#i am very ashamed to tag you both

[rozeliyawashereyall]

Is Renzo X Liya X Ghary real

Oh yeah, totally, look at how real this is

But of course all three of them have to go through like 4 separate angst arcs in the shape of an extremely melodramatic spanish soap opera and THEN they decided "fuck it we poly"

/jk ... @cruisie and @anniekinsart for Renzo and Ghary

[moon-goggles]

Anyway shout out to me Brainrottung over things that aren’t super concrete and shape shifting in form and function like VARIAJ and the seven kingdoms to Minecraft stuff,,,, shout out to the birth of ideas spoken into a void that has collected into the minds and hearts of many to inspire and connect over core conceptions that even though each have a different face and pov THEYRE United under the desire to create with it in ways never thought of before

Shout out to the me THATS been changed for the better through that media.

[simpjaes]

HARD CASH, EASY MONEY (p.js)

Jay is rich-rich and likes to frequent the strip club you dance at. You know regulars tend to have their favorite dancers, but to become his favorite? Oh, well….you knew he’d rent out a private room sooner or later. 

Or the one where you tell jay that if breaks the rules, he’s going to have to fork up a very large sum of money and, well, he seems entirely ready to pay up. 

minors dni! | if you read it, reblog it.

WORDCOUNT― 5.4k

PAIRING― jay x afab reader

CONTENT― pussy drunk and rich as hell jay, stripper reader, jay is taller than reader.

NOTE: if u read this before no u didn’t bc i reworked a lot of it!!! just to cover my bases, hi i am ncteez and if you feel like this fic sounds too close to another one, its because i wrote them both!!! thank you!!! 

nsfw tags under cut:

nsfw tags: lap dancing, shy-ish jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, doggy style on a couch, thick cock jay, reader doesn’t cum lmfaooooo

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Having sex with a client is a big no-no in the industry you’ve grown to love. You are to be desired, eye-fucked, and paid to look sexy. The fact that you don’t have to give them any part of you outside of a show?  What’s not to love about it? 

There are men who try to get touchy, men who are too shy to make eye contact, and men who refuse to break eye contact. All three of these types of clients bring in the big bucks and tend to become regulars to either yourself or one of the other girls who make the men believe they are also an object of desire. 

It’s easy, really. After all, why not use the goods you were born with to make the big bucks?

Then you have those clients. The men with big-shot jobs, walking in and ordering the most expensive drink, quietly observing the women as if they aren’t even interested at all. The ones who have wives, children, and stresses that will weigh on them the moment they walk out of their homes for work. 

To them, you are their secret little stress relief and you often find yourself acting out towards them, letting them break a rule or two, perhaps. Dancing a little longer for them sometimes just to really rake in the dollars. Mostly because they’re the ones who pay your expensive rent. They’re the reason you can live on the high-end of the city and buy new, sexy, lingerie to wear each night you dance and bounce around on the stage. 

Jay was one of those men, so you assumed. A little young looking if you’re being honest, but who are you to pry when he’s throwing hundreds at you and the other dancers? 

 You remember the first time he walked through those doors. You thought he was going to be one of the shy men, avoiding eye contact and shuffling uncomfortably on his seat to hide the boner, presumably ashamed to know he could never have the women up on stage that are intentionally making him hard. 

He isn’t though, and you swear just last weekend he bought out the entire fucking club because he was the only one watching on a late saturday night, silently judging each dancer. You also remember when he made eye contact with you on that night. His eyes were sharp under the dimmed lighting and you swear he could hear the way your heart skipped a beat with the intimidation, mostly because the motherfucker smirked before throwing out five crisp hundred dollar bills.

Even on the first night he ever attended, the girls talked. You remember when your best friend ran back in her six inch pumps, jumping with glee and explaining that the new guy threw two hundred at her only a minute into her dance. 

Naturally, all the girls wanted to put on a show for him after that.

He appeared to be rich. And everyone was shocked, really, because even the richest of clients typically don’t give a bill over fifty to the dancers unless he pays for privacy. This man though? He was tipping with bills that showed his status. 

It was really only natural from that moment forward for each girl plus yourself to try and win him over. You’d stay near his side of the stage, directing the gyrating and pussy shots right at him just to see those bills flutter to the floor of the stage. 

In all honesty though, these types of clients never stay long. Usually they’re in the city on business and visit once, only to never come back. This one though? Oh, he keeps coming back. Every. Single. Saturday. 

Having no ring on his fingers only made it better because many of the married men do not feel the guilt of ogling women while married. Huge turn off. Like, hey, if they don’t touch, it’s not cheating right? Either way, eating fancy and living in your nice flat paid for by the lust of men is a perfect lifestyle for you. Even if you have to pretend to like the pigs pretending to love their wives.

You called dibs on this new man as quickly as you could, to the dismay of the other dancers. Calling dibs was never truly honored though, because who the man chooses is usually who ends up dancing for him and getting the most money. 

This guy never seemed to choose a girl though. He never pays for dances, never speaks, never so much as shivers in his seat at the image of a pussy sticking to panties in front of his face for his money. All he does is watch and throw bills.

You should be pleased. After all, he’s kind of a perfect client.

Weeks and months go by at this point and Jay keeps his regular Saturday night appearances. After what you and all the other dancers believe regarding him buying out the club last weekend, he’s a very welcome face to see. 

Tonight though, several dancers have come back into the lounge crying because this guy didn’t tip them a fucking dime. Given, a bouncer shows up not ten minutes after each crying face with a nice tray of drinks and an envelope with their stage names on it. 

It’s gotten to the point now that with how long he’s been visiting the club, some girls even roll their eyes at him. Wondering how desperate he must be, how privileged he must be to flaunt his money the way he does. 

Still, that doesn’t stop every single one of you from working your bodies for him in hopes of more, more, more money. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Same old, same old at the club half a year later. Saturday night, several regulars, several new faces, and of course, that young rich guy sitting front and center. 

You walked into work just as the sun began to set and there he was. At this point you can tell by the back of his head with that nice hair cut. So many other men show up disheveled, and half of them are already wasted by the time later shows even start. Still, you smile in knowing you’ll make rent again this month. After all, you just spent a bit too much money on some new shoes and outfits. 

Still, but this point regarding this rich ass guy, even you’re getting annoyed. Every saturday he tips you anywhere between five hundred to a thousand dollars. Given, you’re very aware that it’s much more than the other dancers get, and you kind of have been lying about the amount he tips you so they don’t feel bad. It’s the fact that he isn’t giving anyone a chance to really show him a good time. 

Private rooms and VIP services are highly sought after in this club and he can definitely afford it. It just appears that he doesn’t want to get personal with anyone.

Given, there’s no sex involved, of course. It’s just intimate lap dances, music of their choosing, sharing drinks, and occasionally just becoming a therapist for loser old men. Still, you wish he’d give you a chance to really get into your moves. 

And, well, would you look at that.

You’re in the back room settling into your seat to lace up your new shoes when one of the owners walks up to you. 

“You’ve got a dance.” He says to you, smiling. “You’ll never guess who it is.”

You look at yourself in the mirror, popping your lips with the pretty lipgloss before wiping some off that overlined your lips, and then shift your eyes to the owner through the glass. 

“Jake, again?” 

The owner shakes his head with a laugh. Surely Jake would be here soon to try and get you to dance for him again though. 

“Who, then?” You laugh, leaning back down to fix a strap on your shoe. 

“His name is Park Jongseong, goes by the name of Jay.”

“Okay?” You laugh, turning in your chair to face the man. “Is this his first time buying a dance?”

“Oh yeah.” The owner says brightly. “He bought you out for the entire night, head to room 11 when you’re dressed, he’s already made himself at home.” 

Nothing else is said by the owner as he turns and walks out. 

“The whole night?” One of the girls laughs at your situation. “You’d better hope he tips well.”

“Well, buying out the entire night sounds expensive, he must be one of the rich ones.” You laugh with a shrug, a little frustrated that your new shoes won’t be seen by the foot-fetish men. They’re always out and feral on Saturdays. 

“Maybe–” The other dancer laughs, looking at you with kind of a pitiful look. “Hope he’s not ugly.”

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’ve done so many private dances before, but none that had ever taken the entire shift. To be fair, you didn’t even know they could do that. You assume that the owner took the offer because he decided the money was worth it. Wondering how much was offered to pay for your presence, you feel kind of good. 

This isn’t exactly a cheap club, surely this is a great opportunity. 

Whoever Jay is though, he’d better make this wasted shift worth your time.

“Hi,” You whisper without looking up, sauntering into room 11 with a small voice. They always like when you’d act smaller in terms of personality, submissive even. 

The lights are dimmer than usual when you walk in and you’ve only used this room once or twice during your entire career at this club. It was the most expensive room, one with its own pole, a large velvet couch, and more space to move around compared to the others. 

The man doesn’t respond to you as your eyes adjust to him, but then–Oh.

Oh.

Jackpot.

“Jay?” You look at the man who had spent thousands on you and the other dancers since he’d become a regular. “That’s the name of the man who spoils us?” 

He just nods at you, staring you up and down with the same sharp eyes he had the night you’d first seen him. 

“Not a man of many words?” You question, walking over to him slowly, swinging your hips like the way you always do when you’re on the clock. “So, I take it you won’t tell me why you picked me, huh?” You laugh playfully, looking over to the pole but parking yourself in front of him. 

“Why wouldn’t I have picked you?” He lets out, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re my favorite to watch.”

Hearing his voice felt surreal, somehow setting him apart from any other client you’ve had seated in front of you. His voice is smooth, but you can’t tell if you think that because he’d held your curiosity for the longest time, or because he just said you’re his favorite to watch.

“Oh yeah?” You smile at him with a tilt of your head. “Lucky me.” 

With that, you see how he relaxes against the couch to watch you. Business as usual. You don’t even ask how much he shelled out for this, because you know it had to be a lot. His first offer was probably much more than what the owner would have accepted to begin with. 

You do your job for him though, twirling and sliding yourself against and on the pole. The music is a lovely choice, one that is chill enough to move slowly, but upbeat enough to bounce and wiggle for him. 

The pole is cold as usual, allowing your nipples to perk enough to where, now, because he is closer to you than he had ever been, he can see them. You definitely see him watching too, still with that same bored expression despite the money he lends out just to experience it. You continue your routine, spreading your cheeks, pressing your tits together, making eye contact with him, smirking, and licking your lips. 

Jay mouths the lyrics to the songs sometimes, but his eyes never leave you even when he dips his head for a drink. His eyes are less sharp now compared to before, being replaced with a hazy kind of look as he drags his gaze up and down your mostly-exposed body. 

Noting that you’ve never seen his face shift before out in the main area, you believe that you are experiencing Jay actually reacting to a woman now. No longer looking uninterested but tipping as if he had cum in his pants during each dance. You feel entirely desired by him, and you kind of like it. 

“I think you’re the most handsome client I’ve ever danced for.” You say in a soft voice, slowly backing away from the pole as the song changes. After all, you always sweet talk clients when it’s a one on one like this, though usually you’re lying. You actually mean it this time. “Do you know the rules?” 

Jay nods as his legs spread a bit when you walk towards him. He knows you’re taking your time because he did pay for the entire night. 

“No touching.” You whisper as the bass picks up on the speakers. It’s lap-dance time at the moment, and like always, you recite the most important rule. 

He nods again, eyes glued to you as you turn around in front of him and begin to ghost your ass over his lap. 

Watching you, he is well aware of the rules and perfectly comfortable with them. He would never violate a woman regardless of how sexy he finds her. He can buy her time, but he knows he can’t buy her intimacy on any level higher than he already has. 

You dance against him for what feels like an hour, but only three songs come and go. Jay is stoic beneath you but you can see his facade break every now and then. He will shake his head to himself sometimes, or flutter his eyes closed when your tits are less than an inch from his face. 

Usually, he is great at composing himself in this kind of situation. He knew when he became a regular here that having you would be impossible but that didn’t stop him from showing up. He knows it’s your job, and you act this way with everyone, so he can’t just break composure and show you just how fucking badly he wants you. Truly, he can’t embarrass himself by being so obvious.

“I imagine you’re struggling, Jay–” You break him out of his thoughts by calling him out instantly,  turning and now spreading your legs across his lap to sit on him. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, mostly because you know he’s going to tip you big time. “Don’t you want to touch?” 

He stutters out a laugh, and maybe believing he was one of the shy clients isn’t entirely untrue.

“It’s against the rules.” He deadpans, keeping his hands at his sides and glancing away from you, trying not to imagine the fact that he’s got the prettiest stripper in the club grinding against his cock right now. Though you’re not entirely grinding against it, he can feel a soft sort of friction every few seconds as you dance on top of him. 

“Do you want to break the rules?” You tilt your head, knowing that you’re already touching him by wrapping your arms around him and kind of like, being incredibly attracted to him. You’d probably let him break more than a few rules if he wants it, not just for the tips either.

When he looks up to make eye contact with you, you nod at him and he follows, nodding himself.

“If you break a rule and touch me, you will have to pay me a hefty fine not to tell on you.” You laugh cheekily, batting your lashes and bouting your lips at him. 

He could pay your rent for the next several months if he wanted to  just for fucking fun? Like hell you’d report him for touching you when you’re struggling yourself not to touch him more.

“How much?” He instantly says, smirking as if you could name any price. For him though, hearing you suddenly offer some sort of deal in order to let him touch you has his mind doing flips.

Rules, rules, fucking rules.

Fuck the rules, he can afford to break them.

You’re a little taken aback by his playing along. You were mostly joking, but the suggestion is still there if he’s the type to... y’know, wanna fool around with a stripper. 

“Half a mil.” You joke again, pulling back from his lap to slap against his arm, knowing the price is too high but flirting anyway. “Touch me and you lose”

You didn’t expect him to nod back at you. 

“Five hundred thousand.” He confirms, keeping his hands at his sides. “Go on then, try and win your money.”

You’re fucking floored. Half a million is really on the line right now? There’s no fucking way he thinks he can lose. No way would a man really put that much on the line just to see if you can seduce them into breaking a rule that you’d allow him to break for free. 

The game is on now though, it seems,  as you do everything in your power to tease the ever-loving fuck out of the rich man in front of you. You ruffle his hair, you ghost your lips over his and everywhere else, you dance against him, on him, around him. You spread your legs out for him, slapping your own clothed pussy, you tease your nipples at him as if you’d pull your breasts out. 

You can see him start to falter about two hours into the game. You had whispered into his ear and noted how he leaned into it. When you walked around the couch so that you could stand in front of him again, you saw how painfully hard he had become. Lowering yourself to your knees in front of him as if you would be in a position to swallow his cock whole, you look up at him innocently. “Is that for me?”

Jay groans, nodding shortly. He’s definitely breaking, and he’s starting to not care. 

“I’ve never wanted to fuck you more than I do now–” He admits when he drops his hand from his hair and looks at you with a crooked smile. 

You smile at him, that half a mil is yours. 

“Oh yeah?” You run your hands up and down his thighs. “You’ve wanted to fuck me before?” 

Jay nods, watching how dangerously close your hands get to his cock, lending a twitch and hoping you notice it. 

“You’ll lose if you touch me though–” You’re cut off by him, seething out words in a deeper voice.

“You act like I didn’t intend to lose.” He says, leaning forward and pinching your chin between his fingers, lifting your head to look at him. 

When he lifts your chin, he pulls your face a bit closer, shifting your body in a way that allows him to slot a leg between yours from the floor. He stares at you, almost like he knows that even after giving you the prize money, he’d still be the one to win. 

“D-did you?” You say, a bit intimidated by him and his rough hand holding your face, he forces you to look at him. 

“I did.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’ve never moved your body like this on stage, was I wrong to think you’d let me fuck you?” 

You shake your head, sticking your tongue out a bit to lick the tip of his thumb, unintentionally rubbing your pussy against his shin. 

“But I don’t fuck clients.” You try to argue for the sake of it, despite Jay definitely being a client you want to fuck.

“Oh yeah?” He says, turning your face to the side and skewing his neck to see your ass. “Is that why you’re practically fucking my leg right now?” 

You bashfully shake your head out of his grip, halting your hips and pulling back from how close his face is to yours. “No?” He laughs, leaning back and crossing his arms as he looks down at you. 

“I mean…“ You go back on your own word. “You already touched me and–” You shrug. ”I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t wet right now.”

Jay’s cock instantly twitches against his pants as he smirks at you with a confident nod.

“Stand up then.” He says, nodding his head more as if to motion you to do as he says. His legs spread as you rise to your feet and he instantly adjusts himself when he goes to stand up in front of you too.

Fuck, he’s taller than you and the way he looks down at you feels so much more intimating than before. You are entirely silent when he towers over you and you flinch a bit when his arm wraps around your waist.

You’re a little shocked by how rough he is when he moves you around, twisting you to where you’re facing the couch and being shoved down against it. “This is what you wanted, right?” He seethes out as you hear his belt being unbuckled.

Almost in a whine, you whisper out a ‘yes’. He’s floored by the sound of it, because it almost sounds like a fucking plead. Lucky me, he thinks. 

After all, he’s watched you for months moving your body like you need a cock to fill it. Not just dancing like the other girls, you would fuck the stage for him and his money. And now? Oh, you’re gonna get fucked. 

Jay doesn’t hesitate after hearing you, the money he’s lost in the bet is so far in the back of his mind because to be fair, he would have paid far more just to look at you. The only reason he’s pulling his cock out right now is because you fucking want it. 

The bet was to not touch you. It appears you’d be pleased with both his cock and his money.

Not because it’s your job either, quite frankly, he knows it isn’t your job to fuck clients. He feels special, and he knows he damn well should be special. 

You were seeing stars from the moment he touched your face, but this? God, this is more than you could have imagined. Such a fit, attractive man throwing his money at you and slipping your panties to the side just to see what no one else in this club sees. You wonder if his mouth is watering, if his hands are trembling, if his cock is twitching. 

Jay slips a finger into you with ease and without warning, just to test and see if you really do want him to fuck you into the next dimension, and thankfully, you’re more wet than he could have imagined. 

“Goddamn, baby, you want it?” He asks, confirming for himself that this is all for him. 

You nod your face against the couch, arching in a way that props your ass up a little higher for him. 

“Good good.” He says, fucking his finger into you a bit more before taking another step forward and resting his cock between your cheeks for a moment. 

“Letting your clients fuck you?” His hand wraps around your middle and pulls you up and against, grunting into your ear. “You always do this?”

You couldn’t even answer when you feel him press his cock down and between your legs. So fucking thick. 

“Go on, look.” He demands against your ear, holding you still against him with his arm as he slides between your folds. You look down to see the head of his cock peeking from between your legs and the image alone had you feeling gagged.

When you moan out at the image, you hear him chuckle against your ear and then you feel him pull his hips back, angling himself perfectly so that he can slide his cock into you. 

In one long, languid thrust, you feel the entirety of him. You can hear his sigh against you, and feel his hand tighten around your middle when he bottoms out. 

His cock is so thick, pulsing inside of you and weeping out thick pre-cum, only offering more to the wet you drench him in. 

“Ah, listen to that–” He says, releasing your middle and slamming his hips back and forward just a few times to let the sound of how wet you are echo under the music. “So wet for the money, hm?” He continues, now pressing you into the cushions of the couch, knowing you’ll soon be biting against the fabric. 

You hum against the cushions, rolling your eyes back at the delicious feeling of him paired with his voice. 

“Or is it for me?” He asks now, voice coming out in a low rumble as he slams his hips into you repeatedly with deep pushes and sharp drags. 

You nod again, almost frantically as you lift yourself to grip onto the back of the couch, and when you turn your head to look behind you, Jay is almost glaring at you with that same devilish smirk on his face. 

Almost as if, even if he’s losing all that money, he’s fucking winning right now. 

 You watch his neck tense when he throws his head back with a drawn-out moan shortly after, and he doesn’t stop. He snaps his hips so quickly, and fucks into you so hard that all you can do is let out small whimpers each time the head of his cock hits a soft spot inside of you.

And when he doubles over you, using his other hand to stretch your panties impossibly far to the side, lying his head against your shoulder, you can tell he’s losing his composure too.

He’s so cocky, but goddamn is it nice to feel a man like this lose composure because of your pussy.

 His hips stutter in and out of you and his breathing is heavy, fingers gripping both of your ass cheeks and spreading them every few seconds only to release them and watch them bounce together before slapping hard against the flesh.

“Can’t believe you’re spread out for me right now,” He moans out as he reaches his hand up and swipes his hair out of his face, and then his hips snap back into you sharply. Almost pointed.

“Knew you would be too, I saw the way you looked at me baby– you wanted it too.” He breathes out with each thrust, as if he knew he would have you under him someday, you don’t argue. If you had met Jay on the street and he hit on you, you’d be far too easy for him to capture. 

“Don’t ever let another man do this for you–” He moans out now, amazed by how tight your cunt is around him. 

Truly, and not even trying to be rude, he genuinely didn’t think you’d feel this fucking strangled against his cock. It’s perfect. He wants to lay claim so fucking bad, and so, he fucks harder, quicker. 

“Don’t ever let another man pay for this pussy.” 

You nod with a strangled moan, struggling to keep your grip on the couch with his weight on you when he leans forward, pressing his chest to your back. 

“I’ll stop showing up.” He threatens. “Wouldn’t want that now, would we?” He continues to talk, hunched over you, fucking you just right while gripping both of your tips in that slutty bra you’re wearing. 

And before you can even answer in a whimper, a cry, or a moan, you feel his cock pulse inside of you. Seemingly fucking you until he’s empty only because you feel it happen. He releases himself inside of you, cumming spurts of thick white ropes against your quivering walls. 

Right then, he grabs you by the hair, pulling you back and against him and holding you so tightly in place. All you can do is sit still for him, cockwarming him through his orgasm as you try to speak. 

“You wouldn’t be able to stay away anyway–” You try to be snide through the pleasure of feeling his cum bubble out of you. “Look at how fast you came.”

He snarls first at your comment, only to chuckle as he orgasm comes to an end. Truly the sounds he made to your comment were so fucking erotic, you almost can’t imagine ever letting another man do this anyway. For some reason, having Jay act all possessive over you is much less offensive anyway, compared to the other men who would probably try this with you. 

You don’t see it as him assuming you’re a woman who would allow just any man to have sex with her for money, anyway. You think he knew he’d be able to pull it off. Though, if that weren’t the case, it wouldn’t be any of his fucking business anyway. 

If anything, you decide that he gets possessive when his cock is fucking, and you feel kinda glad that you were the one he picked. 

Not kinda. Actually, you’re fucking over the moon over it. 

The fact that the man cumming inside of you is the man all of the girls want to dance for makes you feel like you’re the prettiest woman in the world. His money is attractive, but god, the way he fucks is somehow more enticing. You wouldn’t mind doing it again, and again, and again. 

And when he finishes and pulls out of you, all he does is slide your panties back to their rightful place and gives your pussy a little tap, as if to comfort you into keeping his cum inside of you for safe keeping. 

And yeah, he knows you didn't cum but to be fair, as much as he would have loved giving you an orgasm, your pussy felt too good for him to stop. Perhaps you’ll call for him to return the favor? Who knows? (God, he hopes you do.)

By the time he’s sat back on the couch, allowing you to lounge against him as you catch your breath, he’s already pulling out his wallet.

“I don’t carry cash.” He says, pulling out a card. “At least not half a million worth, so, just take this.” 

He hopes you take note of what he’s doing. After all, the club has an ATM, he could always just make a couple of transactions for this. 

You look at him wide-eyed, seeing the black card he holds out to you.  He's actually paying you? You didn’t think he’d really give you half a million, seeing as how much you enjoyed that? Being paid for sex isn’t actually something you do. 

Then again, he’s paying for breaking the rules, not for fucking you. 

“You’re just going to give me your card?” You laugh, raising a brow in confusion. “I could go way over the limit?”

“You wouldn’t.” He shrugs first, and laughs second. “You won’t.”

Taking the card into your hand, it feels much heavier than any credit card you’ve ever held. 

“No, really. You can’t just give me your card.” You laugh, tossing it back at him.

“Says who?” He looks at you seriously this time. “If I don’t see you again, I’ll just report you for fraud.”

He’s being fucking serious? Genuinely? 

“Jay–” You try to scold him, but he doesn't let you.

“Just take the damn card.” He demands, standing to his feet and ruffling his hair with a breath. “Don’t embarrass me more by not taking it.” 

“Embarrass you?” You ask, looking at the card and the way he just leaves it lying against the couch. 

Almost as if, if you don’t take it, someone else will.

“Listen, I don’t normally do this.” He trails off, feeling the post-nut guilt. “The least I can do is hold up my end of the deal.”

“This is your credit card.” You still try to argue with him, turning to watch him walk towards the door. 

“Don’t use it then. Just give it back to me when I see you again.”

You watch him reach for the doorknob. 

“Saturday?” You ask.

“Saturday.”

And then he’s gone, and you’re five hundred thousand dollars richer, somehow.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Here & Now

pairing: Aemond targaryen x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: on the morning you were set to return to Dragonstone to reunite with your family, the Greens make their move to take the throne, and Aemond comes to you.

tags: heterosexual sex, fingering, loss of virginity, targaryen incest themes, tw: blood, tw: knives

words: 3.1K

-----------------------------⚔️----------------------------------

When you were a little girl, your mother used to read you stories. Ones about knights, fey creatures, and princesses locked in towers. You never liked the tower ones. You always asked why they just didn't jump out of the tower to get away.

Looking down at the courtyard from your window, you realized that maybe they had a long way down as you did and that's why they couldn't get away.

The door opened and you sprung from your seat to face your intruder. You weren’t sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t Aemond. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.” His voice was even, but years of being near each other told you that his undertones were that of someone who was ashamed. “Are you alright?”

“I am a prisoner in my own home, Aemond. What do you think?!” You don’t mean to scratch at him. You are sure this is none of his doing, but he was the only one here.

You felt the fool for choosing to stay with your great-aunt Rhaenys, not wanting her to be left alone; even fierce she-dragons needed someone to lean on. But this morning you were barred from leaving your chambers by gold cloaks. You demanded to know what was the meaning of this. Demanded to know what was going on. Demanded to speak to your grandfather. Yet no one would answer you.

“Our patriarch is dead.” You felt a stone sink into your stomach. Somehow, you knew this to be true. King Viserys was very ill. It was only a collection of days in the best circumstances. “They’re going to make Aegon king this afternoon.” You felt as though the stone, and your breakfast, was going to come back up.

“So you are going to usurp my mother’s claim?! Take her birthright away!”

“It’s not my doing.” Aemond snapped at you. Clearly tired of being scratched. “It’s my mothers.” You scoff. You both know that Alicent’s clumsy maneuverings are just the attempts of her father. The King’s Hand with the knife in his back.

“So I am to what, hm? Sit here quietly while you take away my family’s future until you throw me over the walls edge?”

“I doubt you would sit here quietly, and no one is going to throw you over a wall, or any other ledge. Not if I have a say in it.”

You laugh. Despite yourself. Aemond was always funny, if you paid attention to him.

So few ever did. A second son, of a second marriage, with a princess in line for the throne. He was as meaningless as sand to the beaches to most people, then avoided completely after he was maimed. You always felt bad for that. Thought it was unfair that Lucerys got off scot-free after he crippled one of their own. People called those who took blood from their family Kinslayers, but what of those that maim their members?

“So you will let me go?”

Aemond shrugged. “Probably.” It was likely the best answer he could give. This wasn’t his decision. He couldn’t honestly tell you either way. But he did know, “you cannot take your dragon though.”

You felt your heart freeze in your chest. As if your Targaryen blood rushed out of you at the thought of abandoning your dragon. “You would take Stormsheild from me?” Your voice quaked despite your efforts. “Why not just cut off my arm? My heart….”

Aemond rushed over to you as you began to sob. Everything crashing down around you, and the thought of losing your dragon too much to bear. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He whispered in your hair. “You can stay here. With me.”

You pull back from Aemond’s chest to look at him. Blinking away tears as you must not have heard him right. “What?”

“Stay here with me.” He repeated it. You had not misheard. “Stay with me and you can keep Stormshield and your home, and be back in line for the throne. As my queen.”

You step back from Aemond to look at him. “You would…have me forsake my own mother? Turn my back on her?”

“You were always meant to turn your back on her to be with me.” He clasped at your hand. Not pulling you close again but not letting you go. Aemond speaks of course of your engagement. You had been betrothed from a young age, much like Aegon & Helaena or any other noble child in the realm. King Viserys last ditch effort to bring the two sides of his family together, you assumed. It had not gone over well with Alicent or your mother. Your father threw a chair when his side was alone. But none of them could stand against the king and his decision, so the pact stood.

You had not been upset about it like the adults. You cared for Aemond. He had been sweet when you left him. You sent him ravens. He remembered your nameday and sent your candied treats in secret. And when you return, he had grown into a fine, if not jaded, man. Fierce, refined, handsome. What had been childhood friendship and fancy turned into a blooming love overnight. One you were excited to explore. But now your blooms were burning into ash.

“My mother won’t stand for this. My father will come.”

“I have no doubt he will try.” There was no way Daemon would let his truest daughter, his favorite, stay here without a fight. He wouldn’t be so brazen about his favoritism like his father, but even with his one-eye Aemond could tell that you were his favorite over his Velaryon vipers. If Rhaenyra took the throne, he would have broken their engagement the first chance he got. A second son nowhere near good enough for his Targaryen jewel. Now he had all the more reason to break it, as Aemond wasn’t stupid enough to think Rhaenyra & Daemon were going to give up the throne without a fight. But what if he didn’t have a choice?

“I want you to be my wife. Right here. Right now.”

You looked at Aemond in shock. Suddenly afraid. “You’re not going to—“I would never hurt you.” He seemed offended you would even suggest it. Understandable. “But this was how it was always meant to be. You and me. No matter what happens, no one can take that away from us if you agree to be mine. We can be together.”

Your head was swimming. Your heart was pounding. “L…Let me think…”

“There’s no time.” Aemond insisted. “Once the coronation starts, Aegon will be King and that will be the end of it.” They will be divided. Those for Rhaenyra. Those for his brother. And Aemond did not trust his brother or family not to ruin this for him. Just as Daemon would have her taken from him, his mother and family would do the same. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear to give up one more thing for Aegon’s happiness. “Say you’ll be mine. Say you will be my wife. Say you’ll stay here with me and we will be here together. Tell me that you want that.”

“I do.”

The words leave your mouth without you even realizing it. You had spent so long imagining a future with Aemond. He was your intended. He was your future. You loved him, but you also loved your mother & your family.

Aemond doesn’t recognize your distress though and swooped in to kiss you passionately. The two of you had kissed before. Brief, as children, to see what it was like. Then again before you left as a sort of parting gift. Then once final upon your return as a welcome home and back in his arms. It had never been like this before. Aemond, for all his hard edge, was gentle and shy with you. Now, however, he kissed you like a man who meant to consume you. Taking you into his body, instead of the other way around, so you could never leave him. When he broke away from you your vision swam. Righting itself after a few deep breaths but all you could see was Aemond.

“Undress.” You blink up at him in shock. “If we do this now, there’s nothing they can do.”

You realize Aemond wants not just your words but your chastity. As a sign of good faith. He wants to consummate your marriage before your vows. Cart before the horse. Everyone would have no choice but to accept your marriage now, or your side would risk the news that you were no longer a maiden and rumors Aemond was no more than a craven opportunist who would force himself of a captured princess.

You gulp. Feeling your tears bead up again in your eyes. This was not how you pictured your life with Aemond starting. This was not the dream you were meant to share. But dreams often fall short of reality.

For Aemond’s part, he also swallowed the lump in his throat and began to undress. Paying no mind to the habitual work of undoing his jerkin and belts to look at you. He hadn’t thought much on his marriage before your return. Save that he would do it and try his best. He would do his duty and have you give the realm more Targaryen blood to reign and treat you as honorably as he could. But on the few times he did think of his marriage, he would think of the wedding and your wedding night. How he would take his time with you. Appreciate you, the way you should be appreciated as a lady, as a Targaryen royal, and as his wife. But that was all gone. They will not have time for sweet words and sweet moments. That will have to come later now. Just another thing taken from him.

You feel embarrassed to be standing naked in from of Aemond. Your hands hopelessly trying to cover your modesty. Fretful glances around as if some septa in the shadows was going to jump out and cast shame on you. “Lie on the bed.” You do as you’re beckoned and lay down. Stiff. Ridged. Your hands balled into fists at your sides to keep them from flying up and covering you again.

Aemond watched all of this and did not look pleased. Still, he climbed onto the bed on top of you, and you try to sink further into the mattress to instinctually get away. “I will try to be gentle.” His words certainly were. You relax as a bit of the Aemond you knew came back into his voice and nuzzle against the hand on your cheek. “But this may hurt. It is not my intention. None of this…this wasn’t what I wanted.”

You know he doesn’t mean ‘this’ in general, but how this has come about. “I know.” You were both doing something neither of you wanted in order to get what you did want. What was love without sacrifice?

“It should only be this time. And I swear I will never hurt you again. Please, do not hate me.” You touch Aemond’s cheek in return. You could never hate him. Be cross with him. Snap and bite at him from time to time, but never hate him. He must know that.

He nuzzled into your palm as you did his and rested there for a moment with his eye closed. He then nodded, opened it, and his hand was no longer touching your cheek but the sacred spot between your legs.

You jump at the touch with a sharp hiss. Trying to crawl out from under Aemond but blocked by the pillows. He held you back. Shushing you as he continued his touching. “It’s only this time.” He reminded you. And you try to remain calm and still as he kept going.

Aemond needed no proof that you were a maiden. Your trust and faithfulness was all he needed to know that you would not break the arrangement between you; although he had not been so chaste, but he was a man. When he touched you, however, it was clear that no one had been there before him. Your entrance was tight around his finger. Nearly barring him out. He wanted to tell you to relax, but felt he had no place for it. ‘Yes, my love, relax. Don’t think about the fact that you are about to lose your chastity to a brute. Or that my family is usurping yours. Don’t think about the fact that this still may not work and you have thrown everything away for a hairbrained plan of a desperate man who just doesn’t want to be alone.’ Yes. Those were the sweet words every girl wanted to hear on her ‘wedding night’.

He removed his finger from her entrance, bringing it up to his mouth to lick two then pushing both back in. You whine. Feeling your entrance stretch to an uncomfortable level of accommodation. Your mother had been very forthcoming on what to expect from your wedding night, although she had been clear she wished it to be far in the future. She let you know that there would be pain. That there would be times that it felt like it wasn’t worth it. But it was your duty as a wife, and, with the right man, it could be quite enjoyable. You knew what she meant now as you felt your apex burn. When would the ‘quite enjoyable’ start?

By the third finger inside you, you had gnawed on your bottom lip so hard you were drawing blood. Aemond said nothing. Just watched you. He seemed terrified to do anything than what he was doing. Finally, his fingers came free of you and shifted above you. "You need to spread your legs." They had instinctively closed when he pulled from you and you blush as you do as he says. "Please do not hate me."

You had thought your apex burned when his fingers were inside you, but if that was the case then your whole pelvis was on fire when he pushed inside you. Your hands fly up to claw at Aemond's back as you let out a wordless scream when he split you & your maidenhead open. "Stop! Wait, wait! It hurts!"

"I know." His words are apologetic as he offers you a kiss on the cheek but does not pull out. "Just bear with it for me."

He stopped long enough to give you time to adjust. Try to relax. Anything. Then he pulled his cock out and slid it back in. Your teeth grit at the pain. It’s not as bad as you thought, after the initial shock. It does hurt, but to hear people talk about it it was the same as losing a limb. You fell off Stormsheild once when you were a little girl. Bruised something fierce from the fall. That hurt worse than this, but it was no less uncomfortable.

Aemond tried to take this as slow as he could for you. He knows this is not how a maiden expects to become a woman. Some hard fast thing to be done with and move on. But the clock was ticking. They had very little time left before the coronation and the ceremony started. It needed to be finished before then.

That’s what he told himself.

In truth, he was a lost novice again inside you. Your warmth. Your tightness. Just…you. This was not how he pictured you being bonded to him, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t still elated that you were beneath him and soon all his.

He could feel his climax building. Unable to hold it back any longer. Aemond reached blindly for the knife at the side of your bed, as no true Targaryen would ever go to sleep without a blade at their side, and sliced your hand open. You cry out finally. Having kept your jaw tight the whole time you were doing this in order to not scream and turn wild eyed toward Aemond to ask him what the hells he was doing, only to see him cutting his own hand. He threw the knife away to the side and linked your hands together. His eye turned to you. Holding you there for a moment before he kissed you deeply to fully seal your bond. A Valyrian bond.

With the pain redirected to your hand, you can finally feel Aemond inside you with some joy. It’s not pleasurable, but it’s not painful. Your head swam at the realization that he was inside you, he was kissing you, that he was all around you until suddenly Aemond’s hips stopped and you realized that there was more than just his cock inside you.

He let your lips go after that. Panting with you. Sweaty. Whole. You hiss sharply when Aemond pulled out of you. The pain returning to your center from your hand. Still bloody, sheets bloody, why did there have to be so much blood for this?

Aemond sat up and ripped a corner of the sheets into two clean strips. One for you and one for him. He wrapped your hand first and then his own, before he pulled you close to him on the ruined bedding. “Are you alright?”

You shrug against him. Your maidenhood was sore. Your hand was throbbing. Your mother was about to be tossed aside and you were still technically a prisoner in your childhood home. You weren’t sure how to answer that question.

“I will have to go. For the ceremony.” Aemond doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does have to go. Must show a united front for the kingdom. “I’ll come back later. To check on you.”

“Will I be allowed to leave?” You ask him. That question had still not been answered.

“After it’s over we’ll go talk to my mother and King Hand.” A name you both gave his grandfather as children to tease him, in secret of course. It wasn't nearly as funny as you remembered now. “You are under my protection now. I will keep you safe.”

Safe. How strange that word sounded now. You had felt safe with your parents. You had felt safe within these walls. You had felt safe with Aemond. But all of that had suddenly changed. What was 'safe' now?

Aemond dressed quickly, then came over to you again. Tentative, shy even, he came over to give you a brief peck on the lips. Like the ones you used to give as children. “I will come back.” He promised again. “Everything will be alright.”

Then he was gone. You were alone. You pulled your knees to your chest, despite the pain in doing so, and look out your window. Maybe the other princesses stayed in the tower because they had no choice too.

[avtrbee]

the prince

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig

✢ a/n: i’m not gonna lie to you guys, i know i’ve been a while and im really ashamed that i come back with something that i believe this isn’t my best work at all. i had this prompt in my head for a long time and i have wanted to publish this ever since. always love hearing from all of you and i’d like to get some feedback as well <33

You were a clan kid fortunate enough to be born with the clan’s cursed technique but unfortunate enough to be a woman. Your childhood tutors had drilled the duties of wives in your head, and had made you comfortable with the idea of an arranged marriage. You pride yourself as a good traditional daughter, whose greatest honor would be marrying your husband.

Never in your life did you imagine yourself caring for a child that is not yours.

That was, of course, until you met your husband.

You have heard of Gojo Satoru before and fought him a few times during sister-school events, but never in your life did you think he’d be who you were destined for. Still, he surprised you.

“You are my wife, my equal,” he promises you at the night of your wedding. The ceremony was over and the guests have gone home. You have said your vows in front of the gods and they have bounded you to this man.

He drags you off to bed and makes you sit on the floor with him.

Satoru looks at you with the moon shining on him making him look like an ethereal god. And to you, he was. Which is why you tilt your head at his statement. “Gojo-sama, I do not understand-”

“Satoru,” he says. “I am your husband, you should call me by my name y’know.” His voice is light and teasing, underplaying the reality of the situation. “I don’t want a slave. I want a confidant. A partner. I need someone. Do you understand?”

You nod. Strangely you do. “We must protect each other.”

You were both very lonely people thrust into a union none of you asked for. There are targets on your backs for sins you cannot control. You were alone, but not anymore.

Your husband nods and he takes his glasses off. You realize for the nth time that Satoru is a pretty, pretty man. His blue eyes shine and twinkle like the stars above.

He reaches for your hand- a strange gesture but you allow it anyway. “I will do right by you,” he promises. In his mind he remembers his mother, the one who loves too much but is loved so less. Like her, Satoru’s marriage is arranged by the clan. But he will not be his father.

He is a man of his word.

The next morning you find yourself waking to an empty bed with a smell of burning food. You catch your husband defeated before the stove with burnt scrambled egg on the table. “This is what couples do, right?”

You stare at him, simply horrified that you had failed to wake up first. You were supposed to cook him breakfast, not the other way around.

Satoru catches your expression. “Hey! It’s not that bad!” He pokes the pathetic excuse of a scrambled egg. His mother had always cooked for the family, it shouldn’t have been this hard. “…right?”

You ban him from your kitchen.

He takes you to the school next. You walk behind him, as is the norm, but Satoru makes a face that pushes you to stay beside him. His voice echoes in your head, you are my wife, my equal.

The weather was perfect, but he fusses about the fact that you decided to wear a sleeveless sundress that he deems inappropriate for the wind.

“Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“Yes, Satoru.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow suspiciously, like he does not believe you. He reaches over and takes your hand in his. His face morphs to an expression of victory. “Ha! Your hands are cold. You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.” He spits, but his voice lacks venom. You pretend to ignore his poor excuse to hold your hand. Deep inside you like it. Romance is for fiction and some anime you were lucky enough to watch. A distinguished member of your the Gojo clan does not deserve it, but your husband is a romantic.

He stops you from walking out of the shade of the trees and into the sunshine. He opens his tote bag and points to a closed umbrella. “Do you need this? To protect you from- y’know.”

His points up to the sun.

Against your will you find his needless worrying endearing. He does not know his role as a husband well, but he is trying. When you finally arrive inside the Tokyo school, his hand is still clasped in your. Satoru is loud and proud when he introduces you to everyone, even if you have done nothing to deserve such pride. His co-workers pity you for being married to him and offer their condolences. Satoru protests strongly.

“Y/N loves spending time with me!” he says, stomping his feet like a child. He tugs your hand and looks at you in support. “Right?”

You smile and nod. You do. You wonder if you may love him someday.

-

The night is dark, and Satoru is not home yet. It has been a slow 8 months since your marriage. The ladies from your clan were wrong. Your husband is not cruel. He does not scold you if you use your cursed technique even when you accidentally use it on him.

You have never been someone good with words, so you decide to bake him a simple carrot cake. Your husband has a sweet tooth and he has a penchant of liking things better if it came from you.

You had only just finished adding icing the cake when you felt Satoru’s cursed energy through the door. You take a look at your cake one last time before heading towards the door to greet him.

Traditionally a wife must wait for her husband to enter in the middle of the room kneeling for supplication- a tradition most ingrained in your head more than most. As a compromise, Satoru suggested to have you greet him by the door instead because- “The first thing I want to see when I get home is your cute face. Obviously.”

You dust off imaginary crumbs off your hands by wiping it on your pants before sliding the door open.

“Welcome ho-”

In front of you, Satoru looks cold. You wonder if this is how others see him. He looks down at you with a cold gaze, He does not tremble. There is a child in his arms.

Both child and Satoru looks at you with twin cold eyes. You shiver. “He’s mine.”

You hear maids scuffle from behind you, but you do not care. The child innocently rests his cheek on Satoru’s shoulder looking at you.

There is no doubt the child is his. Your husband’s hair is on his head and dear god- their eyes. They have the same eyes.

In your head you hear the ladies of your clan again. Stand tall, Y/N. They may have their mistresses, but you will always be his true wife.

Of course you knew about Satoru’s womanizer past- present. Are you upset? Are you angry? You do not know, truly. You are simply confused.

Your clan’s ladies have prepared you for worst; what to do when your husband brings home another woman, what to say if they came home violent, where to go if you are too broken and beaten to sleep beside him. But what if your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

There is a pain in your chest you do not understand. This is expected! Men cannot be held down by just their wives. Did you expect him to be different? A cold fury washes over you

“Welcome home.” You finish instead.

-

check out my masterlist, and don’t forget to lmk how i can improve this fic <33

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Perfect.

Pairing/AU: Soft Boyfriend!Joel Miller X Curvy AFAB!reader , no outbreak.

Words count: 3612, One shot.

Summary: Basically Joel worshipping you and your curvy body ❤️

Warning: +18 only because there is a little bit of smut in the end (Joel 🍽️😺), nothing too serious but still. Reader is curvy, has wide hips, big breasts, has hair (not specified how long or what color it is or anything), has a freckle above her upper lip. Age not mentioned but they’re both fully grown adults. Joel is the cutest and loves you deeply like anyone has ever done before. (If I did things right you will end up crying a little bit, hopefully)

We talk about not accepting ourselves, seeing ourselves as ugly, having a bad relationship with a parent (mom), briefly about bullying and in general about how society perceives non-conforming bodies and how sometimes we convince ourselves that we are wrong. I don't go into much depth but there are still some passages that I feel are truly mine, so you are warned. I don’t want to trigger you, I want you to feel beautiful and valid and one of a kind and special. All of you.

I was toying myself with the idea of a story about Joel and a curvy reader and this came out. I wrote this at 2am after listening to “Pedro” and “Glow” by Omar Apollo with tears streaming down my face, it’s probably full of mistakes (English is not my first language, no beta reader because it’s 2 fucking am and I should sleep like everybody else in my time zone instead of doing this DAMN!) so I beg your pardon, my brain is a mess right now.

Most of all, I hope you will like it, let me know! Thanks to anyone who will read this.

Archive tags: @pedrostories thank you so much for asking me to do it ♥️

You wake up in bed alone and you stretch your arm on the other side of the bed feeling it empty and cold.

Joel is out for work, meeting a big potential client who wants to renovate his huge mansion.

Obviously he has to try to get the job, but you feel like he's been forever away when he's only been gone for two days.

Your bed feels so large without him in it.

You grab his pillow to try to inhale his scent, just a little tiny bit of him that still lingers on it.

Your man smells amazing, even when he come home after a full day of working in a construction site you’re madly aroused by the minty, sweet, sweaty essence of him.

You don’t care that he’s covered in dust and rubble, you just throw yourself in his arms and take his mouth that rightfully belongs to you and only you and you feel so lucky and blessed to have him in your life.

You had so much troubles with your love life.

You’ve never been skinny, to begin with.

You always had a discomfort with your appearance, your friends were tiny and cute while you were just standing there being ignored.

You had a very almond mother that didn’t waste a chance to remind you how big you are, how much you need to take diet more seriously and become the skinny person every guy wants to marry.

You suffered from that until you were an adult and you could afford going to therapy.

It helped you a lot.

Embracing your body and shape was a long and difficult process but it was worth it.

You gained so much confidence and learned how to be kind to yourself.

But you still had difficulty with boys, growing up you learned to notice strange guys at first glance, after a series of failures with gym fanatics who wanted to change you, older men who wanted to control you and cowards who kept you hidden as if they were ashamed of you.

And then, one day, you met Joel.

While you were looking at him from the other side of the bar too shamed to do anything he walked towards you.

You immediately thought that he was coming to talk to your skinny friend that was with you but no.

He wanted to spoke to you.

That big strong man, broad chest and shoulders, wavy dark brown hair and eyes like the most delicious chocolate cake introduced himself and asked if you wanted something else to drink and the last thing you know you two were talking about everything for 3 hours straight, totally immersed in each other.

You barely noticed that your friend tap your shoulder to tell you that she was going home.

You mentally took a note to apologize profusely to her the following day but you really didn’t want to leave.

It felt too good to be with Joel, talking to him was so easy and he melted your heart in a way you didn’t experience in a long time.

You really didn’t want to give up on him.

You have so much in common with him and he made you laugh and you felt cute and confident and it really worked like magic.

He made sure to compliment your outfit and your hair and your pretty eyes and he made you feel so good about yourself.

You noticed the way he was smiling and looking so intensely at you, he was hungry and turned on by you.

You couldn’t believe that this handsome man was so into you but couldn’t ask for anything better.

You never really parted ways after that first night together, he was a perfect gentleman, took you home on his truck and he never tried to touch you until the two of you arrived at your door.

He was saying goodnight to you when you heard him whisper “oh fuck it” and he kissed you, no longer holding back. It was a perfect kiss, full of desire and passion and you could feel his need for more through his lips and the way his tongue found its way into your mouth.

You felt vulnerable and weak as if he really saw you, beyond appearances, beyond fences that you have built to defend yourself, in the most hidden part of yourself. And you didn’t mind feeling that way in front of a man, in front of him.

You knew it was right.

You could feel it in your bones.

You wanted to drag him inside the house but you stopped just in time before completely losing control.

“I don’t do this at first date, you know” you whispered in his ear while he was kissing your neck giving you shivers down your spine.

His mouth was eager and insatiable, nipping at your skin like he was starved, but again, he was a real gentleman and didn’t do anything you didn’t wanted.

He was fully respectful of your boundaries and conquered your heart with patience.

At your fifth date you were so thirsty for him that you couldn’t even get to the restaurant.

He knocked at the door dressed in dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt that hugged his biceps and his chest in a way that drove you completely wild, you took his hand without saying a word and run to the bedroom dragging him with you with no shame whatsoever.

You didn’t care about manners, dinner that was booked the week before, whatever else that could delay that moment.

You just wanted him.

You felt safe with him and this made you even more horny.

He fucked you wildly and then cuddled with you in the sweetest way ever.

Your heart was full, your body soothed and your thirst quenched.

You moved in together after 6 months of the most fulfilling relationship you had ever had.

Joel has his flaws, he is stubborn, when he is angry he can barely speak and mutters under his breath, he doesn't know how to cook, he's messy and leaves his dirty socks on the carpet in the living room, sometimes he's way too protective and it drives you crazy the way he always tries to warn you off from everyone as if you're not used to assholes.

Minor things compared to how he makes you feel anyway.

When he loves, he loves deeply.

He showers you with compliments and nice gestures, he’s a grumpy with a heart of gold.

And he’s handsome. So handsome you can’t believe that he’s your man even if he makes sure to tell you how beautiful, smart and sexy you are everyday.

You yawn and finally decide to get up, you head to the kitchen and make yourself a coffee.

It’s Saturday and Joel is supposed to come home in a few hours.

After breakfast you do some chores and cleaning around the house.

You go to the supermarket to buy ingredients to make his favorite dinner.

And then you decide to take the afternoon to yourself, you take a long bath and relax in the tub listening to music lulled by the hot water and the scent of bubble bath.

Once out, you decide to wear the dress you wore on your first date with Joel.

You remember perfectly how he looked at you and you feel a shiver down your spine. You haven't worn it for a while and as soon as you put it on you discover that it is too tight on your breasts and hips. You know you've gained a few pounds since you've been with him, you're relaxed, you're happy, you don't care, but you really wanted to give him a perfect evening and this makes you nervous. You look in the mirror and fall back into all the negative thoughts about yourself. It's a fragile balance.

You're still navigating the middle of it, even though you're much better.

You take off the dress and put it back in the closet, hidden, where you can barely see it, hoping bad mood will pass even though you know it has completely ruined your day.

You start cooking, leaving the decision on what to wear until later.

You like cooking and have always been successful at it, your grandma shared all her recipes with you and teached you all her secrets.

Your mother just told you the calories in everything you cooked.

When everything is ready you go to get dressed, you stare at your clothes for what seems like an infinite amount of time, sighing. In the end you choose another dress, black, narrower at the waist and wider at the hips. It leaves your legs uncovered, it's not like the other one but it still suits you so you make the best of it.

You’re spraying yourself with your favorite perfume when you hear the keys turning in the lock and you instinctively run to the door.

As soon as he opens the door you don't even give him time to enter and you throw your arms around his neck.

“Hi sweetheart” he whispers in your ear as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you tight against his chest “did you miss me?”

You can hear a little laugh in his voice as you reply “of course, I couldn't wait for you to come back”

You take his lips with urgency and just feeling his scruff brushing gently against your cheeks and your cupid bow makes you feel better.

He tastes sweet, he’s warm and familiar.

He never fails to make you whole.

When you're with him it feels like the world is turning right, like things are all falling into place, magically.

One look is enough for him to understand you.

His tongue makes room into your mouth so easily and intertwined with yours and you’re lost in his embrace.

When you finally part to take breath he’s grinning and watching at you with burning desire in his eyes.

“I missed you too. Let me see you, sweetie. I want to admire my beautiful babe in this dress”

You instantly feel better and do a pirouette laughing to make him look at you.

“Jesus, hun, it’s really amazing on you”

You walk up to him and give him a kiss on the hairless part of his beard, then take his lips again.

You moan into his mouth when his hands move to your ass, stroking it gently then squeezing it.

“I love your ass babe, so full and juicy and soft”

You whine at his praise, kissing his jawline and his neck.

You rest your face on his chest enjoying his warmth.

“It's amazing how you always make me feel better. I felt like crap a few hours ago." you murmur.

“Why, love, what happened?” you can clearly hear concern in his voice.

“I wanted to wear the dress I wore the first time we went out…but it's too tight now” you whisper, a little bit ashamed.

He cups your face with his hands, looking at you with sweetness.

An incredible sweetness that instantly melt your heart.

“Don’t be sad babe, a dress is just a dress, it doesn’t fit you anymore? Who cares. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and I’m so lucky to have you”

You want to cry, but you don't, instead you take his lips back into yours, grateful to have a man like that by your side.

No one has ever made you feel more loved than him.

You kiss him intensely, so much that you're almost breathless, but it doesn't matter.

You feel his erection pressing against your thigh and you can't wait any longer, you even forget about dinner already being prepared and he doesn't seem worried either.

“Can we go to our bedroom already? I need you so bad, Joel” you pant against his skin.

“Whatever my love wants” and he take you by the hand “I definitely need to remind you how much I love you and how incredibly sexy and lovely you are. Come with me”

He takes you to your bedroom without stopping to hold your hand and makes you sit on the edge of the bed.

He looks you in the eyes as he caresses your cheek with his knuckles. It's incredible how delicate his big hands can be.

He trace the outline of your jaw with his fingertips never stop looking at you.

He then moves to your neck, placing his hand right under your ear, his fingers hidden in your hair.

He leans down to kiss your nose and your lips, so softly.

“Babe, you’re the most precious thing I have in my life, I don’t know what I would do without you”.

His voice is low, slightly hoarse, it surrounds you like a hug, it goes straight to your heart, every little intonation that characterizes it, how it glides over the vowels and caresses the consonants, his breathing, that warmth that emanates, that sense of familiarity and comfort, his sensitivity and his inner strength and his fragility that he is not afraid to show.

He lowers the straps of your dress and makes you stand up just for a moment to let it fall at your feet, sliding it over your hips.

He makes you lie down on the bed, while he also undresses, remaining in his boxers. He climbs onto the bed and lies down next to you.

“Never forget how gorgeous you are, please”

His hand slides over your breast, still covered by your bra, he searches for your nipple and takes it between his fingers, pinching and pulling it gently.

“I love your tits, so big and perfectly shaped” and he kisses you there. “I love your pretty face, and your smile and your sparkling eyes and your luscious lips.” Each word is followed by a kiss on the body part he just mentioned “And your silky hair. And this freckle right here. Above your upper lip. I would do nothing but kiss it all the time. I love the smell of your skin and your taste, so sweet.”

You can't believe he's doing this, he's literally worshipping every part of you.

“I love your incredibly sexy hips and thighs."

His lips move over you like velvet, like butterflies flapping their wings on your skin, so impalpable and yet so real.

“I love every inch of your body, especially those that seem too much to you. And of course I love your intelligence and how you laugh at my stupid jokes that never make anyone laugh. I love that you’re funny and sarcastic. I love the little wrinkle that comes between your eyebrows when you concentrate. I love the way you squint when I say something about my work that you don’t know. I love the way you look at me, I love hugging you and feeling your breathtaking body on mine.”

Joel isn't one for many words, he generally prefers action but now he's a river in flood and looks at you haunted.

It's an incredible feeling to have him all to yourself, to have the certainty of being able to trust him blindly, without the fear that he will turn out to be like everyone else you've been with.

No one has ever treated you this way before, with devotion, as if your body were a priceless treasure.

You yourself were mean to this body, you hated it, you tried to change it, you cursed it and cried because it didn't look like anyone else's when the only thing you wanted was to be like one of your friends.

Thin. Impeccable. Someone who fits any dress and who has never heard "we don't have your size". One who wasn't laughed at, treated like a joke, one who everyone looked up to, one whose face people didn't throw pies at and call a whale or a monster.

Joel knows all this. You told him. And everything he's ever tried to do is exactly the opposite of what they've always done to you.

An ode of love to you, to your body, to your soul.

He moves between your knees, settling at the end of the bed.

He leaves a trail of kisses along your inner thighs moving up and up towards your pussy, his beard deliciously rough on your skin.

He smiles at your already wet panties, at the unmistakable stain that spreads across the front.

You wore a cute white lacy pair with matching bra that he bought to you last Christmas.

You sigh in anticipation as he takes the time to stroke and tease your clit through the fabric with just one finger.

He then slides his fingers into the sides of your panties, he makes your hips rise slightly and takes them off, smiling at you.

You gasp as he buries his face between your legs kissing your folds so softly, he stick his tongue out and lick your lips and then part them with two fingers and kiss your clit.

You moan loudly and feel his smile widening on your skin, he’s so good at this and he knows that you love the way he does it.

He takes your clit in his mouth and suck gently.

“You’re so wet babe” and he kiss your lips again “so good for me, the perfect woman”

He teases your hole with his tongue, just the tip, while his thumb circle around your clit.

Nice and slow, a steady pace that makes you whimper against his face.

You grab his hair pushing him even more against your pussy, whining in pleasure.

You feel his beard crawling across your skin, you know it will redden your skin but you don't care, you don't care about anything now.

He continues to lick you, up and down and then back to your clit, his large hand splayed on your tummy.

You've always been ashamed of your tummy.

He adores it. He always tells you, he likes to touch it and he likes to kiss it and he loves that it’s so soft and fluffy.

He groans as you tug his hair and increases the pace, making his way into your hole with two of his thick fingers, stretching you and searching for the spongy spot that always makes you feel on fire.

You raise your head slightly to look at him and see his eyes staring at you mischievously and proudly, he likes looking at you, he doesn't want to miss a second of your pleasure.

He’s again on your clit with his mouth, swirling around it with his tongue.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, you whine again and again more and more loudly.

He doesn’t stop.

“Joel I-” your voice cracks in an attempt to say something “God, I just can’t”

“Yes, you can, babe, just come for me, I want to feel it. Come all over my face”

you whine, squeeze his head between your thighs, your hand tucked in his hair “Joel!”

You feel a heat radiating inside you, your orgasm building as he gives you no respite.

“Come on baby, give it to me” he whispers softly on your skin.

And you do. You explode at his praise, at his begging for you to give him what he wants.

You pant loudly as he doesn't stop licking you until you calm down.

He comes back next to you and kisses you. You taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, you're all over his face and it drives you crazy.

“Fuck me Joel. Fuck me now, please” your voice comes out almost desperate.

He looks at you, nodding without saying anything else, takes off his boxers and climbs on top of you, making you spread your legs to make room for himself. He takes his cock in his hand and rubs it on your clit. Once, twice, three times, wetting it with your pleasure that slid down to your inner thighs.

“You want my cock, babe?”

You nod repeatedly looking at him with beg in your eyes.

“Tell me how much you want it”

“I want it, Joel. I want it so bad. Please”

He enters you effortlessly, even though he's big, much bigger than any man you've ever had.

“Always so tight for me, God, you’re so amazing”

He wraps his arms around your torso and pulls you up to sit on top of him, he’s sitting on his heels, his cock still inside you.

He kisses you deeply, his tongue licks hungrily into your mouth, he holds you tight against his chest, you moan into his lips feeling you totally enveloped by him, your arms around his neck, ruffling his hair, your thighs around his waist.

His cock burns in your center, he moves his hips to sink into you, deep.

You feel like you're one, you're totally drunk on him and it's an overwhelming thrill.

He fucks you like this, holding you close to him, each thrust harder and harder, your face hidden in the crook of his neck.

You fill your nostrils with his scent, his masculine unmistakable scent, the one you were missing this morning.

The scent that smells of home and comfort and caresses and the purest love you've ever felt.

It’s here now.

And it’s yours.

You end up hugging each other on the bed, tired but incredibly happy. You are still held in his arms as he whispers “I love you” into your hair.

You look up and look him in the eyes and you know it's true.

"I love you too.”

[physics-of-one-piece]

Sugary Secret

(Doflamingo x Reader)

Summary: The king of Dressrosa shares a midnight snack with you. Don't tell anyone. It's his little sugary secret.

Words: 1k

Tags: Doflamingo x afab!Reader, Reader & Doflamingo Are Married, Cuddling, Fluff, Size Difference, SFW, One Shot

A/N: I am sleep deprived, much like Doffy here. (Hugs him) It's okay, Doffy, let's cuddle, we can fall asleep easier like that. I wrote this ages ago cus I wanted a cuddle with Doffy in Dressrosa. Short and not detailed enough with descriptions for my liking, but I'm not that good quite yet with describing the SIZE of this man. Ugh, I love him. Would cuddle, cuddles would be 100000/10 with him. Wish I could make this Hammock NSFW Fic but hooo boy that intimidates me so it's SFW. Also, huh, my first actual fic(that I publish on tumblr)! Of course it would be Doffy. 🩷

You got woken up by some sort of sound of...

A bag?

It sounded like a bag. You realised the usual ten foot giant wasn't all wrapped around you, hugging you possessively. You blinked at the lack of him. The bed felt very big and very empty without him.

Then, you heard it. Crunching.

You perked up, shooting up in the bed. You knew that sound.

Cookies.

You floundered around for the switch of the bedside lamp. Once you found it, the illuminating orange light cast a small light around the large suite of the bedroom.

And there was the king of Dressrosa, satten on a circular coffee table, a lid full of cookies held in his left hand while his right hand grabbed the pile of cookies.

Upon the light hitting his handsome face, bare of his sunglasses, the king of Dressrosa froze like a cat caught catching a rat, pink eyes widening slightly.

You looked at Doflamingo. Doflamingo looked at you. 

Silence.

Staring at you, he tossed another cookie into his large mouth, the crunch as he chewed on it filling the large bedroom.

You blinked, more bewildered than anything. It was still night out, but it must be very very early morning.

You wondered if he'd had a nightmare. Usually, you were able to keep them at bay with your presence, running your fingers through his hair and soothing him in his sleep until the nightmare ebbed away, chased away by your loving touch, but sometimes that didn't work.

“Before you say anything,” said Doflamingo, his deep voice covering you with a weight similar to his feather coat. “I am the king. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. If I want to eat cookies at 3 am…” The blond pulled the box closer to his stomach protectively. “I will eat cookies at 3 am.”

When you continued staring, Doflamingo added, “Don't tell Monet.”

Poor Monet has given Doflamingo trauma or something of the like because she always kept him on schedule. He could never escape his royal duties with Monet around. He'd tried, much like you did. You both got dragged back to the palace within thirty minutes, feeling properly ashamed from the cold, chilly gaze Monet gave you.

“I am the king, and I am hungry, so what if I'm eating cookies?” continued Doflamingo. “I deserve cookies. I work hard all day.”

“And I deserve to eat cookies.  I’m a Celestial Dragon, nobody can tell me what to do.” said Doflamingo. Was it you, or was he eating the cookies faster, as though afraid you would start scolding him any moment, stop him from indulging in the sweets? “Even if you're my wife, I won't listen to you. I won't abandon the cookies, and if you got a problem, then -”

“Can I have some?” you asked, breaking off Doflamingo's monologue.

He stopped. “Huh?” he asked, tilting his head, confused.

You couldn't help it anymore. You smiled, beaming at your husband while his thin, blond eyebrows furrowed in further confusion.

That was it. He looked so adorable when he was confused. You giggled.

“Cookies,” you said, smiling, cheeks hurting from smiling so much. “Can I have some?”

Doflamingo dropped the cookie in his shock. His pink eyes stared at you for a moment, completely surprised.

Then, a huge, big, excited smile engulfed his face, stretching from ear to ear.

Without replying, Doflamingo hopped down from the table, carrying the box of cookies, and approached your side of the bed. Within a second, he lifted you into his arm, cradling you to his chest. 

He chuckled at your squeal, the sound drumming against his bare chest.

With a twitch of fingers, he opened the doors of the balcony, and walked outside, into the night, carrying you and the cookie box. He sat himself down on the large hammock, placing you on his thigh.

The night in Dressrosa was fresh and warm, the entire country swathed in darkness, streets lit by the moonlight above. The stars glittered in the night sky. You stared up in awe at them until Doflamingo’s long digits cradled your jaw, demanding your attention. When you turned to him, he offered you a cookie. It looked incredibly small between his tanned, large fingers, like a blueberry.

The cookie was circular and thick, dusted with melted sugar. You ate it, chewing on it. It melted in your mouth.

You moaned happily. The cookie was delicious! The body was chewy and soft, like a muffin.

Doflamingo chuckled, the stars twinkling in his pink eyes. “They’re polvorones, a Dressrosan dessert.”

“Delicious,” you murmured, mouth watering, smiling.

Doflamingo hummed in agreement. He slid his large body down to lie down, lounging on the hammock, curling his long arm around you, pulling your head onto his shoulder, sliding your body onto his torso, where you laid atop his chest.

You took another polvorone from the bowl and offered it to him. Doflamingo outright grinned, a lewd smile on his face.

He laughed softly, the deep sound of it resounding across the balcony, across your very body.

He opened his mouth and ate the offered treat, moaning with each chew shamelessly, half-lidded eyes staring straight at you, his hands wrapped around your waist, thumbs caressing your hips.

You lost sensation in your palm.

“Delicious,” said Doflamingo after he swallowed, repeating your words back at you, the fierce gaze of his pink eyes melting your heart. “Melts right in my mouth.”

The long, tanned digits dragged up your spine. The king smirked, white teeth flashing. He tilted your chin up with his thumb, drawing your face up to his, making you look straight into his breathtaking eyes.

“Just like you,” he crooned with a smile of the half-crescent moon in the starry night sky.

Your beetroot face made your husband laugh again, the sound filling the night of Dressrosa.

In the morning, Monet, after not finding you or Doflamingo in the throne room, and after neither of you appeared at the breakfast table with the rest of the family, went looking for the two of you. Imagine her surprise when she found the royal bedroom to be empty. She was about to pull the alarm - Doflamingo must have swept you away to the sky again and you two were probably somewhere in the streets of Dressrosa or a restaurant, or worse, on another island - but then she went to check the balcony.

You and Doflamingo were sleeping in the hammock, Doflamingo’s long arm wrapped around your waist possessively, curled around you like a rope. His other arm covered your entire spine, his palm larger than your head cradling the back of your skull, his long fingers relaxed in your hair. You laid atop his torso, your head buried in his neck, the tips of your toes resting on his thighs. In your sleep, your hands were wrapped around his neck, your fingers buried in his short, soft blond hair. Both of you looked peaceful.

There were cookie crumbs on you both, an empty tray with remnants of polvorones on the table beside the hammock.

Monet let you and Doflamingo sleep, and called Diamante to let him know everything was all right.

You were safe, snuggled in the warmth of your husband, sleeping in the arms of your king.

Taglist: @fanaticsnail

[bangfantanfic]

Our Own World: Chapter 12.

Warnings: Possible mentions of stalkingand yandere behaviour.

tags; @miss-jupiter @imagine-forlife @blaaiissee @millenniumspec @toughbook @darkuni63 @badbyeyoongi @iloverubberduckiez-blog @missseoulite @singukieee @potterbrooke @suhappysuho @doublebunv @sevenpersona @blancflms @childfmoonn @caffeineandreveries @cryingpages @gato-dumbo @xicanacorpse @devilzliaison

A/N; I am alive! Thank you all for being so patient, life has been life-ing and I cannot say it's been enjoyable lmao. I hope this update is okay, please let know! I am also currently going through Our Own World and my other works editing everything! So there may be some changes, so please bare with me while everything is a bit messy. If you would like to be removed or added to my taglists please let me know <3

Being holed up in Jimin’s room had surprisingly been a nice refresher. The only person coming and going from the room had been Jimin, taking clothes to his roommates, bringing fresh clothing to you, and meals whenever they were ready. He spent nearly every second glued by your side, chatting away like he had known you his entire life. He had millions of questions, wanting to know every intimate detail about the life you lived before finding yourself stuck here, although he worded it much nicer. 

In turn, you asked Jimin a million and one questions. You asked about his life, what it was like living with your brother, did he have hobbies, and of course, questions regarding life as a hybrid. You hadn’t ever spent much time around normal animals despite the never-ending line of pets your parents bought home, and so obviously hybrids were a whole new ballgame. Jimin had been thrilled by your interest, answering every question in length and always making sure you understood everything. The hybrid had shown you so much patience and care, more than you had expected or ever even experienced before. It had been a shock and left you feeling embarrassed and ashamed of the way you had behaved around them all. 

Growing up, despite your parents' interest in hybrids, they never got any. Nobody you knew had hybrids— well obviously other than your brother but his ownership over them had been a surprise! You had very little knowledge of them, only what you had learned through the media, which even you should have known wasn’t the most reliable source at times. All your information, the knowledge you thought you had? Useless. You may as well have watched Fox News all your life. Thankfully, Jimin didn’t seem to mind your lack of knowledge, in fact, he seemed thrilled to share everything he could with you. The two of you had started to form a surprising bond. 

For the first time in almost a week, you woke up alone. It had left you feeling strangely disappointed. The first night you had spent in Jimin’s shared bedroom, he had insisted you sleep in his bed, and you both had bickered for a ridiculous amount of time until you caved in. By the second day, he had rejoined you in his bed, being careful to keep his distance. It was sweet. By day four you were waking up to Jimin curled up around your body, his nose buried into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. Strangely enough, you weren’t bothered by the skinship. Your skin didn’t crawl at his touch, even the gentle brushes of his tail on your calf. It was almost comforting. Jimin had picked up on the change in attitude toward touch, slowly amping up his skinship. 

But it was strange to wake up to the disturbed routine you had so briefly experienced. Usually, you woke up before Jimin, the fox hybrid stayed up later than you and slept in longer. Today was different. Deciding to shrug it off, you rolled across the bed blindly reaching for your phone on the bedside table. The blinding white light from your screen caused the device to slip from your hands for a moment before you recovered from temporary blindness. Speedily scrolling through the notifications on your lock screen, your thumb froze upon noticing a familiar name. 

HY- U free today? Was thinking about going on a walk… u interested? 

Staring at the words, rereading, and then reading one more time, you threw the blanket off your body, throwing yourself upward. You still texted the man from the grocery store, Hanyoon, nearly every day, unfortunately, you hadn't run into him again since your first meeting. Covid’s lockdown rules had thankfully finally started to ease up. Whilst masks and international travel still hadn’t gone back to normal, you were allowed to roam the streets again... Exercising for a few hours outside of the house in the neighborhood you lived in was encouraged. Getting out of the house was just what you needed, even if it was with a man you had only met once. Keeping yourself cooped up like this was crazy, of course, it was. Jay wasn’t able to return anytime soon, and just because Hoseok and Jeongguk had scared the shit out of you, it didn’t mean you should close yourself off to the others who hadn’t done anything wrong. A day out was exactly what you needed to clear your head. 

Y/N- sounds great! Whenever you're ready :)) 

Dropping your phone back onto the mattress, you stumbled out of the bed, ankle snagged in one of many blankets that Jimin kept all over the bed. You made a quick mental note to fix his bedding when you got back. Digging through the pile of your dirty clothes that had been shoved behind the door, you found a decent enough outfit. Sure, you could go to your bedroom but the fewer stops the better. If you could avoid alerting the whole house of your departure that would be ideal. 

You were thankful for the one sink in the ensuite that still worked, getting to quick work brushing your teeth. Unfortunately, your hair was disgustingly greasy, but with no time to shower you would just have to steal some of Jimin’s dry shampoo and pray it could fix the cesspool on top of your head. Not bothering with makeup, knowing your unfit ass would sweat it all off, you were quick to ditch your glasses in favor of contacts. Deeming yourself presentable for the public, you quickly grabbed your phone from Jimin’s mattress. Hayoon’s contact alerted you to his arrival at the park nearby. 

To your complete surprise, you managed to make it out of the house without a single soul making an appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed the house was empty. Knowing better than to test your luck, you had been quick to slip into your sneakers by the door, taking off down the driveway. Despite enjoying Jimin’s companionship the past week, you craved normal human interaction. Jimin was a sweetheart, but there was something that lingered under that sweetness that often left you feeling uneasy. It could just be you overthinking, subconsciously comparing him to his two packmates that had spooked you, but you weren’t going to completely ignore your gut. You had learned to be better than that. 

“Y/n!” 

A grin pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with Hayoon, your legs picking up pace to meet him faster. Hayoon looked good, dressed in loose black shorts and a baggy white tee. His hair which had been completely buzzed off the first, and last, time you saw him had started to regrow. Thick dark hair had started to flower across his head, making you wonder what kind of style his hair had been before it had been shaved off. 

“Hayoon, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?” You asked sheepishly, keeping a little space between your bodies. 

He waved you off, smiling down at you. You forgot how tall he was, definitely an inch or so taller than Namjoon. You weren’t short, in fact, you were considered tall for a woman in your country, but Hajoon made you feel tiny, something you couldn't say happens often. 

“Nah, I haven’t been here long.” He assured you, gently bumping into your shoulder as he started to walk along the dusty path. The crunch under his shoes finally jolted your legs into gear after what seemed to be a moment of short-circuiting when the skin of his arm brushed against yours. 

The sun felt amazing on your skin, something you never thought you could say. Even the gentle breeze didn’t bother you. It was still early, the only other people in the park being an elderly couple walking with their arms linked up ahead. Despite how warm it already was, the couple were dressed in thick coats as if braving the city's harsh winter. Watching the way they interacted so freely with one another warmed your heart, they seemed so in love. Growing old didn’t seem as scary if you did it with someone you loved. 

Hayoon must’ve been watching the same scene as you, a soft smile on his lips as he admired the affectionate couple ahead. A comfortable silence had settled over the two of you rather quickly, and you were grateful. Something you liked about Hayoon was how easy it was with him. There were no forced conversations, no bitterness over slow responses. There were many similarities between the two of you, making it almost effortless to keep any conversation going. Any differences were discussed, debated, and settled. Those differences weren’t drastic, nothing that could end the bond that slowly was forming. 

A sound of disgust broke your thoughts, Hayoon’s eyes were still looking toward the elderly couple, only now a third person had appeared. A short woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties had been walking in front of them and now separated off to the left with her arm linked with the elderly woman, the two admiring a shrub of flowers. The short woman had pretty honey-colored hair with ears of the same color poking out– a hybrid. 

Hayoon looked down at you, an apologetic look on his face. His tanned cheeks had a cute pink flush to them. “Sorry– I didn’t mean to.” He stumbled over his words, his cheeks going brighter in embarrassment. 

“Not a fan?” You laughed, glancing back toward the elderly woman and her hybrid. 

Hajoon snorted, shaking his head. He kept quiet as you approached the trio, waiting until a good distance had been made before he answered your question. 

“It’s just.. Weird?” He sighed, his thick brows pulling together. “It’s not natural.” 

Humming, you found yourself agreeing. Hybrids were a strange concept, you found it incredibly difficult to understand why anyone would go out of their way to warp genetics in such a way. What was the real reason for creating such a mess of DNA? Only to ban them twenty years later? What was the reason for banning them? They were a hot commodity, every facility selling out within weeks, the waitlists being years long. The money the government had made from their creation had been staggering, and yet twenty years later facilities were shut down and forced to stop producing. The last few generations were sterilized, and the older generations were also encouraged to be as well. The government was trying to completely erase their creations without an explanation. As anyone could imagine, it didn’t go down well with the public. Hybrid trading has become a huge issue over the last few years, with huge rings being found and shut down every few days. 

What about Jay’s hybrids? When exactly did he get them, and where from? They were all born before the ban, that much you knew. So maybe he got them legally? Did he follow the government's advice, suggesting (demanding) to have all hybrids sterilized? Jay seemed to want to hide the fact that he owned hybrids, was it because of how many he had? Maybe there was a limit on how many hybrids a person could own that you weren't aware of. Seeing the elderly couple out with their cat hybrid, not a concern in the air, had you confused as to why the seven back home were kept under lock and key. Was it because of their breeds? They were all exotic animals, the laws might apply differently to different breeds. After the ban on hybrids, many laws shifted, and still to this day they are constantly changing, it is difficult to keep up to date. 

The topic of hybrids and Hayoon’s opinions on them piqued your interest. You were still clueless on the topic, no matter how much research you did into it you still felt uneducated on it all. Hayoon had been an excellent source of information, leaving you almost speechless on how much he seemed to know about them. If there was one thing you admired about the man, it was how educated he was on all topics. He always made sure to have himself as well informed as possible before making an opinion, he was a pool of knowledge. He never looked down on you for things you didn't know or understand and explained things as many times as you needed. It reminded you of Namjoon. 

A knot of anxiety pulled at your stomach. Had they noticed you were gone? Were they upset... Maybe you should have told someone, or at least left a note. You know Namjoon has a shitty old phone that's shared amongst the group, but you never bothered to get the number for it. You hadn’t seen a need for it, the only time you had spent away from any of them was to go get groceries. A part of you also just didn’t want them to have your number, the thought of them being able to contact you in the only time you had alone was distressing. Quickly shrugging off your concerns, you turn your attention back to Hayoon who had thankfully not noticed you spacing out. 

They’re fine, they’re grown men, and they can live without you for a few hours. 

“She’s gone!” 

Namjoon slammed his laptop shut, glaring up at Jimin for bursting into the bedroom he was temporarily residing in until Y/N was ready to go back to her own. 

“Have you forgotten how to knock?” He snapped, earning a frustrated hiss from the young fox. 

“Are you deaf!” He shot back, tugging at his hair. “Y/N is gone, I can’t find her anywhere!” 

Jimin’s panic was already distressing enough, the emotion suffocating the room the longer he stood in the doorway, but the anxiety that flooded his nerves was enough for him to feel bile rising in his throat. Namjoon had heard one less heartbeat when he woke up late this morning, but he had pinned it down to either one of the boys had gone walking at the back of the property, somewhere too far for his hearing to pick up, or Jeongguk was sleeping so deeply that his heart had slowed to almost nothing again– a common occurrence when the snake hybrid had a late night. The possibility of it being your heartbeat missing hadn’t even crossed Namjoon’s mind. You had been locked away in his bedroom for some time now, nobody but Jimin had seen you, and nobody would have suspected you leaving. The smell of your fear still lingered upstairs, Jimin would herd everyone downstairs before you would agree to go use the upstairs bathroom to shower. Going as far as making Jimin stand guard on the door until you were done. When did you lose that anxiety? 

Ripping the blanket, Namjoon’s laptop hit the floor as he jumped off the mattress. “Where have you looked?” 

“I’ve been through the yard, the kitchen, our bedroom, and all of downstairs. I haven’t checked Jeongguks room, I was on my way–” 

Namjoon was speeding down the hallway before the fox could finish his sentence. This was a new kind of fear he had never experienced before, his throat closing up and his eyes burning. His lungs were on fire, struggling to keep up with how quickly he was breathing. At the end of the hall was Taehyung and Jeongguk’s room, the door shut and only the sound of one heartbeat fluttering peacefully. Had you found your way into their room? Maybe you had gotten lost and ended up in the wrong bedroom? These things happen all the time! He’ll open the door and you’ll be curled up in someone's bed, and the crisis will be averted. 

With the force that Namjoon pushed open the door, he almost fell flat on his face. Stumbling into the room, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, squinting as he took in two groggy men peeking out from their blankets. 

“Hyung, what the fuck?” Jeongguk groaned, his heart going from nearly stopped to racing. 

“Well, is she there?” Jimin huffed, shoving past his leader to look for himself. To his great disappointment, the room held no signs of you ever being there. Cursing, Jimin shoved past Namjoon, his usual gratefulness replaced with clumsy heaviness. 

“What’s his problem?” Taehyung whined, pulling his blanket over his head to shield himself from the brightness of the hall. 

Namjoon, for the first time in his life, couldn’t find words. You’re not here. There are seven heartbeats, not eight. The knot in his stomach tightened, the bile in his stomach rising higher and higher. When did you leave, how long has it been? Your car is still here, you couldn’t have gotten far. How didn’t anyone hear you leave? A house full of hybrids and not a single one heard you get up and out the front door? 

Impossible. 

“Did you hear anyone leave the house this morning?” He asked as calmly as possible, the shake in his voice far more noticeable than he would have liked. Both grunted out no’s, begging the elder male to close the door. 

It was Jeongguk, finally ripping the blanket off his head ready to start a war over the damned door still being open, that noticed Namjoon’s pale sweaty skin. He looked like he was about to projectile vomit. Frowning, the snake hybrid slinked out of bed and heaved his tired body toward his sickly leader. Pressing the back of his cold hand against Namjoon’s forehead, he sighed in relief. He wasn’t running abnormally hot, so it wasn’t a fever or some kind of sickness. Even with his less advanced hearing, he could still hear the erratic beating of his hyung’s heart. 

“Joonie, you okay?” He murmured, his hand cupping the back of the man's neck as he tried to get closer to assess him better. “You don’t look so good…” 

The concern in Jeongguk’s usually smug tone had Taehyung flying into a sitting position, his hair standing in every possible direction. His puffy eyes zeroed in on his pack leader, his brows pulling together in concern. 

“Is he sick?” 

Jeongguk shook his head, keeping his eyes on the wolf hybrid. Gently squeezing at the muscle in his neck, the snake hybrid was starting to get antsy. “Hey, come on. Talk to us, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what's wrong.” He cooed, the money hybrid making a sound of agreement from behind. 

Namjoon’s tongue pressed against his cheek, his eyes going glassy. He couldn’t get his tongue to work, he couldn’t get himself to say the words his packmates needed to hear. How could he admit to everyone that he had lost you? He could hear Jimin tearing through Jay’s room downstairs, Hoseok and Seokjin hot on his heels trying to calm the younger man down. They didn’t know what was happening either, nobody else had figured it out. 

“We can’t find Y/n.” 

[theultimatenonbinarynerd]

Epic Fandom We Need To Talk! (An Open Letter)

As a former survivor of severe Cyberbullying and harrasment I can no longer stay silent anymore. You have forced my hand.

This has gone way too far and I am massively disappointed. All I ask is that you listen to what I have to say. This is no longer a joke as a survivor of Cyberbullying and harrasment I can say that a misunderstanding has turned into The Epic Fandom putting the livelihood and well being of artists in danger. I ask you to be respectful and understand I am speaking from old wounds and experience. Please don't twist my words, I don't support 🍇 or Antinous he is a horrible character.

Tw: Mentions of Cyberbullying, 🍇 and harassment

Dear Epic Fandom,

You are better then this, I know you are. Polites taught us to greet the world with open arms and accept when people make mistakes and stop holding onto are anger. The fandom is growing and we can't stop it but I'm really disappointed in the people letting hate win and turning the fandom venomous and toxic

We are all Epic Fans but behind the glass on your screen there's a person, a person with feelings who you know nothing about. You all don't know the real Melody typing this but your all probably gonna make assumptions based on what you dont know and that is the danger of being online. The person who posted fanart of Antinous and Telemachus you didn't like, they have real feelings. Complicated messy feelings that aren't able to be articulated enough online.

As a survivor of bullying myself my motto is block or scroll. I myself am very uncomfortable with a lot of the ao3 tags shipping Odysseus with Poseidon or Zeus but do I go angrily type on my keyboard? No I don't cos it's none of my damnn business. When I saw that art, I was confused and uncomfortable but instead of being reckless and sentimental I asked for clarification. Taking Polites advice I used open arms and talked about what was bothering me without attacking the artist. Instead of being like Polites you all became Poseidon. Ruthlessness Is Mercy is not the way to go, it's a toxic way to go about life. Did you all not listen to that Thunder Saga and see how it destroyed everything Odysseus had known for the past thirteen years.

You should all be absolutely ashamed of yourself. This is not what the Epic Fandom should be. You don't like someone's fan art ask for clarification and or block. There is no need to be Ruthless and cruel. The fact two genuine heartfelt Apologises have been made and you still can't let it go very much clearly shows your character. You are very much like Poseidon and Zeus and should be ashamed. In Ares words you are all sick cowards. Not only that but you are clearly projecting. I suggest you go to therapy if you think your time in the Epic the musical fandom should be spent bullying and harassing people then leave. The number one rule is that there is always a person behind the screen and that you should think before you type.

I'm still not over the fact how you have twisted and triggered someone's truama. I also can't believe hate is being given after the artist mentioned her experience. 🍇 is not a thing to weaponise. I feel like the Wisdom Saga has made you far too comfortable in how you handle and discuss 🍇. The artist forgot her trigger warnings and wasn't even trying to imply the twisted image you put on her. Also I pointed out she shouldn't have tagged it Epic and apologied. Jorge has made adaptations to The Odssey a piece of fiction. What Jorge has done with Antinous is his own creative liberties. If you can't have sensitive and respectful conversation about something that is still happening to people I don't know what to say. Accusing someone of supporting 🍇 is not okay at all. The artist wasn't attending that way and understands she shouldn't have done what she did but it goes both ways. Look for context before you slam. Judging someone based on an honest mistake and huge misunderstanding is dangerous and cruel. Do you not understand the dangers this could put the artist in in real life. Please have open arms and think before you type. This is a serious topic and not a joke.

Moving on I want to talk about why I think this blew up so bad. It's because Elian was commissioned to do an animatic for Jorge. Listen you all would have blocked if it wasn't for that. I read comments saying they idolised her and that is a really f**** dangerous thing to do. Idiolising someone because they've been noticed or hired by Jorge isn't healthy at all. At the end of the day we are all human beings. Elian is allowed to make mistakes and grow. Outside of Epic this is becoming a massive problem in genuine.

Worse I've seen and heard about Artists like Mirscy and AnniFlamma getting attacked just for defending their friend. I'm sorry are we not allowed to defend our friends now from bullying? I can't speak for them but if I saw my friend getting hated and harassed on I'd be angry too, it's like a natural emotion to feel. Then again you are the same fandom that mocks Eurylochus for sticking up for his crew so I'm not suprised. These artists are human beings and not God's because Jorge noticed and appreciated their work. Stop twisting these artists into people there not.

I'm not Tiresias but I can see Jorge stopping collaborating with artists on animatics if you keep this disgusting behaviour up. Constructive criticism is okay but falsely twisting the image of an artist is not okay at all by doing this you are dehumanising artists and doing exactly what Hollywood does. Jorge will have to stop commissioning people it you keep using the fact he noticed them against them when they make mistakes like all human beings do.

Please do better and stop being Poseidons. An 8 year grudge was unhealthy and got him nowhere. Be more like Polites and Greet The World with open arms. Not everything is black and white. Tik Tok built the Epic Fandom up and you hold all the power.

Stay kind and great the world the world with open arms.

Yours Sincerely,

Melody

They/Them

Ps: If you send me hate and twist my words be warned I have friends as well. One particular friend was there when a lot of my Cyberbullying truama happened and is aware why this has triggered me so badly and caused an episode.

Attack you will be blocked. I'll also remove reblogs.

Attack and you will be reported.

You don't scare me.

Be nice Epic Fandom and don't become The Monster. I'm willing to have civil conversations but that's it.

[riewritten]

FOR ALL THAT WAS DEPRIVED

ERWIN SMITH X FEM!READER, ERWIN SMITH X YOU, NO Y/N

TAGS: canon AU, porn without plot (proceed with caution!), lots of fucking?, yearning (like feral yearning), fluff & smut, cunnilingus, multiple positions, cumshot (hehe), missionary, cowgirl, love marks, feral feral feral gentleman in heat idk!, gentle erwin smith or so he planned because well... u are just so lovely! is it his fault that he had always wanted u so carnally just as he wanted to shower you with love? no, not at all :)

WORDS: 4.3k (yes it was fucking long for a pwp fic. but i was nervous back then ok.)

thought of sharing the first ever smut i've ever written. like the first of firsts. if u perhaps knew where i made this then shh. it's our dirty little secret.

"Bed, please. Let's take this to bed."

He showered your face with wet kisses and nibbled your lower ear as if to reward you for shamelessly unveiling your long-standing desperation. "You'll let me take care of you there? Hm?"

"Yes," you writhed under him, breathless, hot, ticklish, among many other feelings caused by his smothering of love, "yes I will, please?"

You don’t even need to beg but he's still disgustingly gratified hearing that. He grabbed your hips and ushered you up so he could carry you all the way. You clung to him just well, thigh wrapped around him and your arms hugging his neck tightly. He ended up throwing you on the bed quite harshly that he got taken aback himself. You chortled as he leaned his weight on top of you, cupped your head with both hands, then muttered soft apologies.

"How rare it is to see you lose your cool, Commander."

"Tch, you have no idea how patient I am being until now," Erwin chuckled, slightly ashamed. As swift as ever, his face turned serious with a command. "Clothes. Off."

So you did, albeit in a rush. His voice sounded like an order and you’re secretly drawn to it even if you don’t like being commanded by him on a daily basis. He might also flaunt his existing patience but you don't have any of it left in you. You unclasped your bra along the way then urgently raised his shirt up to make this faster. He followed suit with amusement, and the sight of his bare body made you shiver. He looks like a sculpture.

"How rare it is to see you lose your cool," he shot back.

"Savor what you did to me, Commander," you muttered in annoyance as you attempted to remove his pants. He helped you through it. Leaving his boxers alone, he gave you a sweet smile as if taking pride in what you just said then pushed you down for a messy kiss again. You let out a breathy moan as soon as his fingers brushed on your now hardened nipples. Placed wet kisses on your neck down until he reached your chest, gave a peck on your sternum, and glided his tongue on your left tit while playing with the other one.

He was successful, really. You've barely even started yet your subtle hums are overflowing already just like how he wanted. For you, however, it was quite frustrating. You were never this sensitive towards your previous partners. Even if it's quite a given since you never established emotional attachment towards them, you only did this kind of thing because you heard how it could satiate emptiness temporarily. Needless to say, it wasn't effective, and what you're doing right now is way far from that agenda. Now you realize why you're overly and easily flustered with this matter when Erwin's in the picture.

He noticed you're trying to tone it down so kept up with it. With your nipple popping out of his mouth, he slid his hand towards your clothed core and released a pleased hum upon feeling how wet it was already. It went on for a while until you got desperate to hump yourself with his digits.

"Finally not shy now?" he cooed, rubbing it in teasing motions.

"Erwin," you moaned, cupping his cheek messily. Your body is finally getting something deprived of it for very, very long, and you're not in the mood to tease around. "I've been–I–" he encouraged you to say more by showering your chest with wet kisses, "I feel like I've been waiting for more than a lifetime for this. Please–" Then his eyes shot open at the desperation, quite enthralled that you felt just the way he did. "Mhm, you are too, right? So could you please take me now?"

Right, you are. His mind then throbbed in satisfaction. His cold fingers slid to your core swiftly, gently, and maintained the motion for a while; eager to give you whatever you want if not more.

Out of all the years he had lived this life, this was one moment he felt genuinely happy he existed. And you deserve everything for making him feel like that.

All of a sudden, he withdrew his fingers from your heat and you looked down in confusion. But then he quickly, and almost harshly, dragged down all the garments left in your body. You're now bare before him but unlike earlier, you're not in any way shy. You want to receive everything he’s willing to give. With a pleading look, you weakly asked him to come back to his work.

Erwin slowly crawled above you again; tapping his finger on your clit, "How do you want me to do this tonight?" Even if it sounded playful in some way, it was a genuine question.

Assuming he's messing around, you whined in frustration. "Seriously, I want to be fucked dumb tonight. Don't make me point out obvious things, Erwin."

It made him laugh. He leaned in to kiss your forehead and inserted his middle finger inside, "No, it was an honest question. I want to make this good for you."

"But you make everything feel good," you murmured, relishing the feeling of being stretched inside. His digits are broad after all.

You urged him to go on, hence he continuously motioned hither inside you while his thumb skillfully played around your clit. Relishing the pleasure and willing to welcome more, you played on your nipples messily. When the slicking sounds became louder he inserted the second one and rolled the digits in circular motions. Apart from how good he’s doing you, he’s actually quite nervous himself. Perhaps he might do it too hard, or you might’ve experienced something way better before, and all sorts of reluctance. But your reactions – voice quivering, hips stuttering, your back arching – filled him with such a warm, trembling feeling and he was immensely drunk to it. 

After a while, he stopped, knelt up, and looked at the sinful mess he's made out of you with. It’s needless to say that you were down for good. The sight was glorious for him, utterly. When you thought he was about to finally let himself bare, he held on to your hips instead and raised that up to push it towards you. As he leaned down, he wrapped your legs on his shoulders and settled himself in between your legs. 

Delving his tongue into you and tasting your wetness, he let out a gratified grunt. He brought back his wonders with his fingers as he lapped you up all the while maintaining eye contact; eager to see how you’d take him as he ravished you the way he imagined it. Your hands messily gripped everything – his pillows, mattress, even your hair – and eventually tightened your legs around him to buck on his tongue.

As he felt your walls fluttering around his fingers and your release hanging on the precipice, his motion sped up while his spare hand rested on your abdomen.

“That’s it–hah, please don’t stop–” you stuttered, your moans in crescendo; and he hummed through it just well, encouraging you to come. Not too long after, you grabbed onto his head to bury him below, making him breathe momentarily the least of your concerns. With your back arching and muttering helpless mewls of his name, you came undone.

He rode through your orgasm, continuously lapping on you until you tapped on his head, “Too much, ‘s too much. Please, ‘Win."

You heard him chuckle before letting go; nibbling on your inner thigh for a moment with a smug look on his face as if to say I did that. Only I could. When he knelt back again he let out a satisfied sigh, wiped up his face coated with your fluid, and sucked on the fingers he just used to ravage you. He licked it clean, deliberately swirling his tongue for you to see. Despite the crippling fluster, you weren't able to look away, you're rather getting wet over it instead.

His fingers left his mouth with a soft pop, “Tastes good."

The embarrassment came back to you but you’re still aching to have more. “Come here,” you pleaded and he immediately complied, cupping your face gently. He held you like you're his dearest person in this hell of a world, and you have no idea how could his touches say that much.

However, when you thought he was going for a kiss, he tapped his digits on your mouth instead, “Open.” Another stern order that you followed very willingly. He pushed his index and middle fingers past your mouth and you welcomed it by sucking on them, appeased by what he just did to you. You almost choked on it as he thrust his fingers full on your throat. Still, you hollow your cheeks on it, licking every spot fervently and humming with pleasure to rile him up. “Yeah, that's right," he purred. "Such a good lady for me.” He then suddenly replaced his fingers with his tongue, relishing your mouth and eager to prove to you how good you really tasted.

When he withdrew from the messy lip play, you blurted out, “Can you praise me again?”

You quickly realized what you just said and how you said it. What was that? You almost laughed at yourself.

Erwin raised his brows and snickered, “Am I not praising you enough?”

You stayed silent even after he peppered you with kisses, seemingly holding your squeal of shame.

"Getting shy again, hm? Talk to me, pretty girl.”

“Don’t know where it came from. My mind’s in shambles. Thank you for fucking me dumb tonight.”

“But I’m not doing that yet,” he let it out very endearingly, in stark contrast with his eyes lacing with mischievous glint. His finger flicked on your clit again. “This won’t be settled with this, don’t you think? You’ve waited more than a lifetime, after all.” Such a menacing smile and so you realized: Right, I might be knocked unconscious tonight. He motioned his digits in circular motions.

“I, uh–“ To lessen your stuttering, you gripped his shoulders instead. "I actually said that out of a whim. I never got this sensitive over someone before," you let out a breathy sigh. "My body’s reacting to you differently, Erwin. Am I the only one who feels like this?”

“No,” he landed a wet kiss on your neck, sucked on it, and released it like a pop. That would indeed mark. “But I don't just feel like it, and I believe I waited longer."

You were relieved, “Since when?”

“Since you entered the regiment and introduced yourself to me,” he abruptly inserted his finger inside your cunt then rolled it inside, “–that smile.”

“Fuck, god–” you shuddered, “t–that long?”

“Yeah, that long. I was just a jerk.”

“Better late than never but if you’re not doing that yet, then please do it now."

His heart swelled. This was more than enough, indeed. You might be time-deprived to explore this intimacy, have excruciating dilemmas that could break you off, tons of predicament perceived as a threat, and anguish that are not very easy to handle. Amidst all, your love and desperation overpowered the worries. You broke off every single wall Erwin had built for decades. You broke it off by loving him in way that's longer than your life could ever be.

He removed his digit inside and then made his way to remove the garment left in him, “You’re shifting from ashamed to blunt, pretty thing. Choose one.”

“I really am choosing to be blunt. I just get hit by it from time to time," you sat up to help him. "But okay, to project the boldness again–" but were cut off when he laughed loudly. Shooting him a glare you exclaimed, "Shut up!"

Erwin, despite the struggle to tone down, doesn't want you to feel shy for the rest of the night, "Okay, continue." 

You dragged his boxers down impatiently and whined, “I want your dick inside me. Frantically ruin me until I knock out. Please.”

He was taken aback, he'll give you that, yet it was completely effective. His arousal spiked up way more than earlier.

When he finally got rid of his garment and his protuberance was completely shown before you, you started to doubt if you actually said the right thing. That would really ruin me. Sensing your reluctance just well, he gently laid you down again and raised your legs so he could line himself up.

"You’re not just blunt, you’re getting braver as well. But now that you told me to ruin you, why do you look like hesitating instead?” he taunted, sliding his dick up and down your wetness.

Heat pooled in your lower back, “I’m not. I–” you thrust up to have more friction, “I trust you. You’ll do me well, right?”

“I will,” he concurred sweetly and motioned nearer to you. Cupping your cheeks, he whispered. “Breathe deeply, love.” So you did, and he slowly pushed himself in. Gently, inch by inch, studying your face all throughout. You were whimpering in pain, closing your eyes tight upon feeling the sharp sting, and he’s peppering you with gentle kisses for comfort.

He’s not bottomed out yet you’re already close to crying. Still, you tried. You don’t want to stop. You don’t want him to feel like he’s doing badly. You don’t want to– 

 “‘S okay, ‘s okay. Relax.” he cut your rampant thoughts off with his coos. “I’ll make it fit. Just keep on breathing deeply, okay?”

You clung to his shoulder, letting out your mewls, “I’m sorry, I… don’t want you to think we should stop–”

“We won’t," he nuzzled his lips through your hair, “Unless you tell me so–ah, that’s it, you’re doing great.” then sighed, completely sunk down inside you. He let you get used to the feeling first, just looking at you tenderly without moving. His thumb circled on your clit again to make the process bearable, and eventually, pleasurable. After a while, you opened your eyes again with a smile and small thanks, “Please move.”

Erwin did and he muttered little curses under his breath. You’re tightly squeezing on him and he had to grip his free hand on the mattress to have a sense of control. He was quite overwhelmed. Your scent, tiny sighs, the look of affection, and the way you’re being gorgeously considerate of him – he’s on the precipice of losing control, one more sensation then he’ll admit that both of you will be staying on this bed forever. He tried to speak little praises and comfort to you instead so he could distract himself but you started bucking your hips up.

Fuck.

His train of thought was utterly shaken that he only managed to let out strained hisses. Noting his sounds of pleasure, you reached his ear; sucking, nibbling, licking around, and he almost lost it. He needs to take you slowly but he’s losing it. Erwin almost laughed at himself.

“Am I doing great?” you asked as you finally earned a steady pace in rocking and thrusting. When he wasn’t able to answer, you withdrew your mouth to his ear, turned up to him, and cupped his cheeks, “Am I?” you repeated, searching for reactions.

Erwin mentally shook his head, finally admitting defeat to his sense of control and the tightening of his muscles. He gripped your hips and thrust hard, making you suck in a sharp breath. “Doing so well,” he lowly grunted then set the pace unrelentingly fast, almost lacking mercy, “–my prettiest soldier.” His digits played harsher on your clit.

That’s it, 

That’s it. 

You let out drawn-out moans and silly whispers. When the pleasure blurred your thoughts to even mind shame, you brought his head to your breast, urging him to trace his tongue on it. He sucked on it with pleasure, and the thumb that was swirling on your clit slid to the other nipple instead. Your instincts are drumming in your ears as his rhythm picks up. The way he’s massaging your inner walls with every thrust of his dick and the lewd slapping sounds of skin that comes along was making your head dissolve into oblivion.

Erwin was so immersed in it that he looked down to see the tainted mess himself. He grabbed your hand and landed it on your lower stomach, “Feel that?” he drawled as he continued pounding. You felt his cock marking it whenever he pushed inside. And as your mind was too fuzzy to even answer, you nodded relentlessly. “Is this what you waited for? Hm? Tell me, love.” His taunting etched every enjoyment he has in the sight of you too dumbed out to answer. 

As he felt himself reaching his peak, he pressed on your lower stomach to urge the coil in you to come out. And there it comes, you’re clenching harder than ever, thrashing around his length.

"Tight—hah—fuck, love," he rasped, "l-look at you, taking me in so–mhm—so nicely."

He was getting delirious, too, whispering sweet nothings; how good this is, how tight you are, how he's finally having all of you for himself. Your sounds are getting more and more obscene too, moaning a mixture of curse words and his name that he can't help but indulge himself through and give you more.

He lurches, continuously pounding and pounding until you’re trembling, milking on him for what he’s worth. He eventually pulled out, shooting his seed into your abdomen.

Then he dropped down. Fucked out. Leaning his weight into you with a sigh. He was too heavy that it could almost be classified as crushing you into pulp. The position went on for a while and instead of asking him to let you breathe, you start laughing at the sudden memory instead.

“Why?” he asked, his voice hushed and raspy. He’s nuzzled in your neck now, mindlessly nibbling on it.

“Isabel told me this a long time ago,” you giggled, "I feel guilty for remembering her this way."

"Bless her soul," Erwin chuckled, "but go on, what did she say?"

"That you could crush me into pulp if you wanted to. I told her I don’t think you’d want that but here you are.”

“Oh. Sorry.” he slightly got up and leaned on his elbows for support instead. “But why would she say that?”

“Because your build was intimidating,”

“Ah, that...” Isabel mocked him for his huge build plenty of times when she was still alive. Amidst her disdain, Erwin remembers her kindly. He scooted to lie down beside you, then brought your body to his embrace, “Were you intimidated as well?”

“I’m too engrossed avoiding your presence to mind how huge you are," you pondered, “but now I realized it was actually a good thing. I’d even thank you if you cracked my head with your muscles now.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I’m not kidding. Want me to tell you more?”

“No," he was holding a laugh.

“But it’s hot–”

“Stop.” 

“Actually it goes like thi–” he silenced you with a kiss and you chuckled through it. It went on for a while until he’s sure you're really shutting up. He nestled you further to him and both of you were silent for a while. “I was about to suggest we wash up but I kind of want to keep going.”

You were actually about to say that and his remark made you more courageous so you blurted out, “Can I ride you?”

He stopped in his tracks, wide-eyed, then turned to you to see if you were actually kidding around, only to laugh in defeat at your dead serious face. Just like that and he’s aroused again.

“Have I said it too weird?”

“No, but why would you want that?”

You ignored his question, “So is it okay or not?”

“Of course, but it'd be quite a work. Why won't you let me take care—oh!” you cut him off by getting up and sitting on his abdomen.

“Sit down," you beckoned him through your fingers.

The sight of you channeling dominance was completely amusing to him, to say the least, so he ticked his eyebrows and followed suit, “What do you want to do?”

“Revenge.”

Erwin almost snorted at that but you cut him off with a sloppy kiss.  It’s now quite gentler than earlier and even if he wants to crush you down the bed again, he let you have it your way this time. Erwin can feel your wetness dripping on him, and you can feel his hard-on standing on your back. You released a breathy sigh, trying to rub your slickness on him. To make the position comfortable, he withdrew from the kiss and moved backward.

“I may not know what you’re avenging for but my pretty girl can get whatever she wants," he leaned against the headboard. “Show me how it’s done.”

“It’s for always–” you lined him up to your entrance, “–ordering me around.”

Then bounced down on him abruptly, swallowing him in warmth. He bit back a moan and you got your pretty little noises as well, very much satisfied with how he’s stretching you full again. You tried to gauge his reactions at first, languidly riding him down, rolling your hips in experimental paces, and relishing how he looked at you – lidded, flushed, with a small smirk.

In the middle of it, however, something daunted you; you don't have much experience with this. He seemed to have lots given how well he did you earlier but you don’t. Erwin sensed the jittery so he grabbed your figure much nearer to him, “Why?”

You gave him a sheepish chuckle, “My confidence slipped away." When you thought he’d laugh at it like earlier, his face immediately softened and gave you an understanding hum instead.

“Poor girl, what’s on your mind?”

“I’m just not used to doing this thing passionately,” Nevertheless, you continued the rhythmic bucks—taking him in and out, gripping in his shoulders, holding back whimpers. Tremors of pleasure teemed Erwin's body, all of it getting too good to handle, “B-but I want to take care of you as well– that kind of thing.”

“But you’re doing it so well,” he doted, slowly nuzzling his lips on the sides of your face, nibbling your ears, patching up your neck with more bites as if to flaunt how he’s taken you for his own. He really can’t get enough, and the way you’re telling him so adorably how you want to be good for him satisfied a darker side of his psyche. He gripped your hips very tightly, intentionally having it to mark, and jerked his hips upwards to help you take him.

All his reluctance about not meeting your desires disappeared to shreds as he remembered; you’re here, on your own accord, even after seeing the monster that he could be. If you would go to him keeping in mind all the deplorable sins he had done then you had given yourself over. Drawn, bound together, and pleasures to be consumed by him. Mine. It throbbed in his head, repeatedly so, for he was very gratified.

He headily reached for your face, brought your lips into his, and relished the realization desperately; hoping you’d realize it as well. As the swirls of your tongues slipped your minds towards oblivion, his thrusts became more unrestrained and feral. He needed to feel more, needed to hear more.

He called your name, “Louder. Have everyone hear how well I'm taking you.”

It was yet another stern, or perhaps desperate, command. And so you did, not like you have any choice. It feels too good and you’re disgustingly drunk on the slick sounds of your heat as you ride him down. “My good girl, yeah, just like that.”

After a while of letting your bodies do the act for yourselves – what was yearned from the things left undone – you’re coming again. And his drawn-out moans, grunts, and words of praises told you he’s the same. He mercilessly rutted, fucked up your cunt, until your walls fluttered around his cock for the second time. As you reached your climax, he abruptly got himself out of you and came again. His seed was all over you: stomach, chest, some of it was even shot to your face.

He let out a dark chuckle at the sight. He was able to savor you completely. Now you lay in front of him, being the utterly divine art that you are. Completely messed up. By him. Alone. Nobody else could. In this world and even beyond.

You gave him a shy, tired yet satisfied smile and he slid his fingers to your face to wipe it himself.

“That was so good," he whispered, your foreheads bumping against each other.

“Heh, heh. Took you so well, didn’t I?”

"Very much so." The cheeky grin warmed Erwin up even more, so he kissed your forehead before ushering you up.

“Aren’t you tired?” you whined and laid down on the bed. Of course, you wanted to clean up, but you came three times and you’re minutes away from sleeping the night.

“I could still go on if we stay tied there, uncleaned," he sat up on the corner of the bed and massaged your sore limbs. He glided his fingers on the marks, guilty for making it too hard, “Sorry.” He scooted and gave it a peck.

You showed him your neck, full of his bites, “This,” then examined your chest only to see another one on the side of your left breast, “When was this?” you glared at it. Then pointed to the one he’s holding on to your hips, “And this," you ruffled his hair. “This could be decades-worth of pining! All because some commander decided to be a full-on jerk.”

"I know.”

He remained in his position for a while just looking at you in the eyes. The smile was quite a sad one, almost mournful, but you maintained the tender look on your face. After a while, he slid his hand to cup your cheek with his thumb playing on it, “Are you up for another round?” he smiled endearingly.

“What the heck is up with your stamina?” you scoffed but still tried to assess whether you could or not. Maybe you could, it’s Erwin after all.

“I’m just kidding," he pinched your cheek and then stood up. “Let’s clean up. My room smells too good right now. One more sniff and we'll stay on this bed making love until we die.”

“Your room should get used to it," you replied, realizing you’re actually feeling sore and it’s quite difficult to stand now. Erwin knew it so he spent time fixing your baths first.

Carrying you there himself, he replied, “Yeah. You should get used to it too.”

🔖@collinnmckinley @frenchdyer @aeanya @xiaotopia @watyousayin | SUBSCRIBE TO STORIES

[writersdrug]

Ghost x Konig x Reader: I Don't Need You (Ch. 6)

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Summary: You (surprisingly) get more comfortable with Kortac, and slowly let yourself connect with the team. You subconsciously tether yourself to Konig, who is more than willing to help you fit in. The pain of the past begins to fade into the back of your mind like the end of a long chapter of your life.

Additionally, Konig starts asking the hard questions - it unearths a piece of you that you'd hoped would remain buried, but you still share the memories with Konig.

Chapter warnings: Mentions of violence, mentions of rape, cursing, google translate German, shirtless Soap, very EXTREMELY watered-down mentions of sexual themes (we ain't there yet, boiis)

Notes: Sorry it took so long, I've got a lot cooking in the kitchen now and I'm hoping to pump out a lot this week!

Additionally, I've had some comments on this work not being an x Reader. First off, I never want to mislead anyone. I label this as an x Reader because Bonnie is not an OC of mine. I've seen other x Reader fics include callsigns that refer to the reader, so I assumed using Bonnie similarly would be alright. I also mentioned a name ONCE in chapter 3, "Jane Morris," which I thought to be a very generic name, and I haven't used it since and don't plan to. I have a personal preference of writing longer, chapter-by-chapter fics in first POV because it feels more natural to me than second POV. The same goes for using y/n - I like to avoid it if I can because it feels unnatural.

Again, those last two thing are a personal preference. I'm not bashing any fics that use these things at all, I enjoy both ones that do and ones that don't, and I don't enjoy one over the other. When I say one feels more natural than the other, I mean it feels more natural to write, not to read. I'm debating changing the name I used in chapter 3 to just y/n l/n to make this a true x Reader. If you still feel like I should change this to an x OC please let me know and I'll be happy to adjust the tags, titles, and descriptions. Again, I never meant to be misleading, and I hope I didn't make anyone angry. If a mistake has been made I am happy to learn from it. Thanks!

Konig had cracked the code on me. He figured out that after a case of American beers and a long drive, away from the crowd of new faces, my outer shell began to soften.

There was still a wall that I was holding up between me and everyone else, even though it was significantly smaller than usual. When Roze and Castillo approached me at breakfast, I didn’t get up and leave. And when Juno used the empty spot in the gym room right next to me, dropping his bag on the floor and giving me a cautious glance as he set up for his routine - I didn’t grab my things and move to the other end of the room. That was my first instinct, but I fought it. Instead I huffed, facing the mirror in front of me and focusing on my sets.

I’d started going to the common area more often – maybe not every night, but often enough. We’d make it a habit to play poker on the nights I did show up. I was better than most of the group, since none of them were quite used to my mannerisms yet. However, Konig and Horangi still took the lead as the winners, despite most of us arguing that they shouldn’t be allowed to play if they were going to wear their masks. The argument would eventually turn into a casual conversation – I didn’t engage in it too often. I preferred to sit and listen, using the time to slowly learn more about the team. I typically planted myself between Roze and Konig, keeping my legs crossed on the seat and nervously fiddling with my Yuengling bottle.

Although I was ashamed to admit it, Konig had become a conduit for my interactions with the rest of the team. The way he engaged with their activities, yet still managed to stay reserved, struck a chord with me. I respected the fact that it could sometimes be difficult to find him on base, and that at the same time, he was always there when I started to feel overwhelmed. I didn’t need him, no… that was a stretch. But sometimes I felt grateful that he was so eager to accompany me places – especially when he invited me to go on “perimeter checks” with him, which mostly consisted of long drives off base.

I don’t know how I had grown to appreciate him so much – maybe it was because he felt similar to me, in the way that we both needed our alone time, and with how we often found ourselves slipping out of the common area around the same time, with the original excuse being that we were tired. Half of the time, we would sit in the mess hall and talk until the early hours of the morning.

“A sniper?” I asked on one particular night, fiddling with the mouth of my beer bottle. “You’re way to big for that – no offense.”

Konig chuckled. “And that’s what they initially told me.” He took a swig of his (nasty) German beer. “But, despite being handed other opportunities, I proved them wrong. I’m sill a damn good sniper.”

I huffed. “Nah, you should be happy you got promoted to Colonel; you’re lucky, you get to avoid being in the trenches – at least, as much as the rest of us.”

“Lucky? No…” Konig said, shaking his head. “I do not like being a Colonel. I’d much rather be doing the dirty work of soldiers than writing these stupid reports.” He slapped a large hand over the manilla folder that sat on the table next to his beer. “It keeps my head busy, and I don’t have to listen to myself think.”

I nodded while sipping my beer. “I completely get that – If I’m not actively doing something with my hands, my brain gets too loud. Like – like there’s a mini me in my head, and the only way to drown her out is by physically doing something. Anything, really.”

Konig laughed – almost a snort – “‘A mini you’. I like that, that’s good.”

I huffed a laugh through my nose, turning my head to hide the smirk on my face. Despite being a large, brutish man, he had a youthful essence about him. It was hidden deep beneath the thick exterior of a war-hardened soldier. But, every now and again, it rose to the surface, touching a part of my soul I hadn’t allowed to be seen in a long time.

I pushed my stack of bills into the middle of the table. “All in.” I said nonchalantly.

Gaz narrowed his eyes, leaning back in his chair and looking down his nose at me. “You’re bloody stupid…”

“Or really smart.” I retorted. I folded my arms over my chest, not wavering under his intimidating gaze.

It was unbearably hot in the room – whether that was from the tension of the game or the broken air conditioner (Price eternally insisted it would be fixed, “… by next week…”), I didn’t know. I was donned in my sweatpants and sports bra, Gaz was in a wife beater and sweats, Ghost was covered head to toe in a sweatshirt and jeans (one could ever rarely catch him wearing anything less), and Soap… well, Soap was Soap. Completely shirtless, with only a pair of gym shorts on. Typical for him to be so shameless.

Ghost looked at his cards, his jaw clearly tense underneath his mask. He wasn’t very good at hiding his unlucky hand – it was almost like he wasn’t even trying. Which was a possibility.

“Fucking hell… I fold.” He tossed his hand onto the table, revealing his sour bunch of cards. He walked to the fridge and cursed under his breath, rummaging through the contents.

“Jesus, you’re a load of dry shite.” Soap commented, leaning against the wall adjacent to Ghost. “You could’ve at least tried to intimidate ‘em.”

“You could try shutting your fucking mouth, alright?” Ghost snapped back. Soap raised his hands defensively, leaving Ghost by the fridge.

He flopped onto the couch near me and Gaz. “Miserable sap…”

I did my best to tune out their bickering. I stared down Gaz, tapping my fingers on the edges of my cards. I was relying on the river card – I had a chance at a four-of-a-kind, praying the last card on the table would be another seven.. It was risky, and Gaz was probably right in calling me stupid. But I was never one to back down from a challenge. I craved the thrill of it. Most of the time, I ended up getting lucky.

Gaz chewed his lip. He cocked an eyebrow, slowly pushing all of his cash to the middle of the table. “Call.” He said.

And I heard it – the telltale sign of his bluff. A fraction of a second where his voice had waivered, followed by him grinding his jaw. I knew I had it in the bag.

I was savoring the moment of triumph, watching Gaz stare at his cards, when I felt a hand on my back. I nearly spun around and yelled at whoever touched me, until I saw a gloved hand place a Yuengling bottle to my right, the lid already popped off. I faltered, staring at the bottle, feeling the hand on my back rubbing a thumb back and forth over my spine.

I glanced behind me, looking up to meet Ghost’s eyes. He was looking down at me with an empty gaze. His eyebrows twitched for a brief moment as he continued rubbing his thumb over the skin of my back.

I knew what he was suggesting. What he was asking. Put a woman on a compound with broken, touch-starved men, and eventually one of them will succumb to the temptation. Even so, I was shocked that it was Ghost. I would say he was showing a weakness here, no matter what he decided to call this – it was an admission that he needed something – something from me, specifically – which I never thought would happen.

He continued staring at me for another few moments, waiting for an answer. Keeping my eyes locked on him, I took the bottle and drank; my reply. He gave the tiniest nod, walking away and sitting down next to Soap – who was shuffling the remaining deck of cards, eyes narrowed at Gaz. He knew he was bluffing too.

I turned back to Gaz, smirking as he revealed the river card.

“You ever think about what you would say to those kids now?” I asked, tapping my beer bottle. “The ones who bullied you.”

Konig hummed. “Mm… not really. I don’t hold too much resentment.”

I chuckled. “If only we could all be a saint.”

“Well, it all happened so long ago.” Konig tried to justify himself. “We were only kids, bored and trying to stay on the surface. They just wanted to look tough so that no one would pick on them. Of course, I wouldn’t understand that as a kid. Maybe then, I would have admired what I’ve become, and I would have wanted to boast about it. But now that I am a Colonel – Ich habe besseres zu tun.”

I sarcastically rolled my eyes. “And that means?”

“Ehh…” he groaned, squinting his eyes. “How is it said… ‘I have bigger fishes to cook.’”

I sputtered, turning my head and laughing. Konig glared at me. “Gibt es ein Problem?” he asked, which I sort of understood. He sounded irritated, that much I could tell.

“No, Konig…” I said, standing up and giving him a pat on the shoulder as I walked by. “Just keep up the English lessons, ok?”

He scowled. “Verpiss dich… Start learning German and maybe I will.” He retorted, and I waved at him dismissively from behind my back.

I stuck my head into the fridge, grabbing a Yuengling and one of Konig’s beers. I walked back and placed them both next to him. Like instinct, he took each one and hooked their lid onto the edge of the table, then smacked the side of his hand down on the tops, sending the lid clattering to the ground. He opened my beer and handed it to me, then repeated the process with his, before reaching down and collecting the lids. He added them to the pile, totaling six beer lids so far.

If someone had shown me this image a year ago – Konig and I, sitting up late into the night, chatting like we’d known each other for decades… not to mention the fact that I was so unusually open with him… I would have been insulted. I would have laughed. No one would have been able to convince me that I would become so attached to anyone else after what had happened with the 141. Yet, all of this felt so natural. It was beyond how I felt that Konig and I were kindred spirits… it really did feel like I’d known him before. Maybe, he reminded me of a part of myself that I tried to bury away.

Or, maybe, I was just submitting to loneliness and trying to justify how quickly I clung to the first available soul. That was also an embarrassing possibility, one that I would rather not admit to.

“I have a question for you.” Konig’s voice and the clink of his beer bottle on the table brought me back to reality.

“I might have an answer.” I replied.

He looked off to the side, perhaps wondering whether or not he really wanted to ask the question. “Who did you kill? And why?”

Just like that, I felt the walls being built right back to where I had them. Bonding time’s over. Back to square one.

His inquiry caught me off guard. I froze, my bottle hovering in the air before I could take a sip, my eyes glued to the table. Just the mention of the incident brought the painful memories up to the surface, like claws scraping at the dirt, digging up the deepest roots.

“Lots of people.” I said, deflecting. I took a swig of my beer.

“You know what I mean.” He scoffed. “Why did you end up in military prison?” He leaned over the table – clearly not planning on letting the topic go.

I sucked my teeth, staring at him defiantly – moments ago, it was pleasant talking to him. Now, I was fighting back the urge to leave him at the table and go to my dorm. I felt ambushed at how he had changed the subject so abruptly. Like he had been waiting for me to carelessly stumble into the trap, and now he was watching me snarl from within it.

He leaned back with a sigh. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I just thought we were getting somewhere here.”

“Oh?” I said dryly, cocking an eyebrow. “’Getting somewhere?’ What’s that sup-“

“Hey, it’s ok.” He raised his hands defensively. “I get it. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” His words were forgiving, but his eyes said something else – I knew what he was thinking.

Weak.

I gave him a hateful stare. Fucker know how to play his cards.

“I killed a sergeant.” I admitted. “My lieutenant’s right-hand man.”

That got Konig’s attention. He leaned forward again, putting his bottle off to the side. “Why?” he asked again.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, as I leaned back in my chair. My eyes fell to the floor as I forced myself to recall the memories. “In Egypt, a while back. Don’t ask when because I won’t tell you.” I warned Konig, and he huffed – but obliged.

I continued. “We were going in to retrieve a hostile target. Everyone was jumpy – me included. It was dark, and we didn’t know what to expect. After the hostiles started to engage, we were scattered. I got stuck in one tower, so I went upstairs to try and make a foxhole.”

I paused. It was now my own hands, covered in dirt, clawing at the roots of the memory. Each word I said was painful, yet somehow felt overshared. Like I was trying to get Konig to pity me. Except I wasn’t – I just wanted him to listen.

And that’s exactly what he did. No comforting shoulder pat, no soothing words… he just listened. He knew that if he stepped on the wrong spot, it would break my openness, like a branch breaking under his foot would disturb the silence of the woods.

“The sergeant – ‘Flare’ – he was up there, too. I thought we’d had the same idea, but… holy fuck…” I ran a hand down my face, feeling my heartbeat grow faster. “At first, I didn’t know what he was doing, I just heard him making those sounds and I thought he’d been hit, but… he was taking advantage of this – this woman – and with her kids right fucking there… she was probably just trying to hide, to hide them, she had to be so fucking scared… he didn’t even stop when I found him, I don’t know if he even heard me screaming at him.”

I paused, almost waiting for Konig to say or do something, but he remained silent. Despite my eyes never leaving the floor, I could see his blue ones watching me carefully. Concerned, patient, and calm.

“I didn’t know what else to do.” I said, my voice faltering the slightest bit. “So I shot him. In the head.” I unintentionally shivered. “Probably traumatized that poor woman and her kids, but… quick decisions aren’t the best ones.”

I ended my rant with a heavy sip of my beer. Konig continued watching me with wary eyes, which I ignored. I didn’t need consolation, or sympathy, or whatever he might try to offer. Somehow, he seemed to understand that.

“I would have done the same thing.” He commented.

Would you?

After a moment, he exhaled. “I don’t understand… I’d say you were in the right. Why did they put you in prison for that?”

I chewed my lip. “There was… some speculation, that I was jealous of his position. We’d been close throughout my time with the team, and when he got the promotion to second-in-command, I was a bit envious at first. People thought I was taking my anger out on him in what seemed like the perfect opportunity to lie.” I took another sip. “But I was happy for him. He worked hard, and he deserved it. But then the pressure got to him – Lieutenant was always depending on him for too much, and Flare couldn’t handle the responsibility. If he slipped up, it was a lot worse than if one of the rest of us did. I guess… the pressure is what got him in the end. Made him crazy in the end. He didn’t have any morals anymore.”

More silence. It felt uncomfortably loud – Konig’s stare seemed to make my head ring, making me fidget and bounce my knee. I wanted to snap at him. What are you looking at? Why are you asking so many fucking questions? But I was able to keep my anger at bay, justifying the situation by assuming his questions were fueled by nothing more than curiosity.

I figured I had said enough for the night, and finished off the rest of my beer. I slapped my leg, the telltale sign that I was getting ready to turn in.

Konig ignored it, or seemed to not notice. “Why did you kill him?” he asked.

I narrowed my eyes in confusion. “Why did I? What do you mean?”

“Why kill him? Why not just… disable him for the moment, and let your commander deal with him later?”

I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice was a second too late. “Again… in the heat of the moment, you don’t make distinctions like that. You think: ‘shoot,’ or ‘don’t shoot.’ And shooting him was the choice I made.”

Konig’s gaze became scrutinous. He knew I was lying about something… he was hellbent on figuring out what.

He’s going to have to wait a long damn time.

“Goodnight, Konig.” I said flatly. I collected my bottles, getting up from the table. With a clang, I tossed them into the bin by the exit, walking down the hall and leaving Konig sitting alone in the mess hall. I feel tears stinging my eyes, but that’s all they did. It’s all just water under the bridge, y/n. Get it together. You’re alright.

-----

Taglist: @igotmajordaddyissues @princekonig @vixionix

[faerunnn]

Memories

(GIF found Here! :D )

Hello, so i am back. With something a lil angsty, a lil fluffy. You guys should know the drill by now. Please let me know your thoughts :D

Astarion x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2464

It has been quite some time since the battle of Baldur's Gate. You all went your separate ways, occasionally catching up with one another but as time and lives went on, slowly drifting more apart. Everyone was slowly finding the lives they wanted to live. Some moved away from the city, wanting to forget it all. Some stayed around. Including you. Baldur's gate was the only place you ever truly was able to call home. And while your wanderlust had taken you to many places, you always found your way back to the city. 

You sometimes wondered how the others were doing. Wandering what could have been, wondering what was never meant to be. You miss your old companions sometimes. But their happiness was what kept you smiling when thinking back on your adventures. There was barely any room for heartache when everyone got what they wanted. Everyone but you. 

After the battle against the Elder brain you and Astarion never fully established what it was that the two of you had. The connection that was shared. There was something there, for sure. But the both of you being too stubborn to talk about it, acknowledge it. That same stubbornness led to the both of you drifting apart. Slowly but surely, until you stopped hoping that he might show up at your doorstep. Stopped visiting his place, stopped meeting at the usual spots. Your pride got in the way of your happiness, once again. The one time you felt like you truly had met your equal. A ‘’soulmate’’, if those were even real. You beat yourself up about for a while, until time got in the way. 

It has been over a year since you last saw each other. And it wasn't until tonight that you went back to one of the taverns you and your companions would occasionally meet to catch up. You rather not go there but some of your co-workers insisted you’d tag along for a drink after a very long work day. And it had been a long day indeed. You wanted to just go home, take a bath and curl up in your sheets and sleep for days. But one drink couldn't hurt, right? 

The party all gathered outside of the office and you all walked toward the familiar pub. A whiff of alcohol and sweat already hit your nose as you got closer. It must be a busy night. Maybe a famous bard was playing tonight. The music did sound quite lovely opposed to other nights of horrible out of tune lutes being played inside the tavern walls. You all gathered a small table in the corner of the main hall, scooting closer together and just catching up on life while enjoying a somewhat decent drink. The drinks have never been great here, but that somehow made you feel even more nostalgic of the many tears, laughs and memories shared in this space. You wondered if there was a way to get everyone back here sometime soon. 

‘’So,’’ one of your male co-workers turned to you. ‘’What is it truly like being the hero of Baldur's gate?” A small smirk present on his lips and a playful look swirling in his eyes. All of your co-workers knew this was a topic you’d rather not talk about. Not because you're ashamed, but there was no need to brag about all the lives it had cost to save the city, guilty or innocent. You swallowed and gave him a tight smile before taking a rather large gulp of your drink. The alcohol is now slowly starting to kick in. 

‘’Well, I suppose it is.. Flattering. I wouldn't consider myself a hero. But i am glad the city is somewhat safe again.’’ you said. Not really wanting to dig deep into the topic at all, even if you were slowly starting to feel more tipsy.

‘’Oh, come on! There must be something to tell. What about the tadpole? You were supposed to be dead, respectfully.’’ he carefully said. 

‘’Yes, I was. But I am glad I am not. Though I wouldn't recommend anyone carrying a worm inside their head, it did save my life in a way. The experience itself was rather unusual, I suppose. I don't think there's anything I can compare it to.’’ as you start talking you hear a bit more commotion on the other side of the room. But from your angle you can't tell what's going on. Probably another tavern fight between two drunk sailors. Wouldn't be the first time. After a quick glance that way you quickly return to your conversation. 

‘’What about your companions? Do you still see them?’’ A female co-worker asked you nervously. 

‘’Uhm, we uhm. We occasionally see each other yes.’’ Not a complete lie. But these people didn't need to know the whole truth. ‘’Does anyone want another drink?’’ you quickly ask before any more questions on the topic could arise. You get up from the table and walk up to the bar to order another round for the whole table. Your last, you decided. It has been a long day and sleep was going to creep up on you soon. You look back at your colleagues while you wait and reminisce about the times that table was filled with your companions instead. 

After a short while you take the drinks back to the table and join in on the conversation that had been started while you were gone when all of a sudden the commotion rose again. But this time it was loud, and people started getting out of the way.  It was then that you noticed it was indeed a fight. While you were about to roll your eyes and take a big gulp of your drink you recognized a certain mop of white hair and pointy ears. Oh god. Your eyes widened. Your body froze. It was him. Fighting an orc almost twice his size.. In the middle of a tavern. He was wearing an all black outfit, which looked almost too good on his body. A dagger held to the neck of the orc as he held him in place. Reminding you of the time the two of you had met. He really hasn't changed much. 

You got up from where you were sitting and got a little closer to the situation, trying to blend in with the crowd whilst figuring out what the hell had happened. You saw coins scattered on the table, drinks that once had been in tankards spilled over the floor and chairs. 

‘’You better watch your damn mouth around here, elf.’’ The orc said. Trying to push himself back to his feet. ‘’Others might not show you the same mercy.’’ as he pushed Astarion from his frame, he got up. Gathered some of his coins and turned around to leave. Whilst Astarion did the same. You looked back at your colleagues and they were too caught up in their own conversations to notice you left the table again. You made a split decision, not even really thinking while your legs just carried you out of the tavern the same way he left. 

He was already well out in the street again while the darkness of the night was about to lure him back into the shadows. You almost panicked, you didn't even know what you were going to say to him once you confronted him with your presence. You just let your feet carry you.

The weather had changed from a somewhat chilly afternoon to a rainy evening. Making your vision even worse. You kept on walking until you reached a crossroads. He has slipped from your vision, unknown which turn he had made, you looked around once more. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his frame. Alas, he was gone. You sighed in defeat as you wanted to turn back around, making your way back to the tavern. Coming up with an excuse as to why your clothes and hair are drenched. A small tear slipped from your eye, blending in perfectly with the raindrops that had been collecting on your cheeks. You looked down at your clothes, now completely soaked. But you didn't care anymore. Something in you stirred. A feeling you had buried deep within the depths of your heart. A flame reigniting slowly. Love. a feeling you had not felt in a while. Even only seeing him, so briefly, it brought everything back up. You looked up into the sky, closed your eyes and took a deep breath before finally turning around, walking back. Maybe you needed this. A very cruel way of the universe telling you to let him go. Fully letting him go. No more small hopes, no more wishing he would magically be on your doorstep. He slipped from your grasp tonight. Maybe rekindling was never an option to begin with.

You took a few steps back toward the tavern, hands wrapped around your own body to somewhat comfort yourself in a way. No more tears were going to be shed on the topic. It had been too long. You deserved happiness, peace. You had fought your battles. And now it was time to find your place in this life. 

‘’What's a lady like yourself doing alone on the streets at this hour?’’ a creepy voice behind you said all of a sudden. You quickly froze, and looked around. Trying to find the body that matched the voice. You found none. You quickly tried to make your way back to the tavern but realized it would still be quite the distance. And with the rain clouding your vision, you didn't really know if you were walking in the right direction. Panic rushed through your body as you tried to make out which way to go, not wanting to get lost. Suddenly a hand made its way around your waist. Roughly pulling your body into a  much larger frame. You tried to get yourself out of the grasp of the stranger but you were unable to, he was too strong. You looked over your shoulder and recognised him. It was the orc from the tavern fight. 

‘’This is a dangerous place for someone like you, you know. I should bring you somewhere safe.’’ he said, getting awfully close to your neck. He held you in a tight embrace, there was no way to get out of his grasp. ‘’I know just the place to treat a nice lady like yourself exactly the way she deserves to be treated. All the things i am going to do to yo–’’ He couldn't finish his sentence, as he started sputtering and coughing up blood. Covering your clothes and hair in drops of his bodily liquids as his body went limp behind you, you quickly got out of his grasp and stumbled forward when your foot got caught on a piece of cobblestone. You stumbled forward and cried out when your body hit the ground, hard. You took a quick peek over your shoulder whilst crawling away and saw the orcs body lay there, lifeless and cold.  A tall frame looming over his body. The figure then bent down and retrieved a dagger from the orcs neck. He wiped it clean on his clothes and slit it back into the sheath on his belt. You were terrified. You see the frame walking closer toward you as you try to get up and run away again. There were times where murder didn't bother you. But that life was in your past now. This was not the reality you wanted to live out anymore. Too much blood had been shed by your hands. 

As you were trying to regain your balance you noticed that your wrist had taken too much of your weight when you fell. You didn't know if it was broken or just badly sprained, but it hurt like hell either way. The frame got closer to you and that's when you noticed. 

The white hair, pale skin. Red eyes that had never been more aflame than they were in this moment. It was Astarion. He saved your life. You gasped when he was close enough to fully be in your vision. The very dim street lights are not doing him justice. He had never looked more beautiful than he did in this moment. His curly hair now sticking to his face from the rain, concern in his eyes. You both stared at each other in silence for a moment before you took a step toward him and pulled him into your frame. A soft sob leaving your lips as you felt him slowly wrap his arms around you, pulling you so close, like he was never going to let you go again. 

‘’I’m sorry.’’ he said softly after staying in the moment for a while. You look up at him in confusion. ‘’I am sorry that I didn't try hard enough. I am sorry that I never really told you how I felt. I am sorry that–’’ before he could even continue his unnecessary apologies you kissed him. Softly, so tenderly. Hands cupping his cheeks. He was taken aback by your action but quickly melted into the kiss. A hand going up to the back of your neck, one lingering on your lower back. You pull back from him for a second and look into his eyes, trying to see if there's any form of hesitation in his stare. But there isn't. 

‘’You don't have to say sorry. If anyone has to apologize it is me. I should've told you how I felt. I should've made the effort too. I guess this is on both of us. But I want you to know there has not been a day where I haven't thought about you.’’ you say. ‘’There are many things that have stopped me in the past. Many things I feared. But I am done being scared.’’ 

You look into his eyes. A small smile crept on his lips while you were talking. One you have missed so much, one you had been hoping to see every day for the past year. But fear has gotten the best of you. Your ego being too fragile, too weak. A small young girl, frightened of abandonment, had been making decisions in your life to make the risk as small as possible. But you were done with being afraid. You would rather risk the fear than live the rest of your days alone. 

Astarion pulled you close again and placed a small kiss on your forehead. 

‘’This is where our future begins.’’ 

And it was then that you fully realized, he is more of yourself than you are. Whatever our souls are made of, his and yours were the same.

[chaconnewon]

could u write about jake eating the reader out?

hello anon! thanks for your request and being the first <3 i hope you like it and it fills your expectatives.

skilled ─── s.jy

pairing: friend!jake x fem!reader wc: 1.1k tags: oral(female reciving), friends to ???, slightly hair pulling, mention of reader daydreaming, insinuation of a second round, lmk if i missed something !!

There was one thing you knew for sure: Jake was pretty good at everything. Even if it was his first time trying, he would accomplish the task successfully. He seemed to have the luck by his side, always impressing those who surrounded him. 

You were sceptical at first when he invited you to his place to show how good he can play piano. You’ve never seen him play piano or any other instrument. Even though the countless times you’ve been at his house, you didn’t see any of them. Was he trying to impress you? You above all the girls that were drooling behind him? 

But he was fucking right.

He played the piano in a way your stomach could flip. It didn’t feel like he just quickly learned the basics, he sounded smooth, confident while pressing the keys. Like he has been taking lessons since always.

Of course you couldn’t keep your mind quiet, and soon found yourself wondering if Jake was skilled at bed too. You felt ashamed to think like that about your friend but you couldn’t help it, how tempting those lips looked, or how pretty his slender, veiny fingers were while doing barely anything. You thought quietly, like somehow he could read your mind, if his finger could feel good inside you. 

‘’y/n, are you listening to me?’’

‘’Uhm… yeah!’’

Not at all. You were lost at the sight of his computer screen, a video game lobby showing up. You bet he was ranting about other players but your mind replayed his finger tensing on the keyboard, smashing them slightly whenever he died or his teammates made something useless.

Jake saw you peeking his hands very often. 

When he sighed, leaning back on his chair you sat up on his bed, fingers playing with nervousness on your lap.

‘’I’ve been thinking… Are you that good at everything?’’

‘’Are we having this conversation again, y/n?’’ he chuckles, shaking his head.

‘’No, no! I mean everything.’’ you emphasise that last word, softly raising your eyebrows as if doing that could give a hint of what was crossing your mind.

And honestly, you couldn’t tell if he was being clueless or just messing with you. Jake was a keen person, and both of you knew that.

‘’I told you, I am.’’

‘’Like… at everything?’’

‘’Wanna find out?’’

You suddenly felt breathless. Sharp gaze of his locked on your eyes. Was he messing around? Didn’t look like it as he left his comfy position of his chair to get closer to you. Still in your spot at his bed, you looked up to meet his gaze once again, but something was different. Jake’s eyes darkened a bit as he knelt in front of you.

‘’Jake…?’’ you softly called him, tilting your head.

‘’You know… I’m not just good with my brain, or hands. Let me show you, and I’m sure you won't ask again.’’

Like if you were under some kind of spell you nodded, gaining a smirk from him. His hands flew quickly at your waistband, asking without a word with your permission. You gave it to him, and soon found himself unbuttoning your pants and sliding them through your legs, leaving them forgotten somewhere on the floor.

Jake took you by your thighs and pulled them closer to him, blushing your cheeks hot red. He helped you spread your legs, both of your ankles pinned down the mattress. Your hands held your weight, expectant for his next move.

Jake’s lips pressed softly on your inner thighs, leaving a trail of kisses before reaching your underwear. He repeated the same action on your left leg, his hands never leaving your things. Until now.

One of his fingers hooked the hem of your panties, slid it to the side, and took a look at your wet cunt. How embarrassing. You were wet just for a few kisses there and here. But in reality you knew that wetness came from before, while you daydream about his fingers minutes ago. Your chest felt heavy as you tried to control your breath, hands gripping slightly on his bed sheets. His free hand went directly to recollect some of your arousal and spread it on your folds, rubbing slowly your clit.

You held back a moan, biting your bottom lip. Jake led his coated fingers inside his mouth and hummed at your sweet taste.

‘’God, I bet it tastes better directly from your pussy.’’

Your legs felt like jelly at his words, and you found yourself throwing back your head as soon as his wet and warm tongue started to make wonders between your folds. He hummed, sending vibrations to your core that made you arch your back.

As you gripped tightly his bed sheets, Jake didn’t stop working on your wet core, rubbing with the tip of his tongue your clit, sending jolts through your whole body.

He was pretty good at it, switching between your swollen clit and your entrance, tempting to pull his tongue further. Your free hand grabbed his nape hair, his name leaving your lips as your eyes were shut. 

‘’Fuck, f–feels so good Jake.’’ You could almost feel his grin appearing on his lips. He knew right. ‘’Please don’t s–stop.’’

He didn’t tho.

Jake held you close, pinning one of your legs down for a better access, even if that meant your legs were wide open. But you couldn't care less. The feeling was worth it, almost intoxicating to the point you started to rub your core against his tongue. The moment Jake sucked you sensitive bundle, immediately tugged his hair, earring a groan from him.

Even if he was suffocating, both of his tongue and nose-tip rubbing your clit, he couldn’t stop. Your squirming body, broken moans falling from your lips kept him going, digging his nails into your flesh. 

‘’I’m so close, s–so close…!’’

‘’Cum in my mouth, pretty. Go on, let it go.’’

Took you a few licks to come on his mouth, tensing all your body as he kept doing his work, helping you to reach your highest point though your orgasm. Maybe you pulled his hair a bit harsh but, in fact, he liked it. 

Your tired body lies on his bed, legs still shaking and you breach unable to catch. You felt his hands caressing your thighs, his cheek leaning onto your inner thigh.

‘’Are you okay…?’’

‘’Jesus… It was amazing.’’

You heard Jake chuckled.

‘’Take a moment to rest and then I want you to open your mouth for me. ‘Gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours.’’

[riddles-fiddles]

Octavinelle boys with a pregnant S/O

Synopsis: I'm dealing with terrible baby ferver so I need to get this out of my system. Headcanons to how the boys react to your pregnancy all thorough the months (part 2) Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Floyd Leech, Jade Leech Tags: SFW, fluff, domestic fluff Notes: AFAB gender neutral reader, cw pregnancy and birth

•·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°••·.·''·.·•ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

⁀➷ Azul Ashengrotto — make sure to give him the good news while the man is safely sitting down, or else you'll see him go weak on his knees. Azul prides himself on his collected demeanor and carefully woven expressions - vital skills for his business-oriented persona - but then he is inevitably crumbling down, staring at the positive pregnancy test wide-eyed, struggling to find something clever to say. His mind is racing wild but no rational thoughts are able to fall from his lips, so all he can muster is a very low, shaky "I am… going to be a father?"

Give him some time to digest the news and you'll be met by a very gentle, tender hug from the octomer. Azul is both thrilled and terrified of this new chapter of your shared life; he longed to achieve the same kind of love his mother and step-father shared with each other, to be cared for and desired in such a selfless and devotional way, inspired by the way their love reflected upon his own upbringing. On the other hand, however, his insecuriities threatened to surface once again, doubts and ghosts from the past whispering wicked lies about his worth as a future parent. He doesn't want to fail on you and the child, as a partner or a father, and though he's equally worried about the emotional aspect of parenthood, he sticks to the importance of material goods - they're more on his comfort lane and he does it flawless to ensure your growing family can have everything of need.

(Please leash him while shopping for nursery furniture or else he'll make the baby's room a monochrome nightmare)

Azul showers you with gifts almost everyday: jewels, clothes, accessories… anything he knows you like or make any minimal comments about, being his way of showing how much he loves and cares for you, and as you progress through the stages, he takes more leaves from Mostro Lounge. He loves his work, but you are the lighthouse of his life, the one he cherishes and clings to on stormy or bright days, and the pregnancy only fueled his sense of loyalty and sincerity to you. His cafe actually comes in handy when the cravings start, and Azul isn't even an ounce ashamed to take advantage of the students working under his contracts to request them to make whatever you hunger for, though it was a surprise at first to discover about that particular characteristic of human pregnancy; he was amused nonetheless, but then he will be more careful when handing your requests. He's a very attentive partner, though it could be hard for him to express all the emotions that bubbles within his chest, sometimes too worried about being 'too emotional', scared to say something and make himself a complete fool. He kneads the stress away from your body with careful fingers and helps you out on regular tasks - shampoo your hair, put your shoes on, change clothes.

When the big day finally comes, Azul is already set and ready to go. Fret not, for the darling octo-mer has picked only the best, comfiest and quietest room for the delivery with only the best nurses on the hospital and has already set a very special menu for you to indulge in after all your hard work. But suddenly he is panicking, the danger of human birth finally sinking in as he watches the way you writhe and sob on the bed, but he can't do much but hold your hands tightly and hope for the best as the nurses help you around. When his baby is finally placed over his arms and Azul gazes upon the serene features of the tiny bean, all his terrors and doubts melt away, exhaling out a sigh of relieve and renewed joy - Azul realizes he's madly in love with you and the frail life that lays withing his grasp. He understands that there's no need for him to be perfect, either.

⁀➷ Floyd Leech — very excited from the idea of having a mini Floyd running around the house, a pocket-sized partner in crime, but to expect he would be an exceptional partner is, unfortunately, wrong. Floyd is very complex and his emotions are hard to keep controlled, and now that you are pregnant, he becomes somewhat more intense because of your own hormones and the anxiety of parenthood gripping on his neck. He does tries his best to get his moods in check, though - he doesn't want you to be stressing over him, knowing how dangerous it could be, so whenever he feels like his mood is about to change drastically, he walks away to take a breath. Things can turn into quite a ruckus if you end up experiencing those annoying changes at the same time though, as Floyd struggles to understand why you're snapping at him all of a sudden when he was just asking you something. Jade helps him understand that you're extremely hormonal and how it affects your humor and helps you keep his brother's own on check.

He's a lot more possessive and protective of you now, if not clingier. Floyd will be wrapping his arms around your figure any chance he gets, and when in public he'll always be intertwining your fingers together or holding you by the waist, getting annoyed every time someone comes asking to touch your bump - "I'm the only one who should be allowed to touch my Shrimpy's belly! Strangers have no bussiness being so close to you." Going to the doctor is always amusing because that's the moment Floyd looks the most concentrated than you can ever remember. Human pregnancy is something so new and weird for him, he's totally enthralled; what do you mean you don't lay eggs? Oh, you're just like a whale! How fun! Though he is entertained from all the information he's learning, Floyd is lowkey terrified of the birthing process (he's flabbergasted to know human babies can come out the size of a small watermelon), but he does his best to calm you down, and if you'd prefer to get a c-section, then he'll totally support you! During the preparations for the baby's room, Floyd will prefer to decorate it with ocean-themed stuff, having a blast with the assorted toys you two have bought and you're worried he might be more excited with them than your child. You know that one meme of the dad stealing the kid's tricycle? Yeah, that's him.

The delivering day comes, and Floyd is a whirlwind. He's more scared than you and it shows, no more jokes or smart remarks to try and hide his desperation, only panic, and you need to calm him down, even though he's not the one dealing with hellish contractions. Also, for the love of all Sevens, do not allow him to drive. Once you two get in the hospital, Floyd makes use of scary eel privilege to swiftly arrange a delivery room for you and suddenly almost all the nurse staff is mobilized to take care of you. Floyd can't bear the idea of leaving you alone not for even a minute, so despite the recommendations, he'll sit through hours by your side even if he's tense and stiff, holding your hand tightly. Bless the nurses who'll be helping you, because they'll have to deal with Floyd going through all the emotions known to man. Don't worry though, once he knows his shrimpy and little fry are safe and healthy, he'll turn back to the usual easy-going happy Floyd.

⁀➷ Jade Leech — Jade is surprised to receive the news. Similar to Azul, he does have a bit of knowledge about human's particularities and biology, but he wasn't expecting for you two to be compatible, especially since he's a much more 'feral' kind of merman. Nonetheless, he's happy with the prospect of growing a loving family with you... though by the progression of months, he grows the most worried. He's relieved to see the way you glow, how you seem healthy, but intrusive thoughts sometimes creep on the back of his mind. What if something happens? What if your body rejects the child because of his eel-merman genes? What if— but then you come to him squealing about how you felt the baby's first kick, and suddenly he's relaxing, his heart washed from any lingering fears. He pulls you closer and lays his head on your bump, humming quietly as he feels the baby slowly settling down.

Jade does his own research just to be sure he's doing everything right and what to expect from the significant changes you two are inevitably experiencing, insisting on working out a routine of exams and appointments, always so attentive to every little detail and medical advice. The bad thing is, he strictly follows them, which means you won't be able to snatch something unhealthy for all of your pregnancy; even if you're trying to tiptoe your way to the fridge, Jade somehow knows, he's right there to remind you about 'doctor's orders'. He's got the best of intentions, though he may look too strict. But don't fret! As soon as mama Leech gets word about your pregnancy she's coming to help! Jade actually listens to her tips, recognizing her very valuable experience on the matter and trusting mama knows best. At least you get to eat some cheat food here and there - Jade's shocked and extremely entertained to be taught that humans believe that a baby could be born looking like a certain kind of food if the mother doesn't eat whatever she's craving, and so he indulges you into whatever you ask him to cook. Similar to Floyd, Jade grows more possessive of you, especially when out in public. He dislikes the attention your bump attracts, cautious of ill-intentioned people, so when your belly has grown to it's full glory, Jade gives curious passerbys a piercing cold look while you're not aware, and then carries on to grocery shopping, whispering sweet praises to your ear like the entire mall isn't turning heels as fast as possible the moment they land their eyes on you both.

When the baby's due date comes, Jade is the ever collected and relying gentleman you need. Since he's such a good observer and has kept track of every little thing during your pregnancy - mood swings, body changes, smell and heat - he already has a suspicion you're about to go into labour, so he has prepared everything you might need even before you can shout about your water breaking. It's so endearing how he already looks like a dad - diligently guiding you through the hospital halls, big maternity bags hanging on his shoulders as he coos quietly about how everything is going to be ok, how you're going to be a great parent and how much he loves you. If you ask him to stay with you on the delivery room, he'll gladly let you squeeze his hand into oblivion and look unaffected, watching as you work for hours on end with a ressuring smile and the most sincere devotion on his eyes, totally enthralled by your resilience.

[remuswriting]

LET ME HOLD YOU CLOSE; OJIRO ARAN

Aran comes back from his morning run to find you still asleep.

TAGS: Domestic Fluff; Post Time-Skip; Male! Reader

WORD COUNT: 724 words

NOTES: I’m on day three of recovery from surgery but that won’t stop me from thinking about Aran! Please excuse any typos because it's very hard to write when in pain and your vision is blurry half the time <3

It’s quiet when Aran gets back from his morning run. You should be up right now, blasting music as you make coffee and toast in an attempt to wake up faster. Instead, all that’s heard throughout the house is the air conditioner blasting at full force due to how bad the summer heat has gotten.

Aran quietly discards his shoes next to the door and makes his way to the bedroom, where you’re still buried beneath the blankets and your soft snores fill the space. He chuckles at the sight as fondness spreads throughout his chest and warms him entirely. Although this is a sight he’ll never tire of, he walks over to the bed and gently sits down.

“Y/N,” he says softly, reaching out and touching your blanket covered shoulder. “It’s time to wake up.”

You grumble something as you move away from him, but he only follows you. The comforter is soft beneath his fingers as he keeps ahold of you.

“Y/N,” he says again, shaking your shoulder slightly.

“Go away,” you mumble, and your morning voice is deep and scratchy. Aran immediately feels dizzy at the sound, but he reminds himself he’s trying to wake you up. He’s not trying to start something so early in the morning.

“You’re going to be late if you don’t get up,” he says. (He doesn’t know it, but that’s not entirely true. You’ve always just woken up earlier so you two can spend a little more time together.)

You open your eyes and glare at him, making him flinch slightly and let go. “I don’t care,” you say before snuggling into the blankets even more. “Go away.”

Aran looks down at you, and it probably says something about him that this makes his heart feel so full. Even with you being stubborn and grumpy this morning, he can’t imagine being anywhere else. Really, this is the only place he wants to be. Maybe he’s just soft for his boyfriend, which he’ll never be ashamed of.

“Baby,” he says, but you don’t move. “Come on.”

When you don’t respond, he moves to place a kiss on the top of your head, even though it’s hard to see with all the blankets. He moves and presses several more kisses to the top of your head as he moves the blanket down, and you move slightly, making it harder to do so. Suddenly, he’s being pulled down to be properly kissed by you.

Although he just faced the summer heat on his run, how warm you are from the blankets and sleep is so nice. You sit up to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer, which has him grabbing your waist to keep steady. You’re both chest to chest, and the kisses are soft and slow, but they make Aran dizzy, regardless.

You pull away first, and he chases after you, which makes you chuckle slightly. It’s rougher than normal because of your vocal cords not being warmed up yet. Aran looks up at your eyes, and they’re still full of sleep. There’s something so soft and lovely about you early in the morning that has him wanting to stay.

“It’s 6 AM,” you say with a soft yawn. “You couldn’t have given me another 30 minutes?”

“Missed you,” he says, and you laugh a little.

“Is sleeping next to me not enough?”

He shakes his head. “Nope.”

You pull him down as you grab the blanket again before pressing yourself against him. “Try to make it enough for the next 30 minutes.”

Aran watches you close your eyes and snuggle into the crook of his neck. All he hears is your breathing and the air conditioner. “Are you really just going back to sleep?” he asks, and you huff, your breath tickling his neck.

“I’m trying to,” you say before pressing a kiss to his neck. “Why don’t you try as well?”

He doesn’t say that he can’t fall asleep once he’s woken up like this. His morning runs wake him up to start his entire day, so no matter how comfortable he gets, he won’t be falling asleep. It’s pointless to say that, though, especially with how he holds you in his arms. He likes having you close like this, so he’ll stay here and enjoy your presence.

“Okay. 30 minutes.”

[chimggukchim]

The level of insecurity I have seen from a host of jikookers just because Taehyung will be featured in a portion of Are You Sure?

I am ashamed! Honestly.

It's borderline pathetic. YOU ALL, who profess to be SUPPORTERS of Jimin and Jungkook (and not 'shippers') are actually...what...showing your true colours at the sight of another member interacting with these two? A member I might add, who is very close to BOTH of them, no matter how much some of you may low-key hate him.

SO FRIGGING WHAT if Tae is in a few episodes of Are You Sure?

SO FRIGGING WHAT if he asked to tag along with them to Jeju or they asked if he wanted to join in because he was already there? They're all friends! They are allowed!

We are mere spectators to their REAL LIVES and REAL RELATIONSHIPS.

Does that change ANYTHING between Jimin and Jungkook?

NO!

They still spent time together before enlistment, and you know what? If they used some of that time to also spend with their FRIEND who they would also not be seeing for the next 18 months, then I'm happy for them!

You know what it changes? The cult just gets a little louder on social media.

And you know what I say to that?

SO FRIGGING WHAT?!

How is that different from any other Sunday when they're loud and obnoxiously delusional about nothing?!

So my dear insecure jikookers...go right ahead and let them into your head to live rent-free. Just remember - YOU are the ones giving them permission to make YOU miserable.

ORRRR...

You can take your time to remind yourselves that we SUPPORT Jimin and Jungkook's relationship, a relationship that they could not do without for 18 months, that they enlisted TOGETHER, something no other idol pair has ever done.

And after you remind yourselves of that FACT, just sit back and focus on the amazing and funny moments that we get to see of jikook together (whether just them or someone else too).

Because at the end of the day, we are PRIVILEGED to have gotten this series. It wasn't our right. Jimin and Jungkook didn't HAVE to vlog it. They could have travelled together all over the world in their private time (with and without Taehyung) and we would have been none the wiser. BigHit didn't have to approve the series even if Jikook wanted to do it.

So leave the entitlement at the door and just ENJOY what we get without spewing hatred everywhere.