#i thought getting glasses was a perfect occasion to become a new... you

[untitledroughdraft]

You are getting glasses today

A chance at a change of I's

World upside-down, switch of perspective

Slight but brutal, see how through the glass

Magnified doubts become familiar

Magnificence found behind the blur

Renewed beauty, the inner is out

Laying there before your eyes

07/04/2023

[hoseoksluna]

ROSÉ | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x wine!oc

genre: smut

word count: 5.7k

summary: on your first dinner date, your boyfriend brings you a small gift—too bad you're too horny to appreciate it.

pinterest board: wine

warnings: a bit of drunkenness, a mention of inner child healing, oc teases jungkook and oc is horny as fuck, dom/sub dynamics, wine!jk, provider jk..., daddy issues, punishment, spanking, food used during intercourse, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), dirty talk, a mention of a sex toy & a mention of a plushie in a sexual context, raw sex, brattiness, jk and oc smoke together

note: OH GOD—IT'S FINALLY HERE. SLFJSLDFJS. A REQUESTED DRABBLE about wine!oc and jungkook. this was so fucking fun to write and i was so hot and bothered from this that i had to take a break............ yeah uhm anyways, I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. ENJOY READING AND LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK ANONYMOUSLY IN MY INBOX. I NEED YOUR THOUGHTS. PLS AND THANK YOU. ₊˚⊹♡

side note: jk in the first pic made me fucking die. and other things....

The rosy pink nectar has, undeniably, gone to your head. 

Your empty wine glass is illuminated by the setting sunlight spilling past your shoulder, reaching its yellow, warm fingers to the tips of your boyfriend’s that rest lazily on the white cloth of the table. You’re woozy, in a lighthearted mood—so much that even the world has lost its heft and all you can sense is the sluggish process of your absorption. You’re engrossed in the way the spring coalesces with the beginning of summer—in the warm evening wind ruffling your curls, tickling your bare shoulders, in the darkening hues of the sky, pinks and violets, in the gray smoke of Jungkook’s cigarette interlacing with the slightly sultry air. You can see it in his eyes, the unfolding of it all. And perhaps you’re tipsy or perhaps you’re just brazenly and foolishly falling in love, because you’re aware that if the man weren’t sitting in front of you, none of these things wouldn’t have caught your attention in such a devastatingly profound way. 

He has made you feel so safe. By simply and beautifully laying his feelings bare. To you and for you. Created a haven for you to dwell in, for you to grow in and explore all the dark and light corners of you that have merely seldom seen the face of the sun. How could you not indulge in a little bit of alcohol, when you’re protected in that place of security? Let your girlishness swim a little, refresh herself, enjoy herself?

You’re glowing. You always had been, but your shimmers have gained a new intensity to their twinkles, keeping Jungkook’s liquid stars warm and taken care of inside of you. Their blunt points have carved you into someone else entirely, too. Joyous, cool-headed and absolutely and irrevocably self-assured. Fearless. And his hands have reached deep within and caressed the head of your inner child, healing her and washing her clean, giving her everything she ever lacked. Love, attention, care and validation. Whenever you remember that you never wanted him to get a glimpse of your soul, bile rises in your throat and your stomach hurts.

He saved you. Healed you. Through and through. Gave you his control.

It stirs your never-ending awe that he has managed to do this in a month, and you want to celebrate it. You think now is quite the perfect occasion for it as it’s your first dinner date since you’ve become exclusive. Having spent most of your time at each other’s places fucking, partying and fucking some more, it’s nice to be out, alone with him, that is—and it’s nice as fuck to be out with your boyfriend. The sex has become so different with the label and the rawness of his feelings. And the thing about Jungkook that gets you the most, that strengthens the realm he invented for you, is that once his emotions overflow, the stream of its wine doesn’t stop pouring. The moment he confessed his love for you, ever since then you sense it expressed in everything he does—in the way he greets you in the day, in his tight, burning embrace, in the tenderness with which he holds your hand or kisses it, the relentless, great thought and consideration he puts in the choices he makes for you on the daily. Whether it’s the fatuous things he buys you that mean the world to you, the way he never neglects bunny and incorporates her in everything you do together or… the sex. 

Fuck, the sex alone has taken over your life so vividly and drastically that it consumes your brain. There, in that environment, is where the wine of his emotions is the raciest. He’s not ashamed to cry, letting those liquid pearls trickle down your collarbones, quenching the thirst of his liquid stars as he fucks you dumb and enjoys every second of it. He’s not afraid to be loud either. To talk you through your orgasm with even more care and detail than you were accustomed to in the past. 

He’s become boundless. And it’s the most attractive thing you’ve ever seen in your life. 

God, you’d be crazy not to let yourself fall for him—

“I got you dessert,” Jungkook husks, digging his fingers into the pocket of his pants while his other digits draw close to his mouth. He takes a drag of his cigarette, crinkling his eyes so the smoke wouldn’t get into them and you beam at him with a fire that’s more scorching than the sun’s ever been in centuries, heart doing somersaults at the thought of him thinking of you and spending money on you again. And, also, at how hot he looks while he smokes.

Your love language must be gift-giving. You don’t know what else to connect it to, the joy that envelops your entire being whenever he gives you something. It doesn’t even have to be expensive, nor does he have to pay for it at all. Drawings have become your favorite keepsakes—drawings of his Miffy bunny, drawings of flowers, of you. You’ve hidden them away in a box along with everything he’s ever brought you, except the white bunny ring because you wear it daily and one small, particular drawing that you’ve put inside your glittery phone case. 

A cutesy marker sketch of him and you. His arm around your shoulders. Bunny sitting on your laps in the middle, as if she were your own child. Cheeks big and bubbly, pink and twinkling. Your curls the way you wear them; his mullet. A perfect depiction of the pair of you. You gaze at it every single day—prefer to now put your phone face down because of it. 

You’re tracing it now with the pad of your finger as you wait for him to reveal your mystery gift to you. The bulby heads, the cheeks, Miffy’s ears. Jungkook puts out his cigarette, puffing out the smoke, away from you, and once he’s done, he taps the back of your hand. Turns it over and spreads out your fingers, inserting, at a snail's pace, something round but slender at the same time, smiling adoringly at you. 

What a sight to behold. It steals, fleetingly, your attention away from his hand. 

Slicked back mullet, twinkles taking laps in his soft eyes, blushed cheekbones and stretched, pouty mouth, shiny with his liquid love. Long neck that you’d like to devour now, the broadness of his shoulders and chest that could come second as a plain, dark beige shirt accentuates his hard work at the gym. 

Oh, fuck. Your nipples pebble against your carmine tube top. 

Jungkook withdraws his hand and with blurry eyes, you look at the thing he placed in your palm. 

Chupa Chups. Strawberry and cream. 

Your mouth parts and it’s a concoction of a gasp and a sound of endearment when the realization that he got you a lollipop sinks in. Your heart flips and does a head stand. Lips round into a pout, drunk eyes softening, its twinkles growing in size and light. It’s like he gave you something golden, when in fact it costs a few wons, but to you it’s exactly that. Something so precious. 

You give him an air kiss, bouncing in your seat in joy, fingers already destroying the wrapper. “Thank you so…”

Your brows furrow as the wrapper remains intact. You do a bad, bad job of picking at the tape around the slender stick, your long manicured hands absolutely useless—and the cause of your frustration. You puff out an angry gust of breath, trying harder to get to the sweet delight and it’s at that moment that your boyfriend takes it from your hands with a deep chuckle. 

“You silly boo, this is how you do it.” Jungkook pinches the wrapper around the stick and he merely, in a few swift motions, twists the ball until it lets go. He scrunches it in his fists and throws it away in the ashtray. Smirks smugly, leans his elbows on the table, draws close to you. You mirror his position, get to him almost nose to nose, and his smirk deepens, tongue darting out to lick across his lips. You do the same, eyeing the round pinkness in his hand, the sexual attraction and its tension soaring high between you.

Without your hands, you could put it in your mouth, mimic the way you do it on his own tip and make him lose his mind a little bit. It’s right here, an inch away and you dip your head towards it, a magnetic pulling drawing you naturally to it. Sense his gaze on you, sense his delight, sense the flashback glimmering across the wholeness of him. But before you could wrap your lips around it, he moves it out of your reach. 

“No,” Jungkook murmurs, breath slightly ragged, holds it up in front of your face, watches as you go cross-eyed a little bit. Hums at the sight, quietly enough for only you to hear. “If you want it, ask for it nicely.” 

His puffy lips being so close to you, you desire to kiss him—cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink, his oh-so-loved dominance fucking with your drunkenness and your brain, body altogether. You tip your head to the side, flutter your lashes, make your eyes big and smile at him as sweetly as you can. 

He coos, validating you, and it is a force that makes you feel safe enough to submit to him like a small animal to its father. Safe enough to want to get under the table and make him feel really, really good, too. 

“Can I have the lollipop, please?” 

He groans, still quietly, and your panties drench immediately. You widen your eyes at him, feeling your slick, pursing your lips to scold him silently. He just laughs, amused by it all, and the sound of his joy fills you with elation.

One that darkens, when he asks, “Where?” 

You lick your lips, taking in the question, struck by it. Letting your mind wander, the places where you want it, except your mouth, is on your nipples and your clit. Nicely sweet and sticky—for him to clean up, for him to enjoy. Your dewiness soaks the material of your panties and your body begins to yearn for any kind of friction. You’re not sure whether you’re able to stick around in your chair, acting as if nothing’s wrong—acting as if you’re not stupendously horny. 

“In my mouth.” 

Jungkook makes a noise of appreciation and you’re so frustrated by all those sounds he makes that you want to dig your nails in his arms and make him pay for it. Even more so, when he plunges the lollipop into his mouth and his lips pucker around it, inciting the butterflies in your tummy to go absolutely fucking berserk. You place your hand on his bicep, nails ready to attack, but then he pulls out the treat with a pop, angling it at your mouth. 

“Open.” 

You thought he stole it from you, but he did no such thing. He wetted it for you, like a father for its child. You’re stupefied to the point that you don't even realize that you’re leaving a mark on the linen material of your seat. 

You do open your mouth for him, however. 

He twists the ball on your tongue, expecting you to close your mouth around the stick, but you don’t. No, you swirl that muscle around the candy, deepening your gaze, smirking. Jungkook stills, clenches his strong jaw. Darkness flicks across his eyes and he narrows them. First warning. 

You pretend you don’t see it. 

Closing your mouth and encasing your hand around his, you move the lollipop to the side of your cheek, acting as if it were his dick. And when you bob your head once, Jungkook tugs on the stick, wanting to pull it out, but you don’t let him, keeping it caged between your teeth. It only drives you to bob your head again.  

“Stop,” he says, voice calm, deep and serious—terribly deadly. Withdraws his hand and leans back, watching you with a predatory gaze, one that makes you even wetter. “Or we’re going home.” 

That’s exactly what you want. Instructions clear. 

You open your mouth and do a show of swirling your tongue around the ball, only this time you flick the muscle against it. Jungkook grips the table, knuckles white, and you laugh, which you soon realize was a grave mistake. 

“You think it’s funny?” he questions you, staring you down with a look that should frighten you, but it merely turns you on. You suck on the lollipop, the dulciness of strawberries suffusing your senses. “I’ll bend you over this fucking table, lift up that slutty little skirt and spank you in front of everyone.” 

You pull out the candy with an exaggerated pop. Scowl at him. As though his words didn’t affect you the way that they did—as though you’re not squeezing your thighs together, trying to gain that friction you so desperately need. “Why are you so angry?” 

He looks away for a moment, laughing silently. Nods his head at your wine glass. “You finished with your wine, baby?” 

It’s this pleasantness that you hear in this voice that spreads goosebumps across your skin. Feigned sugariness—the sunlight right before the clouds come in and thunder strikes; the calm before the storm. 

Good thing you’re dressed for the rain and ready to sing in it. 

You nod your head and Jungkook clicks his tongue, grabs you by your hand whilst he pulls out his wallet. You accompany him as he walks over to the bar, black card ready between his fingers. Waits to be noticed. Gives you a look over and fixes your skirt, pulling the hem down. 

Pays for you. Smiles down at you as he pockets his wallet. 

And then, he drags you to his car. 

Perhaps it’s the fresh air, perhaps it’s the briskness in his walk and the tight hold around your hand, but all intoxication evaporates from your body, leaving only your stained elation and neediness. You can’t help your smile. Think it must be sewn in at this point. By his own diligent fingers. 

A wind blows in, pulling your hair to your front and Jungkook pins you against his car. Tits squished against the passenger side, elbows pressed together. Eyes wide, you check your surroundings and find no one in sight. Only swaying trees, buildings of apartments, lamps illuminating the dark street. You relax right away, trusting Jungkook that he’s on the lookout and knows what he’s doing. 

He grinds his hips against your backside and you moan at the feeling of his hard length. With his free hand, he brushes your hair to one side and begins to pepper kisses along the curve of your neck, nuzzling his face in. Hovers his lips above your ear when he says, “You feel how hard you made me with your little show?” You nod, quickly, wanting more of him, wanting him inside of you. Push your hips back; twirl them in slow circles. Jungkook hisses. “I guess you really do want that spanking. Where’s your lollipop?” You show him your hand, where your treat remains uneaten and dry. He takes it from you and you turn your head in time to see him sink it into his mouth, placing it on the side of his mouth like you did. “Get inside the car.” 

Jungkook opens the door for you and forces you in, closing it with a harsh thud. As he rounds the vehicle, he makes eye contact with you and your tummy flips in response. 

Fuck. 

Nothing happens in a millisecond once he’s seated, but then he grabs your cheeks, squishing them in the way he likes, and kisses you hard, lollipop in hand. Moving his mouth against yours, his tongue only briefly greets you before he pulls away. “Naughty fucking girl. You’re lucky that I love you because otherwise…” He doesn’t finish his sentence with words, but with another kiss, breathing against you, grunting when it’s you this time that slips the tongue inside, playing with him the same way you played with the dessert he got you. “Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me. I’m gonna put you in your fucking place, make you remember how to behave in public. You’ve forgotten, haven't you?” 

You don’t have time to react, you merely bite your lip so hard that it aches. Jungkook pushes you back and yanks your leg between his, lifting your skirt. Then, he hovers his palm above your ass, the other forearm resting on the top of the seat, lollipop dangling near your head. He hides his smirk behind his effort to flatten his lips. 

And when he spanks you, you don’t roll your eyes back and rasp like your body naturally wants you to. No, you hold the eye contact and you take the pain, letting it course through your body, reveling in it. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps going, alternating between slapping your now reddened cheeks and the back of your thigh. Doesn’t even stroke the skin to alleviate the burn. He solely bores his gaze into yours, his cock rock hard against your leg. Another set of words are exchanged, silently, deeply, teaching you your lesson in tandem with the hits, burying it to a great depth inside you. 

And then he finishes with a nasty kiss, but his hand resumes causing you pain. You’ve lost count of how many spanks you’ve taken. 

It’s like you’ve woken up from a trance. It reverberates throughout your entire body and it’s now that you allow your body to vocally react. You whine, rounding your mouth in a pout, so different from the one on the dinner date. And you remember your manners—perceive how wrong it was to tease him, even though a good half of you still takes delight in it. 

“It hurts,” you whisper, nudging your lips against him and he gives you your last spank—the hardest of them all. The infliction makes you flutter your eyes shut and Jungkook brings them back to him by caressing his knuckles down your flushed cheek. 

“Good, you remember how to behave now?” he asks, halting his movement, such piercing intensity in his irises that drive you to nod your head. “That’s my good little girl.” Taps the side of your thigh. “Let Daddy make it better now.” 

You open your legs for him and Jungkook pushes your soaked panties to the side, revealing your little bedewed seashell. He hums at the sight of her, pops the lollipop back inside his mouth. Collects your arousal by swirling the pads of his middle and ring finger around your hole, eyes flicking from your pussy to your own, groaning when he comes into contact with your swollen clit, rubbing slow circles. You whimper, bucking your hips, needing him to go faster, needing to come. 

Jungkook shakes his head, disapproving. “You take what I give you or I’ll stop.” Lifts his hand to express the gravity of his threat and you help, wrapping both hands around his and putting it back on your bundle of nerves. He chuckles at your desperation, giving you the same circles, though now firmer. 

Waves the lollipop near your lips. You open your mouth, instinctively, and he plunges it into your mouth for a mere second before he pulls away, growling at the sound that comes out. He does it again, fucking you with it in a way, just to hear that pop and he’s so pleased with it that he sinks those two fingers inside your heat, fully, in one ego. Keeps them there. Teases you. Hovers the lollipop out of your reach and you decide to fuck with him back. Darting out your tongue, you whirl it around the flat side and he swears, moaning, giving to you at last. 

He latches his mouth onto your neck, starting the drill of his fingers. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

He picks up the speed so rapidly that you scream, squeezing your eyes shut, the pleasure permeating your body so vastly that you quiver all over. Grab a hold of his hair, pulling on it and then—

Then, he withdraws his fingers. Ruins your orgasm. 

You pant, trying to catch your breath. “Please, Jungkook, please—”

He nudges his nose against yours. “What, baby?” 

“I need to come, please.” 

Jungkook tuts, kissing you once. “I thought we could play.” Plunges the lollipop into your mouth to wet it. Shows it to you, just to see you go cross-eyed again. Moans. “Where do you want it, hm?” 

Ever the angel that makes your fantasies come to life. You wrap your fingers around his hand, butterflies swarming in your tummy. Lead him towards your still clothed breasts. “Here.” Take him to your drooling pussy. “And here.” 

Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Descends his fingers a little lower, to your other hole, circles it. “What about here?” 

You giggle, but you shake your head. The idea may be intoxicating, however reality is much different. There’s a risk to putting any sweetened food inside, one you don’t want to deal with. 

Jungkook smiles at you, pushes your seat back and slides it in the same direction. Crawls over you and you feel so feminine, so sexy underneath him. Nipples perked under your top, breasts full and spilling. You arch your back towards him and Jungkook drags his thumb from your bottom lip, to your chin, neck, the dip of your collarbones until he reaches the hem of your Tom and he tugs it down so harshly that you can’t contain your very own concoction of a gasp and moan. 

Lollipop in mouth, one hand propped by your head, the other squeezes your breast hard, nearing it, fingers pinching your nipple. Makes the flesh as red as your ass. You can tell he likes the view by the way he coos, but then he wipes all your thoughts away, when he sucks hard on the candy and swirls it around your stiffened nub, gaze flicked to yours to watch your reaction. 

The pleasure is so vivid, so dizzying—and for him, you let it paint your face in all its colors. Brows scrunched, bedroom eyes, mouth parted, puffing out desperate breaths. Jungkook sucks it again and smears his saliva around your other nipple, taking his time, slapping the ball once against it, making you hiss. 

“It feels so good,” you murmur, sinking your fingers into the longer length on the back of his hair, bringing his mouth to yours. You kiss him with a verve that causes him to groan. You swallow that sound, satisfied. 

He grins at you. “I bet.” 

Dips his head and envelops that sugar-coated nub with his warm lips, sucking it hard. His groan spreads there, deepens there and you arch your back even more, pulling his head to your other nipple so he can do the same thing. Join your other hand to his hair and do whatever you please—turn his head side to side, from one nub to the other—and he lets you, giving you, momentarily, his control. You feel your essence soaking the seat beneath you and you thank the heavens that the fabric is one of leather. You lift his head and try to push it down, but he won’t budge. Stares you down instead, lustfully. 

“Where do you want me?” he asks, a wrinkle between brows. “Be a good girl and tell me.” Pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

You sigh, kissing him once on the side of his neck, using your tongue. Make sure you’re looking at him as you reply, “On my clit.” 

He moans, eyes woozy, finger on the stick as he sucks the candy, clefts of dimples on either side of his cheeks. You palm his length, your own digits rounding across his tight balls and he whisks his irises back, grinding into your hand. “You want a lickie?” 

“Yes, so bad, please.” 

He hums and kneels before you, kissing your clit once in greeting. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a fat stripe across your whole femininity—from your slit, to your swollenness. Hands on your hips, index curled around the lollipop, he holds you steady, prevents you from meeting him, as he stimulates you like this. Up and down, tongue rolling, eyes fixed on you, devouring you. And when he stops to suck your clit, he taps your mouth once with the ball of the lollipop. The act of sucking on something while you’re getting pleasured like this almost throws you over the edge, your body coated in a layer of sweat, but Jungkook withdraws in time. Presses the delight in the middle and rubs small circles, just to prepare you for the big thing. You become so whiny, so loud that his eyes grow in size, watching you in awe. 

To reward you for such beauty, he rapidly strums it from side to side, causing you to nearly levitate, but he pins you down. Wetting it and placing it back down, grunting at the aftertaste of you mixed with the sweetness. 

And he can’t resist. Can’t hold back. The wrinkle between his brows deepens when he tastes you, licking you all over, tongue stopping occasionally its feast to flick at your clit before he swallows you whole. Grunts, sucks, licks. Eyes closed to savor the taste. The pressure in your core heightens, even more so when he lifts your legs, greedy for the side dish in the form of your other hole. You’re so close that you might burst. 

“You taste so fucking good, baby. So sweet. Come on my tongue, please, I want more of you.” 

He wants more of your taste. 

You come so hard that your orgasm takes you to an open sea, your body floating on calm waves, to and fro, eyes rolled to the sky—to the sunroof—seeing nothing but the elegance of the twinkling stars and deep purple clouds. 

“That’s it, baby, so good. That’s my little girl.” He slaps the side of your thigh, bringing you back to him. “Listening so well, learning her lesson, coming so hard. I’m proud.” 

His words alone could make you come again, but you’re distracted.

Jungkook unbuttons his pants and pulls out his manhood. Stroking himself, he lines his tip at your mouth. He doesn’t even have to tell you to open up—you do it yourself. Holding it at the base, he stuffs your throat right away, a guttural chuckle emitting out of his mouth when you gag. He pulls out to where you’re comfortable having him and you begin to bob your head, like you did with the lollipop. 

“Yes, suck it like that, my love. Daddy loves it when you do that.” 

His precum on your tongue, the way he’s holding himself, the position and his words—you moan around him, so out of your mind, so fucked out. And when he fucks your mouth, it turns you on so much that you go cross-eyed. 

Jungkook pulls out quickly, as if the sight of it alone was about to make him come. A string of your saliva from his tip drips onto your chest and he slides into your mouth again just to poke your cheek, just to mimic what you did with the lollipop. You whine, liking it so much, to the point that he drills this tender place of yours until he can’t take it enough. 

“Turn around.” You try to, but your legs are jelly. He manhandles you to the position he wants—on your knees, tits against the leather, arms around the headrest, the formerly abused cheek against it. “Hold onto it. Too bad we left bunny at home, huh?” 

Jungkook runs his cock across your pussy and you grind against it, needing the friction after the way he used you. You whimper for him. “She’s probably wondering where we are right now and why we’re taking so long.” 

“I’ll make it up to her.” He presses his length against your clit, encouraging you to use him back. “Rub your pussy like that on me, fuck.” He moves so it’s his tip that stimulates you. You ride him harder, moaning loudly against the leather. “You can make it up to her, too. Can ride her like I know you can. With a vibrator between your legs and hers, hm? How you like the sound of that?” 

You’re so close you could come in a second, but you don’t want it like this. You need him inside of you. “Shut up, I’m literally gonna come like this. Fuck me.” 

He fists your hair. Pain shoots up your scalp and he ruts into your heat. Fully. Until his pelvis collides with your ass. You scream. 

Lips by your ear. “Is this how you talk to your Daddy?” He begins to pump into your little tight hole. Mercilessly. The leather squeaks, a horrible, rapid sound that you can only faintly hear because all that your senses can focus on is his cock. “Your Daddy that loves you so much?” 

You come, pathetically. Sea and waves, palm trees that sway. Your legs tremble, but he keeps going, mouthing the shape of your ear. 

He tsks. “I’m gonna tell bunny on you. Maybe I’ll be the one who gets to fuck her while you watch.” He gives you a hard stroke, one that is followed by rapid thrusts that scramble your brain. “She’ll be so disappointed to hear how bad you’ve been, but I’ll make sure to tell her how hard I fucked it out of you.” 

Lifting you from the leather, he kneads your breasts, placing the lollipop in between and holding it up by squishing them. 

“Come on, get your lollipop.” He bounces your tits in his hands, signalizing you that he wants you to do it with your mouth. 

But you can’t do it. You come, majestically, your senses leaving you and wafting in the stuffed air of the car. Boneless, you sag in his arms. 

Jungkook coos. “You come so well around me that I’ll be good to you. You’re just a cockslut, aren’t you, baby? You just can’t help it, hm?” He puts the lollipop inside your mouth, chasing his so-needed release. 

It doesn’t take long for him to find the footsteps into that bliss that you left in your wake. He holds you like this, against him, tits spilling over his forearms as he jackhammers into you so hard that your whole body bounces, shakes and reacts to each grunt, to each whimper, to each kiss he presses onto your skin. 

With the little of the brain you have left, you decide to talk him through it—because he fucks you so good. 

“Come for me, Daddy, yes, please, fuck. Fill me up with your cum. I want it so bad, I want to feel you—” His cock twitches in you, but he continues, sloppily. “Yes, so good. That’s it. Come for your little girl, Jungkook.” A loud groan. A tight hold. A spurt of his cum inside your walls. You whimper and he fucks it deeper into you, giving you more of his liquid stars. “Jungkook, oh fuck, Jungkook, oh yes.” 

And it’s that never-ending litany of his name that helps him chase his high to the fullest. He kisses your neck hard in gratitude for helping him come, marking you, marking this memory. 

You stay like this for a little while. Sweaty, sticky, spent, breathing hard—lungs synced. 

A warm announcement sneaks to your heart, one that screams it into the drowsy skies once Jungkook pulls out of you, turns you around and, stealing your candy, kisses you. 

An announcement that you’re deeply and irrevocably in love with him. 

“You sounded just like me.” He finishes your lollipop for you, chewing the small bulby head as he dresses you and his cum spills onto your panties. 

Your smile is dopey, satisfied and you’re ready for sleep to take you, but Jungkook gets out of the car for a smoke. You think you need one, too, after what you’ve experienced together, and so you follow him out into the night on wobbly legs. 

He leans against his car, a cigarette in his mouth, one hand cupping the fire as he flicks his lighter to life. You wait until he puffs out the smoke into the air before you fold into the side of his body, stealing his cigarette and inhaling it, giving it back to him. 

Jungkook pats your head, rubbing your scalp, chin propped on it. “I didn’t mean what I said. You were perfect. I’m not telling shit to bunny, I promise.” 

You smile, fondly. Didn’t take his words seriously, not at all, but you’re grateful for the reassurement regardless. It’s just role-play, nothing else. 

“I know, baby,” you say, softly, massaging his stomach, going as far as under his shirt to feel his bare skin—ever so innocently. 

“I wanted to fuck you the moment you sat down. You’re just my little helper and because of that I’m glad we’re going home with my cum in your panties,” he whispers, placing the cigarette on your lips, so you can take a drag. “You deserve every drop.” 

You feel that familiar ache rooting in your core again, but you don’t think you can take another round. Jungkook lifts your chin, making you look at him. Twinkles, bigger than the ones of the stars up above, living in his soft eyes. That cute nose. Those pouty lips. His silky, dreamy heart that looks out for you and puts you first. 

The three words that you’ve never told him before rise up your body and you think now is the perfect occasion to say them. 

“I love you.” 

Wetness coats his eyes and the twinkles broaden, saturating them with an unfathomable, fulging light. He flicks his cigarette away, presses you closer to him and with his now free hand, he cups your face. Kisses you. For a long, long time. 

“I love you.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[humanpurposes]

(Teaser) It Will Come Back

Chapter 3, Broken Bonds

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A/n: I feel bad that it's been forever since this series had an update, and I'm just feeling silly today so I thought I'd share a lil something of what I've been working on (to hopefully motivate me to finish the chapter lmao).

Now…

The heat is relentless this summer. Light bleeds through the ancient stained glass windows of the Red Keep in beams of red, green, blue and gold, only to be lost to the dark wood floors, furniture and panelled walls. It is Aemond’s least favourite time of year, when the weather makes him irritable and the harsh light gives him a headache, when business tends to be busy and everyone is preoccupied with holidays and garden parties. He’s less inclined to distract himself with frivolity. 

His sleeves are rolled up, his long silver hair pulled into a ponytail, sweat starting to pool underneath the eyepatch over the left side of his face. He’s leaning over Aegon, one hand on the back of his chair, staring down at his laptop and they check over some details for next week’s event.

It’s not often Aemond finds himself in his brother’s office. Technically Aegon is his superior, ‘deputy operations manager’ according to the golden plaque on the door. This is more of a courtesy title because he couldn’t get a respectable job anywhere else, and it would be far worse for their father’s image to have a layabout son.

That’s the funny thing about the family business. It’s no secret that Viserys Targaryen didn’t want his sons involved in Dragon Bank, but his influence is not as all encompassing as he would like to believe, not since the Hightowers got a foot in the door thirty or so years ago… then another… then another. Viserys can make his demands and shout when he’s angry enough, but there is one truth he cannot deny; he needs them. He needs Otto. He needs Alicent. He needs Helaena and Daeron to stay perfect. He needs Aegon to not be a fuck up and that’s enough. And he needs Aemond because he’s good at his job. No one has an eye for detail like him, no one can make sense out of figures or persuade clients and investors like he can.

Why their grandfather wants him to look over PR and marketing nonsense is understandable, but irritating nonetheless.

Their father has been planninging this event for years, Dragon Bank’s fifth centenary gala, with all the pomp and grandeur of a bygone era, held at their ancestral seat of Dragonstone Castle, just outside the city. Five hundred years since one of their ancestors forged a throne for himself in King’s Landing, building an empire that still has most of the country under their family’s thumb. Viserys intends to use the occasion as a reminder to every individual and family in Westeros who thinks they are even slightly important that they cannot compare to the might of the Targaryens. 

There can be no oversights. Everything has to be perfect.

His eye scans over the diagram on the screen, circles surrounded boxes with names; the seating plan in the main ballroom. Then a name catches his eye and it makes his heart stop. He doesn’t want to believe what he sees but there it is on the screen, in Times New fucking Roman: Jaya Velaryon.

He’s hardly heard that name, read it, or heard it in six years. He can already feel a dull ache creeping into his skull, which he knows will catch like kindling and soon become a burning, blinding pain behind his eyes and in the crevices of his scar.

Aegon, completely oblivious, huffs a little laugh to himself. “Shit, yeah, I meant to say there was an update with the seating. So this could turn out to be quite interesting– fuck, are you alright?” 

“Fine!” Aemond snaps, staggering back from the chair. His head feels like it’s been run through with a knife and his fingers fumble to get his eyepatch off. “Fine– fuck! I’m fine.”

“Sit,” Aegon orders, quickly standing and guiding Aemond over to one of the leather sofas on the other side of the room, where the sunlight isn’t so direct.

The pain is often like this, striking suddenly, spreading quickly like a forest fire, eating away at him like a disease, and he has no choice but to endure it.

He feels the eyepatch slip from his face before something cold presses against the worst of his scar. He reaches up to clasp his hands around it: a glass water bottle, one Aegon is holding. His brother is useless most of the time but he does have his moments.

“Fuck it’s all red,” Aegon mutters. “Have you got meds with you?”

When Aemond opens his mouth to speak his jaw is trembling. “Office,” he says, gritting his teeth together, trying to control his breath and the extent of the pain. “It’s in the office.” He can see where the packet is in the first draw under his desk.

“I can go and grab some–”

“No,” Aemond says, grabbing Aegon’s arm so he won’t move. 

He can handle this. Every time this kind of pain flares up he thinks of how much it hurt that night, how terrified he was as he felt the blood gushing from the gash in his eye, slipping through his fingers. The pain had been so great he thought it might kill him. If he can get through that night, the first few hours in the hospital, the months of recovery or the years since, then he can get through a fucking headache. 

He closes his eye and breathes in counts of three. In through the nose, hold, and out. Between that and the bottle against his face the pain starts to feel a little duller and the room doesn’t feel so close.

“Is it… you know,”

Did seeing Jaya’s name shock him so severely that his body went into meltdown? Is his heart still pounding in his chest at the thought of reading her name and the possibility of seeing her again? 

Aemond exhales irritably against the back of his throat, defeated, but always stubborn.

[flightlessangelwings]

My Favorite Bartender

bartender!Peter Parker x gn!reader

Word count- 4.3k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), no powers au, bartender Peter, lounge band performer reader (I left it vague so you can imagine singer or plays an instrument), mutual pining, flirting, fluff, romance, drinking, praise, bar isn't described so you can imagine any type, background reader x Flash but I just used him in name only cause I needed an ex, no use of y/n

Notes- Starting my Year of AUs with an idea I've had in my head for over a year! It took me a while to come up with more than just vibes for this but I'm happy with how this turned out! Inspired by the gif below. Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up of date on when I post new things!

~

A smooth melody floated through the air as Peter shook the mixer in his hands. The clinking of the ice added to the music as if they were meant to be played together, and Peter smiled at the patron as he put on a little show. The woman who sat at the bar gave him a flirtatious grin in return as she watched him pour her drink into a glass. 

“One Manhattan for the lady,” he said smoothly. 

“Thank you, handsome,” she winked and gave Peter an extra tip… and her number on a napkin before she walked away, glancing over her shoulder one last time before she rejoined her friends. 

Peter smirked before he tactfully slid the napkin out of sight, never to touch it again.

He never expected his life would turn out this way. Peter Parker had always worked hard and excelled in school. He found his way with the help of a scholarship to a top college to study more of the science that he loved so much. And from there, he got into a grad school where he perfected his craft and applied for research grants. However, life came crashing down around him when he didn’t get it and all over work opportunities fell one by one like dominoes. It was a hard time for Peter, and it took him some time to climb out of his hole again.

Following his Aunt May’s advice, Peter learned a new craft to earn some money while he figured his life out. And that was how he ended up bartending… for the last few years. The money was decent, and after some disasters with spilling drinks and shattering glasses, Peter became quite skilled at it. He and May exchanged stories about their work often too, and her words always provided comfort for him.

“You’re not a failure just because you didn’t end up where you thought you would, Peter,” May told him on several occasions, “I love you and I’m proud of you.”

“I love you too, May,” Peter would reply meekly. 

But what really kept Peter tethered to the bar was you. You had started about a year after Peter did, and he was captivated with you from the moment he first saw you. Swallowing his nerves, he mustered up the courage to say hello and introduce himself. When you gave him your name and said you were there to audition for the house band, Peter’s heart fluttered in his chest.

“Here,” he slid a glass of sparkling water your way, “On the house,” he winked as he hoped he hid how flustered he actually felt.

“Thanks,” you raised your glass in a cheer and drank before you went and nailed your audition. 

Peter loved to watch you perform several nights a week. And he felt lucky that he got a prime seat for the show. At times, he almost forgot about the customers who were waiting for drinks when you were on stage. And as you swayed to the music that filled the room, Peter would sometimes drop his glass as he [aid more attention to you than what was in his hands. 

Over the months, the two of you even started to become friends, talking occasionally whenever you came to the bar for some water or whenever you both saw each other in the break room.

However close you seemed to Peter, though, you were just out of reach. He remembered the day a man came to watch you, seated right up front the entire time you were on stage with the band. Peter’s instincts told him who he was, but his heart still dropped when you introduced him as your boyfriend. 

“Peter, this is Flash,” you introduced him as you hung on his arm.

It took everything within him to not let the heartbreak show on his face, and Peter extended his hand with a taut smile, “Pleasure,” his words held no genuine emotion.

“That’s a strong grip, Pete,” Flash responded, shaking his hand, “Good thing you’re here to watch over my baby at work,” he continued, telling Peter about how much you’ve spoken about him.

As Flash rambled on, Peter’s eyes drifted to meet yours where he noticed your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. He wondered why that was, but he also decided to interrupt your boyfriend with, “How about a drink for the happy couple? On the house,” he raised his mixer and a glass with his trademark smile on his face.

You breathed in relief, “I’d love one.”

Watching as Peter spun a glass in his hand and poured from a liquor bottle from the other, you were captivated. You loved to watch him mix drinks as he put on almost as much of a show as you did when you performed. Peter lifted the liquor bottle up, allowing the liquid to frame his shoulders like a rainbow before he lowered it back down. A perfect pour. Peter then covered the mixing bottle and shook it diligently, smirking at you while he did so. The look on his face made your heart flutter- something Flash hadn’t been able to accomplish in a very long time.

The truth was you were enamored with Peter. From the moment you met on your audition day, you felt a spark unlike anything you had ever felt before. His kind way, his handsome smile, the way his hands nimbly worked the glasses along the bar, it all made your skin tingle and your face warm. You couldn’t say anything, though. You were still with Flash, more out of comfort and convenience than true love at this point. So, you just enjoyed the time you spent with Peter at work, burying your feelings deep down every day. 

As Peter poured the two glasses and slid them towards the two of you, you couldn’t help but grin widely at him. Next to you, Flash was oblivious as his eyes never left the drinks.

“My compliments to the chef,” he raised his glass towards Peter, who gave him a weak smile in return, “Thanks, man.”

“Thanks, Peter,” you agreed as you took a sip, “It’s delicious.” It was just the drink you needed at the moment, and you wondered how Peter knew. 

“Later,” Flash guided you away from the bar to mingle.

Looking over your shoulder one last time, you and Peter locked eyes and your heart fluttered in your chest. Peter kept the fake smile on his face until you were out of sight, and he felt his entire self slump down in disappointment. His heart ached in his chest as Flash put his hands all over you, treating you more like a possession than a person. But, he knew it wasn’t his place to say anything, and he didn’t want to complicate anything by telling you how he really felt. So, Peter took a deep breath and donned the mask once more as he was flagged down by a fresh wave of patrons at the bar.

*

Even though Peter couldn’t call you his, he could still enjoy the time he spent with you. And he found that the bar always felt brighter whenever you were there. Whenever your eyes met his, he couldn’t help but smile, and there were times where the flutter in his chest almost felt like a heart attack. Peter would take any time with you he could get, and he truly valued the growing friendship between the two of you. 

Every night before you took the stage with the rest of the band, you always stopped by the bar and got a sparkling water from Peter. “My favorite bartender,” you would always say as you tripped your glass towards the identical one he held.

“It’s bad luck to drink alone,” Peter would quip with a mischievous smirk as he poured himself his own glass. He cheered it with your own and together the two of you would drink in unison. From the first night he did that, it became a tradition for the two of you, and something you both secretly looked forward to.

One night, the bar was unusually slow, and there weren’t many customers inside. The band took a break from performing, not wanting to waste the energy, and you went right to the bar. “How about something a little stronger than sparkling water, tonight?” you couldn’t help the subtly flirtatious tone in your voice.

“You sure about that?” Peter replied with his own coy tease in his tone.

“I’m positive,” you shimmied your shoulders.

“Alright, you asked for it,” Peter smirked back as he mixed something new for you. It was a beautiful color, and another perfect pour. Peter was just glad he didn’t drop a glass every time he glanced in your direction as you watched him intensely.

“To a slow night,” you raised your glass to him.

“To a slow night,” Peter agreed as he clinked the glass he poured himself with yours and you both drank.

As the hours passed, you and Peter continued to talk and drink at the bar until the last customer left. The manager decided to close early since it was so quiet, and the two of you stumbled towards the back to gather your things. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter as you lost your footing for a moment, but Peter was right there to catch you.

“You alright?” he asked in a soft voice.

Looking into his eyes, you felt time stop for a moment. Everything else faded away, and all you could think about was Peter. His arms wrapped around you, his soft eyes looked deep into yours, and his lips looked so… kissable. Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in closer. Your eyes started to flutter shut as your lips ghosted over his. Feeling his breath against your skin was like a jolt of electricity to your entire system.

Peter breathed your name as he made no attempt to stop you, as much as he knew he should. It was the moment he had wanted for so long, and it was right in front of him. The alcohol buzzed in his system, clouding his judgment slightly, though he knew neither of you had enough to be fully drunk. You knew what you were doing, your inhibitions were just down at the moment.

Just before your lips were about to touch, though, something snapped in you and you gasped as you jumped back. “I…” you cleared your throat, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that,” you stammered as you closed in on yourself.

“It’s ok,” Peter rested his hands on your shoulders, “Hey, look at me,” he waited for you to meet his gaze before he continued, “You’re ok. We’re ok.” Conflicting emotions ran through his head- Peter wanted to kiss you more than anything, but he also didn’t want you to regret kissing him. So, he pushed his own wants aside and looked after you instead, like he always did.

Somehow, you knew what Peter meant with just those words, “We’re ok,” you echoed.

Peter proved it the next night when you both came back to work. He poured you a sparkling water and one for himself, cheering you as if nothing happened the night before. You wanted to apologize again, but something in you said that he knew. And everything fell back into your usual routine again.

*

But everything changed the night Peter found you in the back, alone and crying as the bar was closing down.

Immediately, he went on alert and was ready to help you no matter what. He gasped softly as he rushed over to you and sat next to you, “Hey, hey,” he cooed softly, “What’s going on? Are you alright?” Peter hated seeing you like this.

You looked up from where you held your face in your hands, and the sad look in your eyes made Peter’s chest tighten. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t be crying at work…”

“Hey,” Peter pulled you close, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “I won’t judge,” he tried to make you smile.

It worked, and you gave him the brief hint of a laugh before your face dropped again, “It’s over with Flash,” you confessed, “He…” you choked back a sob, “I caught him with someone else yesterday.”

Anger flashed across Peter’s face as he tightened his grip on you and murmured your name, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. You deserve better than this… Than him…

A few more tears fell from your eyes, but you stubbornly tried to hold more back, “I shouldn’t even be that upset,” you almost sounded bitter, “Considering I almost kissed you the other day,” your voice was so hushed you weren’t sure if Peter even heard you. 

“Hey you did nothing wrong,” Peter cupped your face, “Nothing happened, and it was my fault anyway…” 

You looked into his eyes and the world stopped around you. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. All you cared about was him, and the warmth of his hands. Truthfully, you hadn’t felt the same about Flash in a long time, but you stayed with him more out of comfort than anything. At the same time, though, being cheated on definitely hurt you to your core.

“Pete…” you breathed as the whirlwind of emotions made your head spin. Before you could stop yourself, you felt your body leaning more toward him as your eyes glanced down at his lips.

Peter whispered your name as he brushed your cheek with his thumb. Everything in him told him to push you away, that you were too vulnerable right now. But, he wanted this more than anything. He wanted you. He wanted to kiss your problems away and make you feel safe. He wanted to make sure you were never hurt again, since he would never do anything to hurt you. And as Peter felt your breath against his skin, he found that he was about to give into his selfishness for once in his life.

But, before your lips connected, the door slammed open and Flash, your now ex, bellowed your name. “What the fuck are you doing?” he screamed at you as he stomped over, “We didn’t even officially break up and here you are about to fuck your coworker?!”

“You cheated,” Peter interjected before you could reply, “I’d say that’s pretty broken up to me,” he stood strong as he placed his body between yours and your ex. 

Flash puffed up his chest and balled his hands into fists as he approached Peter, “You think you’re tough now, nerd?” he scoffed, “What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t want to fight you,” Peter replied, holding strong, “But I’m not gonna let you do anything to…” he trailed off as he felt your presence behind him. Peter could feel you start to say something, perhaps try to talk him out of putting himself in harm’s way for you, but Peter didn’t care about his own safety. He only cared about yours. 

“How cute,” Flash sneered as he shoved Peter back, making you both stumble.

Not wanting things to escalate further, you called for security, who rushed in and quickly escorted Flash out. Peter stayed in front of you, blocking the view of your ex, who was cursing and hollering as he was dragged out. You knew you heard some insults thrown at you in between the obscenities, and you couldn’t help but wince.

“Hey,” Peter turned to you once the room was clear, “You alright?” he asked as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I uhh,” you stuttered, unsure of what to even say. Taking a deep breath, you relaxed your tense muscles, “I think so,” you finally replied in a soft voice as your eyes dropped to the ground.

“Listen,” he tried to keep his own tone even for your sake, “Why don’t you stay at my place tonight? He can’t find you there and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

Your gaze snapped back up to meet Peter’s and the breath in your chest felt like it was pushed out of you. “Are… Are you sure?” you struggled to find your voice again, “I won’t want to put you out or anything…”

“You aren’t,” Peter cut you off before you could finish the thought, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

*

“Home sweet home,” Peter gestured to the small apartment with an awkward grin on his face, “It’s not much but… It’s home,” he shuffled in, closing the door behind you both and locking it tightly, “What’s mine is yours. Help yourself to anything.”

You stood in the doorway taking in the space. Peter lived in a little studio apartment. It was older, but you could tell he put a lot of care into the space. The tiny kitchen had snacks all over the counter. On the other end, there was a small desk against the window next to a little tv and refurbished couch. The bed was in the far corner next to the door to the tiny bathroom.

“Aunt May must have dropped off some things,” Peter rushed to the kitchen counters and shuffled the snacks into drawers clumsily as he chuckled, “I actually try to keep the place neat, if you could believe that.”

For the first time that night, a smile lit up your face, “It’s fine, Peter,” you stepped further into the studio and sat down on the small couch, “It’s a nice place.”

“Hey,” he crossed the room and sat down next to you, taking your hand in his, “It’s ok, you don’t have to say anything.”

Your eyes landed on where his warm hand held yours, and once more you felt the breath knocked out of you. It felt as if a jolt of electricity ran up from where your hands were connected to your heart, making it skip a beat. Meeting his gaze again, you spoke in a more confident tone, “Thank you.”

Peter smiled back at you, “You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” his tone was soft as he squeezed your hand in his.

“Peter…” you breathed as you felt yourself leaning toward him as if gravity was pulling you closer, “Call me that again? Please.”

He exhaled sharply, the smile still lighting up his face as he leaned in too, “Sweetheart…” Peter cupped your face tenderly like he did before back at the club. As he felt your breath against his face once again, Peter murmured, “Can I kiss you… sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whispered before your lips were pressed against his. 

The kiss was soft and sweet, yet it sent a jolt through both of you. Months of buildup led to this moment as you both melted into the other. Heat quickly rose in the room as you started to cling to Peter, running your hands all over his body. Peter groaned into you as he did the same and soon the kiss turned more deep, more passionate, more desperate.

You broke away from Peter, breathing heavily as you looked into his eyes. You saw the same look on his face that you knew you had on yours- the same neediness was apparent on his face. As your eyes wandered across his body, glancing down between his legs for the briefest moment, Peter murmured your name.

Meeting his gaze again, you knew the question on the tip of his tongue, “Yes,” you breathed as you jumped on him.

This time, you parted your lips for Peter immediately, and you moaned into him as you tasted him on your tongue. Passions rose as the two of you clumsily pushed yourself off the couch and made your way over to his bed, never breaking apart for long.

Something crashed as you bumped into it, but you didn’t care. And neither did Peter, who completely ignored it. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment other than you. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you, and his wandering hands started to tug at your clothes while he shuffled your bodies over to his bed.

You couldn’t help but giggle as you felt his desperation, and you mirrored his actions by clawing at his shirt. The two of you only broke away from the kiss to remove clothing, not wanting to miss a second of the other. A trail of clothes led the way to Peter’s bed, and once your legs hit the corner, he grabbed you and flopped you both down.

Laughter erupted as you landed side by side on his small bed. Peter paused for a moment to cup your face, cradling it tenderly in his hand for a moment. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed before he kissed you again, maneuvering you so that he straddled you.

“Peter…”

“Do you need me to stop?” he asked, freezing in place.

“Never,” you smiled as you grabbed him and yanked him down, crashing your lips into his once more.

Peter’s laughter was muffled in your lips, but he also couldn’t help but buck his hips against yours. His cock, already hardening, rocked along your body, causing you both to gasp into the other.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes… Please, Peter,” you begged in between kisses as you rocked yourself against his body to match his rhythm.

“I can’t say no to you, sweetheart,” he smirked as he dripped his hand between your legs, “Fuck,” he breathed as he cradled your body, carefully pushing a finger into you slowly.

The moan you let out went right to Peter’s core, and he groaned as he pumped his finger in and out a few times before adding a second, “Sweetheart,” he sighed, “You’re so beautiful like this,” he stammered as he sped up his thrusts with his fingers, “I’ve thought about this for so long,” he couldn’t help but confess.

Your eyes blinked open, “Me too,” you felt the heat build under your skin and your nerves burst into flames at your own confession.

“Well let’s make it worth it then,” Peter’s signature smirk lit up his face again as he pulled his fingers out and positioned himself at your entrance.

“I know you will,” you replied breathlessly, “Don’t make me wait another second, Peter. I need you too bad.”

All he could do was moan in reply as he pushed himself into you. Gasps and moans filled the room as Peter filled you, connecting your bodies together for the first time. The bed creaked as he started a slow and steady rhythm, rocking in and out of you to the tune of your cries of pleasure.

Brown locks of hair fell in front of Peter’s face as he fought to keep himself hovering over you, not wanting to miss a single expression on your face. But every time he thrust fully into you, Peter lost himself in how good you felt. He breathed your name as his hips stammered, “You feel so good, sweetheart,” he groaned.

“You’re amazing, Peter,” you breathed, “Fuck…”

Emotions ran high between the two of you as skin slapped against skin. Peter picked up his pace and lost control of himself. Incoherent praises flowed from his lips as he felt himself engulfed by you over and over again. Fuck, you looked perfect underneath him like this, and Peter hoped that he could see this sight over and over again.

“Peter… Right there!” you cried out when he changed his angle slightly, “Fuck Peter you’re gonna make me cum…”

“Let me see it, sweetheart,” he cooed as he intentionally hit that spot inside you over and over again, feeling your inner muscles squeeze his cock every time he did so. 

It only took a few more thrusts for you to fall apart underneath Peter, crying out his name and clinging to him tightly as you did so. Your eyes snapped shut as your mouth hung open, letting the screams and moans spill without inhibition. Your body trembled as the emotions caught up to you, and as you rode out your climax, tears started to fall from the corners of your eyes.

Peter groaned your name as he watched the display in front of him, and the emotions became too much for him too. He came without warning, his own orgasm hitting him like a freight train as he moaned your name and spilled himself deep inside you. Peter thrusted a few more times until he had nothing else to give, and when he couldn’t hold himself up any longer, he flopped down on top of you with an exhausted huff. 

Once more, giggles erupted between you and Peter as you felt the warmth and weight of his body overtop of yours. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked in a soft tone as he cradled your face.

“Never better,” you replied.

Peter smiled at you as he slowly closed the gap between your faces, placing a soft yet heartfelt kiss on your lips as he pulled out of you. He swallowed the moan you let out, and he kept your body close to his as he made yourselves comfortable on his bed. Peter cradles you safe and secure in his arms, savoring the feeling of your warmth. It felt like a dream, but if it was, Peter didn’t want to wake up from it. And he certainly never wanted to let you go ever again.

“Just rest tonight,” Peter murmured to you, kissing the side of your head, “We’ll get your stuff from Flash’s tomorrow. I won’t leave your side, I promise.”

You just hummed contently, comfortable in his arms.

“You need anything? A snack? A drink?” he asked.

You lifted your head to meet his eyes, and with a smirk you replied, “How about I make you a drink this time?” your tone dropped.

Peter’s own grin beamed back at you, “I would love to see that.” 

[delicateflowerss]

Don't Worry, Darling: One

After marrying the love of your life, Rafe Cameron, you thought you couldn't be happier. But when a murder shakes the island, you learn you don't know your husband as well as you thought. When does Paradise become Hell?

Warnings: 18+, eventual NON-CON, dark!Rafe, implied violence, blood, drug use, mentions of pregnancy, kook!reader, non-canon ages

This is on the short side, and more of an introduction to my new series. Next chapter will have more action, enjoy!

Series Masterlist

“How did you manage to not get knocked up?” Caroline asks through an amused smile. “I thought that would be the first thing Rafe would do on your honeymoon. Especially in a place like The Bahamas,” she adds.

Laughter follows from everyone including you.

“Maybe he did. She just doesn’t know it yet,” Audrey chimes in.

The same level of laughter erupts, but your smile falters a little.

“Rafe and I are waiting,” you explain.

“Why? You two seem so happy. And look at this place,” Caroline motions to the backyard of the house you share with Rafe, complete with a blue, sparkling pool and freshly mowed grass. “You’ve got it made.”

You shake your head, a smile still on your face. “I just got a new client, and I’m doing really well right now. There’s no need for us to rush.”

“Don’t you just work from home? You can have a baby and be a book editor,” Cassie points out, taking a sip of her Mai Tai.

“When you all have babies, then you can criticize me. But until then, I don’t want to hear it.” You try to keep your tone lighthearted. But there’s an edge to your voice, their words starting to bother you.

“We’re just playing around.” Caroline looks around, earning nods from your other friends. She smiles at you and sighs, “I’m excited for you. I mean, who knew someone could tame Rafe Cameron?”

“He’s come a long way. I think,” you pause thinking about the man you’ve married. “He really is the perfect husband.” Your eyes twinkle, a content smile tracing your lips.

“You know, I was a little worried when I heard you were getting married,” Kelce begins, picking up the glass he was pouring brown liquid into. “I thought there goes the Rafe Cameron I’ve always known, always doing whatever the fuck he wants, now having to answer to his wife.”

He walks over to Rafe, slapping him on the shoulder. “But I see I was wrong,” Kelce laughs.

“Nothing’s changing here,” Rafe says before bending down to snort the white lines off his desk through a rolled up hundred-dollar bill.

“So, Y/N’s okay with all this?” Topper asks, watching Rafe wipe the residue off his nose.

“I wouldn’t say that.” He breaks out into a grin. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Topper just nods, his lips tight together.

Rafe’s face falls at the look Topper gives him. “It’s only for special occasions. Alright, Top? You don’t have to get all…”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything,” he interrupts. “This is just new to me.”

“What is?”

“You and responsibility.”

Rafe scoffs, looking away from him.

Before anything else is said, Kelce intervenes, “I was talking to Chase yesterday. Said he thinks he’s getting that promotion.”

“He always thinks that,” Rafe mutters.

“Well… He said he knows for sure this time. I guess Ward must have told him.”

At that, Rafe turns to look at Kelce, furrowing his brow.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

Kelce shrugs, “that’s what he said.”

He moves his glare to the floor, lips parting. “Huh.” A million different emotions pass through his eyes as he thinks for a moment. “So, Chase is getting promoted before I do?”

There’s a heaviness in his voice, like he’s finally admitting it to himself. Any fun carelessness in the room has disappeared, leaving a thick tension that’s anything but.

Kelce opens his mouth, but closes it right away, not knowing what to say.

“I’m sure your promotion is coming, Rafe. I mean, your dad owns the company,” Topper assures.

The smile on his face is wiped away when Rafe points his glare to him.

“Yeah. And your grandfather helped you get that job at that law firm,” Rafe fires back.

“I didn’t mean it like that. If you’re so upset, just talk to Ward.”

Rafe chuckles, a lack of humor evident. He taps his finger against the wood of his desk.

“No, you’re right. I’ll just talk to him.”

The hot, sticky air wraps around you as you fix the hat on your head, helping to block out the sun. You finish setting the soil around your freshly planted roses, the diamond on your ring glistening in the bright sunshine. You wish you could’ve finished gardening before the housewarming party last night, but better late than never.

A car door slamming behind you, startles you, forcing you to look at the street. You quickly stand up at the somewhat familiar face, brushing the dirt off your dress.

He doesn’t notice you until he’s gotten his equipment from his truck. You give him a slight wave, and you don’t miss the surprise that washes over his face.

“Oh. Didn’t realize this was your house.”

As much as JJ tries to hide it, his apprehension is apparent.

“We just moved in.” Your tone is so much brighter than his.

“Right.” He nervously looks around, like he’s searching for someone. He sighs, “I guess I should’ve read the names on my client list a little more carefully, Mrs. Cameron.”

Your lips part in realization. “Oh, Rafe’s not here. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

His silence confirms your suspicions.

“And he’s pretty much over all that stupid Kook vs. Pogue stuff.”

“Is he?” Doubt laces his voice.

You never understood why Rafe was so set on terrorizing his sister and her friends. But thankfully, he’s grown out of it.

“I think he can handle you being here once a week,” you assure.

“I don’t know about that.” JJ scratches the back of his head.

“He doesn’t even have to know.” That catches JJ’s attention, his gaze settled on you. “You’ll only be here while he’s at work. All he knows is he’s paying the pool company. I’d hate to see you lose out on a job because of Rafe,” you finish with a reassuring smile.

Maybe this is your way of righting all of Rafe’s wrongs.

He sighs, a smile finally forming on his lips.

“Fine. But only cause you’re so convincing.”

You stare at the food you dedicated your evening to, getting cold on their plates. Your lips are outlined in a pout, thinking about how Rafe is never home this late.

Your mind has already conjured up every worst-case scenario. But the most realistic scenario, is the one that hurts your heart the most. You worry that Rafe simply got distracted, and he forgot to tell you he’ll be home late.

You don’t want to be forgotten.

You try not to think about it. He really has changed so much, turned into the man you’ve always known he could be.

That’s why you married him.

So, you don’t want to think about how it could have all been for nothing.

Before you can go farther down your pit of despair, a ding from your phone pulls you back.

You breathe a sigh of relief at his text. He just needs to stay late and work. You know he’s been wanting that promotion, which goes further than wanting more money.

You text him back, making sure to put his dinner in the fridge.

The only sound that echoes through the dark house are Rafe’s footsteps. His movements are slow as he goes up the stairs, hoping to God that you’re sound asleep.

But once he gets past you in bed, sleeping peacefully, he locks himself in the bathroom. He stands there for a minute, unsure of what to do. Adrenaline still rushes through his veins, his breathing erratic.

His blue eyes find the mirror in front of him, taking in his disheveled state. The evidence of what he’s done is still on him and it hits him like a slap in the face.

After that, he’s frantic, peeling off his clothes as fast as he can.

Rafe steps into the shower, lathering soap over his skin, washing his hair, and scrubbing under his nails. The red tinted water goes down the drain.

Once he gets out, a towel around his hips, he picks up his clothes from the floor, inspecting them for any evidence.

His eyes widen at the stains, heading downstairs to throw them in the washer. He doesn’t worry about his shoes, only finding mud on them.

The clock reads 3:47 when he finally gets in bed next to you. You don’t stir as he settles in. Serenity paints your features as his are creased with uncertainty. But that slowly vanishes the longer he looks at your face. He softly presses his lips to your head before shutting his eyes.

Tags:

@fangirlwithlou @thebuttofcaptainamerica

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[inlovewithgreta]

New Years Kiss — Carol Aird x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: It’s that time of year where at the stroke of midnight, kisses are shared around the world. To your luck, you had a beautiful blonde by your side to share the special occasion with.

Warnings: Fingering, face riding, praise, etc…

Word Count: 1k

© Do not copy, repost, or modify any of my works.

"5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . Happy New Year!"

The television had been on for a while now showing different cities around the country celebrating the start of a brand new year. To you it was just background noise, but to Carol it was the closest you were both going to get to celebrating it together out in public.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when the blonde next to you gently clinks her tall glass with your own.

"Happy New Year, darling!"

"Happy New Year!"

The two of you down the rest of your champagne before Carol takes your glass from you, setting them both aside on the coffee table. She fixates her eyes back onto you, slowly leaning in to meet her soft lips to your own in a gentle sweet kiss.

Her hand cups your cheek while the other plays with the buttons at the top of your blouse. Gentle lips soon turned needy as they slid down to your neck, kissing and nipping at your flesh.

"Take me to bed," Your voice was just above a whisper when she reaches your favorite spot.

Carol brings her lips up to yours one last time before pulling away, opening her hand out for you to take.

One hand was laced with yours while the other carried the nearly empty bottle of champagne.

You turn the television off as you walk by it on the way to your bedroom, both of you moving quickly and giggling like two schoolgirls when Carol nearly trips over her own foot.

Nimble fingers help undress each other, clothes being thrown at every inch of the room, your naked bodies craving to finally meet.

Your back gets pushed against the silk covered mattress, Carol's body just barely hovering over your own. Lips reunite as fingers coast along bare skin.

Her body heat radiates through you as her breasts push softly against yours.

A quiet moan escapes your mouth as her lips trail down your body before nipping at your collarbone.

She brings her mouth to your breast, needy lips wrapping around your tit. Her tongue playfully swirling around your bud.

After giving your breast one last kiss, she continues her slow path down your sternum with her deep ocean blue irises burning into your own colored ones at every kiss.

She dips down past your navel, spreading your legs ever so slightly, taking in your needy sight before her.

"Mmm," she hums, licking the strip up your folds.

You glide your hand to her hair, her perfect waves now becoming a subtle mess.

Her fingers tease at your entrance, spreading your wetness. A moan-like gasp enters her ears as she fills you, slowly yet steadily moving her fingers at your favorite pace.

Lips poke along your inner thighs, leaving a red lip stain along their wake. It was always her signature move. The red lipstick having to be scrubbed off after she marks her territory.

Carol sucks and nibbles at your flesh to leave visible love spots that only she gets the joy of seeing.

Her movements are soft yet passionate. She knew exactly what got you going.

"Ooh, Carol—" The quiet whimper forcing itself out at the expert curling of her fingers.

"That's my good girl."

A familiar knot was growing increasingly heavier when she added her tongue to the mix, flicking and sucking at just the right tempo that had you crumbling into pieces before her.

Your hips bucked as you came undone along her fingers. Her pace eased to help with the sensitivity.

Whimpers caught in your throat as you rode out your high.

It was a feeling of pure ecstasy and she loved seeing the way it made your legs tremble and attempt to close in around her.

When she knew you were done, her slim fingers slipped into her own mouth. Her tongue swirled along each crevice, in awe of the way you tasted on her.

"So divine. . . I can never get enough of you."

She smirked between your legs, an idea quickly forming inside her head.

Just as you were nearly done catching your breath Carol grabs your hips, red nails slightly digging into your skin, and flips you over.

"Carol what are you—"

"Ride my face." She cuts you off, blue eyes peaking up from beneath you pleading.

"Please. . ."

"I don't want to suffocate you."

"You won't, my love." She reassures you.

"If you're sure. . ." You hesitate above her, hovering merely a few inches from her face.

"I'm sure."

Carol's grip on your hips tighten as you lower yourself the rest of the way. Her tongue instantly devouring your cunt.

She wasted no time in using the skillfulness of her tongue to send pleasure coursing through your veins. Your hips slightly jerk as her tongue dips deeper.

Crescent moon marks show themselves along the faint dip between your hips as her hands start gently rocking your hips back and forth.

The sounds of your soft moans fill the small room.

Hands roughly grip at the wooden headboard at your front, slightly squeaking at each rock of your body. The slow motion soon growing needy, your body aching for more friction against her.

The sound of her quiet hums reverberates alongside your own.

Hips that were once in sync with her mouth now grew more frantic as you felt yourself getting thrown faster towards your sweet release.

"I-I'm gonna—" Your voice barely above a whisper.

The creaking of the headboard comes to a steady halt as your body nearly freezes, your orgasm hitting you much more profoundly than before. Your head heavily lulls back as Carol laps up your juices, oversensitivity quickly rushing towards you with her mouth cleaning you of your mess.

"That's my girl, you did so good for me." Carol sweetly praises you as you move yourself off of her.

You sigh contently as you flop down next to her, lips twitching into a smile at her words.

"Thank you."

She repositions to lay on her side, leg lifting and laying atop your own.

Her hand tends to your cheek, forcing you to look over at her. Eyes look at you lovingly as her thumb caresses your cheekbone.

"I love you, darling."

"I love you too, Carol."

She sweetly kisses the center of your forehead before laying her head along your shoulder and intertwining her fingers with yours. Both of you just laying there in content catching your breath before deciding to shower and head to bed.

general masterlist | cate masterlist | taglist

[mikansneedle]

Mikan Tsumiki (Re-Written Backstory)

Hi! I wanted to share a fic I wrote a while back, just re-writing a new backstory for Mikan so I hope you enjoy :}

!!DISCLAIMER - NONE OF THIS IS CANNON TO THE SERIES!!

Glass shatters against the wall, as the girl screams. - Over and over she had asked herself, when would this get better? From a young age, Mikan never had it great. How could she have it okay? Her mom was all she had growing up. It was hard to really even consider her a “mother”, but Mikan thought otherwise. How could she not? I mean, her mom was there for her on special occasions when she couldn’t take it anymore. Her mom was by her side, to scream in her face about how she’s fucked up. - Helpful, right? - As time went on, things never really seemed to progress in their relationship. It was hard to, when she could never mentally feel okay. She tried over and over to make herself feel alright. Her wrists were sore, and her throat was stinging but… If it distracts her from some pain, it's worth it. Right? - Throughout middle school and high school, all she ever went through was bullying. She was clumsy, to say the least. If you aren’t perfect, you can never be loved or even considered to be noticed in such a positive manner. She tried countless times to put herself out there but the more the kids shouted, the more she stuttered and stood back. Bruises tended to cover her arms and legs. Not from all the fall’s she had taken, but from the cruel kids who could never seem to catch a break with laying their hands onto her. She hated physical touch, yet over time…she craved it. It was hard but she learnt to love any sort of hands on her. Sure it hurt but…what did that matter? Thing’s never seemed to progress until she met Enoshima. The Ultimate “fashionista” as some would call her, during the time. A woman who was glorified for her perfect shape not only to her hips but throughout her entire body. The definition of who she wished she could be. Junko seemed loving. Maybe she could replace the mother she never had? Maybe Junko would be willing to be the one to love her, and tell her that she’ll make it out of this? For once, she felt loved. Which ended up being her biggest mistake.

Coming back to present time, Mikan finds herself shaking and crying. The glass that once was full, was now spilled. The little shards covering all around her feet. - Could this be considered walking on pins and needles? - She doesn’t understand what she had done wrong. All Junko ever seemed to scream and physically let her know she wasn't enough. She would scream about how she’s done something wrong. Scream about how imperfect she was. Scream about how her presence just annoyed and bothered her so much. - It hurt. - Badly. - Mikan walked into this new life, thinking somebody had truly wanted her. Instead, she only ended up being used and led into a similar yet worse lifestyle than she had before. Why her? Why Mikan? Why was she stuck in this never ending cycle of torment and abuse? Her mind tried to convince herself that it was okay but deep down, she knew she was just bullshitting it. Mikan doesn’t care to even fight back. Her breaths become more shaky and broken, letting herself fall to the ground with her hands over her face. Letting the little pieces impale her legs. - No physical pain could ever begin to match the pain that tore apart her mind.

[silentlysurrenderingeagle-blog]

Chapter 1: My Shiva: How we met

A time came when I thought I should be moving out of my comfortable bed, making a life for myself. I came to Mumbai from Kolkata. I had some savings from the previous startup. I bought a small boutique store in the suburbs. I bought a tiny 2BHK, all investments. I created my page on all social media platforms, hoping to promote it online. I knew I needed enough to survive a year without any profit.

But the expenses were too much for me. I was almost on the verge of calling my parents and telling them "Yes Baba. You were right. I failed again. Can you give me some money?". But I didn't. I pushed myself. Posted a roommate ad on my social media page. I heard the rents in Mumbai were high. The guy who has rented the place next to mine pays 35000 monthly for a similar 2BHK. It would not hurt to make 15000 per month by renting out the spare room.

I was new to the city. The city truly had its charm. Of course it was not Kolkata. But now when I think of it, the only thing that binds me to Kolkata were my people. My parents, my brother, my friends. I had no one in this strange city. One night, as I was scrolling through my timeline on Facebook, I saw Nids. She was my classmate in school. It was a picture of her standing on a clearway at Marine drive while I could see the waves crashing behind her.

A week later I received a reply from Nids. She wrote, "Hi Sree. I am in town. Come by. This is my number. Ping me. Let me share with you my address". My days were busy. But I was free in the evening. Most evenings were spent reading, cooking, chores and more chores. I hadn't met anyone familiar in years. I was excited, but hoped the address was close by. Though trains were an easy transport throughout the city, I was not familiar with trains. I would need a cab or an auto.

Almost immediately, she sent me her address. It was 15km from my apartment. Now, you should know something about women. We have stages of dilemma, especially when you have not dressed up in a while. First, everything should match. If you have not waxed your legs, you can't risk a short dress. If you have a heel you want to wear, you will have to get a bag and dress that matches it. Second, lack of motivation. So much energy goes in trying out clothes with shoes, in changing and changing till you find a perfect one for the occasion, but by then you are exhausted. Third, when you see a woman in her boxy tshirt and jeans, you should know that she could not succeed in getting a match. She wore the most comfortable clothes she could muster at the moment.

But I was motivated. After a year, I was finally meeting a friend, someone familiar. I didn't have to try hard to look good. She was a friend. She had seen me in two pony tails in school. Anything I wear would be better than that. And so I did. I wore my own brand, though my clothes had not yet become my brand. I have hardly sold 100 pieces since I opened my boutique. But it was one of my best. I wore a beige pant, paired it with a white short top, a grey blazer and a rose gold chain neckpiece to match all. I wore my rose gold watch and a brown pump heel. I was ready. I tied my hair in a knot. Applied lipstick blush and eyeliner, I was ready.

I was at the door. She texted that she would be on the 3rd floor. The door of her apartment was intricately designed in wood with a frosted glass panelling on the sides. I heard the door knob click from inside and as it opened, I saw a girl standing at the door. "Yes. Who do you want?" She said. I was startled. I thought I was meeting her alone. But I could clearly see this was a party. There were 10 people inside all seated around a small coffee table.

"Hi! I am Sneha. I am here to meet Nids, sorry Nidhi Sharma. She invited me"

Just then, from behind the door, a head peeped out.

"Hi Sree! Come in. It has been a long time"

She came forward and gave me a tight hug. Yes that's Nidhi, my childhood friend Nids. I remember we often discussed our life plans when we were young. I used to tell her, "Please. If you ever get married, don't invite me. I can't bear to have veg food at a friend's wedding." And sometimes " You know how I want to die? At the age of 80, on the laps of my husband with my forehead lined with sindoor and my grandchildren by my side. I would be smiling to them, a sign that I have lived my life to the fullest." On seeing her after so long all those memories came rushing back.

She took my hand and we entered her parlor. She introduced me to her guests. "Guys, meet Sree. I call her Sree. She is Sneha. She was my best friend in school." I took a place on the sofa. I placed my bag on the side, awkwardly. I was not expecting a bunch of strangers.

"Hi! Would you like a drink?" said one of her friends

"Yes. But I have to work tomorrow. So, I would like a glass of juice, please." But as I said this, I could hear my head telling me "Shut up!"

She chuckled. I wanted a place to dig a hole and bury myself out of embarrassment. Just then Nidhi came to my aid. "Riddhima, stop. She does not drink. Here. This is my favourite mocktail punch. Nothing fancy. Just some soda, fruits and cold drink". She was holding a glass with some transparent drink. I could see slices of pomegranate, apple and lemon beneath.

"Thank you." I took the glass.

"Come on. Give it a try"

I took a sip. It tasted like Sprite with fruits. Not bad.

"Guys, let's play. This is Game Night. We should play. Teams decided yet?" It was a man. He had a long canvas stand in his embrace. He set it down and smiled at his audience. That's when I saw him. My Shiva!

[noorrani3657]

Why Artificial Jewellery Online Shopping is Winning Hearts

I remember my Aunt Mildred, an ardent collector of fine, glittery stuff, once said, "girls never stop playing dress-up." That sentence stuck with me like glue to paper (a little quirky, but that's me for you!).

Often, we demand new trinkets to supplement our overflowing jewellery boxes because let's face it, there does exist the right piece for every occasion. And speaking of 'every occasion'— welcome to the world of online artificial jewellery shopping. Quite a mouthful, eh? Well, make no mistake, there's a lot to chew on!

On convenience and comfort

Let's get real here. Who amongst us hasn't given in to the lure of online shopping at some ungodly hour? Wearing your ratty old pyjamas (Yeah, I've got a pair too), hot chocolate in hand, and browsing through a treasure trove of accessories at a complete leisure? It's criminally comfortable!

The Comfort of Home

There is a particular joy in lazing around, even while shopping. E-commerce thrives on that! Shopping becomes a comfort exercise when you can enjoy it from the confines of your home, office or even during the commute. Weather or the need for social distancing? What are those? We don’t know them in the world of online shopping!

A World of Options at a Click

Artificial jewellery online shopping is like delving into Hermione's beaded handbag— there's always more in the bag! It brims with so many options that you'd be hard pressed for choices. From intricately designed neckpieces to dainty anklets, from earrings à la Jhumkas to Hoops, from Brooches to Bangles, the list is virtually endless.

On variety and dynamism

Ah, the heart of the matter. A product keeps its flame burning bright only when it is dynamic and versatile, and online artificial Jewellery shopping has been a torchbearer in this.

Catering to Diverse Tastes

Are you a Boho-Chic, out there spreading peace, love, and freedom? Or a glamorous diva, turning offices into red carpets? Perhaps you're an old soul, finding comfort in the traditional palette? Whoever you are, e-commerce welcomes you with open arms. It doesn't just offer variety—it offers variety suited to you!

Staying Afloat in Trending Waves

Variety isn't confined to static items lying prettily in glass cupboards anymore. Every day brings a new trend, a new headline in fashion magazines. Ever-evolving online jewellery catalogues are perfect to keep up with the ebb and flow of what's in.

On affordability and accessibility

This is the big fish, isn’t it? Precisely what makes artificial jewellery online shopping such a hit is its amazing balance of style, and affordability.

Affordable Luxury

Now, here's a fun oxymoron for you. Yet, in the real world, it's anything but. Online artificial jewellery does not burn a hole in your pocket yet makes you feel chic. Economical and fashionable co-existing, who would've thought?

Accessible to All

Picture this: You live in a secluded part of town with a single jewellery store. Sure, Mr. Goldsmith is a nice man, but you can't say the same about his stock. Don't despair because online shopping cares not for your geographical coordinates! You can shop from an array of dazzling pieces no matter where you lay your hat.

"The beauty of artificial jewellery lies in the ease with which it merges into our lives—you don't wear the jewellery, you live it"

This quote might make you think, "Wow! That's deeper than a submarine can dive!" But jokes aside, it captures the essence of why artificial jewellery online shopping is a charm that's hard to resist. Comfort, variety, dynamism, affordability, and accessibility— It's a potent mix, isn't it? Add in the joy of browsing endless designs at ungodly hours in your PJs and you've captured hearts worldwide. Well, 'case closed' as Sherlock would say!

[holdinbacksecrets]

boyfriend things // you live, my love. that is what you do

an: requested! i would like to send love to anyone who is experiencing a hard time because of anything related to your health. losing the ability to do things with ease, watching yourself change in ways out of your control, hiding the burdens and anxieties behind smiles, carrying on with what's expected of you despite it all... so far from easy. you are doing your best. i am proud of you.

tw: health issues, alluding to more serious, chronic conditions

namjoon: “is there anything you’d like to do today?” you’re finishing breakfast, tracing the rim of a glass as your boyfriend’s voice maneuvers through and past the voices in your head. he can see it all over you: the anxiety. it’s in your shoulders and the way they fall, weighed down. it’s in the fidgeting of your fingers, playing with the table mat. he’d prefer your focus on him, on this new day, and spending it outside of the four walls that have seen all the falls. “should we enjoy the sunshine?” your eyelids flutter before meeting his gaze. “we could go to the market today… it’s been too long since i’ve used the little basket in my closet.” “that sounds perfect. go get ready. i’ll clean up.”

jin: “hey, you know i’ve got you, right?” you look up with tearful eyes, biting your lip to hold back the threatening sobs. you manage a nod, approaching him from your bedroom doorway. that morning, you completely broke down. everything you’ve swallowed, everything you’ve hidden: all your fears… came out. more like plummeted down and exploded in your living room, but he was there. and now, after some time to calm down, after a cup of tea and a bath, he’s still here, watching you with love in his eyes. “i know. you’ve got me.”

yoongi: “your birthday’s tomorrow.” the lights are off in your bedroom. his voice is quiet, not sure if you’re still awake. “twenty-six.” “you’re catching up with me.” “catching up with you? i like the way that sounds.” “stay close to me in my thirties, will you?” his voice is so heavy, so emotional, and you know what he means. you thought he’d ask about the strawberry cake to celebrate or the outfit you chose for the day’s occasions. instead… oh. so you roll onto your stomach, and find his face in the darkness, feeling the plumpness of his cheek. “i’m not going anywhere, ok? twenty-six, forty-three, eighty-five, you’ll have me. so let’s focus on twenty-six for now, yeah?” he hums, and you feel a tear burst against your thumb. “sorry sorry, twenty-six. let’s just focus on twenty-six. happy birthday”

hosoek: sleep doesn’t come every night, and anxiety wins the battle every once in a while. sometimes, you stay in bed, caress his cheek. other nights, you clean the kitchen and curl up on the couch with an old photo album. sometimes you escape to the rooftop because there’s something about the sky: the hope you’ve come to believe is held in the clouds and the stars. held in the moonlight, and the colors becoming bright, vibrant, beautiful. sometimes, you see his face in the rising sun. you’ve set him beside hope in your mind because he always consumes yours when you ponder your tries. the future tries. the way he’s tried. the work he’s done. maybe it’s not the same. maybe his battles aren’t at all like your own, but his determination, his desire, his belief in himself… those are all things you should come to know and get closer to. so you go to the rooftop, and you wait for dawn. you watch the sun try to shine despite the clouds, and you know its light is there. the colors bleed through patches of grey, radiate through it. you can radiate too

jimin: he looks sort of beautiful in the waiting room at your doctor’s office. his arm’s around your shoulder, tracing the skin that’s exposed near your neck. you’re quiet together, comfortably so. he’s radiating confidence, yet understanding and support. it’s all you need. it’s all you used to hope for and crave. now, oh wow, now it’s here, in him. “y/l/n y/n? we’re ready for you”

taehyung: another letter is waiting beneath your pillow. he’s gone again, and you’re going to the hospital today. there’s strength between, around, within his written words. and you read. you swallow them whole, and give yourself this morning to breathe and exist freely. that can be hard to do, but he wants you to know you can feel the pain and the suffering, yet still know fresh rain, warm pastries, and museum paintings. for right now, the battle feels wrapped around everything, so you learn to bring it with you when you have to, and smile anyways. love anyways. eat the warm pastry and wear your rain boots and take pictures of artwork anyways. you live, my love. that is what you do

jungkook: it’s the way he holds you. the way his entire hand spreads out across your back, and radiates warmth. it’s the way you feel his chin on the top of your head or against your shoulder. it’s the way he says he loves you, and thanks you for being here. whispers you did so well today, and he doesn’t let go when you shake. when you cry, he holds you tighter. when you stand on your tippy toes, craving even more of him against you, he holds you tighter

check out the masterlist 🤍

taglist: @shatzkrinslinzki @the-wordis-bird

[writing-for-marvel]

We Could Have Had It All

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: Promises were made, none were kept.

Request: Anonymous - original request here

Prompt: “Do you even love me anymore?” - in bold

Warnings: angst, no happy endings here, dysfunctional relationship, end of relationship, swearing, wound to the hand & blood

Word count: 2.6k

A/N: so I’ve combined this request with @strwbrrybucky’s writing challenge thank you Rhi for hosting this

And as per the request, based on the song Rolling in the Deep by Adele - I did a bit of digging before writing this and to ‘roll in the deep’ with someone is a British saying to have someone’s back no matter what - so this is my angsty spin on that

Dividers by @maysdigitalarts

Masterlist | Ask me anything | Library

“Do you even love me anymore?”

When you truly love someone, they shouldn’t have to question the existence of that love, they should be able to feel it radiating off you like warmth from the sun.

But here you were, holding your heart in front of you on a silver platter, painfully unaware if Steve Rogers, the man you had become accustomed to describing as the love of your life, would embrace your heart with tenderness, or shatter it irreparably into a thousand pieces.

You waited for him to speak with bated breath, waited to hear him deny that your worst fears had indeed come true.

But those comforting words didn’t come.

He looked at you with foreign eyes - not the faithful, trustworthy ocean blue ones you fell in love with, but harsh, darkened ones which had you questioning if you even knew him at all anymore.

The Steve Rogers you fell in love with was an honest to a fault, fiercely loyal man, who assured you his love for you would never die.

But how could you continue to believe in the sincerity of those words when he broke so many promises?

Promise one: I promise to make time for you.

Your hair was styled to perfection, make-up immaculately applied, the new dress you bought specifically for this occasion showed just the right amount of skin to elevate Steve’s heart rate but was also suitable for the classy restaurant you made a reservation at.

You looked stunning. You felt sexy.

But he should have been home more than two hours ago.

By now your table reservation would have been passed onto another couple to enjoy, while you nervously paced in your living room, tears burning behind your eyes, frantically calling every person, god and Avenger you could think of that might know where he could be.

The main drawback of dating an Avenger, one who was as noble and self-sacrificing as Steve Rogers, was that at any sign of danger he’d be there, throwing his Super Soldier body in the line of fire to save everyone he could, which meant at any moment, without so much as a goodbye, he could just be gone.

He wasn’t invincible, even though at times you suspected he thought he was.

By the time the front door finally swung open, tears mixed with mascara were running down your face in inky rivers, high heels long discarded, tossed somewhere haphazardly beside the couch and a half empty bottle of red wine stood open on the coffee table that you hadn’t bothered to get a glass for.

“Hey sweetheart.” Relief poured over you as you studied him from across the room. He appeared uninjured, completely healthy, as if he had just returned from a late night stroll.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine, it was just a little bank robbery. Tony said he had it covered, but I was in the vicinity.” Steve said offhandedly as he walked up to you and palmed the smooth material of your dress around your hips.

“Wait-” You held your hand up as if you were Doctor Strange and could halt time, stopping Steve from leaning in to kiss you. “Tony didn’t actually need your help? You chose to go with him?” Steve looked sheepish, as if he only just realised he said something he perhaps shouldn't have.

“Well… I mean, technically.” There was a lilt to his voice which made him sound guilty.

Your stomach flipped at the thought that he had knowingly put you under this stress. That he told you this date night was time for just the two of you in your busy schedules, yet he had so willingly bailed on you.

“So you oh so generously volunteered to help, when they didn’t actually need you, knowing I would be here waiting for you? Worrying about you all goddamn night? You didn’t even text me to let me know what was happening! Are you just purposely torturing me now?” The relief which had washed over you like a cold shower before was now turning to steam as hot resentment bubbled in your chest. “Do you even remember what today is?”

You could see the cogs turning in his mind, taking in your expensive dress and the makeup you applied heavier than usual. Your heart sank through the pit of your stomach that he even had to think about it.

The moment where it clicked was evident on his face, as clear as if a lightbulb was turned on.

Your second anniversary.

“Darling, if I-”

“Save it.” You snapped before heading down the hall to your shared bedroom, muttering curse words as you struggled to undo the zipper on the back of your dress by yourself, frustrated tears pouring from the corners of your eyes.

That night, Steve didn’t join you in bed.

Promise two: I promise to never take my anger out on you.

Steve was having a bad day.

It was evident from the way he slammed the front door shut when he got home, from the angry scream he let out in the shower when you asked him to cool off and the incensed glare he gave you as he walked into the kitchen after you patiently waited to discuss what was bothering him.

You ran your hands over his shoulders, lightly massaging the tense muscles, but before you could work your way down his back, he shrugged you off, grumbling at your touch.

Brushing the interaction off as him just purely being frustrated at the day, you decided to make his favourite drink: a Southside. Garnishing with a mint leaf you had grown yourself in your hanging herb garden, you put a smile on your face as you brought it to Steve.

Even though he couldn’t get tipsy from it, you knew he enjoyed the taste. It reminded him of when he would go out with Bucky in the 40’s and his smaller frame could get drunk off one glass. The thought usually relaxed him, tugging a small smile from the corners of his mouth. Well, on most days it would. But today wasn’t most days.

Without warning, Steve took the glass from your offering hand and slammed it onto the coffee table with so much force it completely shattered in his palm. Blood seeped slowly out of the cuts, pooling at his wrist, and dripped to the floor. He didn’t even flinch in pain.

You rushed to the kitchen to get him a towel, or anything you could find to soak up the blood. What on earth had gotten into him? It seemed so out of character for him to be so outwardly fuming - he would usually let it simmer inside his chest and you’d have to coax an explanation out of him.

“Can you please just tell me what the problem is?” You went to wrap a towel around his hand, to put pressure on the gashes to stop the flow of blood, but he harshly grabbed it from you, pushing you away as he did the work himself.

“You, you’re the problem! For the love of god can you just fuck off?” You had never heard him so exasperated before, and not only was he furious, he was directing all his anger at you.

“Look, I’m sorry you had a shitty day, but I’m just trying to help, you don’t have to get mad at me.” You stated, completely baffled by both his behaviour, and his reasoning behind it. You had barely interacted this morning before he went for his sunrise run and he was already vexed by the time he returned home, after spending his day wholly separate from you.

“Well you ain’t helping. You're just making shit worse.” He couldn’t even find it in him to look at you as he stood abruptly and shouldered past you roughly, deliberately, as he made his way to the bathroom.

You knew there must be an overarching reason as to why he was so upset, but it left you feeling empty that he chose to take his rage out on you rather than let you be his confidant.

Steve slept in the guest bedroom that night too.

Promise three: I promise to always be honest with you.

Steve entered your shared apartment, placing his keys on the little hook by the door with a pleased smile on his face and a skip to his step you hadn’t seen from him in a while.

“You saw her again, didn’t you?” Your tone was far more accusatory than you had planned, but perhaps, deep down, you didn’t want to hold back - you wanted him to feel the hurt which was consuming your entire body at that moment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said in his best innocent tone, placing a quick, chaste kiss to your hairline which did absolutely nothing to abate the swirling anger in your chest. In fact, his words lit a fire beneath your existing fury, only making you more irate with him.

“Don’t treat me like I’m an idiot, and definitely don’t lie to me again. Nat told me you visited the retirement home this afternoon.” Surprise filled his eyes as he quickly turned to look back at you. He clearly hadn’t expected you to know where he had wandered off to after work.

“Okay… yes, I saw Peggy.” He finally conceded. Even though this wasn’t new information, his confirmation was like a plunging knife to the heart.

You dropped your head, closed your eyes and sighed, gathering the strength to continue with this conversation, one that was overly repetitive at this point.

“We've talked about this before, yet you keep doing it - don’t you understand how it upsets me?” Your voice came out much softer this time, vulnerable, exposed, and weary.

“You’re the one who doesn’t understand - she’s the only person left from my old life, who knew me in the 40’s, before the serum. Are you really mad that I’m trying to hold onto that?” His voice was in contrast to yours; loud, demanding and pitiless. He had a repulsed look in his eye now, as was becoming more frequent in your recent interactions, that made your stomach churn.

“Steve, you know I want you to keep a connection to that part of your life! What I don’t appreciate is you seeing your ex-love in secret and then lying to me when I ask you.” You personally didn’t think it was too much to ask to know when Steve was spending time with her - when you met him, she had been the love of his life. That was, until you were. At least, that’s what he told you. You weren’t so sure anymore.

“What does it matter? I don’t have to tell you about every interaction I have with my friends.” After all the conversations you had about this very topic, you couldn’t believe he still didn’t recognise why this decidedly troubled you.

“But can’t you see how lying about it, keeping it a secret from me, makes me think it does mean more than just friendship to you?”

He scoffed, actually scoffed, in response to your words.

“Do you still love her?” The question had been bothering you for a while, but you had never brought it up, knowing it would only further agitate him. Now, the doubt weighed on your chest so heavily you could barely breathe, and asking the question was a necessity to be able to suck oxygen into your lungs.

“What?”

“I think you heard me loud and clear.” His eyes narrowed and if you didn’t know any better you would have sworn he despised you.

“Don’t be delirious.” Perhaps you didn’t know any better.

Like the rock of a cliff face battered by harsh wind and rough seas, your trust in him was eroding with every word which fell from his lips.

He hadn’t denied his feelings for her, and as you glared at each other, painstaking silence mixing with deceit in the thick air, he never contradicted your words in spite of having plenty of opportunity to do so.

Promise four: I promise to always love you.

“Do you even love me anymore?”

Suffocating silence continued to fill the air surrounding you, waiting with a heavy heart for the words you desperately wanted to hear, but were convinced wouldn’t fall from his lips. Preparing as best you could for the searing pain in your chest which came with a shattered heart, you searched his face for any sign that he would finally provide you an answer.

“How can you even ask that?” An all too familiar indignant tone consumed his voice, a drop of venom poisoning his gaze.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You quickly followed up, but it again took him a moment of pause to answer, as if gathering the will to say it.

“Yes, I love you.” He said with utterly no conviction behind his words. The phrase sounded like a chore, as if it were something he was obligated to say rather than wanted to. They were the words you wanted to hear, but not the way you wanted him to say it, which was just as heartbreaking as not saying them at all.

“Then how come I don’t believe you?” Actions speak louder than words, and his actions were hoarsely screaming that he didn’t love you, at least, not any more.

Steve apparently didn't have a response to this as he simply stared at you, a semblance of panic in his eyes.

His silence was all the answer you needed, as it seemed was a common occurrence with him recently. At this point you were tired of the lies, exhausted at wanting him to reciprocate the effort and care you put into the relationship, only to be disappointed time and time again.

A sharp pain speared your chest, as if your heart was actually splitting in two.

You knew it was illogical to want someone who didn’t love you, but you couldn’t help but think back to all the memories early in your relationship where you could have sworn he really did love you.

The gentle caresses, affectionate kisses, nights spent in each other’s arms whispering words of devotion against each other’s bare skin - you couldn’t believe it was all a lie. You yearned for the kind and charming Steve Rogers you fell in love with two years ago, not this stranger in your living room staring at you with hostility.

How had it gone so wrong? How did it end up like this?

You sighed heavily, trying your best to ignore the unabating discomfort in your chest and the hot tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Maybe now it didn’t matter how you ended up here, it simply mattered how you moved on from it.

“At the end of the day, I can’t make you love me, as much as I wish you did.” You stated, looking into his azure eyes one last time. They no longer provided the solace you had once felt when searching for and finding them in a crowded room, the feeling now was closer to sorrow, heartache.

You turned around and even though it pained you beyond belief and every muscle in your body was begging you to, pleading you to, you refused to look back at him as you walked out.

Out of the apartment.

Out of his life.

For good.

We could have had it all, if only you kept your promises.

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[earlgreydream]

time for us.

| loki x reader | angst | fluff |

anon requested. loki has been working a lot lately and hasn’t really had anytime for the reader and he completely forgets about their anniversary and she doesn’t tell him for a couple of days but then he snaps at her and they have a huge argument

a/n: this doesn’t have any spoilers for the show— just mention that Loki works for the TVA (which isn’t canon at the time of me writing this)

You loathed Loki’s new job, working for the Time Variance Authority.

Ever since Loki began at the TVA, they’d managed to occupy nearly all of his time and energy, leaving little to none left for you. Your relationship was strong, but only a few weeks of work had put a strain on the two of you.

He’d become more short tempered, and easily agitated. You tried to be patient, but little things seemed to antagonize you, and soon every small thing was becoming huge.

Above all, you hated to fight with Loki. You bottled up your frustration, shoving them down inside of you and keeping them hidden and locked away. Your limited time with Loki was precious, and you didn’t want to poison it with your annoyance. However, it was doing damage that you hadn’t yet comprehended, building a pressurized weapon that was bound to explode.

It took weeks, but the explosion came.

.

Loki had been so caught up in work that he missed your anniversary. It had escaped his mind entirely, passing like any other day. He was distracted by variants running wild, and the need to please his new boss. He felt responsible for things that were going wrong, and he had put your relationship on the backburner.

You’d been certain he’d take you out during the night, or at least do something to acknowledge the anniversary of your love, but you’d been dead wrong. You waited at home as hours passed, and when his normal arrival time had long passed, the pain in your chest grew until your entire body was throbbing with hurt.

You took your makeup off, along with the pretty dress you wore-- the green one that your husband adored.

Loki had stayed late at work, taking overtime and showing up just before ten. You were so hurt you could hardly speak, but Loki’s mind was too muddled with work to even notice. You were already in bed when he returned home, and he’d kissed your forehead and gone to sleep with less than five words leaving his lips.

You laid awake in bed that night, staring at the wall. You should have told Loki you were angry, said something then and at least gotten it in the open. But you shoved it down with everything else— every other hurt and grievance and annoyance that poisoned you.

.

“Can you set that down, please?” You asked, four days later. You tried to keep your tone even, but you were impatient. The bite in your words was all you could do to keep from tearing the file from his delicate hands.

Loki was in the kitchen, his face buried in a variant case file. He was supposed to be helping you make dinner, but you were dismissed and cast aside once again as his work outshined you.

“I’m working, Y/N! It’s important. Don’t you want me to get paid so you can have your pretty things?” Loki snapped, shocking you.

“No!” You screamed, slamming the cabinet door shut.

He stared at you, turquoise eyes wide in shock at your outburst. He dropped the file on the counter, a harsh glare adorning his stunning face.

“No, Loki! I don’t fucking care about the pretty things. I don’t even know that I care about YOU!” The words were coming out before you could stop them.

“You don’t care about me?! All I ever do is for you!” Loki met your anger, matching your energy and only fueling the fire of rage that was building in your stomach.

“You’re such a selfish liar! You don’t give a fuck about me, Loki! You’re in a relationship with your bullshit job, you don’t give a damn about me! All of your time and your energy... and fuck, even your kindness goes to the stupid fucking TVA!! There’s nothing left for me, and I don’t want your scraps!” You shoved him back when he took a step toward you.

“I’m selfish? You’re needy and dramatic! You’re a spoiled brat, acting out when not every ounce of my attention is being given to you. What, you’re mad that I didn’t help you make this salad? Grow up, Y/N!” Loki’s hateful words poured out, tasting like acid in his mouth.

“No! I’m mad that you forgot our anniversary and that you haven’t seen how much you’ve hurt me!” Tears burned as they streamed down your face, blurring your vision that was bleeding at the edges.

Loki’s lips parted, and realization suddenly crossed his features. He took a step back, recognizing his anger had spiraled out of control, and that your anger was justified.

“I didn’t mean it… I do care about you, I just want you to care about me.” Your voice broke, and shaky hands went to your mouth, stifling a sob. Guilt swelled in Loki’s chest as he saw you fall apart, unable to bear the weight of your anger.

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten. Please, my love, forgive me,” Loki’s tone softened, and he knelt down to his knees before you.

He didn’t care about the messy floors ruining his perfect suit, nothing mattered to him then except for you.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry, I just miss you,” you were weeping, unable to hold the sobs at bay.

“It’s okay, scream and cry if you need to, but know I love you more than anything and I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

Loki gently pulled you forward, closing his arms around you. His forehead rested against your stomach, and you laid your hands on top of his head.

“I know. I know,” you stammered in shaky breaths. Your fingers trembled as you dragged them through his hair, overwhelmed with every emotion that washed over you all at once.

.

You got home from work, a couple of days after your fight. You had both apologized, easing the tension over. Loki hadn’t stopped apologizing, even when you promised him it was okay. It had been better since-- you weren’t keeping secrets or harboring anger, and you felt exceedingly better in the aftermath of your fight.

You walked into your master suite, considering a hot bath or a shower after your day. You were lost in your thoughts as you kicked your shoes off, before turning to the bed. A dress was laid out on the end of the bed, glittery heels and jewelry in a box beside it. Loki wasn’t home, but a note was attached, telling you to get dressed and he’d meet you.

You smiled, lifting the black cocktail dress. You changed, fixing your hair and makeup in the mirror. Your day at work had been long, and you didn’t know what Loki had in store for you, but you were excited.

The lock clicked open on the door, signaling the arrival of your husband. You stepped into the foyer to greet him, met with Loki in an all-black suit. A grin spread across his expression as he noticed you, making warmth bloom in your chest.

“You look-” you both started at the same time.

You smiled and tilted your head, letting him speak.

“You look beautiful,” Loki spoke softly before giving you a kiss.

“Thank you. You look sharp. What’s the occasion, what are we doing?”

“I’m so sorry I missed our anniversary. I thought we could celebrate us tonight.”

You broke into a grin, nodding excitedly.

“Yes. Yes, let’s do it.”

“Of course. Let me set my things down,” he kissed your cheek and stepped into your master, cleaning up and dropping his bag.

.

You were driven to a fancy restaurant, one hand in Loki’s as the other smoothed over the wheel of his black sports car. He dropped the keys with a valet, and you were escorted to a table in the back of the place.

“Wine, Mrs. Laufeyson?”

“Please,” you nodded, and the waiter poured you a glass of sparkling pink moscato.

“I’ve gotten us a suite at the resort in the city. I have a bag packed for you in the car, I thought we could enjoy a weekend away. You deserve it,” Loki brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“You’re spoiling me,” you giggled, sipping your wine.

“As I should be.”

Elaborate French dishes were brought out on gorgeous plates, looking like something from a food blog. It tasted divine, and Loki told you some history about the dish from some time he was living or traveling in Paris. You listened to his animated stories, thinking about how you were so in love with him. 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” Loki laughed softly, spooning sorbet into your mouth.

“Because I love you. And you’re charming and cute when you get excited,” you confessed with a grin. 

“I love you too. I’m sorry about everything,” he apologized. 

“It’s okay. We’re past it. Time moves forward for us.”

Loki nodded, leaning forward and smearing a kiss over your temple before retrieving your car from the valet.

“To the hotel?” he asked, sliding his hands over your hips and kissing your neck as you waited.

“Okay,” you giggled, squirming in his arms. 

He squeezed your bum, making you gasp before opening the door for you, helping you into the passenger seat. 

When you arrived at the hotel, there was a bouquet of roses on the table, and candles burning around. He kissed the back of your head, setting your bag down for you.

“Let me make this up to you,” his voice was deep as he unzipped your dress.

“Please,” you smiled, turning in his arms and pulling him into a heated kiss. 

[astaroth1357]

Hello I really love your writing. I’m glad that you decided to open requests for a bit. I have a personal headcanon that the boys are a lot nicer to MC then they are to everyone else. Could you do a headcanon of the boys being out with MC and they are talking with MC happily. Then a lesser demon sees them with MC and says that the seven brothers have gone weak and they aren’t scared of them anymore. Thank you again!!! 😖 (Also the way you write Levi is great)

Aww thank you!! Levi's kind of my favorite character (if that hasn't become painfully obvious) so I try to write him well, you know? This one was a little hard for me to write because I just have a hard time imagining Asmo and Beel as something intimidating to the masses, but I tried my best! I hope you like it!

Lesser Demons Think the Brothers have "Gone Soft…"

Lucifer

If anybody had something to lose by acting sweet on a lowly human, it was Lucifer. His entire image was built on the back of power and intimidation, so really who didn't see this coming?

He knew there were whispers… Mostly in the RAD hallways. Students would see him with the MC and gossip amongst themselves… 

"Did you see them together again in the courtyard?"

"How did some random human even score a pact with him??"

"And I used to seriously look up to him, too…"

He'd always silence their chitchat with a well placed glare, but this was a symptom of something more… troubling. A decay of his social image if you will.

Perhaps it speaks to how well and truly enamored he was with the MC that this proud creature didn't just dump them the second he started looking bad, but still… a part of him really couldn't stand for this...

So maybe it was a blessing in disguise when he finally got an excuse to establish his superiority yet again!

He and the MC were walking the halls of RAD after school hours and they had just made an amusing joke at the expense of of his brothers. Unfortunately, Lucifer collided into a lesser demon student while he was laughing…

On most occasions, he would have expected someone of such station to pay him deference then offer an apology - they had just ran into Lucifer after all - but the student just scoffed at him!

Lesser Demon: "Oi! Watch where you're going, Lucifer! Or were you too busy sucking up to that human to notice?"

This… was maybe not the best response to have (if the "Oh shit" look on the MC's face was any indication) but for as annoyed as Lucifer was, he was also somewhat delighted.

Finally, he had the perfect messenger for just how cruel he could still be!

Lucifer: "MC, feel free to go home without me for now and tell my brothers to save my dinner for later…" *starts pulling out his favorite rope with a cold, but pleased, smile on his face* "I have a feeling I'll be home late tonight..."

The MC left him and his unfortunate victim to their fate and Lucifer later came home in the night with his uniform in a bad need of cleaning...

A new body decorated the RAD entrance hall the next morning - swinging from the ceiling and making an awful mess on the floor - but still alive enough give a very important message to the rest of the students:

"Lucifer hasn't changed a bit…"

Mammon

So, not even lesser demons see Mammon as some kind of high-ranking badass… 

Just to be clear, he is, but it’s hard for him to come off that way when he's begging for his next Grimm... Then enter MC into the picture and he somehow lost even MORE cred.

"There goes poor Mammon… Did you hear he got tricked into a pact?"

"Just look at him nipping at the human's heels! How pathetic is that??"

"Well that's Mammon for you… What a shit excuse for a demon."

Like Lucifer, Mammon wasn’t immune to the whispers, but unlike his brother he was able to push them mostly out of his mind. People look down on him? Yeah, what else is new?

To be honest, he didn’t really feel the need to prove anything to a bunch of lesser demon losers… But insulting his MC takes things a step too far.

He and the MC were out at the Devil's Coast, "enjoying" some of the haunted house attractions and generally having a good time…ish. 

Any time they managed to make it out of one, the MC would have to peel Mammon off their back and hold him to assure him they were back to safety (a process he seemed to like enough to repeat the horror that precedes it).

It was during one of these calm down sessions that the two were accosted by a couple of snickering lesser demons, clearly looking for a fight…

Lesser Demon 1: "Hey look! There's the 'Great' Mammon and his little master!"

Lesser Demon 2: "Guess the master fits the demon… Of course someone like Mammon couldn't even score a pact with Solomon and gets stuck with the weakling!"

Lesser Demon 1: "Well how's the babysitting going, Mams? I bet you can't wait for them to kill over, can ya?"

Lesser Demon 2: "Careful! With his luck, they'll probably get eaten by the end of next week! Haha!!"

Now… an important thing to know about Mammon is that you can fling all the mud and stones you'd like at him… but never at his MC. That's just asking for a bruising...

Mammon: *smiling like usual, but his eyes are practically burning with rage...* "Yo, MC… I'm gettin' a little hungry. Can ya go find us a snack over there? I'll meet ya in a bit…"

MC: "Mammon, are you-?"

Mammon: "Don’t worry 'bout me, babe." *takes his glasses off and flashes a fanged grin* "This is'a piece of cake."

And indeed, it wasn't difficult at all. No matter how fast those demons ran, they could never out speed Mammon and he was looking to give more than a warning…

The MC didn't know what he did while they were waiting in line, but they heard the sounds of pleading go silent before Mammon turned back up with a nice bruise on his cheek. Oh, how they fretted and dotted on him…

Meanwhile, the haunted houses just earned themselves a couple new mannequins!… when rigor sets in anyway.

Leviathan 

Levi has a… mixed reputation in the Devildom to start with. People who only know him for his titles usually expect him to be some kind of sea-hardened badass. Those who meet him are… well let's say less than impressed.

This isn't anything new to Levi. It does take a blow to his confidence sometimes but even still most people aren't dumb enough to say something to his face… most people.

Unfortunately, "most people" have been getting bolder after seeing him with MC - because Demon Lord forbid Leviathan actually look happy for a change…

He and the MC were out and about for once. There was a raffle for exclusive merch at Anidaemon and he brought them along to boost his chances. They were grinning and chatting about anime but well…

The human couldn’t hear this, but he could - sensitive demon ears and all that. There were a couple guys who were tailing him… heckling him just loud enough that he was CERTAIN they knew he could hear them...

Lesser Demon 1: "Is that seriously Leviathan hanging out with a human? Isn’t he an Admiral??"

Lesser Demon 2: "Ha! The whole family's turned into simps, are you that surprised?"

Lesser Demon 1: "Wonder what the human's giving them that's got them all brainwashed…"

Lesser Demon 2: "Well... I've got an idea." 😏

If there were ever a reason for bile to fill his throat, it was now. He might be a shut-in, but those guys were the real creeps…

To be honest, Levi isn't one for public confrontation. Even with how gross and disrespectful those demons were being, he would have let it slide if they had just left it at that… but no…

He and the MC were browsing the ani-music racks in the store when those idiots popped up again. They hovered a while until they MC suddenly left his side to go find a store clerk.

When he saw the other demons move their direction, he naturally put himself between them and the would-be harassers. It was a little telling that despite his ticked off expression, the demons just laughed in his face!

Lesser Demon 2: "Hey look, the puppy's come out to protect its owner! How cute!"

Lesser Demon 1: "I can't believe you're that predictable, Levi… Do you really think we'd be scared of you?"

Well. That settled it.

When the MC came back, they found that Levi had moved from the music racks to the merch tables near the bathrooms. They didn't think anything of it… but...

One body was paralyzed by his venom and stuffed head first in a toilet while the other getting strangled by his tail just underneath the tablecloth… Meanwhile, Levi was cheerfully rambling about the raffle like nothing was happening at all.

Maybe they should have been a little more scared of the shut-in...

Satan

This may actually be a case where the rumors have a point… The MC has made Satan "soft."

Well, if "soft" means actually in control of himself, anyway. 

Satan would probably call their effect on him both a blessing and a curse. Though he loved finally having a handle on his inner rage, it flew in the face of a lot of his public image… and people were starting to notice….

"Do you think there's something off about Satan…?"

"I saw the human step on his toes earlier and he didn't even flinch…! The old Satan would have torn them apart!!"

"He's gotten way too nice all of sudden… Wrath shouldn't be nice."

Was it a little frustrating? Certainly. Especially for someone as image conscious as him. But for as calm as he was now, Satan wasn’t any less cruel and he'd be more than happy to remind others of that fact….

His chance came when he and the MC were together having just left the local art gallery. The two were exchanging a healthy dialogue about a curious sculpture they saw on display when a latte suddenly went soaring through the air and ended up all over Satan's sweater… The culprit was plain to see, being the only other demon on the road that night.

Whether the act was intentional or not, the correct course of action would have been to apologize immediately and beg for mercy forgiveness… but all the demon did was laugh in his face…

Maybe he thought that since Satan had mellowed out and his human was right beside him that he'd be lenient… Oh no. Not gonna happen.

Satan's fist slammed into the guy's mouth with the force of a jetliner and knocked him over two benches before his back bent over a lamppost… To say it was a KO move would be an understatement.

He probably could have done a whole lot worse to the guy while he was down, but you know… the MC being there and "self-control" and what not…

The demon survived (barely) and only had to spend a few months in the hospital, if anything he got off light.

Not a soul would gloss over Satan's temper again and really he preferred it that way.

Asmodeus 

Well, to be fair not a lot of people thought that Asmo was tough to start with… but that's also his intention.

"Scary" is the opposite of "cute" and he prefers to be "cute" at all times! 😊

Buuut that doesn’t mean this scorpion is without a stinger. He CAN be quite brutal when he wants to be, you just have to push him that far and trashing his looks is a good way to start.

Asmo was out with the MC getting his hair done for the week at his favorite salon. They weren't the only people there that day, obviously. There were other customers - one being a lesser demon classmate of theirs - though neither he nor the MC thought much of him at the time...

Well… It was supposed to be a prank. Probably something the guy intended to use for social media clout. While the staff was too busy to notice, he snuck by and replaced Asmo's preferred conditioner with pink hair dye…

Asmo. Was. Furious. And honestly, the dude could have gotten away with it if he hadn't been laughing and recording the whole thing!

When Asmo's ire naturally fell onto him, he hardly looked fazed!

Lesser Demon: "Ah, please! You won't do shit to me with the human still around! You don't want to look any uglier to them do ya?"

Asmo: *freezes, but still furiously eyeing every sharp instrument within arm’s reach* "MC? Darling?"

MC: "Got it..."

Perhaps the prankster should have kept his mouth shut, because suddenly the MC needed to take a looong bathroom break…

They didn't come back out until they heard the sounds of screeching and broken glass finally die down and then they stepped back into a warzone… Broken mirrors and items seemingly flung everywhere in a fit of rage! The guy (and his phone) now nowhere to be seen…

The salon comped Asmo for the botched hair job and touch up… and then billed Lucifer for the property damage (which he got an earful about later). On the bright side though, Asmo actually looks pretty great with pink hair! Silver-linings. 🙂

Beelzebub 

… The concept of Beel "going soft" is almost an oxymoron. He IS soft, but his personality was never what made him intimidating to start with.

Behind all his kindness, Beel packs more firepower than at least 4 for his siblings combined and most people remember that fact. Hell, the guy looks like he could lift a semi and he probably would if he ever tried. 

However, that doesn’t save him from being underestimated completely... Especially when an upstart or two thinks he's too nice to actually start a fight...

He and the MC were coming back from the grocery store with the usual armfuls of sacks when the MC accidentally walked into a lesser demon on the street. Since their arms were full, several items spilled out from the bags and onto the ground…

The MC was quick to apologize to the demon and try to get down to clean the mess, but the asshole just kept walking… and Beel really didn't like that.

Beel: "Hey! Aren't you going to say, 'Sorry?'"

The lesser demon hardly looked over his shoulder to respond.

Lesser Demon: "Why should I? That's your human. Take care of them yourself."

Well it didn't take long for some of Beel's bags to hit the floor so he could lift the demon up by the back of the neck properly. When he turned the guy to face him, he made sure to bring his face reeaal close so he could hear him growl...

Beel: "Apologize. Or I'll eat you."

And like that, the asshole's mood went from "Do it yourself," to "Yessir Mr. Beelzebub, sir!" right quick!

The MC didn't have to carry a single bag another step and Beel got to keep his free hand so he could link it with theirs!... all while Beel kept mushing their new pack-mule forward like a sled dog back to the House. Thanks, Beel! 😊

Belphegor 

Kind of similar to Asmo, Belphie prefers to come off as unassuming on most days. But don't let his, "I'm a harmless sleepy boy" shtick fool you. He will cut a bitch if he's so motivated...

Thankfully for the world, he's generally not motivated. But that can be changed under the right circumstances...

Belphie and the MC were on yet another date to the botanical gardens. It's a peaceful place, though the MC can never go alone because of the frankly concerning amount of flesh-eating plants… Pretty, but also deadly, you know?

The two of them were walking to another rest spot when Belphie heard whispering from a demon behind them, seemingly on his phone…

Lesser Demon: “Yeah, I can see them right now…”

Lesser Demon: “I know right? It's so lame that these guys are in charge of us… They can't even say no to a dumb human!”

Lesser Demon: “What do you mean keep my voice down? Dude, it's fine! This is Belphegor we're talking about, the hell is he going to do if he hears me?”

… Huh.

The answer to the man's question was a simple one. Flash into his demon form for just a moment and whip out his tail... It only took a quick swipe to make him trip and fall right into the foliage. The man-eating… carnivorous… hungry… foliage….

Belphie was back to normal by the time the jerk let out his first scream and the MC almost stopped to see what had happened.

MC: "What the-oh my God!! Should we help-??”

Belphie: *puts his hands on their shoulders to keep them moving, not even glancing back* “Someone else will take care of it. Let's see the roses.”

Even when the desperate cries for help became distant, it took all Belphie had to stifle a smile…

Sometimes, you've got to love irony. 🤷‍♀️😏

[forever-rogue]

if you’re still taking requests for Bucky, can you do one from this quote if it sparks any inspiration: ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’

A/N: please, this is so soft 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped soft lips as Bucky laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. There was almost no sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the aging clock on the wall, combined with the sounds wafting in from the open window, and the almost non-existent humming of his vibranium appendage. He reached his hand up to his chest to ground himself by touching the dog tags that had been his for way too many years now. A temporary moment of panic set into his bones when he realized there was nothing there, but revelation quickly dawned on him as he remembered that they were currently with you. The last he’d seen them, you were wearing them, the metallic silver tags safely nestled under the soft fabric of your t-shirt.

When he’d given them to you, a sign of his desire to call you his, among other things, he never actually expected that you’d wear them. The first time he’d spied you wearing them, along a casual outfit consisting of jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, he’d almost short circuited. There was something about comforting knowing they were safe and sound in your possession now. They were yours now too - just like he was.

A gentle tugging lifted the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile. How foreign it still felt sometimes, the gentle feeling of blossoming happiness and knowing he was loved. Loved. What a strange and odd concept that was. He couldn’t remember the last another soul had told him they loved him besides in the most platonic sense. But the first time you’d whispered those words to him, so effortlessly, so easily, I love you, his whole world came to a screeching halt and he was sent into a wild spiral that left him speechless. Bucky hadn’t reciprocated your words then; but it wasn’t long after that he did. It had been a half shout, half declaration as you just grinned at him, pulling him against your lips and only letting him go when you were both breathless and dizzy.

He relaxed at the thought, settling against the pillow as he reminded himself to swim in happy memories, rather than drown in the ghosts of the past.

His phone vibrated against the glass top of the coffee table as it startled him out of his stupor, causing him to almost roll off the couch in surprise. He scrambled to grab the phone, and relaxed when he saw your name on the screen. Straightening himself up, he cleared his throat before answering, “hi sweetheart.”

“Bucky!” your excited voice on the other end of the line made his heart relax as he just imagined you bouncing around your small floral shop, making sure everything was perfect, “it’s about time you answered, old man. I’ve called you like three times! Did I disturb your afternoon nap, Barnes?”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling an old man,” he snorted as he stood up and stretched, surprised by how easily you were able to read him, “I got decades on you, kid, respect your elders.”

“Respect me when I’m right,” you grinned as he laughed lightly. How easily everything seemed to flow between the two of you; he’d never thought he could have anything like this again. Even once he’d left Wakanda and life slowly went back to a semblance of normality after the Blip, he still had a hard time trusting people; perhaps, more than anything else, he didn’t trust himself.

While he knew he was himself again, Bucky, and not the Winter Soldier, he still was never quite convinced that he wouldn’t ever go back. For so long he had been nothing but a killer, it was hard to believe that he could ever be fully himself again. So he’d closed himself off, steeled himself, despite the constant reassurance from the people around him that it was okay to let others in. He couldn’t trust himself - after so long...how could he? How was he just supposed to be able to pick the pieces and just be James again?

But he was learning, over time, slowly, bit by bit, that it was okay to let people in, okay to feel, and be okay and also not be okay. Sure, some days were hard, but the good days were good. And they were getting to become more and more frequent.

“Bucky? Hello?” you called his name from the other line, trying to get him to snap back into attention, “James? James Buchanan Barnes?”

“S-sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle for a moment, “I...yeah.”

“Yeah,” you teased softly, “zoning out again huh, my love? I know how you get. What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

“Nothing much,” he admitted, shrugging to himself despite the fact that you weren’t able to see him, “when are you off?”

“Whenever I want to be,” you reminded him, “I’m the boss now, remember? Why do you ask? Got some grand plans for us?”

“Nah,” he confessed, “just want to come and see you. Is it okay if I stop in? I’d come and bring you some flowers...but that would seem a little...on the nose.”

“Ahh, look at you,” he could practically hear you grinning, “very clever, aren’t you? Come and see me - it’s been slow so I might as well close up when you get here. Maybe we can go for a walk and get dinner?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed softly, “see you soon.”

“See you soon, Bucky.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

While you waited for Bucky to arrive, a brilliant idea popped into your head. You quickly grabbed a vase and started to gather some of the flowers that reminded you of him. It wasn’t long before you had a variety of them, neatly arranged and topped off with a bow, ready and waiting for him. He walked into your small shop, ready to announce himself but quickly found that he didn’t have to.You were perched up on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you tilted your head to the side and studied him with a small smile. He was dressed casually today, sporting a dark blue henley and a pair of well fitting jeans. His arm, intricate and beautifully designed golden and black vibranium, wasn’t on full display, nor was it completely hidden. Progress; a step in the right direction, albeit small. He’d get there when he’d get there and if that took another five years or fifty, you planned on being there for him.

“Hi James,” you popped off the counter and met him halfway, letting him wrap you up and envelope you in his warm, tight grasp. His arms, his body, was your favorite place to be. You never felt more safe and secure than when you were wrapped up in him, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” he chuckled as you just nodded, pouting lightly as he couldn’t help but kiss you softly, “it’s only been a few hours since we’ve seen each other.”

“I know,” you ran a hand through his dark hair, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t miss you, does it?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as you took his hand and pulled him over to the counter. Bucky dramatically rolled his eyes as he trailed after you. Your hand looked so small in his hand; delicate skin contrasted against harsh callouses as you gave him a squeeze of reassurance. Whatever hesitation or tension was left in his body seeped, replaced by a feeling of saccharine bliss, “what are you up to?”

“You always think I’m up to something,” standing in front of the flowers, you paused, studying his features before reaching up to tenderly cradle his face in your hands. Bucky, resilient and strong, turned into a puddle of mush and practical whimpers as you traced a delicate fingertip across his features, “perhaps this time you’re right.”

“Tell me then,” he turned his face, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm as you used your free hand to reach behind you and push the vase to your side so he could see the ornate display. Blue eyes narrowed, highlighting the wary crease in his brow before they widened, softening all the way through. His hand slinked down to your waist, a light squeeze followed as he shuffled to the side and studied the flowers. Bright yellows and oranges, brilliant crimsons and pinks, and mellow pastels were suddenly under his intense scrutiny as he took in the sight of the blossoms, “w-what are these?”

“And here I was, thinking you were smart,” standing behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, delicately and slowly at first so you wouldn’t startle him. His frame stiffened for a mere moment before he relaxed, the weight of your head on his back a welcome burden he was happy to bear, “these are called flowers.”

“Very funny,” you could feel the laugh vibrate through his chest as a hand, one colder and more metallic than normal, but still all him, settled on your own. Pressing a line of soft kisses to his shoulders, you listened to the steady beating of his heart, “what’s the occasion?”

“There is none,” you insisted, “I just thought you would enjoy them. Look at the colors and blossoms, they all reminded me of you. So brilliant and warm and bright and lovely - just like you, Bucky.”

A few beats of silence met your ears as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a million thoughts swirling around his mind. Before you could speak or say anything else, he turned around in your arms so he was facing you. He gestured between you and the flowers for a few moments, finding himself at a loss for words, “me?”

“Yes,” you promised him, “for you. Do you like them?”

“I love them,” he reassured you, an easy warmth settling over you, “back in the day I would have been doing this for you…”

‘You’ve gotten me flowers plenty of times,” you laughed, a sound that had easily become his favorite thing in almost no time, “besides, you deserve some nice things too.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a new one,” you teased as he jokingly groaned, “ I jest! I’ve noticed you’ve been a little more quiet and stoic lately...I didn’t even know that was possible for you. What’s been on your mind, my love?”

“There’s this quote that came into mind...I heard it somewhere, but I can’t remember from what or who,” he mused as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, “it’s something along the lines of ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’ I feel like...I can do that with you - like I can be myself and you’re not judging me, even though you know who I am.”

“Bucky - James - I know who you are,” it was surprising you didn’t melt into a puddle then and there, melting into nothingness at his feet. You leaned in, looking at his eyes for a few moments before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. You broke apart slowly, reluctantly before resting your forehead against his, “I know exactly you who are. And I love you for it - a good man, friend, partner, and so many other things. You are good, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks. Fuck them - the people that know you know who you really are.”

“Even after…”

“Even after everything that’s happened,” you promised, “you are safe with me. I’m not going to suddenly turn my back on you and walk away. I love you, Bucky. You have me, now and forever, and I’ve got you, always. That’s not going to change. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you could feel him smiling against your lips as he breathed you in and let you overwhelm his senses, “I know that.”

“Good,” you smiled as you reached for his hand, “let’s go to get dinner. I’m starving.”

“Don’t you need to close up?”

“Nah,” you winked at him, “I closed up as soon as we got off the phone earlier so we would have interruptions. C’mon Buck, I’m going to take you for a night on the town! What do you say?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, “there’s just one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” he pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply as your body melded into his, “I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[illfoandillfie]

Kinktober Day 7: Somnophilia (+Double Penetration - 2 holes)

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Words: 2,397

Warnings: Somnophilia, double penetration, anal sex, sex toys (dildo + plug), dom!Roger, protected sex, light degradation (slut), edging

A/N: This was kind of inspired by a couple of different posts I saw on a (now deleted) porn blog. I’ve been wanting to do something with the concepts for a little while now and this seemed like the perfect opportunity!

I guess I was picturing 70s rog since its a flatmate/fwb type relationship but go nuts imagining whatever you want lmao

It hadn’t been Roger’s idea to set up a friends with bennefits type arrangement, but he’d liked the suggestion when you made it and before the end of the night was out you’d sealed the deal, so to speak. He’d been a touch tispy at the time, as had you, but when he woke up in your bed the next morning he hadn’t believed it to be a mistake, even if you were his flatmate. And so the arrangement (or as Roger dubbed it, The Fuckbuddy Pact) stuck. In an effort to make sure neither of you would feel weird about what happened and to avoid anything becoming too much like a relationship, Roger suggested that you should get all your kinks and weird fetishes out into the open straight away. 

“That way we’ll both know what we’re in for from the jump,” he said, looking at you from the opposite end of the couch, “None of that getting to know you shit, or taking our time. We’re both here for sex so let’s just figure out what sex we’ll both like and get straight into it, right?”  “Sounds excellent,” you’d said, cheersing his bottle of beer with your glass.   It was how he’d discovered your interest in somnophilia (a term he’d not heard before and had needed a thorough explanation of). But once he knew what it was, Roger had been keen to try it out with you. There were other things too but the somnophilia was the newest to him and, thus, the most exciting. Before the month was out you’d figured out a system to incorproate it into your sex safely. The main rule was that if either of you was asleep and naked, it was okay to initiate sex. Eventually there ended up being a few exceptions or addendums added to that rule – it was still okay if the sleeping party wore a top of some kind as long as they were pantsless, and once or twice lingerie had been deemed to not count as clothes, but only on special occasions when you’d prearranged it. It became a regular part of your sex lives, which was especially useful for Roger who often didn’t get home from playing gigs until the early hours of the morning. If you were in bed and undressed, he’d take the opportunity to blow off some of the adrenaline without having to use his hand which was underwhelming compared to your cunt. But, more often than not, you’d do what most sexual partners did and got it out of your systems before bed time.  

Roger already suspected that you were hoping for a quick tumble when he heard the knock on his door, but he had other things on his mind too as he told you to come in.  “Hey, Rog, you busy?”  “Uhhh yeah, sorry, running late for rehearsals but I can’t find my fucking drumsticks,” Roger said, moving things around his desk as he searched for the missing sticks.   “Oh, damn.”  “Let me guess,” he said, pausing in the hunt and turning to face you, “horny?”  “My friend recommended a porn thing and I kinda got worked up.” You shrugged, unembarrassed to admit what you wanted.  That self-confidence was enough to make Roger wish he could stay and give you what you wanted but he was already late and couldn’t afford to be later. Instead he laughed and turned back to double check his backpack, “I would but, I’m leaving as soon as I fin- Aha! Bloody things must have rolled off the bed. Sorry, Y/N.”  “Oh, no worries. I’ll take care of myself.”  He smiled at the thought, “Well I better go. See you tonight?”  “Yeah, see ya. Have fun.” 

It was later than he’d expected by the time Roger got home. Part of him (the part in his pants mostly) vaguely wondered if you’d still be up for something but the bits of him controlled by his brain thought it more likely that you’d have had a nice couple of orgasms on your own and called it a night. Still, he thought he might at least check in on you once he’d dropped his bag in his room. To his surprise though, his bed wasn’t empty like it should have been. He jumped when the light from the hall softly illuminated you, on your back and deep asleep, but his shock quickly turned to delight as he realised you were naked.   “You little minx,” he muttered under his breath, impressed by the invitation you were giving him. But as he walked closer he paused again, noticing something he hadn’t been able to see from the doorway. There, beside your hand, was your favourite glass dildo, as if you’d passed out after using it.  “Oh you are naughty,” Roger chuckled. He traced one hand down your body, between your breasts and over your stomach, and softly said your name, checking if you’d rouse. But you were deep asleep and not likely to wake up any time soon. A plan for what to do with you forming, Roger stepped away from you for a moment to strip down to his briefs. His cock was already beginning to stir at the sight of you. He reached out to touch you again, less cautiously this time, palming your breasts before dipping his hand lower and lower, down to your cunt, pleased to find you still wet from whatever you’d been doing before you fell asleep.  You let out a soft hum as he explored you, thumb teasing over your clit as he wet his fingers between your folds.   Roger paused at the sound, not ready for you to wake up yet, but once it was clear you were still asleep he sank two fingers into you. Slowly they penetrated your heat, pausing to make sure the sensation hadn’t roused you at all. But you slept on. Carefully Roger partially withdrew his fingers before sinking them in again, gradually working up to a consistent thrust that had your unconscious body sighing and spreading your legs wider.   “Good girl,” he whispered, watching you carefully. The hall light was still on but his door wasn’t open fully so the darkness was only dimmed slightly. He twisted his fingers inside you, easily finding the spots that usually made you scream his name but which now just made your eyebrows knit together. By this point in your relationships Roger was quite confident that he could understand your body. He’d made you cum enough times, awake and asleep, to know what you liked and just how much you liked it. And he knew what it looked like when you were close to orgasm. Which is how he knew to stop, to still his fingers and wait for you to calm down.  

There was no real reason to edge you. If anything it just made it more likely you’d wake before he’d got his dick wet. But he had fun with it. Watching the way you’d shift, your chest rising and falling more rapidly, your lips parted as whimpers fell from them, your hips automatically rolling to meet his hand. And then he’d stop again. It made him chuckle quietly to himself. Knowing he could control your body so easily was thrilling. It made him want to do it more. So as soon as your face had relaxed again, your limbs loose and limp, he’d settle into the rhythm once more, curious how much you’d take before you woke up and begged him to finish you off. It was tempting to just keep going. He pictured you waking with a moan, your first words a plea for release or better yet for his cock so he could fuck you properly. Roger groaned. In the time he’d taken to edge you a handful of times his dick had well and truly stiffened and, as much as he enjoyed toying with you, what he really wanted was to cum in you so when you woke you’d know you’d been used. With that thought in mind he withdrew his fingers fully, taking a second to suck them clean and enjoy your taste. Having you on his tongue just made him want to fuck you more so he carefully knelt between your legs, shifting one to give himself a better angle. He was moments from finally taking what he so wanted to take from you, when something caught his eye.  

It didn’t glint as much as it did in the day but he could see it’s outline all the same. And when he double checked that he wasn’t imaging it, pressing his thumb against the hard end of it, you groaned.   “A dildo and a butt plug?” He asked you, knowing you wouldn’t respond, “Is that a surprise for me? Or is it just because nothing satisfies you like I do?” Roger’s hand slipped down to his underwear, pushing his briefs down enough that he could get his cock out. He hissed as he spread his precum along his length, contemplating how he should use you. “Could fuck your cunt now and hope you stay asleep long enough for me to get back there. Or maybe I should just go all in, have your arse straight away. That’ll mean wearing a condom though. Or would it?” he shook his head, now was not the time to try anal raw for the first time, “No, condom definitely.” He was still trying to decide what to do when you shifted in your sleep, rolling onto your side. The new position you lay in made it much easier to reach your arsehole.  “That decides it then,” Roger said to himself, shedding his underwear and opening his bedside draw for his lube.  

Carefully, he settled himself behind you and slowly began to remove your plug. It took a few stops and starts, pulling out and sinking in, almost fucking you with it, as you whimpered in your sleep but you seemed to press yourself back towards him as if trying to encourage him.   “Just can’t get enough of me, can you?” he chuckled as he set the plug aside and spread the lube around your hole. He rolled the condom down his shaft and spread the lube along it too, humming at the slick friction of his hand, knowing he was about to feel something a hundred thousand times better. And then he lined himself up, pushing the head of his cock into the ring of muscles you’d so generously stretched out with your plug. He went slowly there too, partially so you’d sleep on and partially so he wouldn’t cum embarrassingly fast.   When he finally began to fuck you, you moaned into your pillow, able to feel it in your sleep.   Roger bit his lip to keep his own moan from getting too loud.  You moved in your sleep again, your legs opening more as you half rolled onto your front. It let Roger fuck you deeper and gave him better access to your pussy too.  “You’re a bit of a whore when you’re alseep,” he said softly, reaching for the dildo. You were still wet enough that it sank into you easily, like it remembered where it had been earlier and fit into your cunt perfectly. The way you lay meant he didn’t have what he’d call easy access to you but it was enough that he could thrust the dildo somewhat rhythmically. He faltered here and there as the feeling of fucking you distracted him but he didn’t feel too bad about the slips, knowing it was keeping you from reaching your release. Your sleepy sighs and moans got louder as he filled both your holes which just made him fuck you harder, enjoying the sounds you were making and wanting to hear more.  

You woke with a broken moan in your throat, jerking under Roger’s hands but he shushed you, his palms warm against your skin and his voice familiar and reassuring.   “Stay right there, baby. Being such a good set of holes for me to enjoy.”  You couldn’t do much more than moan again, dazed from the sudden way you’d been pulled back to consciousness and realising what you’d felt in your dreams had been very real indeed.   “This was what you wanted wasn’t it? When you fell asleep in my bed.”  You nodded, the sound of the fabric of the pillowcase loud against your ear.  “Uh uh, words Love. If you’re going to be a slut the least you can do is admit it.”  “Yes, Rog. Want-wanted this.”  “Good girl. And how do you feel now?”  “Oh god, close. So close.”  Roger slowed the pace of the dildo, putting more effort into thrusting into you, his hips slapping loudly against your skin.   You keened at the loss of friction.  “Slut-s don’t com-complain.” Roger grunted as he used you, “They t-ake what they’re giv-en.”  You whined but that just made Roger laugh, louder now you were awake but broken by groans and moans of his own.   It didn’t take much more for him to cum, stuttering out, “Fu-ck Y-Y/N,” as he did.  

Roger was panting as he eased himself out of your arsehole, replacing his cock with the plug and giving your hip a light tap of thanks. The dildo was still inside you, but he’d not been moving it at all as he reached his climax so it wasn’t much help.   “Did you cum?” he asked, his breathing still heavy as he flopped onto the mattress beside you.  You shook your head and sighed, “And after I waited here all night to surprise you too. Thought you’d be home sooner.”  “Is that why you had the toys? You got bored waiting for me?”  “No, I was expecting you to come home while I was using them. Only then I came and fell asleep.”  "Of course,” Roger laughed, “you still got your shag though, don’t know why you’re complaining.”  “I’m really fucking horny still, that’s bloody why. What are you smirking about?”  “Nothing. Just nice to know edging you in your sleep works just as well as when you’re awake.”  “Prick!” you squealed though unable to contain your smile at the idea.  “Don’t worry. Give me a few minutes to clean up and get my stamina back and then I’ll make you cum as many times as you want.” 

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

[sirensmojo]

"Big Bank!" - Hubby! Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Big Fluff, Old Money love story vibes.

Summary: Tommy decided to let his wife take care of his Gin. He comes to taste it for the first time after the Gin was met with great success.

A/N: We stand for a caring & trusting Thomas, sorry not sorry.

*Masterlist*

It was a windy day when Tommy entrusted you with his Gin distillery.

The sun was out, as your children were running around the garden, their giggling easing his mind. His head dropped backward on the garden chair as fingers of one of his hands were fidgeting with his cup or whiskey, as a cigarette was locked in between his lips.

Spring was early this year, much to your family’s pleasure. Spending time outside was something you loved to do, and knowing Tommy’s busy agenda, you made sure to make every family moment the best one.

No need to say time flew so fast, the days becoming months, becoming years.

Tommy and you was an evidence. From the day you bumped into each other in the London’s library his sister Ada used to work, you were inseparable. Thus you didn’t know each other for very long, but everything between you made this fact questionable.

You were acting as if you knew each other since children, a single look and you understood what the other thought. Not too many words were said, but not too many words were needed.

Although you weren’t Tommy’s first wife, you were “the perfect two”, making all the people you knew jealous and envious.

“My love,” you announced your presence when coming closer to the garden table as your husband was eyes closed. “I did some thinking.” You added, catching his attention.

Tommy straightened back his head and he was now facing you as you seated in front of him, glimpsing from afar of your three little boys.

“You know I don’t like your whiskey or any type of alcohol, truly.” You raised your brows, and he puffed on his cig, waiting for you to continue. “I want to make Shelby’s Gin.” You let out outright.

No need to turn around your wish, by the way he shifted position you already knew he was ready to hear anything, and you didn’t want to disturb him from his peace. You knew how he dearly appreciated those little moments in which he didn’t have to think about running a business or dealing with dirty gangsters and rude people.

“You want to do what?” He raised a brow not too sure he heard you well, but when he caught eyes of your lips curling at the corner of your mouth, he knew he had heard it well.

His family was his haven of peace and you would do anything to take off some weight off your Shelby’s shoulders. it was a regular task, a daily basis habit that you quickly took and that you’ll probably never lose.

“I already tried a mixture.” His deep voice accentuating your smile.

“It’s my turn now, you played enough with that, you need to focus on real business now. Put your mind elsewhere and let me fill my bottles.”

You couldn’t quite put your finger on what changed precisely, but you noticed a shifting in your husband’s expression along with the gleam animating his iris.

You thought it was worry.

You lost your father a few months ago due to lung disease and your mother died long ago when you were the age of your own children, and as an only child, you were now all alone without your parents.

Gracefully you had Tommy and the kids because if you hadn’t you didn’t know how you would’ve handled this loss.

As being a sensible cord, your husband didn’t bring it up, and he wasn’t the type of comforting people with words anyway, but he tried it his way, which means he bought you a ridiculous amount of new jewellery and books because he knew how much you liked to read and how you were a simp for big diamonds.

Incidentally, Tommy always found it funny how much time you spend with your nose in books while having a voracious appetite for jewellery. He would never miss an occasion to make fun of you when catching you reading as you had to wear glasses, and it was all funny and stuff till he too, had to wear glasses to read.

Now, in bed, you looked like two old people, instead, you were reading adventure and dramatic novels whereas he was stuck with political subjects.

“Okay.” He didn’t hesitate a single moment which made you smile.

“Okay?” you repeated, your smile growing as seconds passed. He straightened back, leaning over the table to you and his hands reached for yours.

You intertwined your fingers together with ease, sparkles spreading at the tips of each of it.

It was that way with every of his touches. He just had that power over you, which you were proud of as it was just love. It could never be anything else.

His deep blue eyes were anchored into your Y/C/E’s ones and you knew he was trying to bring you comfort. He knew what it felt like to lose people, and was ready to give you whatever if that meant to ease your pain.

You neared your faces and he ran his thumb over the end of your nose, down to your lips as cupping your cheek with his palm. Tommy’s head was slightly tilted to the side, his only purpose being to reach your soul with either his touch or his soul hidden behind his iris.

You leaned your head into his touch and closed your eyes for a second, enjoying that moment between the two of you as the breeze made its way to your neck under your mane.

Now, nearly five weeks later, all Birmingham was only speaking of the Shelby family as the people making “the good priced good gin” according to what you heard in the streets. From the fancy restaurant to the underground pubs, everyone in town had tasted of that oh so liked liquor.

Tommy first heard how good the gin was by his brother Arthur. He, who liked to get drunk all day long and all night long, was always keeping a bottle of it in his car or even on himself.

Then it was Ada, always offering him a drink of it whenever he would visit her.

(...)

It was 4 in the afternoon when Tommy walked through Charlie’s yard to join the Gin factory, when opening the door he was surprised to see you, seated at the old dusty desk filling paper and sipping on several cups.

Your husband frowned, “Y/N?”. He didn’t know if he should be worried or glad to see you working in such a place while drinking a lot knowing you’re not even a drinker in the first place.

You lifted your gaze to him and a huge smile instantly warmed up the atmosphere in the space, “Tommy!” You exclaimed as you got up. Being a bit dizzy you were strongly holding onto the table while getting up but you wanted to join him, and that’s when Tommy noticed your reddened cheek and little eyes.

“You’re drunk,” he stated, concerned. His expression shifted. He seemed a bit worried as he took one of your wrists to help you walk correctly.

You waved your free hand before you as to blow away his remark, “I was trying a new mixture for the Gin.” You informed him. You slid a hand into his rough one and stepped backwards, to the desk. “Here, choose one and tell me.” You proudly pointed to each of the cups. “This one on the left is spicy, the middle one a little too sweet for the Americans, this one to the right is the version that is out, and the last one is a bit strong. If the sadness hit too much.”

“The sadness?” Tommy asked while grabbing the third cup, being the gin that was already out. He was quite startled by how implicated his wife seemed to be, he didn’t actually think she would invest that much time and energy in this activity, but he was relieved she found a reason to get up every morning other than their beautiful family.

He knew how living a life without having or serving a purpose was meaningless and boring, even more, when being saddened by something you can’t control such as the death of a loved one.

The Shelby brother will sleep better now, knowing his other half found purpose somewhere, even if seeing her drunk was a sight he could never get used to…

At this moment, he felt the need to feel her skin under his touch before doing anything else, and that’s what he did, putting his hand at the end of her back, he pulled her closer, his thumb rubbing her skin over the fabric of her dress.

Tommy then drank from the cup and took his time judging the taste of it.

He opened his eyes and dropped the cup on the desk before turning to his wife, she was looking at him, impatience spreading all over her face. She seemed ready to hear Tommy’s opinion on her Gin... On their gin.

The blue-eyed man grabbed her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to Y/N’s. She closed her eyes a couple of seconds before opening them to a staring Tommy. He was fondling her cheeks with his thumbs before exhaling deeply, “I now understand why everyone’s talking about us, Shelbys, being fucking genius’, eh” He got distracted by her lips.

“This,” he pointed to the bottle standing at the corner of the table, and, once again, Tommy got distracted, he noticed words were present on the bottle down the name. “Distilled for the eradication of incurable sadness.” He read out loud.

A faint smile was found on his face before he agitated the bottle in his hand. He was proud.

He put down the bottle and directly sealed his lips to Y/N’s, the calling for love being too loud to resist.

That was exactly why it was her and no one else, she was always unpredictable and versatile. Who would have thought his bibliophile wife could be a real gem in the making of gin?

She put away, gasping for air before looking him in the eyes, “What? Did I never tell you the fact that my grandpa was making alcohol?” She teased his lips by speaking inches away from them, “I know one or two tricks. That’s why it’s selling well.” She concluded before pressing their lips together eagerly.

“This is a big bank, yea” He succeeded at saying in between two kisses.