#do you fucking hear yourself jfc

[blizzardz]

Can we not fucking give horrific trauma to characters if you're not going to take it seriously jesus fucking christ

[statementlou]

Louis losing new fans not because he didn’t tag the festival or whatever but because people see he’s not serious about his career (along with his serlist and how he approaches his career in general) they get frustrated and leave, it’s as simple as that. The same way SO many people left in 2018-2019

yeah I can really see how losing those grumpy fans in 2018 has cost him, his career sure has been going downhill since then, poor Louis 😂

[llycaons]

1890s brits were off their rockers w the physiognamy. I just had to read a line where Jonathan goes with ABSOLUTE sincerity 'I can tell by your eyebrows that you never doubt yourself' like WHAT

[succubi-tch]

Watched the first episode of the new season of demons slayer and I've decided I hate anime actually

[tangerineastronaut]

Let's Put the End in Friends | Jackson Wang (Part 2)

Part 1

The one where your best friend/sort of boyfriend really wants to fuck you.

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, SMUT, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 7.8k Warnings: reader is bad at feelings, jackson is in love, two horny weirdos, "begging" for sex (but not in a bad/manipulative way there's a mutual understanding ok), oral - fem!receiving (the man eats it like cake even after he hits), unprotected sex (don't do it unless you're best friends with Jackson Wang and I'm guessing you aren't), discussion of contraceptives, breeding kink sorta kinda heh, brief talk of having kids in future, banter, teasing, name calling, dirty talk, I think that's all?? they're still really annoying except just horny now A/N: Ughhhh here's the part two that I desperately wanted to write and finally people requested it!! This chapter is like 15% feelings and 85% smut, but it's all kinda mixed in so I apologize in advance. Jfc I love these two so much. If this is bad I'm sorry! I love writing where it takes me and it all felt right. I love my readers so much. <3 Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

You hadn’t really known what to expect. 

In dramas, after a confession, things were usually a little awkward, shy, sweet. But the day after Jackson confessed to you, he nearly bit your hand off when you tried to steal one of his dumplings. Granted, you bit him first, but it was his job to be chivalrous, not yours. 

“Um, maybe eat your own before you try to steal mine?”

“I’m literally just a girl, Jackson.”

A few weeks after said confession, things were still mostly the same, as you were awoken by someone pinching your cheek. Bleary eyed, you squinted, looking up at a very hot, very annoyed face. 

“Where the hell is my academy sweatshirt? I’m gonna be late for my shift,” he huffed, giving you another pinch. Jackson worked part time at an MMA academy, teaching a class of young children. Unfortunately, that meant three days out of the week, he had to wake up at 7 in the morning to be ready by 8. And if he was up, so were you. 

“I dunno,” you whined groggily, rolling over. “I didn’t wear it. Promise.”

“Liar,” he accuses. 

“Mmn. ‘m not lying, check my laundry.”

You hear shuffling, the sound of your hamper being opened (filled with clean clothes, because dirty clothes go on the bathroom floor of course), and quickly tug the blanket over your head as Jackson calls your bluff. 

“At least it’s clean,” you attempt to plead your case, but the covers are yanked off. You yelp as Jackson flips you onto your back and begins to tickle you. 

“Didn’t wear it, huh? Seriously, of all my clothes?” he snarls, fingers digging into your sides. You can’t speak; you instead make animalistic noises of possession as you attempt to free yourself. You wrap your legs around his waist and shove at his chest, shouting apologies in between fits of laughter. 

At last, the tickling ends, and you all but collapse against the sheets, sprawled out like half a starfish. 

“I’m going to start charging you for the things you steal,” Jackson says, breathless himself from the efforts of torture. Only then are you made aware that his hands are on your thighs. You don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, until you do, when he squeezes them beneath his palms and brushes his thumbs under your pajama shorts. 

“Hey,” you warn, wriggling beneath him. He laughs and leans over you. 

“What?”

“You know what. Get off of me.”

He sighs, letting his head drop down as though weary. 

When he looks at you again, his eyes have gone all soft, and it makes you feel warm and tingly inside. You swallow and force yourself to look away. You weren’t completely immune to his charms and didn’t want to risk it, answering the question he hadn’t asked. 

“Nope.”

That was the deal. 

Kissing was alright—as long as it wasn’t too long or too deep. Touching was fine too, just avoid any erogenous zones. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you’d placed such heavy restrictions on your…relationship? Whatever this was. Probably because at the end of the day, you were still terrified of losing him. Of crossing a bridge that crumbles behind you, never being able to return to where you were. 

Right now, the two of you could still be around your friends, could still shamelessly flirt and insist it isn’t flirting. When you’d shown up to dinner with the guys, your hand clasped in Jackson’s to test the waters, no one said a word. Youngjae crinkled his nose and said it was cringe…and that’s it. That was the only reaction. The only people surprised about this development were the two of you, apparently, mostly you. And, you hadn’t realized how horny you were for one another. 

When you’d stare at him after a shower, when he had the audacity to drink juice from the carton wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, you noticed that…you’ve always stared. That wasn’t new. It’s just that you were now aware of it, and also very aware of how it felt to see his throat working as he swallows, beads of water dripping down his chest and following the dip of his abs like a treasure map for your tongue—

But it went both ways, fortunately, as Jackson’s playful way of grabbing your waist when you were busily bent over no longer felt fun, but rather, made you want to push against him, feel his hands sliding elsewhere, because god had they always been so big? Had his fingers always been so long?

Presently, Jackson rolls his eyes and kisses your cheek. You refuse to look at him still, so he tilts down, where his lips brush your throat; when your head snaps up to scold him, he takes the opportunity to catch your lips with his, sighing as though relieved. 

Kissing him feels so normal that it’s almost painful, like every second his lips are against yours, you ask yourself why you were so stupid, why you hadn’t noticed before, why you hadn’t understood that the feelings you’ve had for him were being confused for platonic when they were much, much closer to something akin to lo—

“Mmff…ou’re ‘unna ‘ee ate,” you mumble, though Jackson doesn’t stop kissing you. You giggle as your words are slurred by his mouth, which in turn makes him smile, which in turn makes you wrap your arms around his neck and consider begging him to let the kids down just this once. 

You know he wouldn’t hesitate. So that’s why you groan and push him away. You squirm from beneath him before he can snatch you up, fixing your pajamas as though you were preparing to walk the red carpet. When you look up at Jackson, he’s on his knees on your bed, hands gripping the covers and head tilted to the side. Oh. 

“Stop looking at me like that, puppy boy,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. You cross your arms, taking on the weight of the world’s strongest soldier as Jackson fucking Wang silently begs to bend you over the mattress

Jackson lets his legs slip over the side, feet planted on the floor as he tugs you toward him by the strings of your shorts. You whine in protest—losing a drawstring was so—

“I think you like it when I beg,” Jackson says, voice too low to be good for your health. You look at him in surprise, his expression hasn’t really changed, but why did he have to do this to you?

“I think you’re gonna be late,” you huff, feeling your cheeks redden. 

“I think you’re cute when you blush.”

“I think—”

“I think we’re gonna be good for each other.”

“It was my turn,” you pout. “I think you need a cold shower.”

Jackson mumbles something you don’t catch as he nuzzles his face against your stomach. His arms hang loosely around your hips, and you’re once again left with emotional whiplash as the man somehow goes from fuck me~ to hold me in the span of a few seconds. You swallow and rake your fingers through his hair (which he pulls at less nowadays, thanks to your nagging). 

“I want to,” you say quietly, nails scratching at his head. “But I’m scared. Like…we could probably bounce back from this, and from holding hands and even kissing. But I’m afraid that I’d never be able to, you know, not hurt around you the further we go if things turn out bad. We just don’t know what’ll happen if we commit. That’s scary.”

To your surprise, Jackson squeezes you tighter. He tilts his head back to look up at you, his chin resting just above your belly button. 

“What is it gonna take, pie?” he asks softly. Your brows furrow, though he continues. “What’s it gonna take for you to realize I’ve been yours this entire time?”

Your breath catches in your throat; you know he can feel it from the way your stomach tightens. He noses at the material of your top, planting a kiss there. Then the bastard opens his mouth again. You can taste his words.

“You own me, baby.”

You wake up confused and sweaty, fumbling around for your phone. You grab the device and groan—it’s not even five in the morning, and it’s a saturday. 

The dream woke you up. You and Jackson had an idea to conserve water, apparently, sharing a shower too small for one person let alone two. Your brain filled in the blanks for the missing information, unfortunately for you, though you had no doubt he was as beautiful in this reality, too.

It was almost impossible for you to go back to sleep after waking up usually, so you throw the covers off with much more attitude than necessary before quietly stepping out of your room. The light beneath Jackson’s door is off, and you tiptoe down the hall, but when you round the corner to the kitchen you gasp in surprise. 

Jackson raises a brow at you, taking a sip from the bottle of water in his hand. He’s wearing nothing but black boxers, showing off the lean muscles he works so hard on. So very hard. 

“You’re up?” he asks, and by his raspy tone it’s clear he woke up not long before you. You nod and shrug for no reason at all other than to distract from the fact that your eyes are eating him alive. He has the sexiest bedhead, and the thin chain he wears glints as it drapes over his collar bones.

“Thirsty,” you lie. You move past him to reach the fridge, but an arm hooks around your waist. You inhale sharply as you’re tugged against his chest, the warmth of him shooting tingles down your back. You swallow, and he holds the bottle in front of you. 

“Here,” he mumbles. He sounds so casual, like his actions hadn’t just made your soul briefly leave your physical form. You take the water from him and tilt your head back for a sip, not having realized how thirsty you were until you’ve finished half of it. 

You turn around, though he doesn’t release you, so you remain pressed to his bare chest. You have no idea why, but you lean forward and kiss him just below his collar bone, realizing too late how cruel you were being. In an attempt to make it chaste, you kiss the other side, right above his heart, though Jackson’s hand flies to your hair. He cups the back of your head and refuses to let you move. 

“Jackson,” you protest, but he whines. 

He fucking. Whines. 

“Please, pie. Just keep your lips on me. Please,” he breathes. You exhale a shaky breath and nod. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, and you swear he sighs with relief. You watch his face, tilting in again and pressing another kiss to the same spot as before. Jackson nods, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. 

You kiss the center of his chest, lips dragging over his skin to his left pec. When you move a tad bit lower, this time where his heart beats, he hisses and tightens his grip in your hair. You gasp for all the right reasons, though he doesn’t know that.  

“Fuck, sorry,” he whispers as though the two of you are sneaking around rather than doing…whatever this was in the middle of your shared kitchen. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you giggle softly. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

Jackson looks down at you, his expression morphing completely into…calmness? But it still puts you on edge. 

“What’d I say?” you ask with a frown. 

“I haven’t had sex in almost a year,” he admits. 

You blink. 

“You…what?” you breathe, shaking your head. “But, you’ve had tinder…you’ve gone on dates.”

Jackson pulls you close again, silently asking for more kisses. You realize he might’ve been right…you like when he begs. You kiss him as he asks, this time close to his nipple, and he shudders.

“I’m not gonna fuck a girl who wants more than I can give her,” he says. You mouth over his skin, tongue reaching the edge of his areola. You like his answer. 

“Why can’t you give her what she wants?” you ask, knowing what he’ll say but wanting to hear it all the same. Jackson knows this too, but he’s more than happy to give you what you want. 

“Because she—fuck—”

Your tongue lathes over his nipple and he grips the counter tight. 

“—’cause she’s not you,” he finishes. “None of them are. Can’t be anything for anyone except you. Wanna…wanna be everything to you.”

“You are…you are…” you mumble carelessly, barely kissing him, but rather rubbing your mouth on his chest. He seems more than okay with that, his head falling back, though he shakes it. 

“I’m not, baby. I’ve got so much to give you, gonna show you what it’s like to be loved right, fucked right, needed right. I need you, y/n. I-I fucking need you so bad. Always have.”

You were supposed to be turning him on, not getting choked up, but you pulled back and covered your face. Jackson was still a little breathless and out of it, but he grabbed at your wrists.

“Sorry, fuck, was that…was that bad? I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you mumble, wiping helplessly at tears that slide down your cheeks. Jackson pulls you forward, crushing you to his chest. He wraps both arms around you so tight you can barely breathe. You love it. 

What else do you love?

You love that you can feel his cock pressing against the inside of your thigh, that you can feel how much he wants from you. You swallow your tears and reach between you, your palm finding the thick outline beneath his boxers and squeezing. 

Jackson’s reaction is visceral and downright sinful. He jumps, then buries his face into your hair. 

“Again, p-please,” he mumbles. You do it again. There’s a weird mix between sadness and horniness between you, but you keep going, sliding your hand up and down his clothed length. He’s definitely thick and a little longer than average, but not frighteningly so. 

Thick enough to make you choke, but not enough to bruise your cervix. Perfect. Somehow, you think you know exactly what it feels like to be fucked by him. 

“Jesus fuck—I don’t care if I get to fuck you, just please…let me taste you, baby,” Jackson grunts, hips lazily bucking against you. 

That…sounds alright with you. You take your hand off his cock and grab his wrist to pull him to his room, but he twists you around so that your back is to the counter. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words die on your tongue when he drops to his knees. 

“J-Jackson, you don’t have t-to…”

“Shh, baby,” he mumbles, cupping the backs of your thighs. You feel dumb, forgetting how to speak. “Let me make you feel good. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make when you play with yourself.”

Your cheeks flush pink, Jackson’s words hardly registering in your brain. He hooks his fingers into the elastic of your pajama shorts, leaning forward to kiss the front of your thigh before he begins tugging them down. 

“W-What do you mean when I pla—oh…”

Jackson doesn’t hesitate, going face first between your legs and groaning. The vibrations ring through your inner thighs and go straight to your clit, nearly sending you down. He hadn’t even touched you properly yet. 

“If you tell me you didn’t want me to hear you fucking yourself, I’m gonna call you a liar,” he whispers. His lips graze over the hair you keep trimmed—you could be a little self conscious about that at times, a couple past partners even commenting on it, but Jackson is worshipping your pussy without words and you’ve never felt so perfectly adequate. 

You think over what he said once you regain a little bit of consciousness. And fuck.

You were tired of this sort of hindsight ability you had now, the way you felt when you thought back to the times you were so obviously head over heels in love with him and had convinced yourself you were friends. 

Like fucking yourself with your favorite toy, back to the wall splitting your rooms. Moaning loud even though you didn’t do that when he wasn’t home.

“S-Sorry,” you whimper, because what the fuck else are you supposed to say? You feel warmth as Jackson breathes a laugh against your thighs, teeth grazing the sensitive skin near your labia. 

“It’s okay, baby. Just do it again for me, hm? While I’m in the same room at least?”

Did he have to be such a fucking brat? You thought “pie” and his attitude would disappear after all of this, but you were sorely mistaken. You opened your mouth to complain.

Jackson pushed your thighs open wider, settling between them and looking up at you from his knees. You squeaked, and the last thing you saw before his face disappeared was that smug grin underneath his pretty brown eyes. 

You learned two lessons very quickly. One: 

Jackson Wang ate pussy like his life depended on it. 

And two, you were immediately jealous of any woman who’d ever had him like this, on his knees between their legs. This should be illegal. 

His tongue slid between your tender pussy lips, expertly finding your clit and daring to flick at it beneath the hood. Your knees did buckle, but he hugged your thighs and kept you upright, taking the opportunity to squeeze and knead at your ass. You reached down and gripped his hair for purchase, tugging, eliciting a groan from him that felt better than any dick you’d ever had. You did it again, and this time he practically sang praises into you—he was literally fucking you with his moans. 

“Jesus fuck, Jackson?” you ask, unable to do much else other than feel and squeak out your needs. His fingers dug into the plushness of your thighs, though one hand slipped beneath your shirt. His thumb grazed over your nipple before gently pinching it, and you were ready to die. 

When he sucked the tender flesh of your clit into his mouth, you stumbled forward, nearly sending him back until he caught you by the waist. You whimper and tug at him to let you go until finally, he pulls away from your cunt, looking far too pleased with shiny lips. He licks them and you fall into his lap, shuddering as you cling to him. 

“That bad, huh? Should I keep my day job?” He teases you gently, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other hugs you tighter. You can still feel his cock straining against his boxers, nearly perfectly aligned as it presses against your ass. 

“S-Shut up, a-asshole,” you stammer out, gripping his shoulders tightly for comfort—or maybe dear life. Jackson chuckles in a way that makes you feel safe and annoyed—because how can he send you to fucking space and then try to convince you it’s all good and dandy with the same mouth?

“You okay baby?” he asks softly. When you nod, he pulls back enough to kiss your temple, though keeps his lips there. You swallow, having a feeling that he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

“Was it good?” he asks.

“Very c-classy,” you manage to huff, but Jackson only laughs. 

“Mmm. Knew you’d taste good. Knew you’d love me on my knees,” he hums. You shiver, and he moves to your ear, nipping at your lobe. “Knew you’d look so pretty while I eat it.”

You let out a soft whine, your hips rolling into his. You’re spreading your sticky juices along his clothed cock, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he grabs your waist and bites his lower lip. 

“Are you done? Hm? Or can I take you to my room and finish you off?” Jackson asks, tilting his head to kiss below your ear. “Lay you down and hold you open until that pretty clit is nice and swollen…”

“F-Fuck,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “N-No.”

“M’kay, need me to run you a bath then? I bought some new bath bombs—”

“No I meant…” you breathe, letting your head drop to his shoulder. You were dizzy, but your thoughts had never been more clear. Not necessarily a decision out of desperation, just…it needed to happen. You needed it. 

“I-I don’t want you to eat me out, Jackson,” you say as you swallow. 

You lift your head, relieved to see there’s no frustration in his gaze, no disappointment. God, he’s really just here to make sure you’re happy, safe, comfortable. 

“I want…I want you to fuck me.”

“Why are we in your room?”

“My bed is bigger.”

“When’s the last time you washed your sheets?”

“I don’t know, pie. When’s the last time you washed my sheets?”

You crinkle your nose, but Jackson just rolls his eyes. He drags you onto the bed with him, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it in your face. You sniff, your eyes immediately narrowing. 

“Have you seriously been washing your bedding regularly now under the implication that we’d fuck soon?” you hiss, sitting up to glare at him. He was sprawled out, looking much too happy for your liking.

“Yes,” he says gleefully. You grab the pillow and make an attempt to suffocate him, but he doesn’t fight back, and that’s not very fun. 

Oh yeah! You’re also only wearing his a t-shirt, and he’s only wearing boxers, and his cock is very hard and you’d very much like to put it in your mouth now that you’ve recovered somewhat from his tongue.

“You’re such a boy,” you groan, throwing the pillow back to the headboard. Jackson nods, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“Yeah. Take this off and sit on my face please,” he hums, lying back as though preparing to be sacrificed to the thigh smothering gods. 

“How romantic,” you scoff. 

“Come sit on my face so I can make you cry the only way a man should make a woman cry, please~”

“Better.”

With the back and forth out of the way, you can’t bring yourself to smile, pulling your knees to your chest. Jackson sits up, reaching out to take one of your hands in his large one. 

“Hey, no expectations, remember? You wanna stop right now, we’ll stop and never do anything like this again. You want me to finish you off, that’s fine too,” he says, thumb brushing the back of your knuckles. You shake your head. 

“No. I think…I think we should. We need to, I mean, otherwise we’re gonna be in limbo forever. But…” you pause, feeling your eyes burn a little damn it. When you look up at him, his boyish charm is gone, replaced completely by a concerned man who almost looks in love with you. 

“Hm? What is it, pie?” he asks, coaxing you gently. Ugh—why did sex have to be so god damn complicated?

“Promise me,” you say, biting your lower lip as you gather your words. “Promise me if we hate it, if it’s bad, just…stay with me? Like, forever? Please don’t move out? I mean if you have to get married just try to find someone who’s nice enough to let me stay? I’ll do the laundry. We can be like a throuple except you both just have to feed me and nothing else.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“Nevermind, let’s just do it.”

Jackson laughed as you flopped onto your back, though he leaned over you and caught your chin in his hand. You avoided looking at him, but he tilted your head down and pressed his forehead to yours to prevent you from escaping his eyes.

“I know you’re allergic to that word—”

“I am not—”

“But I love you. I love y/n and I love pie and I love the girl who thinks ‘coinkydink’ is an appropriate alternative for ‘coincidence’—”

“It is but okay—”

Jackson rolls his eyes, cupping your cheek under the romantic guise of making you shut up by pressing his thumb to your lips. 

“Do you know why I want to fuck you?” he asks, his voice oddly gentle for such an erotic question. You blink, he lifts his thumb. 

“Um, ‘cause I’m hot?” you offer with a shrug. His thumb goes back to your lips. 

“Yes, but the truth? I want to make love to you but I assumed your reaction to that phrasing would be…”

Jackson lifts his thumb. 

“Cringe?” 

“Correct,” he smiles. “I’m gonna do what I can so the next man you meet has to climb to fucking heaven to reach the lowest bar for you. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I’ll be damned if you leave my bed able to call your best friend and complain that your inner thigh got more action than you did.”

You pout and push his hand away. 

“That was one time,” you mumble. “If sex with you sucks, who am I gonna call? Yugyeom?”

“I dare you to fucking try,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. You beam, attempting to boop his nose, but he leans forward and kisses you instead. “If you leave this bed and hate me after, I’ll move out before sunset. And if you want me to l-o-v-e you for the rest of your life, I’ll do that too. I told you, pie. I’m yours.”

You kiss him this time, turning into him and cupping his jaw. Why couldn’t he see that the more of this he showed you, the less you wanted to risk it all disappearing? 

You tilt your head to the side, nuzzling your face against his throat to plant kisses there. He inhales, leg sliding between yours as a hand strokes your hair. 

“Mm…what do you want, y/n?” he asks, groaning when you suck beneath his jaw. 

“Wanna suck you off,” you mumble against his skin, relishing in the heavy groan you feel from him. “Then I want you to fuck me.”

“I can do that,” Jackson nods, licking his lips. You release him and sit up, looking over his stretched out form. He was so fucking gorgeous, and you were in his bed.

You place a hand in the center of his chest, and Jackson sits up on his elbows, his thighs parting eagerly. You giggle, gently kneeing his side. 

“Patience,” you hum, dragging your hand down to his abs, letting your fingertips dip between the muscles. You remembered all those times you fantasized about drawing your tongue against them—realizing you can. So you throw a leg over his, sliding down until you’re hovering over his thighs, face level with his hips. 

One hand rests on the elastic of his boxers while the other palms his abs. You look up at him as you drag your finger through the lines, following the shape of his muscles. He’s tense, but still coherent, so your other hand slides down to palm him again. 

Jackson curses under his breath, eyes never leaving yours. So you lean down and flatten your tongue below his navel. He gasps as you lick down the thin trail of hair that disappears beneath his boxers, kissing the sensitive skin there before moving up again. Jackson whines, and you lift a brow. 

“You’re not being very patient,” you say, kissing his stomach before licking up to his chest. Jackson’s head falls back, one hand moving to your hair. 

“It’s been almost a year, pie,” he groans. “Want this…want you…”

You giggle softly. When you palm him again, curling your fingers around his constricted length, Jackson practically flies off the bed, grabbing your wrist. 

“Baby, I will let you suck my cock until the sun explodes, just…please not now, I’m so fucking close, wanna be inside you…” he breathes. You’re surprised to see his chest flushed and heaving, not having realized how worked up he was over just a few light touches. You swallow and nod.

He smiles in relief, pulling you in for a kiss before sitting up on his knees, gently guiding you back. It’s a little jarring, suddenly being underneath your best friend, but Jackson immediately gives you gentle kisses, whispering your name and promises to make you feel good. You believe him. 

You lie there awkwardly as he reaches over you to the bedside table, removing a foil packet. You feel your cheeks redden, which makes him chuckle, and you mumble a quiet shut up. When he holds the condom packet between his teeth and thumbs the waist of his boxers, you realize that you should probably be naked, too. So you cross your arms over the hem of the t-shirt, tugging it over your head and tossing it to the side. 

The condom drops and bounces off your thigh as Jackson’s lips part in shock.

“What?” you mumble shyly, bringing your arms to your chest. He clears his throat and fumbles for the condom, shaking his head. 

“Nothing. You’re gorgeous. Knew you were, just..." he sucks in air through his teeth.

You blush harder, resisting the urge to tell him to hurry. 

Jackson manages to slide his boxers down to his thighs. His cock, once freed, smacks his toned stomach and you grip the covers at your sides as you watch an enticing bead of precum slide down the shaft. It’s exactly as you’d imagined; a little bigger than average, thick, and so beautifully veiny. God it’d feel so good on your tongue, but later. The idea that, hopefully in the future you could suck his beautiful cock whenever you wanted to, made you happier than you’d ever admit to anyone.

You watch as he rolls the condom down his length, swallowing down your doubts as he drops to his forearms on either side of you. 

“You okay?” he asks, no humor, no teasing, just genuine concern. You nod and lick your lips. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you say with a shaky breath. Jackson smiles, leaning forward until your noses bump. The action makes you giggle until you realize he’s fitting your mouths together, and suddenly he’s kissing you. 

It’s gentle and soft, his lips sucking at your lower one but moving no further than that. Your arms move to loosely hang around his shoulders, where both of his slip beneath you. You feel the head of his cock brush over your clit and jump. Jackson chuckles. It happens again, but this time, the swollen head catches against the opening between your folds, and you can already feel the stretch, wriggling your hips as if to wedge him in. 

Jackson begins to push. 

The stretch is slow, heavy, delicious, both of you releasing sounds of relief with eyes rolling back into your skulls as though you’ve both spent four years pretending you don’t want this. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, he squeezes you tight beneath him as he sinks deeper and deeper. At last, his hips meet yours, and Jackson Wang, your best friend, is balls deep inside of you. You squeeze your eyes closed, overwhelmed by the sudden and intense sensations and emotions.

“Are you okay? Feels okay, baby?” he asks softly, clearly restraining himself. You nod, licking your lips. 

“Mhm. It’s good. So good,” you babble. Jackson chuckles, nodding as he kisses you again. It’s sweeter this time, moreso as he begins to slide out. The drag of his cock makes you shudder, and you clamp your thighs tight around his waist. 

“That’s it,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Lock me up inside you, baby. So fucking pretty.”

You purr in response, arching your back. Jackson takes this as a go ahead, pushing himself up to his palms as he begins to fuck you properly. 

You feel your mouth open in shock as he thrusts rhythmically, the switch between emptiness and fullness making your head spin. Every time his hips smack the backs of your thighs, another grunt escapes his mouth, and fuck if you couldn’t listen to that sound for the rest of your life. 

Jackson leans down and kisses you. This time, you make sure it’s not as sweet, sucking his tongue and letting him lick yours. You taste his groan as he bucks heavily, pausing to collect himself. Your legs hook around his waist, heel digging into his lower spine, making him moan. 

“F-Fuck baby, gonna make me come already,” he breathes, letting his head hang down. You smile, cupping his face and pulling him into you. 

“So sensitive,” you purr. Jackson huffs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he hums, wincing at his own sharp thrust. “Maybe I should pull out and leave that gorgeous head to wonder what it’d be like.”

“You won’t,” you reply, calling his bluff. “If I begged you, I bet you’d go raw.”

Jackson surges forward, hands moving behind your knees as he folds you nearly in half. You choke on air and look up at him, wondering why the fuck you've forced yourself to wait for this.

“You don’t have to beg for shit. Don’t fucking tempt me, y/n.”

Your mouth opens at his tone, but he begins to fuck you harder, gripping your form against him as he gives you everything he has. Your whines turn into muffled cries as he tucks your face into his shoulder. 

“Shh…let’s not let the neighbors know I’m finally inside you baby…that’s it, quietly…take it for me, yeah?” he hums, and you whimper, digging your nails into his skin. Your legs bounce uselessly where he holds them in place, giving him room to be flush against your ass each time he bottoms out. 

“Can’t wait for you to let me lick this sweet little cunt until you cry,” he murmurs, leaning back to slip a hand between you. You jump when he immediately finds your clit, index and middle finger repeatedly alternating pressure. He’s a god damned expert, and you feel yourself clenching tight around the obstruction of his cock. 

“Fuck…is that all it takes? You’re squeezing me like a fucking vice, y/n," Jackson groans. “More, baby. That’s it…fuck. So fucking good.”

“J-Jackson,” you huff, squirming beneath the pressure of his weight. “Nng…f-feels so good…”

“Yeah, princess? Just like you've dreamed about?"

Fuck. He always knew, knew you too well, were you made of glass?

"Y-yeah," you whimper, choosing not to lie. "B-Better."

Jackson kisses you again, his hand slowing its movements to match his hips. 

“Show me,” he says roughly, obviously close himself. “I wanna feel you cum, baby. Want my cock shiny and sticky like my tongue was.”

“Mm..don’t stop, ‘m close,” you breathe. You tuck your hands into his hair, tugging at the strands, knowing what kind of response you’d experience. He groans, as expected, though pulls back and pushes your thighs apart. 

He looks down at your cunt swallowing his cock whole as he rubs at your hooded clit, cursing and biting his lip. Your cheeks flush despite everything, and when his eyes flicker to your face—you’re not sure what to call that expression if not love. 

You want him to cum first. You bring his hand away from your clit and up to your lips, kissing the wet pads of his fingers before slipping them into your mouth. Jackson lets out a high pitched noise that you can’t wait to tease him over later as he watches you suck them. 

He swallows and leans forwards, pulling your fingers away from your mouth to kiss you. You think it’s an accident, the intimacy, but the kiss is soft, so soft that he stops thrusting and you stop trying to make him cum, so soft that you’re suddenly crying and hugging him and apologizing for being a fucking idiot. 

“Hey, ‘s okay baby, I’m here,” he whispers, his own eyes wet. “Stop crying, y/n. I’m right here. I’m yours. I’ll still be yours tomorrow. Shh...”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you breathe, burying your head against his throat despite the fact that his cock is kissing the opening of your cervix currently. “I was scared, Jackson, so fucking scared, I-I think I loved you so much that I scared myself into thinking I couldn’t.”

“Huh?” he asks, knowing damn well what you said according to the stupid grin on his face. You roll your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe at your tears. 

“I said I love you, asshole,” you whisper, sniffling. “And ‘m not gonna say it again.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, pulling your hands down to wipe your tears himself. “Fine. I’ll just memorize the way you sound when you say it and play it over and over until we live in a nursing home together."

"You roll your eyes, smiling through the teariness. Only you would cry in the middle of sex, but Jackson seemed to love this, taking it as your not-so-silent confession. 

He eventually shifts again, making you shudder despite the fact that he was only getting comfortable. He prepares to ask—you already know—want me to stop? So you shake your head before he gets the words out. 

“I want it, you know, without,” you say instead, shyly looking up at him from your elbows. Jackson looks a little confused, and you sigh, gesturing around as if that’s helpful at all. “You know. Without.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, pie—”

“I’m saying I want you to fuck me, and then I want you to tell me you love me so I can say it back without dying, and then I want to go to the pharmacy with you and get plan b even though I’m on birth control because we’d make cute babies but I wanna wait like 10 years probably. So, like, without? If you want?”

You finish your monologue, your cheeks burning hot. You flop to your back and cover your face, once again forgetting about the cock buried inside of you. Jackson doesn’t, of course.

“Are you asking me to hit it raw—”

“Must you be so unromantic—”

“Shut up and c’mere,” he mumbles. He leans down, pulling you up enough to kiss you. You feel him shuffling between you, embarrassed by the gasp that slips out when he pulls back. Jackson smirks. There’s a snap of rubber and he winces as he removes the condom, tossing it into his desk trash can. 

“Easy, baby. He’ll be back,” he chuckles. 

“I’m actually going to kill you,” you groan. But then he’s pushing into you again, and fuck if the look on his face doesn’t make you want to buy a first class ticket to hell. 

“Fucking…jesus…baby…” he gasps. You giggle, though he just pushes you back to hide the apparent blush on his cheeks. 

“That bad huh?” you mock him, feeling him bottom out, completely. He curses and dips his head to kiss you, but it’s messy and desperate and feeds the fire that’s been burning inside of you for too long. 

“So fucking…nng…so fucking pretty,” he says with a sharp snap of his hips. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders as he leans down. He kisses you again, hard, palms flattening on the bed on either side of your hips. He uses the leverage to fuck you harder, leaning over you until you’re pinned beneath him. 

“D-Didn’t know it’d turn you into an animal,” you giggle breathlessly, hand fisting his hair. He groans and tilts his head to the side. 

“You turn me into a fucking animal, baby,” Jackson grunts. “Makes me…makes me want to do stupid things, like fuck you without a condom and cum so deep the pill doesn’t do shit to stop it—”

“Jackson—”

“You said it first. Still gonna make you swallow the pill with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

You squeak and tug him down for a filthy kiss, tongues barely missing the mark as his thrusts become loose and sloppy. He’s fucking himself dumb, gripping the sheets and whining against your mouth like a dog. 

“G-Gotta make you cum. Gotta make it good for you,” he breathes, reaching between you. You pull his hand away, shaking your head. He begins to argue but you squeeze your thighs around his waist, making him shudder and stumble. He falls against you, cursing into your hair as he continues his thrusts. 

“Want you to cum first,” you whisper, hugging him tight. “Want you to fill me up like you said, so fucking deep—"

He groans, leaning on you and thrusting heavy as he snaps his hips forward. His speed remains the same, but you can hear the sound of his hips meeting your ass like he's trying to bury himself in you indefinitely.

"T-That's...fuck..." you whimper, nodding. "Good, that's good."

“Ah…ah…” Jackson whines, shaking his head. “F-Fuck, baby…gonna cum, is that…is that okay? Fucking…ah…c-can I cum?”

Oh. Oh.

You were going to explore this later, him asking permission to cum. But not now. 

“Please, Jax. Please cum for me, in me?” you beg softly. “Promise, I’ll take it so good."

“Fuck, I know you will, princess. Know you’ll take it all so good for me…so perfect, so fucking beautiful…all mine, baby…”

Jackson clings to you so tight you have trouble breathing, but you feel him shudder, hear him gasp, and you squeeze him back just as much. He releases a sob into your hair, his muscles tensing as he cums hard. You feel his cock pulsing, the warmth spreading inside of you, and realize with a start that you’re feeling his actual cum seeping into your womb. 

You rub his back for a few minutes while he recovers, until he finally sits up and hisses at the sensitivity of his softening cock still buried in you. When he tugs away, it’s your turn to gasp, shivering at the cool emptiness you feel. 

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, hands pushing your thighs apart. You nod. 

“Yeah, ‘s good. What are you—shit.”

Jackson knelt between your legs, lips first kissing your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. You all but scream, trying to clamp your legs together, but his easy strength prevents that. 

“F…Jackson...fuck, w-what are you doing?” you whimper again, trying to push yourself up to look at him. He uses a hand on the soft of your belly, pushing you back down. He pops off of your clit, free hand taking over the strokes. 

“My babygirl didn’t cum. I’m gonna make sure she does,” he explains as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“B-But you…your cum…”

“Mhm, keep reminding me,” he moans, tongue slipping beneath the hood of your clit while two long fingers prod at your sore hole. You wince, but he slowly eases them in, his own cum working as lube. Rather than move them, he holds them there, gently stroking inside of your walls while he laps freely between your labia. 

In a frighteningly short amount of time, you’re coming off the bed (literally) with a cry of surprise, mumbling his name over and over again as though he could save you from the crushing pleasure you felt. Your thighs clamped around his head, though he made no move to escape, apparently right where he wanted to be as it allowed him to continue sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves until your legs trembled violently. 

It stole your breath, and you saw stars, mixed in a few moments later with a boyish grin and someone peppering your face with kisses. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, definitely if you were comparing him to other men. Well. There was no comparison. 

You could only imagine how it'd feel with his cock as deep as it was. Next time. You'd suck his cock, cum on it...maybe make him beg to do the same.

Jackson is patient enough to wait until you’ve mostly returned to your body before he smugly proclaims that he was right, the sex was great, and you owe him a backrub (don’t you usually have to make bets to win them in the first place?) but whatever, because you were fucked out and your boy was happy and probably planning your wedding. 

But once you attempted to sit up, wincing at the soreness of keeping your legs open, Jackson kissed you sweetly and urged you to lie down again. He left for a few minutes, returning with boxers (darn it) and a bottle of water, which he forced you to sip whilst he ran you a bath. 

You were helped down the hall, feeling like a frail old lady after you insisted you could do it—and had to catch yourself by the doorframe as you walked like a baby deer. You informed him it wasn’t polite to laugh at people you’ve nearly fucked to death, regretting your words immediately as a somehow cocky Jackson became even cockier. 

He guided you into the bath, telling you to relax while he ran to the pharmacy. Before he left though, he knelt beside the tub, fingers tapping at the lava-like water you were soaking in.

“Do you like the smell?” he asks, resting his chin on his fist. You nod, letting your fingers find his and trying to pull them beneath the water. He compromised by pulling yours out, kissing the back of your knuckles. “Good. It’s strawberry scented.”

“Fucking me doesn’t make my bath bombs free real estate,” you say pointedly.

“Fucking me doesn’t make my clothes free real estate.”

You open your mouth, then purse your lips. 

“Touche.”

“I have something to ask,” he sighs, resting his lips on your hand. “It’s really important.”

Oh god. What. 

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice shaky. Jackson grins. 

“Just…did you like my cream, pie?”

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating the last hour and four years of your life. “I want a divorce.”

“I love you.”

“How…how long have you thought of that joke?” you ask. You didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Um…about 20 seconds after I called you pie for the first time? Not with you of course.”

“Well why in the god damn hell not with me!?”

“I mean? Yes with you?”

“Creep.”

“I love you.”

“I still want a divorce.”

“I still love you.”

“Nng.”

“That means I love you in worm?”

“...Yeah.”

“Heh~”

“Hey Jackson?”

“Mm?”

“Your lil sperms might be kinda fast? So like? Maybe leave now? I do love you but I will not have your babies right now?”

“Oh. Yeah. Be right back. Try not to make a baby with those in the meantime, they’re not ripe yet, you know?”

"...Hurry."

[sharonccrter]

I'm sorry but Taylor Swift literally writing a song about having a tantrum because her fans called her out for dating Matty Healy.

Her fans go, "Yes, queen, no one can tell you what to do!"

Her POC fans were allowed to be upset that someone they have monetarily supported dates a known racist who said he enjoyed watching corn of black women being brutalised. And even if it was a joke--- no, stop, hear yourself, it's not fucking funny.

She also keeps cosplaying mania and mental breaks. Babe, having a breakdown is not an excuse for dating a known racist like jfc.

On another note, she keeps referencing and alluding to Joe Alwyn having depression. She's done it on multiple albums. It's not her place to out his mental health issues.

It sucks because I genuinely enjoy so much of her music, but she's so damn problematic.

[not-a-space-alien]

Oh my God can we please please please not make it a thing to say grape or fucking 🍇 instead of rape???? Can we please use our big boy grown up words to talk about big boy grown up concepts. Or are we going to let fear of some algorithm dictate what stupid things we do to get past filters that may or may not be there. Jfc if you really can't bring yourself to say rape or suicide or w/e can you at least use an existing euphemism like violated or took your own life or something instead of whatever the hell this is. Like who on earth ever decided it would be better to say "corn" than "adult reading materials." Do you not hear yourself

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Fifteen)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Heavy Voyeurism/Mild cuckoldry, Fingering, Bondage, Praise kink, Oral (reader recieving and giving), PinV sex, Creampie, Breeding kink, Size difference, Monsterfucking, Masturbation.

Word count: 6200 Notes: this really might be the most smuttiest smut i've ever done, this shit made me blush writing it, jfc pls enjoy

You’d hoped to get home to Mig as soon as you left Miguel’s office, but at the last minute you were been called to help wrangle an escaped Lizard with a few other lower-level spiders.

You hated not being able to message Mig about your whereabouts. He knew you might be gone for most of the day but you knew he’d worry regardless, and with nothing to distract his mind it must be so much worse.

You took a few dangerous risks while trying to capture the escapee just to get it done faster, risks that your colleagues absolutely noticed. When they asked what you were thinking and you just awkwardly shrugged them off, you saw in their eyes the same mix of morbid curiosity you saw in everyone now.

Everyone knew. You couldn’t avoid it now. Whether Miguel had snapped after your fight and spread it even wider you didn’t know, but you knew you’d just have to learn to live with the universe’s judgement.

You were dating a spider. Big deal. Everyone here was a spider in some way or another, and nobody looked at MJ weirdly.

By the time you returned to Mig’s universe it was getting dark, with the sky a messy palette of dark red and purple above the darkened silhouette of the pines. You called up to Mig after dropping the tech you’d brought at the base of the nest.

‘MIG! Babe, you okay?’

‘Ah, mi arañita!’

You paused, your hand hovering over the rope ladder. Did he sound okay? You tilted your head as you replayed his voice. That was weird, he sounded almost worried? Was he still stressed out?

You grappled onto the rope and tore your way up to the entrance.

‘Hey! I’m okay Miggy, don’t worry!’

‘Arañita! Don’t—’

You grabbed the door right as he spoke, but you didn’t hear the last part of his sentence as you grunted to get over the edge.

‘Hey baby! Are you—’

You jumped out of your skin as you pushed the door aside, only barely catching yourself from falling back out and onto the earth below.

‘AH—WHAT—YOU?!’

Miguel was sitting in the nest, his body perched on one of the stools to the right side of the central fire. He didn’t even look up as you entered, but Mig rushed to steady you from falling.

‘Arañita, are you okay?’ he whispered. You didn’t hear; you were utterly fixated on Miguel.

‘What are you doing here?!’ you snapped.

Miguel narrowed his eyes, still refusing you eye contact.

‘Change of plans. Until you fill out the full paperwork to sanction this relationship, I’ve filed for an emergency supervision order. I need to be sure that you’re not breaking any rules.’

You were incredulous. Wait, is this what he’d meant? Was he really that petty? This man who was supposed to be in charge of the multiverse?

‘What- what the fuck are you— Why not put a camera up? Why not fucking warn us first?’ you snapped, your hands flying wildly as you pointed between him and the nest.

‘You could turn off a camera’ Miguel noted. ‘Besides, it’s a waste of resources.’

‘Oh, and the head of the society wasting his night watching us personally wasn’t a waste of resources?’ you argued back.

Miguel was keeping a straight face, but his smug aura radiated out of him like pus. He simply curled his lip and scoffed. ‘My job is to avoid anomalies. I’m doing that now, by ensuring that you’re both… following orders, and remaining on birth control, and that you’re not getting hurt. It seemed- the right approach, to me, as boss.’

‘You don’t need to watch us to prove that!’ you snapped back. ‘Put a- tracker in my fucking patch or something, or let me do the check ups like we agreed!’

Miguel had the audacity to yawn as you stared at him with an open mouth and clenched fists. ‘I could. But that would be a breach of your physical rights, you’d have to sign off on it, and you haven’t gone through the company mandated relationship therapy or de-escalation training. We need to agree the terms of surveillance. Until then it seemed safest to keep you on observation. That’s all.’

You opened your mouth to argue back but Miguel was faster. He raised his hand, halting you in your tracks, as those cold red eyes lingered on your face. ‘Or, would you rather hand over your watch?’ he said, his voice dipping as he spoke.

Your eyes narrowed until it hurt, your forehead furrowing with the injustice of it all.

‘You—You petty bitch.’

Both Mig and Miguel seemed startled by your language. You pointed your finger squarely at Miguel’s face, your lips drawn back over your bared teeth.

‘You petty bitch. You really think I’ll let you do this? Signing off orders so you can invade my space, because I wouldn’t sleep with you?!’

Miguel’s lips twitched. Was he holding back the urge to smile?

Mig, in contrast, looked horrified. His eyes darted between the two of you.

‘He- arañita, I-I don’t understand’ he stammered. You looked at him with nothing but sympathy in your eyes.

‘Your variant, there, revealed that apparently while I was in heat, he was hoping to— what did you say Miguel? Help me out? Ease that, hormonal pain? Something as slimy as that, anyway. He even asked why I picked you over him, and now he’s here, what a fucking surprise, huh?’

‘Mm. That’s quite the accusation. Shame you don’t have any evidence’ Miguel noted as he admired his claws.

You felt Mig beside you bristling violently.

‘You… Is this true?’ Mig murmured. He was addressing Miguel, not you, which was a comfort. He clearly believed you, as he was clutching you so tightly against his side that it was crushing your ribs.

‘Yes’ Miguel said. ‘It’s true. Of course I was interested. They reeked of heat, it was distracting. Repulsive almost. The most- desperate stench. But, that was supposed to stay between us. And it will. Because like I said, it’s your word against mine.’

‘You—’

Mig took a step forward but froze again when Miguel raised his claw, pointing it directly at your watch.

‘Again. I will remove your watch if you don’t follow the societies rules. Understand?’

You and Mig both glanced at each other. The hopelessness in your eyes was clear; you could lose your watch, and then you’d lose Mig. With a frustrated huff you turned and stormed across the nest. ‘Fucking—asshole’ you hissed beneath your breath.

Mig followed and caught you in his arms as you practically fell into his lower abdomen. You allowed his fur to muffle your continued insults.

‘It’s okay arañita. We’ll be okay.’

His soothing words were like honey, warm and sweet after a long and exhausting day. You settled into his grip.

‘So- fucking unfair’ you grumbled into his fluff. Mig didn’t disagree.

‘You need to learn some accountability’ Miguel snapped across the room. ‘You chose to do this. You chose to put yourself in a situation where you could cause an anomaly, and even though I can’t bring it forward in formal writing, you decided as a member of my society to get close to someone who is a threat. Now its my job to make sure you’re safe.’

You felt Mig breathing on your neck as he turned to watch his counterpart. His lips parted as he tasted the air with his tongue, feeling the brewing tension in the back of his throat.

In his heart, something was changing.

He’d spent so much of his life terrified of the man before him. Miguel had posed himself as the better O’Hara, the superior O’Hara, the one who knew what was best for him. But, was that true?

Mig had been told he wasn’t safe, worthy of love or affection. He was disgusting compared to Miguel, a monster in the flesh, and yet he’d soothed his self-loathing by promising that they were at least both monsters inside. Both bound to abstinence for the greater good.

And this hypocritical scum, now sitting in his nest, had tried to steal his arañita from out under his paws? How could he?

But you weren’t with Miguel, were you? Mig looked down at you as his rage boiled over. His poor arañita, nestled into his fur. No, you were with him. You’d slept with him, and you were still alive.

You’d looked him in the eye, knowing what he’d done, and you’d said he was still beautiful to you. You said you’d stay. Not with Miguel, but with him, the monster.

In his heart, something was definitely changing.

‘Fine. Miguel, you may stay’ Mig bluntly replied. ‘I’ll let you observe.’

Miguel, ignorantly assuming Mig’s concession was a sign of him backing down, took a step forward. He had such a smug look on his face.

‘Good. If you want to continue this charade, then you have to—’

Miguel’s words turned to muted gibberish as you squeaked. Mig had grabbed you between his forelegs and arms, and while Miguel had been preparing his self-righteous speech, he’d lifted you up into the air. This wouldn’t have been that unusual spare for one thing: Mig had shifted his fluffy little foreleg between your thighs, and now it was lightly probing at your clothed pussy.

Miguel just stared, too blankly shocked to respond.

‘Mi arañita, I’m so glad you’re home. I missed you so much.’

Mig purred softly as his hands began to grope you in a similar manner. He cupped your chest and your waist with his clawed fingers, lightly ripping the fabric to reveal the tender skin beneath. He prodded your clit a second time and noted the way you squirmed.

‘M-Mig, fuck—that’s, sensitive—’

‘Mmhm. Soft little pretty spider’ Mig breathed. ‘So, so pretty… Let me help you relax.’

‘What- the, f- what the fuck are you doing?’ Miguel spat in disgust.

Mig’s foreleg continued to squish against your clit, the fluffy appendage moving in neat little circles over the bunched-up fabric. He pushed it in until your lips were perfectly highlighted by the thin silk. You felt Miguel staring.

‘F-Fuck—’ Your legs kicked involuntarily as a whimpered moan escaped you.

‘I said, what do you think you’re doing?!’ Miguel repeated louder.

‘I’m just abiding by the rules, sir’ Mig hissed. ‘If you want to observe, then you may observe. But this is my home, and I’ll act how I usually would on my own territory.’

It clicked for you then, still suspended in a potent mix of embarrassment and pleasure, what Mig was doing. You caught Miguel’s eye. This selfish asshole, who’d hounded and followed and attempted to embarrass you at every turn, was now stuck here watching Mig ravage your body. Against your better judgement, you were filled with the sheer thrill of embarrassing him right back.

You gave in and relaxed in Mig’s grip. ‘M-Miggy, fuck—more, please—’

You whimpered as he moved in to kiss your neck. His full lips were warm and wet on your jugular. You felt his tongue on your skin, his claws kneading your chest. A full body shudder went through you as he gently bit down and sucked.

‘F-Fuck- Mig—’

He was rough on your neck, his fangs easily piercing down through the soft flesh. It was a potent mix of pain and pleasure, especially with his paw still massaging your clit. Your blood was pumping at this point. Your pussy throbbed in short bursts with each tender caress.

‘You—Y-You—’

To his horror, Miguel stammered. He couldn’t even find the words to berate you with. All he could do was stand and stare, eyes fixated on this ravenous display of sexual need, powerless and confused.

‘Mm—mm—’ Mig released your neck with a wet pop and a satisfied grunt, revealing a deep red and blue hickey mark. He kissed it once.

‘Mm- you like that, arañita? Mi tesoro?’ he whispered.

‘Yes, fuck—so much. I missed you so much.’

Miguel continued to stare as Mig dropped you to the mattress. He watched his variant crawl across you, with his abdomen rustling and his soft paws tapping. He was drooling venom, practically shaking with the adrenaline rush of having an audience to his physical validation.

You reached out and sleepily welcomed him with open arms, drawing him down with your arms around his neck.

‘Let me mate with you, arañita’ Mig begged, his voice muffled as he kissed your neck. ‘Please. I need you. I need you. Te necesito, mi tesoro, te lo pido por favor.’

‘Yes’ you breathed, ‘yes. Please.’

Miguel snapped his eyes away and gripped the edge of the nest with his claws. He couldn’t stand this. If he left, he was a liar, but if he stayed he had to endure this show. He could tell you to stop, but, could he force you to stop?

He could have theoretically started a fight. He could have. He could have continued barking at you to stop.

But he didn’t. He just stood there, eyes on the wall and arms folded, trying to ignore your sweet little whimpers as Mig tore your suit aside.

He drew you close with his spider legs and began to spin a silken web across your bare skin, easily turning and spinning your body. He was soft, dexterous, so alien on your human skin. Such a filthily delicious taboo.

You lay back and let your monster bind you. You succumbed to him far too easily.

Mig spun you into a shibari style tie, with a neat little spider web on your chest and your hands tightly bound at your sides. He finished by binding your ankles with webbing he’d attached from the ceiling, using it to draw them up until they were taut and spread, with your hips right at the same height as where his phallus would emerge.

‘There. Perfect. Are you comfortable, arañita? In my web?’ he asked.

‘Y-Yes’ you rasped.

You watched Mig give an affectionate grunt as he admired you from above. He was huge. You saw his abdomen twitching and rustling with anticipation, the black fur faintly glowing the same red as his eyes.

‘Mig’ you whimpered, your lips pathetically wet. You were so hot it hurt.

‘Arañita…’

Mig purred as he put his clawed hand on your naked rear, giving your right ass cheek a firm squeeze. He wanted to look at your tight little hole, desperately dripping and clenching around nothing, aching for attention. You felt him brush one calloused finger against it and jolted in place.

‘That’s my little spider’ he purred. You felt him circling his finger around your entrance, stroking that velvety flesh until you whined.

‘Mi tesoro, my precious thing. Let me see how much you’ve missed me.’

He pushed two fingers in and you melted. The moan that escaped your lips was loud enough to echo, loud enough to grate on Miguel’s ears until he hissed.

He was trying not to look. He was facing the wall, body rigid as stone, but the noises were getting to him regardless. His mind kept imagining what you felt like.

‘You were supposed to be observing, sir’ Mig noted. He was still fucking you with his fingers, still spreading you wide as you dribbled over his hand, but his eyes were fixed on his counterpart now.

Miguel refused to turn. His eyes darted, once, and he immediately felt that disgusting flush rising in his cheeks.

‘I’ll- kill you, I swear to god’ Miguel seethed.

‘You can just go’ Mig offered. He was aggravatingly calm, the only emotion in his voice the slight pant of arousal from feeling you clench around his fingers. ‘If you’re- uncomfortable, with how I conduct myself with my mate.’

‘I can’t just, go, I am stationed here’ Miguel spat. ‘YOU could have some human dignity and cover yourself up!’

‘This is my home. My territory. THIS is my territory’ Mig replied coldly, emphasising the word ‘this’ by pushing his fingers as deep as he could. You bucked your hips and cried out in response, something that make Miguel’s stomach knot.

‘It is normal for- males, to assert their territorial claim. You’ve given me no other option. Besides, aren’t you curious? Since you’re so- good, and abstinent. Right? That’s what you told me, so how about I show you what it looks like?’

Miguel was forced once more to look away. The sound of you moaning, the sound of you pathetically whimpering, and worst of all the wet slap of Mig’s hand against your pussy as he pulsed his fingers in and out, it was stirring up something potent in him.

Anger and arousal flooded his mind. He was fighting to not throb. He couldn’t allow it, he couldn’t. He’d never forgive himself if he got enjoyment from this.

But, fuck you sounded so wet. You’d probably swallow him whole, begging and whining the whole time. Were you a little brat when fucked, complaining about it being too big, or did you beg for more? No. You probably took it all, your eyes covered in those pretty little tears as you were fucked raw.

He violently shook his head as if that would clear his thoughts, but your body cruelly decided to cum right as he was reaching the peak of his tether.

‘F-FUCK—’

Your back arched as that sweet release flooded over you. All you could see was Mig’s smug, fang-filled grin as he felt your insides clench, his enormous spider legs pattering back and forth to indicate his own excitement.

‘There you go. Well done, mi amor, you feel so pretty when you cum.’

Your body went limp as your orgasm sapped all your energy away, but Mig wasn’t done. He shifted himself down between your spread thighs and began licking up your slick with his flat, wet tongue, that warm muscle flicking deliciously right on your overstimulated clit.

You screamed, unabashedly, in a way that drove Miguel mad.

With a wet pant Mig pulled back just to slather you with praise. ‘Estas mojadita, mm- Quiero explorar tus sabores, arañita.’

You knew he was speaking deliberately to provoke Miguel, but you didn’t care. You enjoyed it even more that way.

He settled down to gently suck on your clit, his red eyes fixed on Miguel’s rigid form in the corner. The man was trying his hardest to stay sober but his eyes kept darting, and every time they did Mig widened his lips and ran his full tongue across your folds, wilfully dribbling hot spit and venom down your sensitive lips.

Miguel quickly looked away, but he just kept looking back.

You kept wincing from the overstimulation, your wet lips parting and then pursing hard to avoid screaming again. You must be so god damn sensitive, he thought. Such a fucking brat. Crying over a tongue like that.

He felt his cock throb and struggled to adjust his suit. He wondered what you tasted like. He’d never got to taste one before. It probably tasted amazing.

‘Mm… so soft…’ Mig murmured, his voice muffled by your pussy as he continued his rabid smothering of your cunt with his tongue. He wasn’t skilled so much as desperately passionate, and god knows it was enough.

‘Wish—I could eat you right up—all of you, all of you, mm—’

His eyes were dangerously red, but you were too close to cumming to care. His claws dug into your hips as he pulled you into his mouth, his lips soft as they ravenously made out with your clit.

You came quickly the second time.

‘FUCK—’

As you shuddered in his grip his entire body shivered, a low rustle emanating from his abdomen as it visibly shook.

‘Ahh.. ah, good arañita, that’s it’ he breathed dreamily. He was still licking, still lapping up everything he could, to the point that his spit was sliding and dripping down your thighs and rear and back.

Once you collapsed with exhaustion for the second time, Mig began to move in. He couldn’t wait a second longer. His cock was painfully erect, having sprung from the slit on his abdomen the moment he tied you down, and it was aching for you.

‘Here. Help get me wet’ he said softly.

You looked up to find Mig bent over your bound head, his thick shaft lightly pulsing about an inch from your lips. You could see each black vein pulsing, the tip already smeared in pearly cum. In a trance you licked it.

‘M-mm—that’s it, that’s it.’

It was adorable the way he shivered at just the lightest brush of your tongue. He let you take the tip into your mouth and gently suck on it a little. Fuck, you thought, his cum was sweet. Strangely sweet. The sensation of warm, heavy, throbbing skin on your tongue was mesmerising.

After a few wet licks Mig gently released your mouth with a wet pop. With everything now utterly saturated and sopping, he moved to fuck you instead.

‘Shh, that’s it’ he soothed. You stirred in your bindings as he mounted your strapped body.

‘I’ve got you. You can take it.’

With both hands on your ankles, Mig drew you body up and began to penetrate. Instinctively you squirmed.

‘A-Ah--!’

‘Shh, shh. You’re so tight, mi tesoro. Can you loosen up for me?’ Mig affectionately whispered. You tried your best to relax as he edged deeper but with an audience it was hard. His thick veined cock was pulsating hard, stuck with only about a fourth of it inside you.  

In truth, Mig was enjoying it. He would never hurt you, but, was his ego slightly peaked at how big he looked inside you? Absolutely. Spiders were judged on their size, after all, and that primal part of his brain loved feeling so large. He wanted Miguel to see you spread wide on his cock.

‘Shh, you can do it. You’ve done it so many times before, arañita.’

Another subtle jab, one that made Miguel sneer.

Mig gave himself plenty of time to fit. He’d pump a few times, gently stretching you out, and when it proved too tight he moved to licking you instead. He’d let his cock slide out and replaced it with his tongue, eagerly slathering every inch of your pussy with venom and spit. The venom helped ease the ache and the spit was lubricating enough, and after three or so tries he bottomed out.

You whimpered as he settled himself inside you. Yes, you’d taken him many times, but it always took you by surprise. You were stretched to the limit, your belly bulging, his thick shaft putting a heavy pressure on your muscles that you felt whenever you moved. When he throbbed it pulsed through your entire body.

He could see those pretty little tears on your lashes as you grappled with the pressure, the light pain in your core.

‘F-Fuck… ‘s so big, fuck—’ you whined.

‘You’re doing so good’ Mig praised. He vibrated his abdomen just a little to help ease the ache, as it allowed his shaft to gently vibrate against your insides. Your body shuddered at the unusual sensation. ‘Shh, you’re doing so, so good. That’s it. You’re taking it so well.’

Slowly, Mig started to move.

His whole body arched as he thrust into you, the power of each movement making your thighs and ass jiggle on impact. He loved feeling how soft you were, how squishy and comparatively small you were against him, how his claws sank into your bare skin. He started to pant.

‘Ah… ah, that’s it.’

In the corner Miguel was wincing. His eye kept twitching from the strain of not looking, and now the soft thwap of your mating was ringing in his ears. He couldn’t stand this. He couldn’t take his humiliation. He couldn’t take it.

‘Ah-- Maybe I’ll, rip that patch off, arañita’ Mig purred. He was pushing the limits in this pussy drunk state, pushing every button that Miguel possible had.

‘I think—you deserve a belly full of my babies, don’t you, sweetheart?’ he panted. ‘I want to see what you do with my seed. Let- let me fill you, please, pretty little spider. Let me get you pregnant.’

It was too much. Miguel snapped. He rose to his feet and stormed forward in a blind rage, his claws spread and ready to tear you both apart.

‘¡QUÉ CABRÓN ERES!—’

But then he faltered. Once actually face-to-face with the mirror image of himself he weakened, because Mig was, as you’d noted before, huge. He was bent over to fuck you but still had to look down at Miguel, his red eyes burning in the dim light. His fangs were bigger, his claws sharper, and his body heftier from carrying such weight.

Miguel froze. He’d always seen Mig cowering or backing down, too afraid of his own strength to show it, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. To his great shame, Mig saw the hesitation in his eyes. The spider’s lips curled into a soft smile.

Mig continued to move inside you, openly panting onto his counterpart’s face with each hard thrust.

‘Mm—mm—mmf—’

You jolted slightly with each pump as your belly bulged.

Beneath the two you were helpless, your body small and bound. You were inches away from Miguel’s thick thighs, his carefully contoured pelvis sitting right above your face. You saw his suit throb and desperately tried to look away.

‘You— Y-You—’ Miguel bared his teeth in a desperate attempt to regain control, but his eyes gave away his own perverted thoughts. He was losing. His breath was hot and his cheeks were the colour of burnt umber.

You let out another pitiful whine as Mig arched himself back, allowing just half of his shaft to pump into you so he was rubbing your g-spot. You immediately swooned, a slurry of mewls and moans dripping from your wet lips.

Miguel couldn’t help it. He looked down.

Right in front of Mig he looked down at you, bound and helpless beneath, brainlessly taking that monstrous cock right into your guts.

His lips parted, flashing just an inch of fang. His own lips were wet at this point.

‘F-Fuck’ he grunted.

He could see it pulsing in and out. He could see the glistening slick coating his abdominal fur, thick and sticky and hanging in strings. He could see the way your cunt stretched to swallow every inch of Mig’s shaft. How could you let out those soft, needy moans when you were impaled like that?

‘Fffuuuccck’ he repeated in a low whine.

‘Mine.’

Mig hissed that word with dangerous intent, right in Miguel’s face. He continued to pant on him as he pumped, and Miguel continued to watch you get fucked. His hand was shaking at this point.

‘Sweet arañita, who do you belong to?’ Mig panted.

You felt his cock slipping right up against your velvety little cunt and abruptly clenched, involuntarily squirting slick all over his soft fur. It clung to his fur in pearly strings, and he gave an approving grunt as he felt it.  

‘Arañita, mi amor, your body is too kind, but I need your words’ he whispered. He was unnervingly calm as he rocked inside you.

‘I-I’m yours’ you dumbly panted. You were rewarded with another toe-curling insertion, that perfectly timed grind which pushed his fat girth into your spot. A flood of aching pleasure forced you to squirt again.

‘MMF- Mmm, Mig!’

‘That’s it, good arañita. You’re all mine’ Mig praised a second time.

Miguel couldn’t stop watching. It was maddening.

Instinctively his hand began to creep downward, his fingers shaking as they drifted to your swollen clit. He wanted to feel how wet it was, how warm, but the moment he drifted over your lips he was forced back by Mig.

The larger spider hissed violently, his pale green venom pooling and dribbling from his mouth. A little bit hit Miguel’s cheek as he fell onto his backside.

‘Mine’ he repeated. ‘I’ll let you look, but you don’t touch.’

The embarrassment was unbearable. Miguel scowled, torn between a desire to leave and a desire to fight. Those urges he’d desperately tried to avoid were ruining his brain.

Seeing Miguel’s obvious distress, Mig decided to make it so much worse. He wasn’t done humiliating his other half, not yet.

‘Unless, they want you to’ he panted. Mig pulled back and gently tilted your body so you’d catch Miguel’s eye, all while maintaining his wet probing of your cunt.

‘Do you want him, arañita? Or do you want me?’

At this point you’d been fucked dumb, and you were barely coherent. You were drooling onto the silk, your thighs saturated in slick and sweat, your legs trembling from overstimulation as he continued to fill you like a toy.

‘You’ you whined with zero hesitation, ‘you, I want—you, please, Mig, more—’

You didn’t see the overt disappointment in Miguel’s face, the bruising of his ego. You didn’t see the jealousy in his face as Mig groaned.

‘You sure?’ Mig purred. His gratification was fuelling his over-confidence, as was the sweet release of feeling wanted after years of neglect. ‘You wouldn’t want some extra?’

‘Mm—want—you, p-please—f-fuck its so good, so—big— you’re amazing, Mig.’ Your words were slurring each time he pumped his cock, but he heard you loud and clear.

‘Even though I’m a- filthy, half-way spider?’ he coaxed. ‘Even though I’m- a monster?’

‘Yes- f-fuck, you’re my spider’ you whined.

His whining got louder, his moans turning to pathetic whimpers. He seemed more aroused by that than anything else.

‘Ah- you want me to mate with you?’ he pleaded.

‘Yes, yes—please.’

‘You want my babies, arañita? You want me to impregnate that pretty little body? Get you nice and full?’

‘Yes, yes, fuck—’

Those soft words tipped you over the edge as you orgasmed for the third time, your desperate moans echoed out into the wider forest. Mig savoured them with a look of pure ecstasy on his face. ‘F-fuck, you’re- so tight—good arañita, so good, well done’ he breathlessly praised.

Miguel wanted nothing more than to break his counterparts chiselled face. He could feel his claws extending, his heart pounding. He was itching for a fight. But, if he fought him, he’d have to stop watching. Those soft sounds were addictive as they floated through his mind, lulling him like a siren call.

Miguel took another look at your glassy eyes and wet lips, your body shimmering with sweat as you moaned. He felt himself throb. It was, in a way, easing his rut, by vicariously experiencing this primal breeding.

It was mortifying, but he stayed. He stayed back and watched as Mig continued to mate you.  

‘Mm- fuck they’re so tight’ Mig moaned, now directly addressing Miguel. ‘So- soft, so- tight—so small. Can’t, wait to fill them—’

‘You’re disgusting’ Miguel spat.

Mig didn’t even seem to hear. His eyes were half closed, his lips parted as he felt your sweet cunt squeeze the life out of him.

‘Mm—mm—mi arañita—mine’ he repeated, over and over with each thrust. Miguel buried his face in his knees.

The clap of his fluffy abdomen on your bare ass filled the nest as he started to get rougher. He looked high, his eyes almost pink in the dim light. Every part of him was shaking.

‘Ah—I’m inside them—I’m inside them—’

 You squeaked as Mig started to push your ankles back, curling your spine so he could get deeper. He’d involuntarily covered the floor in webbing from his sheer excitement. He was like a man in rapturous prayer.

‘I’m inside them-- they’re mine—’

Each wet thrust was now splashing slick as Mig began to verbally pant. He was spanking your body with each insertion, releasing the most obscenely lewd noises.

‘Okay, I’m close- I’m close, fuck—stay still for me arañita, that’s it—’

With a guttural groan Mig aggressively ejaculated inside you, his abdomen jerking and grinding to get each spurt as deep into your cunt as possible. You welcomed the thick warmth as it soothed your stretched out muscles.

Miguel had no choice. His pride wouldn’t let him leave, so he watched Mig cum inside you.

He fixated on your face as it happened, his sharp eyes watching the drool pooling from your open lips as your eyes rolled. He sneered, trying to disguise his jealousy with disgust. He could have done that easily, he told himself, he could have filled you just as well.

‘Ah…. Fuck, are you okay arañita?’

As Mig gently rocked to a halt he bent to check your face, tenderly nestling your cheek. You could only moan in response.

‘I’m- so, good—so, so good…’

Mig let out a soft sigh of relief. Somehow, the tenderness of his aftercare seemed to disgust Miguel more than anything else he’d seen. He was scowling openly as Mig gently slid himself out and admired his work.

‘Pretty little spider… Do you want to see?’

Miguel was taken aback as Mig addressed him directly. The larger man had his hand on your suspended hips, his eyes glowering in the candlelight.

The two narrowed their eyes almost in unison. Miguel knew he should leave, but he was too far gone at this point to stop. It was over. He was a beaten dog of a man, so why not indulge once more? He silently walked across the room to admire your quivering body.

‘Is that okay, arañita?’ Mig whispered to you. You nodded, and with a grunt Mig lifted your hips for Miguel to see.

You were utterly soiled at this point. Mig put his huge hand on your rear and tilted you gently, showing off the thick white seed oozing down your thighs. He made a point to push some back inside you with his finger, only for even more to squish out. You were stuffed.

Miguel shamefully relished the sight. It was strangely soothing, like he was tricking his brain into thinking he’d finished himself and could therefore ease the rut he was in.

‘This is mine’ Mig purred, his claw squeezing your right cheek until it left a red imprint. ‘This beautiful little creature, is mine. Understood?’

As Mig quietly addressed Miguel again he made a point of sealing your entrance shut with his web, excreting a thick and sticky plug right over your cunt. You oomphed as he did.

‘Yes’ Miguel hissed through gritted teeth.

‘And you won’t stop me enjoying them’ Mig added coldly. ‘I… I, deserve this. I’m not a threat. I’m not like, you.’

Mig felt you proudly shuffle your hips into his palm.

‘I’m not a threat’ he repeated. ‘And you can hound us all you want. I’m done with you now. I have… I have them.’

As you rolled and moaned on the floor Miguel felt his nose involuntarily wrinkling. He was still a mess of anger, resentment, and arousal, all of which were fighting each other in a gut-churning mess. All he knew is, he couldn’t stay here another minute.

‘You’re both animals. You deserve each other’ he grunted.

Miguel stormed towards the nest’s entrance as Mig began to cut you free. ‘I’ll finish my watch outside’ he called over his shoulder, and when Mig’s only response was to chuckle he snarled.

Miguel pushed open the door and jumped to the ground, his feet thumping as he hit the cold forest floor.

As he moved into position to watch he could hear you giggling above him in the nest. He couldn’t make out what you were saying but you sounded happy. Mig sounded happy too, with his soft words and his gleeful chuckles.

Miguel breathed out, hard, his breath turning to vapor in the air. The forest was a sea of black and white, with no illumination spare the pale, draining light of the moon.

He stood, rigid, as he listened to you and Mig laughing upstairs.

And then he palmed his crotch. He rubbed himself hard, his calloused fingers feeling each inch of his own fat girth.

His breath came a little faster. His blood was pumping in the cold air, his body steaming. With a desperately muffled moan he phased his suit away at the groin and began to stroke his cock.

‘Fuck…. Fuck, fuck—’

He was dripping pre-cum in mere seconds as he strained in his own fist. In his mind, he indulged. It made him sick to his stomach but he indulged regardless. He thought about your pleading, your doe eyes as you blinked away those overstimulated tears. The sounds of pleasure. The sounds of being wanted.

It was easy to blank out Mig’s lower body. It was easy to see that as him, to put himself there like a mirror, and to pretend he was receiving your praise, that he was inside you. It was him, after all. His face, his eyes.

No one-night stands. No desperate, animal fucking to placate his brain. He could pretend for one moment he was experiencing something real. Those soft words, that need for more. I’m yours, you’d said. He replayed it in his mind.

So wet. So tight. Squirming on his cock, begging for more. Begging for him. Pulsing, filling, breeding. Being so wanted that you’d let him get you pregnant.

Oh god. Being wanted.

He vicariously put himself in his counterpart’s place, and with his free hand over his mouth he orgasmed onto the ground below. It was hard enough to make his body shudder and his knees weak. He coated the grass in his seed, the strings glistening slightly in the pale moonlight, before slowly phasing his suit back on.

The post-orgasm clarity hit him like a bus. Now satiated all he had was rage. Rage at himself that he couldn’t accept, and so just as he’d vicariously lived through his variant, he shifted all the blame to Mig.

He was going to ruin his counterpart’s life, whether it killed him or not.

But, first, he’d live through him. Link to next part

[hamsterclaw]

Untouchable

Yoongi lets you know exactly how he feels about upsetting comments you've received. A Vows story, read the rest here.

Pairing: Yoongi x f! reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Sex, swearing

Word count: 1.5k

You jerk upright from where you’re slumped over your computer screen when you hear your husband’s voice.

It takes you a moment to regroup, gather your scattered thoughts from the tunnel you were in.

Yoongi’s walking around your desk, and he’s not visibly hurrying, but he’s rounded the curved edge to stand beside your chair before you can say anything, let alone close the window you were looking at.

He glances down at the screen, and for a single panicked moment, you want to fumble for the power button, send the cursor to the x in the corner, anything, just so he won’t see.

You’re too late. 

Your face burns as he reads over your shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything, just reads the comments quietly.

She’s just some privileged chick, no one likes or respects her.

She’s shit at her job but you don’t have to be good when you’re working for one of daddy’s companies.

I can’t believe he went out with Park Gyuri and ended up with her instead. 

I’ve heard she’s being investigated for fraud. I doubt she’s smart enough to fool anyone 😂

JFC

I fucking hate people like her

You say, staring at a spot on the wall just beyond the screen, ‘I’m fine.’

Yoongi says, mildly, ‘You’re more than fine.’

‘It’s stupid,’ you continue.

You risk a glance up at him to find him looking at the screen, lip curled in disgust.

He says, without looking at you, ‘stop reading this shit and come have dinner with me.’

‘Yeah,’ you agree. 

You turn your screen off and follow him to the kitchen.

It’s your housekeeper, Mrs Gye’s night off, but true to form, she’s prepared food for both of you.

Yoongi fixes you a plate and you fall into the routine you’ve adopted lately. 

You fetch wineglasses and pick up the uncorked bottle Mrs Gye’s left by the wine rack.

Yoongi says nothing as he watches you gulp down a half glass of wine before you’ve even sat down.

He sets your plate down in front of you with a murmured, ‘Eat.’

It’s only three mouthfuls in that you realise he’s looking at you carefully.

You tilt your chin up. ‘Take a picture, it lasts longer.’

Yoongi raises a brow. ‘Do you have a social media manager?’

‘Not right now,’ you hedge.

‘One of our interns is looking for a job. They run most accounts for our 18-25 demographic. They’re excellent. You should consider hiring them,’ Yoongi says evenly.

You mull this over as you chew. 

‘I don’t need you to save the day, Yoongi,’ you say. 

You regret your spikiness as soon as the words leave your mouth.

Old habits die hard.

You still haven’t learned how to talk to your serious, cold, husband in a non-defensive way, pillow talk notwithstanding.

Yoongi shrugs. ‘Seems funny to me that you’ll happily make me come apart in that sweet mouth of yours but won’t let me reciprocate.’

You stare at him. ‘You reciprocate plenty.’

Yoongi looks amused. ‘Do I please you in bed, love?’

He takes a sip of his wine. ‘Let me please you outside of it too.’

You sip your wine, trying to think. 

What’s Yoongi saying?

He sighs, and it’s more familiar than anything else. 

Your impatient husband.

He stands, picks up his glass and the half-full bottle.

‘Come on.’

You follow Yoongi to the bedroom you now share.

The balcony doors are open, a cool night breeze making the curtains sway.

He walks right up to balustrade and turns to you.

His shirtsleeves are rolled up, unusual for your usually conservative husband.

He looks so beautiful leaning against the balustrade, his hair gently ruffled, his eyes dark and serious as he looks at you.

‘I hope you don’t need me to tell you not to worry about what anonymous idiots on the internet think,’ he says.

His expression is difficult for you to read, but his voice makes you feel warm. 

‘I don’t care what they think,’ you say. You put your empty glass down and position yourself next to him, facing out at the gardens on the Min estate. 

You look over at him. 

‘I don’t care what you think,’ you say, your defiant streak rearing its head again.

Yoongi turns his face to you. 

‘My stubborn little brat,’ he muses. 

He closes his eyes, tilts his head back, and unbidden, you step between his legs, pressed against his front.

He doesn’t move except to slide his arm around your waist. 

‘I care,’ he says, eyes still closed.

Your eyes fly to his face.

‘I care what you think of me, and I care that some assholes had the audacity to bring that shit to our door.’

His eyes open, and he tilts his head to yours. He stops when your foreheads touch, so close his lips brush your cheek as he speaks.

‘You’re a Min, you’re part of me,’ he murmurs.

His lips part again. ‘You’re fucking untouchable.’

You’re already tilting your face to kiss him when he slides his warm palm around your cheek, cupping the back of your head.

His kiss is slow, languid, but somehow you’re still breathless when he finally pulls away.

He presses his lips to yours again, and this time his tongue licks into your mouth.

You melt into his arms. It still surprises you every day how your husband can make you burn for him.

Heat licks through your veins as he nuzzles against your neck, nudging your chin up so he can lave your skin with his tongue.

‘Yoongi,’ you whisper, trying not to moan as he sucks the skin of your neck.

He chuckles, low, the vibration of his breath on your neck making heat pool low in your belly.

‘Do you care what anyone else thinks, jagiya?’

He licks a stripe up your neck. ‘Or do you care what I think?’

He grasps your hand. ‘Touch me.’

You reach out, unbutton his shirt, and when it’s fully unbuttoned, slip your hand underneath.

Yoongi’s quiet as you explore the planes of his back, as you unbuckle his belt and undo his trousers to feel more of him.

‘Do you like this, Yoongi?’

‘I like it very much, jagiya.’

He’s still, letting you stroke over his ass, hissing as you wrap your fingers around his length.

You lower your lips to his cock, and he closes his eyes.

His throat bobs as he swallows.

You take him in your mouth, tongue pressed firmly to the underside of him.

Yoongi’s hand comes up to hold your chin.

He’s hard inside your mouth, throbbing, but his voice is remarkably calm when he speaks.

‘Only you can get me like this, jagiya.’

He strokes your hair back from your face. His fingers tighten in your hair as you start to move on him.

He moans. 

‘Don’t stop,’ he pleads. ‘You feel so good.’

His thighs tense beneath you. When you look up you realise he’s watching you intently, pupils blown, lip tucked under his teeth.

You grasp his hand, slide it around your back to your bra hooks.

Yoongi’s only too happy to help you undo your bra. 

He runs his thumb over the indentation between your breasts from the edge of the underwire.

‘My poor girl,’ he says, his breath quickening as you move on his cock. ‘Mark so easy.’

His hand curls around your bare breast, taking the weight of you. 

He fondles your breasts as you lick his cock, murmuring his approval as you tug on his balls.

His hand hesitates on the back of your head, until you pull off him just long enough to say, ‘go on, fuck me, Yoongi.’

Yoongi groans, bucks his hips up into your face. He pushes you down on his cock, shouts your name, and a moment later you feel him spurting into your mouth.

‘Come here,’ he says. 

He pulls you up, into his lap. You can feel his heart pounding against your face, pressed to his chest.

Yoongi puts his hand between your legs like it belongs there.

He slides the tips on his fingers into you shallowly, stretching you, palm over your clit.

You grasp his wrist when he tries to pull out.

Now you’re the one pleading. 

‘Don’t stop,’ you moan.

You bury your face in Yoongi’s neck as his fingers move inside you. You can feel yourself getting wetter, the slide easier, as he curls his fingers inside you.

‘Yoongi,’ you cry, so close now you can’t bear it.

‘Come, jagi,’ Yoongi urges. He scissors his fingers, pounding into you hard, and you squeeze his wrist as you come.

Yoongi stays still until you let go of his wrist.

‘Did I hurt you?’ you ask.

Yoongi snorts. ‘You let me shove my dick down your throat and you’re worried about my arm? You’re unbelievable, baby.’ 

He steadies you with an arm firmly around your waist as you climb off him.

‘Maybe I’ll take up your offer,’ you say.

At first you don’t think he’s heard you, then he nods.

‘That’s a good idea. At least I don’t have to execute plan B.’

‘What’s plan B?’

‘Tracking down those assholes and fucking them up,’ Yoongi says, blithely.

You’re pretty sure he’s joking.

[cilil]

Ok listen. You know I hate to talk about this shit on here. But sometimes I gotta.

I keep hearing various election results and how bigots and actual nazis gained significant ground.

To those who refused to vote because "boohoo everything sucks anyway so I'm just gotta do nothing and keyboard warrior preach morals online at most" - congratulations, you helped them win. You could have helped us stop them, but no. I hope you're proud of yourselves.

To those who actually voted for these people - just... what the fuck is wrong with you. Do you understand that you're just a stupid little pawn in someone else's game of needless hatred? Do you understand that they don't give a fuck about you and actively want to hurt you as soon as you only slightly deviate from what they think an acceptable human being is? Do you lack even the most basic empathy for your fellow human beings? (Apparently yes) (Also get the fuck away from me)

And to those who haven't yet and can still vote for some election somewhere or have elections coming up: Take 5 fucking minutes to inform yourselves about parties, candidates and their goals and then GO VOTE (and ideally not for actual fascists and nazis jfc). We can come online together and cry about the state of things afterwards, but first do what you can do to protect yourself, your fellow human beings and your freedom.

[barkbre]

I see you, I see you...

Writing something nasty on your computer, and Chris catches a glimpse of it, but not everything. You shut the device shut and later (as nosy as he is), he'll go and check.

Boom! You've written about HIM, and fucking him. In so many different ways and scenarios...

I wonder how this will play out (hint hint)

Sigh. i love when you get in my req box. jesus christ.

roommates core.

Him snooping on your laptop while you're shopping with jess/ashley and him reading HOURS UPON HOURS OF PORN THAT YOU WROTE ABOUT HIM??

him noticing features about himself he never really noticed or thought were that attractive.

Maybe wearing a tighter fit shirt when he knows youre otw back because life360 notified him you left the mall.

(you guys use life360/location app because Chris doesnt know how to communicate where tf he ever is)

Constantly doing the things you wrote that were mundane things and getting you bothered and wanting.

pressing his ear against your door because he heard a sound that sounded like a pained gasp

only to hear your fucking yourself and softly whimpering his name :(

CHRIS LITERALLY BUSTING THROUGH THE DOOR HALF HARD AND LIKE

"I saw what you read- let me recreate them with you-"

and you just being shocked as fuck but kinda just being like

"...o-okay? yeah sure come here"

him SLOW fucking you while forcing you to look at him jfc- your flushed nervous face as you gasp and grip his biceps for dear life- him grining down at you while he slooooowly thrusts into you, keeping your jaw locked tight in his hand so you HAVE to look at him

"Hi, baby.. hi... hey.. you feel good?... mhm?.. yeah?"

"good girl, sweetheart.. uh-huh...shit-fuck-mm-"

his voice so soft and treating you like a nervous puppy :(

[hexb0nes]

i’m so sorry in advance, if this is too vague please let me know— could i please request anything of jayce with a transmasc reader please? any format, any type, completely dealer’s choice i’ll eat up anything

hehehe amazing, i love getting transmasc!reader requests… lemme just give you a nice babbling on how whipped jayce is :3 also there’s some nsfw in it so minors dni! enjoy these jayce x transmasc!reader headcanons :)

when jayce first met you, he was completely oblivious to the fact that you were transmasc

you could be the most feminine and not-passing guy in piltover and jayce would still perceive you as a cis dude

himbo is very clueless about gender in a sweet sense but when people do inform him of their gender identities, jayce just goes “:D ok!” and activates imitating ‘man of progress’ mode on transphobes who fuck with his trans homies

the way he found out that you were trans was a bit funny

it was nearly a year into you two’s friendship when you both got caught in a nasty storm and had to retreat into jayce’s apartment

he offers you the shower and some spare clothes since you got very soaked while he managed to escape most of the rain

you accept his offer and head off to the bathroom to use the shower and clean yourself up

jayce waits for a bit and minds his business when he realizes that he forgot to put a fresh towel in the bathroom

so he gets a towel and walks into the bathroom like “hey, sorry, i forgot-”

you’re naked

fully naked

jayce can’t help but gawk, he was seeing his crush naked for the first time ever!

his eyes scan your body from top to bottom before they land on your pussy and jayce is literally (?_?)

“where did your dick go?” / “jayce, i don’t have a dick” / “you’re trans?” / “yeah, i thought you knew??” / “no!! i just thought you were kinda, i don’t know, twink ish??” / “jfc jayce” / “I’M SORRY!!!”

so the cat’s out of the bag and now jayce stop fantasizing about that night

you notice jayce putting distance between you two and it upsets you so after a week or so, you confront him about it

jayce is forced to admit the truth under threat that you wouldn’t attend the next mandatory gala with him (he needed a partner and viktor didn’t want to go) and explains how awful he felt for walking in on you naked and how he couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you were, cheeks red

now you’re blushing with jayce, the two of you unsure what to do

“just kiss” you guys hear viktor from the other side of the lab, tinkering away at a project

so you do just yet, jayce kissing you tenderly and gently on the lips, relishing in your cologne and touch

jayce nabs himself a transmasc baddie through the power of puppy himbo vibes

[sugar-omi]

jfc it's finally here... definitely didn't rewrite this twice. nope. not me :,)

we're gonna have to come back to omegaverse bc my little horny brain demons we're tell me too much abt this au!!!

DAY FIFTEEN — OMEGAVERSE

*kinktober masterlist | *ao3

tags : NSFW, step 3, *fem/afab + masc/amab + gn/intersex reader, alpha cove firstz omega cove 2nd, alpha/omega reader, creampies/raw sex, mind break, somnophilia, breeding kink, (m)preg mention

*readers gender isn't specified. I wrote w intersex reader (& cove) in mind but scenario 1 could be fem/afab reader and scenario 2 masc/amab reader w intersex cove, or whatever you imagine.

synopsis : you and cove go into heat at the same time, and accidents happen, especially when you finally have your lover in your bed...

ALPHA COVE

alpha!cove fucks like a dog.

i hope you're not wearing your favorite outfit or an expensive piece, because it doesn't make it outta your shared heat without a scratch.

it's even worse if you tease him. please don't do that to yourself..

he tries to be considerate, especially if the outfit is important or new. but when you're down to your underwear, well let's just say he's taking you to the store once your heat is over.

jfc he's so strong… don't matter what position you're in, his back is against you and he's growling and moaning in your ear and mumbling things to you, telling you how pretty you are and that you look best shaking on his knot.

wraps his arms around your waist and his hips are never far away before they're slamming against your tender ass, the clapping of skin loud and echoing in your ears until you're stuck on his knot and now you can finally hear him going, "pups… need to breed, mate.."

well it's not a far away dream, especially with how much he cums inside you.

when he finally pulls out your hole is gaping, your insides convulsing and clenching around nothing, forcing out all his cum… well now look what you've done, he has to put it all back…

unfortunately he's soft, a miracle really, but that just means he can finally taste you! first he fingers all that cum back into you and shoves his fingers down your throat. if you can't keep it in your cunt, then hold it in your mouth will you?

cove's already a beast when eating you out. but something about his rut makes him devour you.

his lips smacking loudly and you can fucking hear him lapping up all the slick and cum, his tongue scooping out your insides and you can't even move because he has his arms wrapped around your legs, keeping you there..

you come out marred like you got attacked by a rabid animal. which you did honestly, because cove kept nuzzling against your neck and mumbling about "mate" and "bond" and sometimes he even begged or fantasized in between rounds about biting your scent gland, claiming you as his..

it's a miracle you don't come out bonded, but you can thank your poor shoulder and the surrounding skin of your neck for that.

it's okay, he'll be pampering you for weeks, or at least until you can stand up straight and you can stop scooping cum out of your cunt… (don't complain about that unless youre ready for the consequences... the first time you did, he came over and fucked you again! as if you didn't just tell him your cunt is stupidly sensitive!)

but don't be mean to him! he gave you apology head for your sore pussy, didn't he?

(although he'll need to deliver a bigger apology if you come out pregnant.. you have permission to kick his ass to pluto this time &lt;/3)

OMEGA COVE

you think alpha!cove is horny, but omega!cove is someone totally different…

for some reason he has no restraint, begs you to bite him and knot him, absolutely needs you to get him fuck him full of your cum, maybe even give him your pups?

fucks wildly like this is what he's been waiting for his whole life and is a total slut while doing it. if you wanted to get content for your camshow, this is the perfect time.

he pins you down and if he didn't need you to touch his chest for him, he'd tie you up. although, if you try to pull him off your dick one more time he will.

"alpha, alpha, alpha!" he whines and chants, his mind totally empty save for thoughts of you and sex. he doesn't waste energy on much else, anything besides filling up his womb with your cum is a distraction.

oh but if you're tired, please go to sleep! he'll take care of everything… i mean, you'll wake up with a sore dick and shooting blanks, but at least your omega is happy <3

even though you're tired, sore, and hungry, it's so worth it to wait until cove finishes.

his ass slapping against your thighs, his cunt leaking slick so bad it's running down your balls…

omega!cove begging you to bite him.. babbling loudly about how he wants to be one with you, how he needs you and your cock and he needs more.

and as much as you try to keep cool heads, you come out bonded.

he can't wait, and you're laying there, your glands exposing, just waiting for him to-

and that's how he wakes you up from your nap. and like any sane alpha, you bite him back.

at first he was crying because he didn't mean to bite you like that! please don't be mad…

but now he's crying because you've flipped him on his back, your knot tugging at his hole and your tip slamming perfectly into his cervix..

then he feels so much relief when you bite him back, your canines piercing the skin and he immediately pulls you into a kiss, ignoring the blood you're swapping with each other.

your parents are probably definitely mad that you came out bonded, but cove has been purring for days at the sight of his bond mark alone, so you can't complain.

[nolita-fairytale]

hi gen! hope this finds you well!!!! and hope i’m not late to the party… but i’ve been thinking about luca having a long distance relationship. and since most of the time chefs have cooking as an act of care, could you think of hc for luca in this situation?

@translatemunson thanks for sending this one in.

dating chef luca long distance: a headcanon

dating chef luca long distance would look like:

while luca works early most mornings, the two of you make sure to keep in touch. texts, voice memos, phone calls and facetimes when you can because he wants to connect with you as often as possible.

luca is always sending you tiktoks/instagram reels once he's off work -- things he thinks you might enjoy. you love to send pics back and forth: things you're doing, a great meal you had, a selfie when you have something funny to tell him or just when you miss him.

luca does not have read receipts and neither do you because truly, read receipts are unhinged and just make everyone involved anxious. (not me coming for read receipts, oops)

you try to physically see each other every 1 - 3 months, depending on where you're located, at least until your make it to your long distance end date. hear me out: i think that luca is going to move to you. "there will always be work for me as a chef, babe. and i want to be with you."

the week before a scheduled trip, it feels like time can't move any faster. you normally don't have too much trouble with distance, aside from missing him, but that week leading up to always feels agonous.

speaking of, leading up to a trip, luca busies himself with planning out menus, things he wants to make you, places he wants to take you, knowing that food is such a strong love language for the both of you.

the moment you reunite is always so sweet. in some ways, you don't mind the distance because it always feels so exciting when you see him for the first time after a few weeks to months apart. and can we talk about the reunion sex?! it is hot, hot, hot and it's the first thing the both of you want to do when you're reunited. (fully projecting here because i once had a long distance relationship and that ways always the first thing we did).

when you're not together... i don't think you and luca are big sexters... per say... but the man will indulge in phone sex when the mood strikes. just picture it. that deep voice over the phone telling you to touch yourself?! asking you how it feels? moaning with the phone on speaker while you tell him how much you need him?! how you can't wait to be together, jfc.

every day with him feels special, whether it be luca making you breakfast in bed or the two of you just doing nothing together, watching movies, cooking something together. he makes the most mundane of things feel like magic because the man has your heart.

somedays are harder than others, and you feel like you're missing out -- when his hair is longer, when he finds a new cafe that's become routine for him but is something you're only just finding out about -- and it makes your heart ache for the day that you get to live in the same city together.

long distance is hard, but you and luca make it as easy as possible by being kickass communicators and by meeting each other halfway. on the days it feels harder than others, you hold space for each other, recognizing that, while normally you feel good about it... you really fucking miss each other.

i know i wrote this in burn your life down but i stand by it: luca is a letter writer. perhaps after a particular tough day where you're missing the hell out of him, luca decides to surprise you by sending you some snail mail. you receive it a few days to a week later (depending on where you are in the world) and the care and love he poured into this surprise reminds you that it's all worth it.

this song and these lyrics make me think of dating luca long distance, so i will leave us on this note:

"so, can we strip down to our vitals? i'm obsessed with your design and I've missed your soul forever" -- superbloodmoon, holly humberstone & d4vid

[daydreamgoddess14]

Support System pt. 8

Roy Kent x Reader, spicy rating - MASTERLIST

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7

It's gala time! With a sprinkle of Tedbecca cos I've missed them!

ohh and this is the gif on repeat in my head (that SMILE!! JFC):

~~~~~~

He hasn’t seen the dress yet. You’ve hung it up in his spare room while you deal with the other stuff you don’t do all that often like hair and make up - and when you do do it, you have a little shadow following you and asking if she can share your lipstick, what’s mascara, and why do you need to put that weird thing on your eyelashes. You’d both had to rush to get ready for work after he’d fucked you in the kitchen, everything taking that little bit longer when you could hardly keep your hands off each other. He’d gone off to Nelson Road with the promise of meeting you in the city so he could collect his suit. He’d run you a bath when you’d both gotten back to his, kissed each little fingertip bruise on your hips. You’d gone with Sara to get a manicure for the first time in a very, very long time, while Phoebe played Princesses with Roy.

“Jesus, you’re glowing. It’s sickening.” She laughed.

“I know you don’t want to hear this but just pretend it’s not Roy for a sec, cos it’s not really about him anyway, but it’s insanely different. Like night and day different to anything I’ve ever experienced in my life, Sara. My whole fucking life. It’s like I’ve been struck by lightning. With Andy it was just about him, with anyone else before actually. Like they didn’t actually care about me, it was only ever about them. And I mean that in every aspect, not just the sex.” She pulled a face, “I know, I’m not going to talk to you about the sex, I promise. I wish I could, because I need to shout it from the rooftops in all honesty.” 

“I told you, he’s so ready to make someone happy. I’m glad that person is you.”

“I’m still nervous about tonight.”

“Don’t be!” She said, full of confidence.

“These people mean as much to him as you and your mum and Phebs do. It’s like you three top tier, then this entire building full of people he adores.”

“You’ve met Jamie though?”

“Yeah, but he still thinks I’m just your best friend. He’s going to know as soon as he sees me that that’s not the whole truth.”

“So are you labelling this thing when you meet everyone later?”

“He said it’s up to me. But I don’t want it to be up to me. Or not completely anyway.”

“If anyone asks, you’re friends. They don’t have to know that you’re friends who are sleeping together and are almost certainly more than friends.”

“Hmm. You’re right, we can do that. That sounds easy.” 

“Ah. Wait, no. Forget that. I’ve seen his face around you. It’s literally impossible for him to disguise that he likes you. And tonight, with the dress and the boobs and the legs he’s just not going to be able to keep his face like,” she exaggerated Roy’s impassive, grumpy face, “that all night. He’ll never be able to manage it.”

“Oh.”

“So they find out you’re seeing each other - does it really matter?”

“Suppose not.”

“Exactly. So just enjoy it. Enjoy grown up company, drinks and a really fancy night on the town with a whole football team. You’ll have a blast.” You knew she was right, you repeat her comments in your head as you potter around Roy's room - hair done, make up done, you've just finished putting in some earrings and now you're having trouble with your necklace. 

"Not going to fucking lie, if this is the outfit then I'm fine with that. I want my money back and we're not leaving the house, but I'm fine with all of that." He says from the doorway where he's been standing for goodness knows how long. His suit leaves you speechless, perfectly tailored with sharp lines. You know he can tell that it's had an effect on you.

"Make yourself useful." You tell him, handing him your necklace and turning your back on him. 

"There are other ways I can do that," he suggests once he's done the necklace up, hands tracing the line of your strapless bra and your underwear. 

"No time babe, the car is due soon isn't it?"

"I'm sure I've got time for something at least." He hooks his thumbs into your underwear, using them to pull you over to the bed and sitting down, moving you between his knees. You cup his face in your hands and kiss him, knowing you made a wise choice in not putting your lipstick on yet.  

"I don't think we do. God, you look gorgeous." You run your hands down the lapel of his jacket. 

"Bet you a fiver I can make you come and leave you enough time to finish getting ready before the car gets here."

"I'm not taking that bet," you laugh,

"Cos you know you'll fucking lose." He teases. You swat at his shoulder, 

"Aren't you wasting valuable time?" His eyes light up, hands squeezing your bum.

"Well, it's not exactly what I wanted but you'll only tell me off if you have to do your hair again." His hands, as promised, make very quick work of you while he talks about everything else he wants to do. He holds you to him as you come back down from the high. "Dress on then." He tells you, taping your hip. "I'll be downstairs." He leaves you with a lingering kiss filled with promises for later. You step into the dress and lift it into place, reaching around for the zip. You slip on the shoes and apply your lipstick, checking the whole look in the mirror. You feel amazing, you just hope he agrees. He hears you on the stairs, "just in time-" He starts, but stops abruptly. "Holy fucking shit."

"That's what I said." You laugh. "It's OK?" He hasn't said another word or taken his eyes off you while you navigated the stairs. You wring your hands nervously. "Roy? Fucksake, say something please? Is it awful?"

"You look incredible," he finally says hoarsely. "Fucking incredible. Show me?" He takes your hand, urging you to turn around and show him the whole dress. When you stop in front of him again, his hand goes to the thigh high slit up the front of the dress. "I definitely can't wait to take this off." 

"When's the car coming?" You ask, stepping into his arms. 

"It should be outside." He leads you out. In the car, his hand slips under the split of your dress to rest on your bare thigh. "Remind me to take advantage of this later when you’re less fucking nervous."

~~~~~~~

Your grip on his hand gets progressively tighter the closer you get to the venue. 

"Look at me?" He asks quietly, "It's going to be fine. They're going to love you. And god, you look gorgeous." You take the arm he offers at the start of the red carpet, you'd tried to skip it completely but you couldn't bear the thought of Roy having to do it alone. Photographers had also asked for Roy on his own but his response had been a very tame "No." Inside the venue, you spotted the only people you knew, the American coaches and Jamie both at opposite ends of the room. Once people noticed that Roy had not arrived alone, they seemed to all be looking at you at once. 

"Royo my man, why don't I escort your lovely date inside and get a table, seems the fellas need you and it might be a bit like throwing this poor young lady to the lions. Maybe give them a Kent word of warning before you introduce them?" Coach Lasso kindly offered you his arm and before leaving your side, Roy checked in with you. 

"Think I can cope with that." You smiled. 

"I'll bring you a drink back." He kissed you softly and walked over to the first group of young men you'd seen out on the pitch. A couple of them clapped him on the back in greeting, looking over at you and then back to him. You could see from his profile how much he smiled. Ted led you into the ballroom which was decorated to perfection. 

"This looks amazing." You breathe,

"It does, right? The boss likes to make it one of the best nights we have. She does a damn good job too."

"Wonder if I'll meet her," you muse.

"Oh you sure will, Faith Hill, she and our Roy are good friends so if he wants you to be meeting anyone tonight, it'll be her."

"Oh. Great," your smile falters just a little.

"She's an incredible woman. Lotta fences, but once you've hopped over those, it's like winning the Premier League. I'd imagine, anyway."

"Hopefully you'll get to find out. Only a couple of matches to go."

"That's right, Manchester next week and then West Ham." He's easy to talk to, friendly and sincere and he has you laughing so much you forget your unease. When Roy joins you with drinks, he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you in front of everyone, happy that you're happy. 

"Right, the boys are on their best behaviour if they talk to you."

"You didn't need to do that."

"I did, the dickheads would have been bloody asking for your life story. No filter on 'em. You been OK with Ted?"

"Totally fine, we've been talking about work."

"Boring."

"We're both at an impasse. I need something new, he's not sure what to do. It's all very dramatic," you drink your wine and look around the room at the assembled guests, "I didn't get through the two interviews from the other week." You admit.

"Shit babe, I'm sorry. They're missing out, it's their loss."

"Thank you. Feels like a ticking clock looming over me."

"We can figure it out. I can help." You know he doesn't just mean financially, emotionally too, but your mind is focused on the practical issues first. 

"I wouldn't want you to do that."

"I know. You might have to stop being so stubborn at least for a bit and actually accept help though." You run your fingers over his knuckles, his hand firmly in yours. 

"I know. I'll think about it when I have to though, ok?" He nods. "No more boring talk. Who you going to introduce me to?" You look around again, Ted is talking to Rebecca over by the bar. He's making her laugh. "Think anything is happening there yet?" You ask, leaning in to talk quietly. 

"Not yet, but I think she likes him too." You sigh,

"That's so cute. Look at how he looks at her."

"There is someone I want you to meet," he tells you, pulling you to your feet, "but only if you want to?" You laugh a little nervously. 

"It's Keeley, isn't it?" He kisses you and it’s just slightly over the line of publicly appropriate. 

"Only if you want to." He promises again. You might as well agree, it's easier to get it done sooner rather than later and every time you've looked at her she's been looking curiously at you. He leads you by the hand to where Keeley is sitting with Jamie and two other players. 

"This is Keeley, Colin, Isaac and you already know Jamie." You smile warmly at them all and they welcome you to their table. 

"I knew it!" Jamie grins, "you sly git, I knew something was going on the other week. Friends my arse! You look lovely, I like the Chelsea blue." He nudged Roy, clinking their beers together, you watched the smile bloom across Roy's face, it was infectious. 

"It's lovely to see him so happy. You look fantastic!" Keeley teases. 

"Makes our life easier too, y'know." Isaac laughed with Colin who readily agreed. 

"Alright, alright. I'm not that bad." He grumbles. Everyone around you falls silent but you truly can't help the giggle that bubbles up and out until you're laughing so hard you can't catch your breath. They watch you for a second before Jamie breaks first, followed by Keeley. Colin and Isaac soon relax and laugh too.

"Oh babe, I honestly say this out of love, you are though!" You laugh again. Next to you, Jamie stops laughing straight away. Roy looks at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Next round on me. Wanna help me Roy?" Jamie asks and gets up from the table, Roy's hand just squeezes yours before he gets up. On the stage, Rebecca is welcoming the gala guests. Keeley turns to you and you grimace at what you think she's about to say. 

"Don't worry, he just needs a minute to process that and wonder if you meant what he thinks you might mean. Better have an answer ready for later." She offers with a gentle smile. "So what do you do?" She's guiding you to a safe conversation topic but you're not quite sure why. Then it registers - your passing comment, her advice, and your eyes widen as you realise what you said, "I know. Spiral later, deep breath now." You try and relax, finishing your wine. 

"I'm a deputy Comms Director. Well, I was. I quit recently so I'm looking for something new."

"Oh wow, I love working with internal Comms, you guys know exactly what you want. Makes my job so much easier!" She laughs and pulls you into a deep discussion about external PR and internal department politics. You glance at Roy occasionally, meeting his eyes more than once. His face is impassive, unreadable. He still holds your hand, thumb resting on your pulse point while he's in his own conversation with Isaac. Your table is visited frequently by other guests and you get introduced to many other people as the evening draws on. At the auction, Roy looks relieved and nudges against you, 

"Thank fuck I don't get auctioned off anymore."

"Tell me about it, I couldn't afford you." You joke, brushing his lips in a brief kiss. 

~~~~~~~

Once the auction is over, you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You're maneuvering yourself in the cubicle when you hear the doors open. 

"You look cosy with Roy's new squeeze." You hear an elegant voice say. 

"She's so fucking cute, Rebecca. Honestly. I hope he's ready for her because she could be the best thing that's ever happened to him."

"OK, that's not what I expected to hear from you. Really?"

"Really. We're friends, really good friends and yes, I loved him so much. But I wasn't the right person at the right time. Maybe she is. As long as he doesn't cock it up."

"Maybe your time hasn't happened yet? What if it's still to come?"

"All respect, Rebecca, I think how Roy and I go our separate ways is not too tricky to work out. You and Ted however…" 

"There is no Ted and I."

"Exactly! That's my point, and my problem! You can't let him leave, babe!"

"I can't force him to stay either."

"Do you love him?" It's no good, you have to move. Doing so will make your presence known but you just have to suck it up. You emerge from the cubicle to see the two women sitting on a small sofa with a cocktail in hand. Keeley noticeably gasps so you hold your hands up in surrender. 

"I'm sorry, I wasn't eavesdropping, I promise. I didn't realise what a nightmare it was going to be to go for a piss in this dress, it's so fucking big and there's so much sodding material-"

"I'm sorry," Keeley starts, Rebecca is watching the two of you with interest.

"Oh don't be, god it could have been worse! You could have said I was a right bitch, or not good enough for him. Believe me, I'll take what you said no problem." She sighs with relief. 

"Thank fuck for that! Have you two met yet?"

"Not yet, you must be Roy's new girlfriend. Gorgeous dress." Rebecca reaches out to shake your hand. 

"Thank you. Not sure I deserve that title just yet, it's early days."

"You like him, don't you?"

"Like him? She might have just admitted in a very roundabout way that she loves him, Rebecca!" Keeley squealed.

"Well then the girlfriend title definitely fits"

"Stop deflecting Welton, I asked you a question." Keeley got back to business. "Do you love Ted?" She looks at you and you make to leave, 

"Don't mind me, I'll leave you both to it."

"Stay." She urges. "Yes, I think I am Keeley, and I don't know what to fucking do about it."

"Tell him!" You and Keeley both exclaim.

"You can't let him leave without telling him." You tell her. 

"She can't let him leave at all, he's brilliant." Rebecca seems ready to give up on the discussion.

"I'm not going to let you both gang up on me. You should know better," she points at Keeley, "and you, I hardly know. No offence." She points at you. She leaves the bathroom first while you and Keeley linger.

"So, what I said about my feelings for Roy? Totally true, we're friends. I'm getting closer to Jamie again, but I don't know what that really means. The only thing I don't know for sure, is how Roy feels. We've been split up for nearly a year, there's no reason he should shy away from anything with you. But his mind works in mysterious ways. You're better off talking to him. My advice is to be honest and open with him no matter how scary it is." She's taken your hands while she talks and when she's finished, she wraps her tiny arms around you. You're not tall but she's so petite it's comical. "So, we should go and fucking dance?" She gives you a wicked grin. "Maybe we'll get lucky and Ted and Rebecca will start something on the dancefloor. God, I'd pay good money to see those pair bang!"

Roy is looking out for you from across the room as you leave the bathroom, he gives you a little salute. 

"Keeley wants me to dance," you tell him, going for your drink. 

"Told you you'd get along." He leans down to kiss you. "I get one later though." You join Keeley and half the team on the dancefloor where you spend the majority of the rest of the night. As the evening winds down, Roy takes you into his arms where your stay for song after song. You notice Rebecca and Ted out of the corner of your eye dancing together and turn both you and Roy so he can also see. "Fucking idiot should tell her." He chuckles, holding you tighter. 

~~~~~~~

In the car on the way home, his hand finds its place on your thigh again. The quiet and the alcohol make you pensive, you're mulling over almost admitting that you love Roy, and Keeley's comment about making sure that he's moved on from her the same way she has from him.

"I'm sorry for saying what I did in front of everyone. It just fell out of my mouth, I didn't mean to ambush you with it." You start. He knows you're not done, you're worrying your bottom lip with your teeth, and you won't meet his eye. "Keeley's so beautiful, Roy. I mean, really so gorgeous." You'd never been one for comparing yourself to other women. You especially tried to avoid comparing yourself to the exes of someone new. You believed in the right person at the right time, and that exes helped shape a person. It had taken leaving Andy to help you regain who you were, for example, so like it or not - he had helped you become you. And so, you absolutely couldn't dislike Keeley, you knew that she'd helped Roy become this version of himself. She’d been so gracious, kind, and sweet during the evening, you’d had a lovely time. But that almost made it worse - comparing regular exes to footballers exes was like comparing apples and oranges. And try as you might, you weren't able to escape the fact that you were not a model. "I'm not her." You tell him, the worry evident in your voice. "What if she's the 'big love of your life’? I don't… I don't want to be a placeholder girlfriend. If you're not done with her, then I need to know." He didn't say anything for a long time, he keeps his hand on your leg while the car travels past the stadium and into his street. He thanks the driver, comes round to open your door and still hasn't said a word. He unlocks the front door and slips off his suit jacket before he turns to you. He takes your hand and guides you to sit you on the stairs and paces in front of you, rubbing his hand over his beard.

"If you'd asked me probably before Christmas, I think I would have said that I still had feelings for Keeley. But in the last six months, I've seen her change and I think I've changed too. Fuck it, I've tried to. I think it's crept up on me and I hadn't fucking realised it, but I am done with Keeley." He's still pacing methodically in front of you, making sure he says exactly what he wants to say, the way he wants to say it. "Properly done, I mean. I love having her as a friend, she's really good at that shit and I'd be lost without her. I could say the same about Jamie too but don't tell him, he's already a massive twat." He pauses to collect his thoughts. "She might have been the big love of my life… if my life had gone in a different direction. But it didn't. It's led me to you, and you could never be a placeholder girlfriend." It takes a couple of seconds but he kneels so that he's lower than eye level with you, leaning back on his heels. "I don't want you to be a placeholder girlfriend, I want you to be my fucking girlfriend, and I honestly say this out of love," you giggle through the tears that have started to fall, "you're a really good one." He leans up to kiss you. "Now please tell me that's the answer that covers all the shit that's been worrying you?" You kiss him back deeply, sliding forward on the step to bring your knees either side of him. 

"I think that covers it. God, I really fucking love you." His laugh is magical,

"Fucking love you too. I love Lexie. I love that you can't park for shit and you're late for everything, and that you made my mum like you within about 5 minutes. She didn't even like me within 5 minutes." You kiss him again as his hands open up the split of your dress and slide up your thighs. He brings you further forward on the step and brings your underwear down your legs. "I'd spend the rest of my life on my knees worshipping you, even if it kills my bad knee." You lean back on your elbows as he brings his mouth to you and you believe every word he says.

~~~~~~~

[aristocrating]

hot take: this fandom has a problem with glamorizing jack and kent's addictions

oh. OH. now THIS.

there is soooo much to be said about how jack's addiction is treated at large, as well as the implication that kent would probably have his own problems with addiction (which is complete fanon, but i think it's realistic to consider that)

i've seen this come in several flavors:

1) glossing over it entirely, where it's just ignored. if you write fanfic and you just adapt out the fact that jack is an addict because it's a sensitive subject for you or you have trouble handling it well, sure. more power to you. work with what you got. i will say that a LOT of people seem to not really grasp the ramifications of how addiction works, but neither does the comic so this one is just to be expected. just like, educate yourself. howEVER, i do think it's a real and important part of jack's character and just conveniently forgetting it or going "oh he's fine now, he just drinks at parties now" is WILD to me. not how it works. ask any person who's ever been personally affected by struggles with addiction. he would be dead. or hospital-bound. it's not fun, it's not cute. do your research.

2) the most insidious take i've seen (waaay too often): oh yes jack or kent has a problem with medication and alcohol, but he's not a REAL addict. yes it's bad but it's not like THOSE people. there will be a whole narrative about people calling him a cokehead because it's wrong, he never did any REAL drugs. he's one of the Good Ones. DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF? DO YOU FUCKING HEAR YOURSELF RIGHT NOW? keep your moralistic puritanical bullshit out of here. "jack would never do that! he would never do drugs!" okay, and what if he did? would you view him as less valuable as a character then? would you automatically dislike him more based on that fact alone? what do you think this implies about the way society treats people with addiction problems? why do you think people asign a hierarchy of moral value to what drugs someone consumes and who counts as a "real" addict? on my desk by monday. jfc.

3) and last but not least, glamorizing drug problems. it's a conglomeration of the previous two points i think, people don't know how to handle the issue of addiction well and also asign moral value to it. personally i think i've seen it come up especially in stories of pimms in juniors or kent's rookie year where he does drugs to cope. and let me just tell you. there is nothing fun or glamorous about it. addiction is taxing for everyone involved. it makes you feel like shit because you lose all sense of control and you also get judged for it from every side. it's a tiring process, it's sloggish and monotonous, you're trapped in cycles of frenzied rushes of substance abuse you can't enjoy, followed by excrutiating boredom that turns into an itch to consume again. it's uncomfortable. it's annoying. it makes you abandon all self-preservation you have because the pain of living becomes more and more unbearable all while your body tricks you into thinking there's only one thing that can alleviate it. and it's so easy to think portraying drugs as glamorous is somehow being supportive, but really you're just being condescending. and ignorant. the only reason i can think of why someone would want to glamorize this is if you're an addict yourself and you're using stories about addiction to cope. in that case, sure. do what you have to to get through it somehow. and everyone else, i implore you once again to think about why people asign moral value to addiction. what is to gain from it? who profits? who is exploited?

i understand struggling to portray addiction well. i understand not wanting to be confronted with it in fandom. i even understand being uncomfortable with it when being confronted with it, because it IS a scary subject. at the same time, i also wish more people understood what addiction is like and why it's important to handle it well in fiction and fandom.

this comic truly took the messiest possible route by introducing a character who explicitly suffered from an overdose and monitors his alcohol intake to... what exactly? what was the point of all that if it was going to be sweeped under the rug? why have a character who opens the door for such a big subject matter only for it to just not be relevant? i'm not saying the author had the intention of glamorizing addiction, but it does leave the unfortunate implication that jack only overdosed for a jab at an angsty plot line, the aesthetics of it, so i'm not surprised parts of the fandom would run with that.

one of the reasons i was drawn to jack's character is because i personally have experiences with alcoholism and addiction and i was surprised to see it come up in such a medium, and i was happy to have an in on the conversation. and it's sooo important to me that treating people with addiction as humans who are deserving of compassion becomes normalized and that the complexities and nuances of addiction are understood. unfort the comic did none of that though, so here we are /shrug

i think you're right and you should say it, 10/10 take, fucking educate yourself peeps

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