirt, anxious for the caress you both crave.

"Behave yourself," you teasingly admonish, swatting his hand away even as he nibbles on your neck, his breath ghosting your skin.

"Can't wait to get you out of this and underneath me," he rumbles on your ear, linking his fingers with yours, simply because there is nowhere else he can put them without earning another stare from the rearview mirror.

"Hey," you whisper, returning the favor by breathing hotly, making him shiver with want. "What makes you think I won't be on top?"

He growls, gripping your chin with his free hand and opening his mouth over yours - the heat of his tongue setting you on fire. You forget, for a few heavenly moments, that you're in the car with a complete stranger.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Stumbling through the front door like teenagers, your husband can't help but manhandle you, shutting the door dramatically before pushing you up against it - his strong hands gripping your hips as he touches his forehead to yours.

"How uncomfortable did we make that driver?" He jokes between lingering kisses to your lips.

"Don't worry, I gave him a good tip," You remind him, locking your wrists behind his neck and arching against him temptingly.

You carry on this way, endlessly kissing, caressing, bodies craving contact at every point. Santi hooks your thigh around his own, thrusting slowly up into the center of you as his free hand slips back underneath your top. “You really wanna do this here, bebécita?” He whispers between kisses.

Santiago is in amazing shape and you’re stupidly in love with him, but gone are the years of sneaking around for wild quickies against doors. Still…it’s tempting.

“Maybe not,” you smile against his lips. “Got something new for you too. Why don’t I go change?”

“Mmm, okay.” Although he agrees, he squeezes your hips, shifting up to rock against you with renewed vigor, lips trailing across your jaw to suck a mark into the flesh of your neck.

“God, baby…” you pant, meeting his thrusts eagerly, dizzy and euphoric from the alcohol and the dancing…and him.

“Missed you so much.” He clambers through the fog of his own lust and pulls you into a protective embrace, helping you stand up straight, so he can take you upstairs, as you requested.

But the world has spun off its axis tonight, and as he takes you by the hand once more, the way he loves to do, you find yourself stumbling down with him on the staircase, giggling like you did when you were younger - when he took your virginity and made you fall in love with him.

“Shit, sorry,” he half apologizes, his legs falling open as you drape your body over his, your thighs spreading wide across his lap.

“Told you I’d be on top,” you cheekily toy with him, shifting your aching core to rub over his obvious erection.

“Fuck…honey,” he growls, done with all the teasing and flirting. He pushes hungry hands under your shirt, feeling you up as his lips chase yours. As his tongue rolls over yours, he moans into your mouth when he feels the softness of your bra. You wore his favorite - the black lace with touches of emerald green satin. He bought it for you overseas - the biggest surprise of all being that he got the right size in a beautiful bra that’s actually comfortable and supportive.

But that’s how Santiago is: observant, beautiful, comfortable, supportive and sexy. Weird to have a bra remind you of your stunning husband but well…

He all but tears the shirt over your head, restraining himself only enough to keep from pulling or otherwise messing up your hair. Santiago is an expert at you. He knows when to push or pull or lead or follow - when to be rough or test your boundaries, and when to protect you and love you softly.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he rumbles, hands reverently steadying you on top of him by your soft shoulders, before he drags them down to cup your lace covered tits. You arch into his expert touch, slowly rocking in his lap, putting on a little show for him.

You’ve changed over the years. Your body naturally isn’t what it was the first time he took you. But Santiago never ceases to make you feel prized and adored and so beautiful. He makes you believe it somehow, even when you silently criticize yourself in the mirror.

So you let him adore you - you’re safe with him as he touches you all over, worshipping your curves and soft, plush places.

“I love you so much,” you breathe out as he nudges at your stomach, attempting to get you to lift up so he can take off your pants.

“Love you too, baby. But I’ll love you more when you’re naked.”

You snort at his cheesy forwardness, realizing he’s a bit more horny while you’re swooning with romance. You are on the stairs, after all. But he’s determined, rolling you beside him and yanking at fabric until you’re bare from the waist down. So much for the matching cheeky panties.

You forget to care that he didn’t mention them when he spreads your legs wide and drags his knuckles through your wet heat. The overexposure you feel dwindles away as he leans over to brush open-mouthed kisses against your stomach. Steadying yourself, you push your fingers through his curls. “This isn’t fair, babe. You’re still completely dressed.”

Peering up at you through endlessly long lashes, he smirks. “I don’t need to be naked to eat you out.”

“Santi,” you gasp in mock surprise, as he quickly and tauntingly kisses a trail down to your core. “What has gotten into you?”

He grins. "That a trick question? Oh shit - "

You watch him wince in pain. "Knees?"

He groans, nodding. "Knees."

"Come here, Papacito," you tease, climbing to your feet and offering him your hand.

The sight of you standing above him on the stairs, naked except for your bra and a sparkling bracelet quickly convinces him to follow.

You rush ahead of him to your bedroom, feeling a dizzy, freeing rush after a night of dancing and foreplay, but so ready to get this man of yours on your familiar, comfortable bed. After ordering him to lie down, you slip into the silky little number you ordered specifically for his next homecoming.

Slithering on top of him, you yank at his belt buckle.

“Just tell me what to do, mi reina. Make it easy for me.” He grins in self-satisfaction.

"I just want you out of these clothes," you fire back, wordlessly working him free enough for you to take hold of.

He groans out something incoherent as you tease the hot, heavy length of him, gliding your hand up and down his shaft.

"Just like that," he pants, his hips involuntarily bucking as you lean over and swirl your tongue all over his tip. "Fuck, I missed that." Slipping his hand around the nape of your neck, he has to restrain himself from thrusting up into your hot, wet mouth.

Santiago knows there's not another woman like you, anywhere. He's traveled over half the world, a couple dozen times over, so he knows. It's not just that you're beautiful. You radiate beauty. The trust you place in him and the freedom you give him to be who he is, to pursue his career, is as much a siren call, luring him back to you every chance he can manage, as it is a steady anchor for him.

As you take him deeper, his breath quickens at the thought of coming down your throat, but somehow, he's distracted by a need to reclaim you. To take possession of your body the way he dreamed of doing on the dance floor. As your lithe body swayed, matching his rhythm, following his lead, he noticed the men devouring you with their eyes.

He would grip your hips tighter, grind against you possessively and trail his lips down the side of your neck, marking you as his own.

But before he can claw his way out of the haze you're literally sucking him into, you pull off his cock with a pop, lips wet and pouting.

"Take these off," you whine, yanking at the waistband of his pants, attempting to pull them down over his thick thighs. "Can't reach all of you."

He surprises you by climbing off the bed to undress completely. With only moonlight spilling in through the bedroom window, he wears the vigor of his last mission on his skin, darker from days in the sun. His toned muscles flex with every motion, fresh bruises and old scars telling the story of his adventurous life.

You're way past giving him a lecture every time he returns home with a new piece of the story etched onto his skin.

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, you stretch out your fingers, tracing a healing bruise just under his ribs, situated beside a small, angry cut. Your eyes lock with his and he nods, letting you know that whoever inflicted this pain is taken care of. You press your lips there, learning the new marks of him, claiming this new part of him as your own.

"Show me where else," you plead, but he's shaking his head, easing down to hover you, his body flexing deliciously as he rolls you underneath him and covers your lips with his.

You moan into his mouth as his hands roam all over the shape of you, just like while you were out dancing, but wilder, more possessive. His tongue licks deeper as he grips your hips, positioning you underneath the hungry thrust of his hips against your thigh.

Your fingers slip around his neck, tenderly fingering the scar from his surgery before sliding into his hair, yanking hard enough to pull his mouth free of yours and earn you an appreciative moan. You yank again, harder, the leverage enabling you to pull your silk-covered breasts flush against the bare heat of his chest.

Slinging one leg around the back of his thigh, you meet his steady grinding eagerly, already panting as he smirks against your cheek.

"You've been wet all night, haven't you?" He teases, tugging your earlobe into his mouth. "All those men watching you dancing, but no one's touching my wife but me."

He sucks a mark into your neck, pushing one hand up your inner thigh, kneading the soft flesh, but stopping short of your aching, wet core.

"Wanted to touch you right here, make you come, soak those pretty panties," he taunts, tracing one finger over your puffy folds.

"Why didn't you?" A pout escapes your lips as you desperately attempt to shift your hips, to chase his fingers for any sort of friction. "Wanna come for you, Santi, show them I'm yours."

At that confession, he slides two thick fingers inside you, curling them forward into your spongy softness, beckoning your hips forward.

"Want me to finger you next time we dance, baby?" He huffs against your lips, rubbing the heavy length of his cock against the slick on your thigh, already dripping from your sopping core. "Wear a pretty dress for me and let me feel you up? You would be louder than the music when you come. Dirty girl.”

Your back arches off the bed at the sound of his voice goading you - something he does often during long distance sex. Your mind briefly drifts to the half dozen times he’s nearly taken you over the edge with his voice alone, uttering filthy things, finally allowing you to touch yourself for some gratification, or at least relief.

Before you can beg him to keep talking, he swipes his thumb over your clit, working a third finger into your hole, expertly coaxing your first orgasm out of you. Your thighs shake, chest heaving as you tremble and shudder around his fingers. “Oh fuck, Santi…so good,” you pant. “Missed you so much.”

Chasing after his lips with your own, you press a tempting kiss to his mouth, licking it open even as he strokes you past overstimulation, smiling into your kiss as you squirm to get away from him.

“Too much?” he grins, nibbling your bottom lip, swirling his middle finger like a cyclone inside you, just because he can.

“No. Want your cock.” You bite his lip and he hisses as you wrap smooth fingers around his hard, leaking length, pushing your thumb roughly over his tip.

Shimmying your hips closer to what you really want, you beckon him forward, rubbing his tip between your folds. But he resists you.

“Say that again,” he murmurs, biting gently on your jaw, then your throat, his hot breath making you tremble with desire.

Twisting your wrist, you work your hand up and down the length of his aching dick. “Want your cock. Want you inside me so bad.” Your tongue swirls inside his ear and he stutters out a gasp, shifting his hips to push his fat tip into your dripping hole.

He moans out your name, thrusting all the way inside. Your warm, wet walls hug him perfectly and he settles in that spot he knows you love. The stimulation and warmth of feeling him flush against you has you desperately rutting against him.

His hand grips your luscious thigh, pushing it up, folding you and opening you wider for him. Shifting his hips, he pumps into you faster, this angle hitting you so deep your head drops to the pillow as you whimper, overcome with how delicious it is to feel your husband, home, in your arms, in your bed, deep inside you where he belongs.

Grunts of pleasure pass his lips as he makes you his again, after weeks of nothing but a blurry, in-and-out video or sometimes, a crackly voice over a satellite phone.

“Don’t know how I ever leave this pussy,” he huffs, his body rolling over yours, spearing you open, molding you to the shape of his cock after so long without it. “That’s it. I fucking quit. I’m gonna spend the next month inside you.”

You know he’s not serious. Not yet anyway, but you love to hear it when he reclaims you like this. How he’ll forget everything else just to spend all his time coming inside you. And oh, does he make up for being gone when he’s home.

"This feels good," he sighs, hands tracing the shape of you through the silky lingerie you're wearing for him. His fingers drag and push the soft fabric until he's taking it over your head, licking his lips at the way your tits bounce as he fucks into you. "You feel better, though."

"Come here," you plead, luring him down all the way on top of you, kissing him wildly as his chest settles against yours. A light sheen of sweat forms between you, slick and hot as you sling your legs all the way around his waist, pulling him harder and deeper, if it's possible.

The thrusting of his tongue inside your mouth almost seems to match his hips and you grip onto him for dear life, holding him so tightly, your bodies rutting faster and harder in one deliciously fluid movement, so in sync you move as one.

The friction against your clit has you on the edge. You're unable to meet his hungry kiss with anything more than a long, breathy moan.

"Come on, baby, I'm so fuckin' close," he rumbles, his rhythm faltering as your walls hug his shaft, fluttering and pulsing, soaking his cock before you shriek in pleasure. Gripping him tighter, so wet and so tight he comes with you, filling you with his warmth, dragging his lips across your shoulder to bury his strangled cry in your neck.

You cradle his head, kissing his cheek, his ear, carding your fingers through his damp curls and whispering how much you adore him as he comes back to himself, finally going still, safe in your arms.

You rest there together, mouths fusing for a languid kiss, bodies joined and sated, sharing one another's breath. Santi holds you so close and you know he needs this. Needs to stay inside you, connected to you, wrapped up together, the heat of your bodies, your sweat and the slick between your legs raw and real and grounding for a man who has seen too much and is gone too often.

This is when Santiago is his most vulnerable, and inevitably makes his way to the question voicing his deepest fear. "Don't let me go."

"Never," you swear, wrapping your arms and legs around him tighter and squeezing him fiercely. "I'll always be right here, you know that."

He feels the slight scrape of your new diamond bracelet against the nape of his neck, toying with the scar from his operation. He knows diamonds won't make up for the fact that he's not here, and he doesn't want to pretend that it means something deep - such as he's with you whenever you wear it.

You're both years past that bullshit now. It's a beautiful piece and it belongs on his beautiful wife - it's that simple.

He asks you every time he comes home, if it's too much. Makes you promise you'll tell him if doubt has crept into the back of your mind. He does it now, and you know what he means.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He kisses you again, his body finally relaxing completely.

"Besides," you tease, "You're going to be inside me for the next month, remember? So neither of us are going anywhere."

He was teasing about that. You know it and he knows it. But now that you say it out loud...

"Yes ma'am." The next mission can wait.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Ivy's 1st Ficiversary Celebration

Miscellaneous Characters Masterlist (Santiago, Leto, Nathan, Llewyn, Orestes)

Main Masterlist

updates blog @ivystoryupdates

[fushitoru]

Hii lovely! I'm a very anxious person, so I'm so sorry if I come across as awkward in any way shape or form, I tend to be more of a lurker, but I'm trying to get better at interacting!!

First of all, your Bridgerton fic is??? SO?? GOOD??? The way you portray all the characters, the language, the settings, everything is just absolutely chef's kiss!! When I watched season 3 this spring I was sat there thinking about how good Gojo would be in the setting, so cue my excitement once I found your fic lmfaoo

ALSO?! Spider-man Gojo?? Academic rivals to lovers??? I would literally give my soul for that. Spidey is my all time favourite superhero and it's one of my favourite tropes sob SUPER excited to read it once you get it done!! <3

You write so so so beautifully and you (among a few others) make me actually feel like getting my finger out of my arse and write myself LOL But until then, have some art of Bridgerton Gojo? Just a sketch for now, and I couldn't for the life of me decide on hairstyle, so uhh, have both I guess??(+ two slightly different expressions lmfao)

I also just want to mention, please make sure to not pressure yourself too hard with writing and take everything at your own pace!! I (among others, I'm sure) would wait for however long you need to finish up these lovely works of yours!!

(I'm so sorry if these ever get super long, I'm a big time yapper, which is ironic for an anxious person loool)

Muuuch love<33

OMG HI BB!!!!! thank you so much for interacting with me, even though it's out of your comfort zone :') plsplspls don't worry about being too awkward or anything, i literally was smiling like an idiot while reading ur ask!!

and AHHH thank you so much!!! it's so funny that you say you thought that while watching season three because it was actually that season that made me want to write this series. glad to be of service <3

AHHH i'm also really excited to post it. i'm not done but im sooooo excited to finish it and have really been enjoying the process because spiderman is also one of my fav troupes + i feel like i've been able to write it in my OWN voice. super super excited for that <3

OH MY GOD. YOU DRAW SO BEAUTIFULLY??? I LOVE THIS SKETCH. i honestly really like both hairstyles and expressions you drew them so well 😭 i definitely imagine his hairstyle as the one on the left while im writing. everything from the outfit to pose you drew SO WELL (im in LOVE with the jacket as well as the shoes) he looks so BOUGIE and so TALL im literally going to climb him. and im ngl the expression the right seems so much like his sassy self, especially when he's making fun of someone while his expression on the left i interpret as something a bit more unfiltered, when he's more genuine. god you are so talented, literally captured the vibes.

AND ILY!!! no matter how long these asks are i will read them pls bring forth the yap. literally squealed while reading this, ilysm. thank you SO MUCH for drawing bridgerton!gojo im so honored 🫶🫶🫶

[the-little-ewok]

Clandestine

Poe Dameron X Fem!Reader

Rating : E / 18+

Word count : 2400 (ish)

Warnings : Smut. PIV, fingering, semi-public sex, tiny bit of needy!Poe, reader wears a dress, illusions to lack of self confidence, praise kink, cock warming

Summary: Poe can't keep his eyes, or his hands off you during a party....

(Alternatively a discussion was had about staining Poes trousers when he decides he can't wait to have you in private...)

A/N : Yea I'm still mostly on hiatus, but after a bit of lovely feedback from my Discord loves, I am sharing this with you all.

No longer using a taglist because it's out of date.

Forgive any mistakes. It's not beta'd and I'm bad at finding my own mistakes.

It was no secret that Poe hated these type of events with a passion, and so it should be no surprise that he had situated himself in the corner furthest from the dance floor, mostly hidden in darkness, sipping his drink as he watched the party begin to reach its peak.

He'd agreed to go only because you asked him, and for the most part, he had been the perfect partner throughout the dinner, apart from the fact he had politely refused to leave the table to dance. Instead he seemed content to sit quietly eyeing you in the dim lighting.

"Stop that," you scold, for what feels like the hundredth time since the pilot had seen you this evening.

"Stop what?" He grins, raising an eyebrow, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he eyes you with blatant, feral desire.

"Looking at me." You fidget under his gaze, adjusting your dress and trying not to let him fluster you, although the heat prickling at your skin lets you know you are failing on that front.

"I'm admiring," he clarifies, sipping his drink without ever taking his eyes off you.

The moment you had walked out of the fresher in this dress, he'd all but drooled over you. You still vividly remembered the way his mouth had fallen open, his eyes taking in every inch of your body — more than once — before he regained the ability to speak. You had fidgeted under his gaze, feeling suddenly self conscious in your choice of outfit, which was a little more daring than your usual attire.

"Jess helped me pick it," you had mumbled, as though it explained everything.

"Well we arn't going to the party." He had stated after a drawn out silence, swallowing hard.

You had frowned, confused, but before you had a chance to ask, he had pulled you into his arms, his mouth on yours, his hands cupping your ass as he held you against him, begging you to let him view your dress on the bedroom floor, while he buried himself inside you.

Much to his disappointment, and if you were honest, your own too, you had managed to wriggle out of his grip, and firmly told him that he could do whatever he wanted with you, and your dress, after the party. The look he had given you would make anyone think you had told him BB-8's programming had failed.

So to the party you had come, and enjoyed it, with one glaring problem — he had barely taken his eyes off you, all night. Everytime you glanced over at him during conversation he was, for all intense purposes, absolutely eye fucking you.

You had no idea, until you met Poe, what being so openly desired could do to you. He riled you up with just a look and Maker, he was so damn hard to say no to. More than once you had to curl your fingers against your thighs under the table, willing yourself to have some control and stop your thoughts wandering to the way he was dragging his tongue along the Meiloorun fruit served for dessert. You were thankful when they finally cleared away the plates.

"Well, admire something else," you answer, keeping your eyes trained on the dance floor lights, trying not to give in to your desires.

"I can't," he practically hisses, leaning close to you. "You have no idea how much I can't."

"Poe." It's half a warning for him to stop, but the flicker in his eyes lets you know he knows he's starting to get to you. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't regretted turning him down earlier this evening. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't considered faking some illness to leave the party early. But you had promised to come, and now you were here you had to stick it out, at least until a decent time.

He holds your gaze as his hand slips into yours, firm and comforting, even as he eyes you hungrily.

"Come sit with me. At least let me hold you," he whispers softly, sweetly, dangerously. You know exactly where he's about to put you, and why. Yet you don't stop him when he pulls you out of your seat, and guides you to sit on his lap.

You let out a soft gasp at the feel of his hard cock pressed against your ass, realising exactly what he meant by "can't".

"I need you," he whispers, almost sinfully, in your ear. "I need you, now." His nose brushes against the column of your neck, from your collarbone to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. It's so much harder to ignore him now, to try and reason with him.

"Poe, we are in public!" It's barely a protest, your body already responding to his, your pussy clenching at the thought of his cock buried deep inside you, here, in a hall full of people. It shouldn't excite you as much as it does.

"I can't wait," he groans. "Please baby, it's been like this all night. Please. I need to be inside you." His tone is needy, begging, desperate.

It's thrilling, knowing you can pull that out of him.

"I'll be good to you," he promises, his hands already hitching up your dress under the table, splaying them warm against your thighs. "You know how good I can be to you."

The shiver of desire that runs through you at his words is completely involuntary. You can't stop it, no more than you can stop the way your heart gallops, and butterflies erupt in your stomach as his promise, and the memories of previous similar promises it revives.

"If anyone sees…" you trail off with a pleasured sigh as he kisses your neck, just below your ear.

"They won't," he states confidently, as though the table were a wall between you and the party.

You want to argue that he has no way of knowing, that this is a terrible idea, that you should wait, but you're too far gone, lost in the way his mouth feels against your pulse point, sucking a mark to claim you.

His hands, already pressed against the skin of your thighs, start a slow journey up, taking his time to squeeze your flesh lightly, enjoying the warmth of you against his palms, lightly pressing them open for him.

When he finally slips a hand between your legs, he lets out a sudden breath, as though the air has been punched from his lungs.

"Fuck," he hisses, his fingers skimming against your bare flesh, collecting the wetness already gathered there, and dragging up to brush against your clit.

You expect him to be smug about it, to tease you about how easily riled you are, how you want this as much as he does, but the pilot seems to have been struck dumb by your lack of underwear and only succeeds in a low whine against your neck, his hips rutting up into you, desperate for friction against his aching cock.

Your own gasp, as he slips a finger easily into you, curling against your walls, is thankfully covered by the music. He gives you a moment to school your expression, lest anyone notice, before he slowly, almost lazily withdraws it, moving up to circle your clit, before back down to sink two fingers into you.

"Shouldn't have let you leave the room," he grumbles against your neck as you squirm on his lap, his fingers stretching you open with practised ease. His hands know your body better than your own, and it takes him absolutely no time at all to have you struggling to contain your moans of pleasure.

Leaning into you he licks your neck, making you shudder with need.

"Can I fuck you now?"

You should say no, make your excuses and leave, pick this back up in your room. He's giving you an out, a way to stop this before it goes further than you're comfortable with. But you find you don't want to stop. In fact, you very much don't want to stop.

"Yes," you breathe out, rolling your hips against the straining bulge in his trousers. He curses, and within moments his fingers are removed and he's scrambling to unbutton his trousers, freeing his cock with some careful manuveting from you.

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you position yourself, your back to his chest, leaning your hands on the table, trying to look as innocent as possible.

Taking a breath you bite your lip hard as you sink down onto his waiting cock, taking things slow despite his desperation, and now yours. Both of you know drawing too much attention to yourselves would not be pleasant.

Poe's teeth sink into your shoulder, stifling his groan against your skin as you settle back on his lap. The bite of pain makes you clench around him and the pilot lets out a choked noise of surprise, his hips jolting against yours, pressing him deep inside you.

"Shit baby, don't do that," he warns, taking a trembling breath. "Not unless you want this over really qui-nghh!"

You can't help but do it again and the torturous sound he lets out is more than worth it.

"Stop," he gasps "I don't wanna rush this". But you aren't listening to him. He's pushed you this far and now you're on edge, your body crying out for a blissful release you know he can give you. It just feels too damn good to tease him.

You clench again, and this time earns you a low growl that sends electric through your nerves.

You're expecting him to thrust up into you, hard and deep, the way he usually would when you tease him this way, but instead his arms hold tight against your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he grinds up into you, slowly.

It's so much better….or worse. He adjusts his hips until his cock brushes up against that one blissful spot inside you, constantly. It's never ending. No amount of squirming or wriggling allows you a moment from the pressure. It's too much and not enough. It turns the tables in an instant, and you can't help the whimper that passes your lips.

"Good girl, taking me so well," he praises, clearly trying to keep his breathing steady as he rolls his hips into you again. "Letting me have you here, where anyone can see us."

You have to fight to stop your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he whispers in your ear, your hands dropping from the table to grip his arms so hard you're sure the nail marks will still be there tomorrow.

"Driving me crazy in this dress. Lookin' like the hottest fucking thing. Fuck baby, you're so good to me, letting me do this," he slurs, his voice progressively more wrecked and quiet as he rambles on. Or maybe it's your hearing that's the problem. Suddenly all you can concentrate on is the base of the music as it vibrates through your veins, the press of his cock inside you, the weight of his arms around your waist, the pleasure surging through you.

You completely lose all sense of what he's saying to you, desperatly trying not to cry out his name aloud, or throw yourself forwards onto the table so he can pound into you. Instead you try your best to stay as still as you can, as calm as you can, while Poe seemingly does everything he can to make you a screaming mess.

Each grind of his hips is blissful torture. The pleasure builds and builds. The wave gets higher with each slow roll of his hips, your nerves on fire, your muscles taunt and aching, but there's no release. It's blissful and terrifying all at once. It holds you on the precipice, tiptoeing the edge but never allowing the tide to claim you.

He pushes you almost to the point where it's too much, to where you're almost sure you can't take any more, to where your considering begging him for release. But before you have chance his hands are suddenly grasping at your dress, pulling it up out of the way to press his fingers against your clit.

"Cum for me. Cum now," he demands.

And you do. Oh, you do.

You gasp, choking back your moan as your hands fly to grip the edge of the table, so hard your knuckles go white, as the cresting wave finally crashes down over you. Thighs trembling, toes curling, back arching, your eyes flutter shut as your climax rockets through you, uncaring who notices your reaction, lost in the bliss that seems to go on, and on.

You feel Poe's cock throb as he empties himself deep inside you, muting his own climax against your neck, his fingers digging painfully into your thighs as he continues to grind into you with the same slow, deep roll of his hips, riding out both your highs until you come down.

When you finally open your eyes your gaze flickers around the room, quickly checking if anyone had noticed either of you, but everyone seems thankfully lost in their own business. You left out a sigh of relief, your body sagging back against Poe's in sudden exhaustion.

"Told you nobody would see," he mumbles as he nuzzles your neck affectionately.

"You're lucky," you smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a soft kiss.

"I am very lucky," he nods seriously, before the edge of his lip tugs up in a cheeky half smile. "Thanks for helping me take care of that problem. I'll repay the favour later tonight… or now?"

You let out a strangled noise as Poe's fingers brush against the inside of your thighs, too close to where his softening cock is still buried inside you, unsure if you want to go again, or if you need a minute to recover. You feel the pilot smile against your neck as you twitch and squirm on his lap. Placing a soft solitary kiss to your damp skin he sighs.

"I'm sorry baby but it seems you might have made quite the mess. You're soaked everywhere." There's an undeniable smirk in his voice that lets you know he's anything but sorry about it, or his part in it. And now he's mentioned it, you can feel it — the slick warmth coating your skin, the evidence of both your climaxes seeping out. There's no denying it must be covering his lap as well as your own, and it makes an embarrassed heat prickle across your skin.

Before you can apologise, his arms wrap around your waist, anchoring you in place, unable to leave his lap as he brings his mouth to your ear. You shiver at his words, body tensing in anticipation.

"I guess you'll just have to sit right there until the party's over."

~~~~~

If you enjoyed reading please, please, leave a comment, or reblog and tell me your thoughts! You opinion, even incoherent letters, or little GIFs, is invaluable to writers. Otherwise we feel we did a shit job and we don't write anymore ;)

Thanks for reading!

[ana-snz]

More thoughts on the recent snzblr discourse. I will try my best to be understanding and levelheaded about this, but this topic is very personal to me so forgive me if I’m not entirely able to.

I will start by saying that it is not “purity culture” or “moral panic” to say that having this kink does not excuse intentionally infecting unconsenting individuals with illness. There is a MASSIVE difference between enjoying a kink in a consensual setting or fantasizing about it (no one is saying you can’t do these things, you are not being shamed for your fantasies / desires!) and actually involving unwilling individuals in your kink.

Consent is the #1 most important thing in all kink spaces. Like yes we are all here for the same reason, and there may be a propensity to feel defensive if you feel you are being kink-shamed in what is supposed to be a space for us all to be as open and loud and unabashed about our desires as we want, but it is still absolutely crucial to delineate between what is fantasy and what is reality, and understand that our real life actions can and do have consequences. We are not living inside a sickfic, the ways in which we choose to engage in our kink MUST be consensual, respectful, responsible, and safe. It is the bare minimum for this, or any kink space.

It is not kink-shaming to say that non-consensual engagement is wrong and unethical, ESPECIALLY when it comes to something as potentially dangerous as illness. It’s also worth acknowledging that the dynamic of our community has been greatly impacted by COVID, just by the nature of what the kink entails, and that this sucks and is worth mourning, but just like with many other things the pandemic has impacted, we cannot hang on to this old way of being when it no longer is safe or realistic to do so. This is the way things are now, and it sucks, but we can still find SO much enjoyment and gratification and pleasure in the way things are now.

If you are feeling discomfort, if the points disabled people are bringing up around this topic are making you question yourself and your actions, that is likely something for you sit with and explore yourself, rather than trying to debate with disabled people on whether or not their reaction to inflammatory, ableist content is “moral panic”. Understand that this conversation is part of a much, much larger picture and that it is not isolated to just our community, but rather a reflection of a larger systemic response in which disabled people have been disbelieved, undermined, and discarded when it comes to our rights and safety during an ongoing pandemic.

If you didn’t read as much into *that* post as some of us did, great. You likely don’t have to be on hyper alert for this kind of content, but we see it all the time, everywhere. The casual downplaying of COVID and the flippancy about its risks are things we are all too familiar with, and tone policing marginalized folks when we get upset about harmful content is not the move. Listen to us, learn from us, be in solidarity with us. It may seem counterintuitive to you to care about these things in what many of us may see as just a place to escape and have a little fun, but respect is the backbone of kink spaces and we’d all fare well if we could remember that.

This was longer than I planned on it being, oops. I also blocked some people so I don’t even know who will see this but just wanted to add my piece. Love y’all bbs, stay safe ❤️

[clockmax]

- A TWISTED FANTASY

Pairing: Jake Sully x Fem!Navi!Reader

A/N: FINALLY AT A REST STOP WITH GOOD WIFI!! Going to Nevada for pretty much the entire summer and this road trip is literally killing me. rip to luna who had to wait so long for this (ily bb)

warnings: hate fucking, oral (M receiving) p in v, degrading and slight praise, dubcon, brief fingering, orgasm denial/edging, spanking, hate fucking, semi-public, marking, i think thats all.

REQUESTS OPEN

There were no words that could describe the situation between you and Jake. Absolutely none. 

It wasn’t just generally disliking each other; this was a different type of issue. You absolutely hated how that man was. Arrogant, selfish, how reckless he could be. But damn, this man was so fucking hot. You hated him, no, you despised him. Though there was no denying some of his actions could have you on the flipside. 

But nevermind that, he could never have you. There was just no way you’d give yourself to a man like him. Your mind and body could hate him, but there was no denying how god damn attractive he was. 

Every moment with him felt like hell. The way you both had to hold back your venom so as to not fight each other. The way you would huff and puff all because you were practically forced to spend time with him.

It was a blazing hell. You hated this man, and he hated you. But oh how he would get you worked up with all his teasing just to leave you alone, soaked in your pants. Jake was a cruel man, all because you two had some stupid childlike feud.

There was actually no beginning to why you both started hating each other, it just happened. When your parents let him into the clan, it just so happened that you both started disliking each other. Every time you were in a room with Jake, the tension in the air made it so thick it felt hard to breathe. Like you were going to suffocate on just the hatred alone.

And now here you were, in the forest, alone. Just you and your thoughts. 

The festival was too loud for you. But the cherry on top of that was how Jake kept looking at you the entire night. The way you constantly batted heads, even when you were not speaking was just aggravating.

The walk was peaceful, you were finally able to get some alone time. Some time to enjoy the true beauty of Pandora. It was calming in some sense, but your tension was still high.

A faint sound of a stick cracking far behind put you on alert, drawing your knife, tail swishing violently in the air. Your beards perked up, twitching at every little sound. Eyes darted around, trying to find the source of the cracking.

After what felt like an eternity, you were finally able to make out the figure approaching you.

Oh eywa.. Why him?

Of course it had to be Jake Sully coming to interrupt your peace. 

“Woah there princess, put the knife down, I’m not here to hurt you, yeah?” Jake’s tone was almost mocking, condescending even. 

You roll your eyes, dropping your knife, body still on high alert.

“Keep this up and I might hurt you.” You nearly spat back, tail swishing as your eyes met his.

There was a certain fire in his eyes, something with hatred that almost burned into lust. The way he looked at you, ready to fight with you again.  

“Someone’s got an attitude today,” Jake just kept mocking you, pushing your buttons, “How about we fix that, can’t have you going back to hometree spitting at everyone you see.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You turned away, walking deeper into the forest when you were pulled back, hands gripping at your waist.

“You heard what I said. Can’t let you back to hometree with an attitude.” His breath was hot against your ear.

Your whole body froze, his lips tracing behind your ear, hands gripping at the curve of your hips, breath landing on the nape of your neck. 

You wanted to get out of this situation badly, but eywa, having him this close did something to you. No matter how many times your head cursed him at this moment, the arousal growing in your womb was something you couldn’t hold back.

“You.. son of a bitch-” You mumble, taking in a sharp breath of air. 

“Yeah, yeah. Hate me all you want, kid, your body says different.” 

One of Jake's hands found its way past your loincloth, dipping past the fabric to your cunt. His other hand held onto one of your breasts, gently squeezing it, rolling your nipple in between two fingers. 

You knew you shouldn’t be doing this, especially with the man you hate. But god, it felt so good. It was twisted, really.

His fingers found their way to your sensitive bud of nerves, working it between his fingers pads. The sensation sent a shiver through your spine, a small gasp escaping your mouth. Your knees buckled a little, upper body almost folding in half already.

This was some kind of game now, seeing whoever could crumble first. Moving your hips, bumping your butt against Jake's bulge. He let out a low and quiet growl, his head moving back a little. 

“Jesus, kid. Yea, you feel what you do to me now?” *His voice was low, fingers working at your clit as his other digits rubbed between your folds.

It was a game of teasing, a game to see who could break first. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good, but you couldn't help it. He was just touching in all the right places. 

Low mewls and gasps escaped your lips no matter how hard you tried to hold them in. You were biting your lip so hard that it was surprising that you weren’t drawing blood. 

His fingers left your clit, quickly replaced by his thumb. Two fingers prodded at your entrance before slipping inside, sending ripples of pleasure through you, fingers finding themselves cozy in your velvety walls. 

You arousal coated his fingers with ease, making a mess of your loincloth and his hands. It felt so wrong yet so right. You could not figure if you wanted to enjoy this, or hate it simply because it was from Jake. 

His lips kept at your neck, planting kisses, bites, whatever he could to almost mark you as his. You were his to hate but his to fuck. Almost like he was going to make you a stress reliever, something he could use to fuck his anger out. 

You could feel the pleasure build up in your womb, stomach coiling into knots. It felt so good, just until his fingers pulled away, the pleasure almost being ripped from you.

Jake looked at you, almost letting out a small chuckle at how pitiful you looked. Your orgasm being ripped away from you had let you whine, thighs rubbing together. 

“Knees, now.” Jake commanded, leaving no room for you to argue.

He gave your thighs a slap. You rolled your eyes, plating yourself on the forest floor. He looked at you, a silent command, almost telling you what to do. 

Your fingers found the knot of his loincloth, fumbling with it. You were getting frustrated, Jake looking down and watching you in amusement.

“What's the problem down there, sweetheart?” His voice was laced with mockery and venom, a small smirk appearing on his face.

“Shut up.” You hissed back, fingers struggling to undo the tight knot. 

Jake's fingers replaced your own, undoing the knot and tossing his loincloth to the side. His cock was practically rock hard already, beads of precum falling down his length. 

With reluctance, you let him push past your lips, down that pretty throat of yours. His hips rutted into you with some sort of urgency, but also anger and a desire.

His cock reached so far down your throat, squeezing around him as you slightly gagged. The sounds were just extra stimulation for Jake, his mind already in a frenzy. Small tears falling down your cheek as he pushed past your throat. 

Jake looks at you, all pretty on your knees as that anger burns in your eyes, before he says, “Now thank me.”

You go frigid, looking at him with an intensity behind those eyes of yours. He wanted you to do what? Why would you ever thank him?

“Fucking thank me for letting you swallow all my cum like a good girl."

There’s a dark edge in his voice, low grunts coming from his chest as his pace quickened, cock twitching in your mouth.

“Fuck that’s a good girl.” Jake mentioned in between grunts and low moans, 

“Thank you-” You manage to choke out, the tip of his cock bruising the back of your throat.

As soon as you say the words, hot ropes of cum are spurting from his dick, coating the inside of your mouth white. His thrusts coming to a halt as he lets out a moan, cock twitching in your mouth.

The noises coming from him sent a heat down to your core, clenching your thighs. There was still no way you were getting turned on by him, but you couldn't help but want his cock inside of you.

“Swallow.” He  pulled his length out of your mouth, looking down at you. Jake's voice was laced with a certain dark edge to it. 

Jake crouches down to your level, palm of his hand holding your chin as his two fingers squish your cheeks, preventing you from spitting.

And you do, with no other choice at the moment. The way he looks at you like you’re inferior to him makes you feel so small right now. His cum slides down your throat, almost washing away the hateful words you want to curse him with.

You looked at him with a fiery intensity. Half tempted to slap that cocky smile off his handsome face. Damn him for being so arrogant, for getting you in this situation. 

Your hands went to his shoulder, pushing him on his back. Jake didn’t make any attempt to stop you, he just looked at you with a cocky grin. Oh how badly you wanted to prove him wrong. 

Moving yourself on top, tossing your loincloth, legs straddling the side of his hips. Your hands found their way to his cock, aligning it with your entrance, sliding down.

Well, fuck.

You did not calculate his size. Fuck, it felt like he was splitting you in two. Throwing your head back, letting out a moan. There was a pain from the stretch, hands on his abs to stabilize yourself.

“What’s wrong? Can’t take it? Thought a slut like you would be able to.” His hands held your waist, pulling you deeper on him until he was all inside, letting out a groan.

You didn’t even think it was possible to take his size, legs shaking as your cunt adjusted. The pain mixed in with the pleasure, creating an overwhelming feeling that sent sparks all over your body. His tip was prodding at your cervix, his cock stretching you more than you could stretch yourself. 

“Atta girl, see? You could do it, just needed a little push.” The more Jake spoke, the more you wanted to slap him.

“Be quiet, so fucking cocky..” You mumbled, moving your hips up and down. Your mind was practically telling you to stop, that he was your enemy, you weren’t supposed to end up fucking. 

It’s not like you could stop anyways. As much as you hated Jake, as much as your rivalry ran deep, he just felt too good to stop.

Jake leaned back, watching the way your hips desperately moved, watching the way you slide up and down with some sort of urgency that was mixed with lust.

“Yea, can’t be calling me stupid now when you’re bouncing all up on my cock like a whore.” 

His gaze was fixed on your face, watching how your face contorted with pleasure, your plump lips opening to let out moans. 

It was a sight to see, and a sight he was going to keep in his memory. 

Jake’s hands held your hips in place, stopping your movement. One of his hands went to your hair, pulling you down onto his chest. Bringing his hips back, he thrusted into you with a force that you swore knocked the wind out of you.

His pace was rough and ruthless, fucking you dumb. All you could do was mewl and moan on his cock. You couldn’t even formulate a full sentence anymore, your body too lost in the euphoria. 

Then came back that familiar feeling again, ropes knotting in your stomach, coiling tight on each other. 

“Fuck- ‘s too much.. Jake-” You can’t help but let his name slip past your lips, your orgasm building up with such an intense and quick force, overwhelming your senses.

“What’s wrong, pretty girl? Gonna come for me?” Jake let out a low chuckle, hand finding its way to your bottom, holding one of your asscheeks before giving it a spank. 

The sensation and burn of it sent you overboard, coming around his cock as he drilled into you. Your lips fell open with a moan as your body shook, waves of pleasure crashing down on you in intense waves.

After a few more thrusts on Jakes end, he was spilling inside you. A low grunt coming to the surface as he held you in place, face burying into the crook of your neck.

For a few moments, you both laid there, just trying to process everything. You slid off him, finding your loincloth and adjusting it back on. You tossed Jake his loincloth, not even looking him in the eye.

You probably couldn’t even look yourself in the eyes after that. How tense things were going to be with the next following days.

You just got yourself into a mess that had only 2 endings. 

taglist: @justasimps-blog

: ©clockmax 2023 ━━━ do not repost, copy, or translate my work.

[imagine-silk]

Could you do the Yandere Fallout dudes with a darling that is a pre-war ghoul and very insecure about it?

》A non!sole, let's go!

【Hancock】 "Let's be freaks together, forever."

He was a gambling man and he won when he met you. Not only were you perfect in every way but you also loved him. Not to the extreme he loved you but that didn't matter to him. You could have screamed 'I hate you' and it wouldn't change his feelings. If you love him, love being a ghoul. You'll live forever together, you won't get sick, you are so beautiful. Over two-hundred years of waiting for him and now you get two-thousand years more.

【Preston】 "But you're sooooooo beautiful. Good enough to eat."

He will make sure you're loved in every way. Every. Way. In the morning he'll come up behind you and spin you around. At night he'll map out your entire body with his tongue. The way he looks at you, almost like he wants to eat you. It kills him inside you don't love yourself like he loves you but that just means he needs to show you.

【MacCready】 "Did someone say something about you?"

He asked calmly. He's soft and checks on you like a good husband would. Make no mistake it bothers him, burns him from the inside out. If you do name someone they will die that night. Once you're asleep he puts on a coat and grabs his rifle to go on the roof. You can see everyone from your house. When he goes back in you stir and he softly kisses you, "Go back to sleep, honey."

【Danse】 "You're an angel."

You saved him from spiraling downwards after BB. You are the angel who saved him, even after all of his sins. He doesn't even know if he ever bothered you for being a ghoul, that's how lost he was. But he will atone and worship you as his angel. The way you second guess your beauty is make him ache because he's said those things once. Now is the time to say the truth. "You look absolutely divine."

【Nick】 "Ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

He says that every time he comes home while pulling you in. He touches you with some reservations but you learned early on it was due to the damage on his body not yours. After he sees how much it bothers you he blackmails asks around and finds people to fix his exterior. Evey new tune up is met you affection immediately after.

【X6-88】 "You are over two-hundred years old. You look good."

He doesn't particularly understand the problem. You're not insecure about your tainted genes or your age. Even if you were he can't have kids and he's not that old in literal years so neither is a problem for him, he also has those problems. But failing all of that he falls back on the fact of your age and the fact you look better than the non-ghouls from your time. Because what counts is that you're alive.

【Deacon】 "Then let's do something about it."

He figured just saying differently wouldn't change your mind. It wouldn't change his if he was in your position. So he dumps a bunch of clothes in the living room and has a fashion show. If anything it will just take things off your mind. He does think about dumping radiation into the water supply to make everyone just like you. It doesn't cross his mind for long but it does.

[mothwingwritings]

H and T for Hanayama pretty please <3

(it can be either of those two, it doesn’t have to be both thx 😅)

Thank you bb, I hope you enjoy and that I did our darling Yakuza boy some justice. <3

Warnings: Isolation, mentions of abuse, crying, and sex.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The whole courting process was an absolute nightmare.

It began with the stalking, his overbearing presence following your every movie. If it wasn’t him, it was one of the men in his family, his influence as a Yakuza boss vast enough that there was always someone available to keep tabs on your movements. When you went to work, someone was following closely behind you. When you were sitting at home, there would be men stationed outside your door keeping watch. It was as maddening as it was terrifying, knowing the ease with which he had acquired access to every aspect of your life. You wanted your privacy and autonomy back, but had no way of achieving it.

Hanayama had told you the 24hr watch was for your own protection, but you knew better.  He couldn’t stand the thought of not knowing where you were, what you were doing, who you were with. He wanted total control over you, much like he did the men he commanded. However your loyalty was expected to be that of a romantic partner-his hungry eyes, roving hands, and forced kisses making that excruciatingly apparent.

After the stalking came the thinly veiled threats of what may occur to your friends and family should you not comply. You would try and tell yourself he didn’t mean what he was saying, that if anything he should want to make a good impression on your loved ones, as your family and friends would someday become his own by virtue of being close with you. But when you were out with your buddies just a little too late, or your parents/sibling kept you on the phone too long, or a particular friend was getting a bit too chummy for his liking, you couldn’t help but shudder at the look of displeasure that would flash across Kaoru’s face.  The fury that bubbled beneath the surface was just a terrible precursor of what was to come, a warning to not leave his annoyance unchecked.

Your family, your friends, your coworkers, essentially everyone you knew, all of their safety hinged on your interactions and reactions to Kaoru. Though you were fairly certain he would never turn his wrath your way, everyone else was fair game. Thoughts of what brutality Hanayama could and would inflict upon the people closest to you at any given time left you a distressed mess. Even if they could fend for themselves against some of his men, what was the likelihood that they would survive going against Hanayama? You shuddered thinking of the blood you’d occasionally see flecked against Kaoru’s white suits, consumed with the fear it may belong to someone you know.

And that brought you to the final horrid stage of this courtship, the isolation. Hanayama had successfully muscled his way into your life, rooting himself until his presence was unshakeable. He never flat out told you that you couldn’t see of speak to your loved ones, making it seem as if your detachment was all of your own volition. In truth, you were just so fucking scared of what may become of them, run ragged by the thought that their livelihoods and happiness all depended on how good of a lover you were to a man you wanted nothing to do with, that you eventually had to yield for your own sanity. You slowly weaned yourself from any interaction with them, visits and phone calls coming few and far between. You stopped using your social media and messaging apps, and always had an excuse at your disposal when someone asked to see you. Eventually even your closest friends stopped reaching out, your social network dwindling daily as more and more contacts gave up on you. It killed you inside. It destroyed you that now your entire life was nothing but Hanayama and the people he deemed worthy of surrounding you. You had lost yourself, your heart shattered by the knowledge that you would most likely never have the life you once had back.  

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

It depends on the tears. He cannot stand seeing you cry or scream in pain or out of fear. Godspeed to the person who made you cry, as the moment that first tear falls from your eye it marks that person for death (after a long bout of brutal torture and suffering, of course). He’s obsessed with making sure you are safe and protected, and if you ever have a moment where you feel even a moment of agitation he wants to quell it as quickly as possible (which is another reason why he quickly decided he was not keen on your friends and family. From what he gathered they were all wild cards with sketchy intentions towards you, and that is not something that sits well with him at. all.).

Now if HE is the cause of your tears (which is usually the case), he takes it very personally. He always seems to misinterpret them, choosing to believe that the reason you are crying and making such a scene is because he isn’t around as much as he should be and you feel neglected and abandoned (when in reality it’s basically the exact opposite). Your frustrated bawling only grows worse because of this, which in turn makes him extremely suffocating with his affection in an attempt to make you ‘feel better’. Whether his dense-ness is intentional or not, you are not entirely sure.

Now on the other hand, tears and screaming that come as a result of him fucking you? Music to his ears. It doesn’t even matter if it’s from pain, he knows you will get used to him soon and all the fuss is just a precursor to the immense pleasure you will be feeling momentarily. Your pained cries will soon turn into squeals of satisfaction, so the wailing does little to slow him down when he’s making love to you. Instead it fuels him to go harder so that the discomfort will subside quickly, wanting nothing more than for you to feel just as good as he does.

As for isolation, he actually kind of likes it. If you isolate yourself, even from him, at least he knows you are safe and no one else is bothering you, causing you harm, or encroaching on his territory. He would be downtrodden if you hole yourself away for too long, but accepts it because he believes this is just you giving him the cold shoulder for spending so much time away doing work related things instead of sticking by your side. Eventually you will come around, even if he has to be the one to forcefully coax you out of your seclusion. You’re an understanding person, and he’ll make sure to shower you in love to help alleviate any lingering loneliness that may still be plaguing you.

[misshoneyimhome]

Okay I need a lil bit of holiday angst followed by fluff, I’m thinking he’s on the phone with Alex and they’re prepping for the Nylander clan to arrive in Toronto for Christmas! Now you’ve met the family and adore them but you’ve never spent a holiday together and you’re excited as you think this is a huge step in your relationship! So you arrive back home from gift shopping and he’s on the phone and you’re about to pop in to say hello but you overhear him saying how he feels a little apprehensive and doesn’t know how he feels about you joining in on their holiday, big ouch you feel as though you’re rushing into the family and feel badly about planning this whole business, now if you stayed to listen longer you’d know it’s because he knows how much you live your family and he feels bad for keeping you from them for the first time at Christmas and he’s anxious because he wants to make it a perfect first Christmas together as it won’t be the last…but boy has some explaining to do when he finds you crying in your shared bedroom amongst his family’s presents😭

Oh yes! Nothing says Christmas more than a little holiday misunderstanding 😅 bb, I hope this comes somewhere close to your idea, and that you’ll enjoy a little bit of soft!Willy as he tries to comfort his girlfriend ❤️

Words count: 2.3+

➼｡ﾟ

My Only Wish I William Nylander ✿❄︎

"Okay, I think that's the final one," you quietly murmured to yourself while checking your list twice. And then with a contented grin, you set off for home after a successful Christmas shopping spree. 

Meanwhile you’d been out hunting for gifts, your boyfriend William Nylander was busy getting things ready for his family's visit.

This Christmas marked your first year celebrating it together, and although it felt like a significant step in your relationship, it just felt right. You and William had been dating for almost two years, and an official couple for almost just as long, so spending the holidays together seemed like a natural decision.

Initially, you were a bit unsure about skipping your usual family Christmas, but with work commitments looming with important meetings on the 22nd and William's home hockey match on the 23rd it made more practical sense to stay put in Toronto. Besides, William had extended an invitation to almost his entire family to join in the celebrations.

Or perhaps, it could have been his sisters' insistence to have everyone together that pushed the plan forward. Nonetheless, they were all set to arrive on the 22nd, catch the Leafs playing against the Blue Jackets on the 23rd, and then Alex would fly in from Pittsburgh, giving you all ample time from the 24th to the 27th to enjoy the Nylander family's company. And this year, you were to be a part of it all.

You were absolutely thrilled. Christmas was your favourite time of the year, and there was nothing you wanted more than to spend those days with your beloved boyfriend. You'd found him the perfect present, or maybe even presents, and you'd also sorted gifts for all his family members.

Despite William's insistence that you shouldn't spend all your time and money on gifts for his family, you couldn't help yourself nor contain your excitement. You were simply too eager and joyous about the upcoming celebrations.

You adored his family, and it seemed they felt the same way about you.

William surprised you by introducing you to them rather swiftly, which was unexpected as he wasn't usually the type to share his personal life so soon. But he was simply immensely proud to have you as his girlfriend, and he just hadn’t been able to resist mentioning you to them. So soon after, he pulled you into a family video call for a virtual introduction. Then, during the following off-season, you spent almost two months in Sweden with all his family and friends.

Returning to the condo, you struggled to unlock the front door while juggling numerous bags and holding your phone in your mouth, but eventually managed to push it open.

"Hey babe," you greeted softly upon entering, but there was no response from William.

Thinking he might be in the bathroom, you carefully set the bags down before removing your coat and shoes. But just as you were about to call out once more, William's voice echoed from the living room.

"I don't know, Alex," you heard William's voice sounding rather intense, almost irritated, you thought. "I mean, I love y/n, but I’m just not so sure about her spending Christmas here with us."

The sudden mention of your name caused you to freeze in place.

Moreover, you were baffled by his words. Why would he suddenly express uncertainty to his brother about you staying for Christmas? You'd discussed it several times, and each time, William had appeared genuinely thrilled about the idea. It was even his own suggestion when you’d mentioned the stress of travelling during the holidays.

His words cut deep, leaving a painful sting in your heart.

"I know, it's just... she's been putting in so much effort, and she seems genuinely excited about the whole thing..." William's voice resonated through the condo. You hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you merely found yourself unable to move. William was talking to Alex about you, and it didn't sound like a positive conversation.

"No, she's out Christmas shopping right now... I just don't know how to say anything..." William's tone was gentle yet slightly husky, and his voice began to quiver as he talked about you spending the holiday with him.

Listening to one side of the conversation, you felt your heart shatter. Naturally, you couldn't hear Alex's response.

True, you had put in a tremendous amount of effort. You wanted your home to radiate the holiday spirit, maybe going a bit overboard with decorations, perhaps choosing a rather large Christmas tree, and even deciding to prepare every variety of Christmas dishes, blending traditional Swedish courses with Canadian ones.

However, you had believed this was what you both wanted. Although William wasn't adept at planning such gatherings, you interpreted his expressions as pure excitement, reflecting the joy you felt in organising the entire event.

But clearly, you were mistaken.

Perhaps it had overwhelmed him. Maybe this step in your relationship was too significant, and now he was having second thoughts.

"I just feel bad... maybe we shouldn't have agreed to do this..."

Slow tears traced down your cheeks as a whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind, leading you to regret this entire situation. Your breaths became uneven, your chest felt burdened, and pain pierced through your body, gripping your heart with a deep ache.

This couldn't be happening, you thought.

Closing your eyes, you allowed the tears to flow freely, and gently grasping all the bags again, you quietly attempted to make your way to the bedroom, seeking solace and tranquillity. Peeking into the room, you spotted William, his head bowed, facing the large window of the condo, and seeing it as an opportunity, you tried to sneak past him and into the bedroom.

And as soon as you entered, your body collapsed at the foot of the bed, throwing the bags with you. Nestling your knees against your chest, your back leaned against the bed frame, and you released your sobs.

You felt hurt. Hurt that William didn't share the same enthusiasm about spending the holiday together and hurt that he felt unable to tell you how he truly felt.

_

"I just feel guilty about keeping her away from her own family, Alex," William confessed to his brother, expressing his concerns about the upcoming days.

"Come on, Willy, if y/n didn't want to spend Christmas with all of us, she wouldn't have gone to such lengths to plan it," Alex chuckled lightly over the phone, prompting a gentle sigh from William.

"I guess you're right. She's seemed so excited about it, which makes me happy. I just hope she won't be disappointed. It's her first Christmas with us, and... God, I just hope she'll like it."

Thinking about having you there during this time of year brought a sense of joy to William. You meant everything to him, and experiencing these emotions with you excited him more than anything else.

He knew how much you cherished this holiday. And he had to admit that all the joy and romance of Christmas had a profound effect on him too, despite being a 27-year-old boy who sometimes felt immature and challenged with admitting to his own deep feelings. Yet, deep emotions coursed through him, seeing your eyes sparkle with excitement when you spoke about spending Christmas together and how much you adored his family.

Your unwavering commitment to him and to making the holiday special touched him deeply. And it only had him believe that you were indeed meant for him.

"Willy, chill out, she's going to love it! Besides, she's already spent enough time with all of us, so she won't get scared away," Alex's chuckles echoed in William's ear, prompting laughter from William as well.

"True that," he replied before their conversation gradually faded, and they eventually hung up.

William released a gentle sigh, feeling relieved after his chat with his brother, as it had helped ease his earlier concerns about your decision to stay back in Toronto with him and his family.

But then looking at the time, he found it odd that you hadn't returned yet. You'd been out for hours, and while he understood that shopping could take time, he also knew you had had a plan, so it shouldn't have taken so long.

Attempting to call you only led to voicemail, which started to raise some concern, as he then began pacing around the condo. He should have heard you come in, but as he noticed your shoes and coat by the front door, he slowly realised that perhaps he hadn't heard you due to his phone call.

Contemplating where you might have gone, William made his way to your bedroom, gently knocking on the door.

"Babe, are you in there?"

Startled by William's voice, your heart sank deeper, and you find yourself struggling to speak.

"Yes... um, but please, don't come in here," you managed to say, trying to hide the tremble in your voice.

"Why? What are you doing?"

Your mind felt foggy from crying, and you hurriedly made up an excuse, not wanting William to see you in this state.

"I, um... I'm wrapping your present," you forced out, attempting to conceal the cracks in your voice.

But sensing that something wasn't right, William felt a twitch of concern. It wasn't like you to come home without saying anything to him, even if he was on the phone. Normally, you'd give him a silent kiss before heading off if he was in a call.

But as you’d simply slipped away into the bedroom, he knew something was off.

"Come on, baby, what's wrong?" he asked, his tone tinged with worry.

You attempted to deflect again, trying to get him to leave, but William wasn't easily convinced.

"Nothing's wrong, Willy... I'm just—"

"You're not wrapping my present; you did that just last week," he stated firmly before pushing the door open.

William's heart shattered into pieces as his eyes fell upon you. You were sitting on the floor, surrounded by the day's haul of presents, your eyes red and puffy, clearly showing signs of crying.

"Shit, babe, what's wrong?" William hurriedly sat down next to you, gently wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Has something happened? Are you okay?"

The sight of you crying almost shook William. He hated seeing you like this, and he couldn't help but wonder if he had caused it.

"It's nothing..." you almost whispered, avoiding his gaze as you felt too vulnerable to face him.

"No, it's not nothing... you're crying, and I want to know why."

Your entire body trembled as you struggled to articulate how you felt. You had overheard his conversation and knew he didn't want you to stay for Christmas. But finding the words felt incredibly challenging.

"Hey," William spoke softly, his finger gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "Talk to me..."

It was as if your mouth wanted to slowly form the words your mind had been processing, yet your voice hesitated.

"I..." you softly began, more tears streaming down your cheeks. "I know, Willy... I know you don't want me here for Christmas." Your voice was low and quivering.

"What?" William was taken aback. "What makes you think that?"

"I heard what you said to Alex... that you weren't sure about having me here for the holiday... and that you felt bad because I've gone overboard, and now you didn't know how to tell me that you didn't want to spend Christmas together..." You repeated softly, recalling the conversation between the brothers.

"y/n, that's not... that's not what I meant," William sighed deeply.

"It's okay, Willy, I get it," you continued gently, trying to muster a soft smile. "Maybe it is too big a step in our relationship, and that's alright... I just wish you'd told me sooner, so I wouldn't have gone through all of this and made you feel bad about it."

By now you had surrendered to the tears, letting them flow freely.

"Baby! I want to spend Christmas with you," William spoke more assertively, now understanding the root of the misunderstanding. It pained him to think that you believed he didn't want this, especially when he was overly excited about having you there. In fact, he had been considering it since last Christmas, but he was unsure if you'd be okay with it until you had both discussed it.

Letting out a deep sigh, he felt the need to explain.

"You only heard part of our conversation, y/n/n. I said those things because I feel like I'm keeping you from your family. Believe me, I want nothing more than to have you around and spend these days with you and my family."

Your eyes darted from side to side, searching his for any hint of insincerity but found none.

"Really?" you simply asked.

A wave of relief washed over you as he clarified the true essence of the conversation. Moreover, you felt a pang of guilt for drawing to conclusion based on just a part of the entire discussion.

William couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle.

"Of course, babe, my only wish this year is to be with you, and I just want you to be happy about it as well," William said, taking your hand and gently intertwining his fingers with yours. "I just feel guilty that you won't be spending the days at home."

"I am happy about it, Willy. I don't want to be anywhere else but here, with you and your family. Please believe that," you reassured your boyfriend. "You've got nothing to feel guilty about."

"Good," he flashed a gentle smile and planted a kiss on your forehead. "I just love you so much."

"I love you too," you softly spoke, leaning into his touch, before the two of you shared a tender kiss.