Tumgik
#i can surround myself with as much comfort as i can find but at the end of the day...they would be as tired + bored of me as everyone else
short-honey-badger · 2 days
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Peppermint Tea 31 - All Blends 2
Holy crap is this chapter a doozy lol. It's quite a bit longer than my other chapters. Lotta stuff happens. So I hope you enjoy!
Warnings! None this time? Sad stuff happens ofc. We are introduced to someone new.
P.s. I was going to use some random son for Big Mom but like. I did a Lil research and I can't help but like Katakuri. 😬 again. I apologize if Big Mom and Kata seem a bit off. I'm trying to keep myself spoiler free for the anime.
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Benn runs through the courtyards of Mihawk's castle, dodging swipes from the Humandrals until he hears the sound of striking steel. He turns that way, picking up speed as he goes until he arrives at a small clearing in the dirt. Shanks and Mihawk are both grinning, a joy so easy to see that Benn thinks he may go blind. Usually, he'd stay and watch, but he can still hear your terrified voice pleading for help.
He slides to a stop, and the two men sparing turn and look at him, brows raised.
“Benn? What's going on?” Shanks asks his first mate. Benn wouldn't come get him unless it was important.
“It's, _ Shanks. They found her.”
The temperature of the surrounding area plummets, and all ambient noise disappears. Neither man can believe what they are hearing. They'd both been so sure that no one would be able to find your tiny island tucked away in Paradise, so close to the Calm Belt that most ships would be torn apart by sea kings. How could this have happened?
“What did you say?” Mihawk hisses and his grip on Yoru tightens to the point of pain, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm. He ignores the feeling of hot liquid dripping down his hand.
Shanks isn't faring much better. He looks ashen, pale faced and nervous. He and Benn share a look, one that Mihawk easily catches.
“_ called the transponder snail. She said that the Big Mom pirates had made landfall,” Benn frowns, one hand running through his graying hair.
“She sounded terrified.”
Mihawk is moving before his mind fully registers what's going on. He speeds through the castle, grabbing his coat and bag he'd packed the other day in case you called them. His haki is lashing, sending furniture falling and making the old stone walls of the castle crack and fracture. The ringing of his snail grabs his attention, and Hawkeye grabs it before loping out of the castle and to the bay.
Shanks is right behind him, Benn keeping up with his captain. It is with a silent, shared look with his lover that Mihawk reluctantly steps aboard the Red Force. He isn't fond of being on another's ship, especially one as big as this one, but like hell, would he let the younger man out of his sight.
While Shanks is barking orders, Mihawk takes the time to answer the still ringing snail that he clutches too tightly.
Ca-lick
“Mihawk! Finally! I've been calling forever!”
Perona’s shrill voice is a little comfort, but fear still clutches Dracule by the heart. She is rattling on before he can get a word in.
“You've got to get back to _’s island. She thinks it might be Big Mom and her crew!”
Mihawk feels a vein pop in his brow with his hard he scowls down at the snail.
“I know! Where are you? How quickly can you go back?”
“I'm three days out! So, two and a half if the sea doesn't hate me. What if she's already gone? What if…what if it's worse?”
Mihawk can hear the thickness in Perona’s voice and knows that the ghost girl is probably crying now, having worked herself up in a tizzy. He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Perona. I need you to calm down, girl. Listen to me when I say that _ will be fine. We can handle anything that's happened, but I need you to do something for me, okay?”
He hears the pinkette sniff over the transponder, but she sounds like she's gotten a hold of herself.
“Okay. What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to go back to her island. Find out if she's still there, but be safe. If you see her jolly roger, then you sail right to us. You've got your log pose, right?”
Perona sniffs again and nods even though her father-figure can't see it, “Yeah.”
“Good. If the island is clear, then investigate carefully.” He stresses the word, “Call me back as soon as you can, got it?”
“Yes, Mihawk. Will she really be okay?”
His heart breaks at the fear that he can hear swimming in his charge’s voice. He licks his lips. He is terrified in all honesty, but he keeps it together for her sake.
“She will be. Be safe, Perona.”
The ghost girl assures the older man that she will be careful and the transmission ends after that. Mihawk pockets the snail and looks around the ship to try and find Shanks.
The redhead is at the helm, still barking orders at his crew. Dracule picks his way past the pirates until he arrives at his lover's side. Shanks glances at him and then looks away, his haki curling tight around himself as if he was trying to hide away from the other man. Mihawk can't help but feel a little hurt.
Shanks is panicking. How could he tell Mihawk that all of this was his fault? That it had been him That had slipped up, his lips loose with drink and his heart heavy with wistful thoughts of his treasure that night so long ago.
The hawk hadn't trusted him with this from the beginning, and it killed him to admit that Mihawk had been right about Shanks after all? All the trust and affection that his lover had given him would go up in flames so quickly that Shanks wouldn't even be given a chance to mourn it. The redhead had little doubt that Mihawk would spirit you away from him as soon as he was able once he found out about his mistake.
The captain keeps himself busy for as long as he is able, but Mihawk is nothing if not patient, and he stays by his side until there are no more orders to be said. Before he can make a getaway, his hawk grabs him by the arm and practically drags him across the deck and into the Captain quarters. Shanks could have wrestled away, but then Mihawk would have been even more suspicious of him.
Shanks is shoved in a chair, and his lover putters around the room, pouring them both a drink before settling down in the seat across from Shanks. He sips delicately, but Shanks' nerves have him knocking back the glass of rum like it's a shot of whiskey. He jumps when Dracule speaks up.
“Perona is three days out from _’s island. She'll call me with news as soon as she gets there and if the island is clear or not.”
Shanks forces himself to nod. He licks his lips and scrubs his hand through his hair, “Good. That's good.”
Mihawk raises a brow at the other man's attitude. The man was acting more like a scared rabbit than the powerful Emperor that Dracule knows him to be. He sets his glass away and stands, crossing the short distance to stand between the redhead’s legs, and sets his hands on those tense shoulders. Mihawk guides him forward to rest his head against his bare chest, and his hands snake up to thread into red hair.
“How are we going to find her, Mihawk?”
The Emperor’s voice sounds shot, broken and beaten, and it breaks his heart listening to it. His grip tightens in Shanks’ hair, and Mihawk sighs softly.
“I don't know. But we'll search every island in Big Mom’s territory if we have to.”
~~~~~ Tomura ~~~~~
Tomura dashes through the streets of the city, a mischievous smirk on his face when he looks behind him and sees his little sister chasing after him. You look furious, but the expression just looks adorable on her chubby baby face. Tomura had snatched her favorite blanket this morning to try and wake up the sleepy head, and the chase had been on since.
Obviously, he wasn't going as fast as he could. Tomura was older than her by almost a decade, after all, and he didn't want his sister to get lost in the crowds of people. Not that the citizens of their Kingdom would let their only princess get lost.
The people laughed and urged her in the way her oldest brother ran, encouraging her to catch up to him. Their king and Queen had always been kind to their subjects, and in turn, they stayed loyal to the royal family.
Tomura slows to a stop, ducking behind a stall selling fruit and waiting for his little sister to dash past him. He springs out and grabs her by the waist, spinning you around in the air. You shriek in laughter, clutching at his wrists as he turns his lower body into dust and flies back the way he came, back to the castle and to where breakfast awaits.
Tomura opens his eyes, squinting when the sun makes them water. He wonders what you look like now. Had you found a way to survive and flourish after he left you behind? Would you even remember him? The thought of you not knowing who he is made his chest tight with fear and his throat clog with emotions he carefully hid from his men. Could you forgive him for leaving you behind, even if it had been the best course of action?
An angry scowl twists his lips, and Delemur lets out a string of quiet curses, mostly centered around a certain red-headed Emperor who had somehow stumbled across the safe house. Damn Red-Haired Shanks.
“Captain! We're going to make landfall soon!” The voice of one of his crew startled Tomura out of the fond memory and his less than savory thoughts. He rubs his face, sighing as he straightens up from where he'd been leaning on the railing.
“How long?” The white-haired man asks and looks at the lieutenant before him.
“Lookout said we're about thirty minutes out, Sir.”
Tomura nods. They would need to be prepared if some of Big Mom’s crew were there. Same with Shanks and his crew.
“Get the men prepared for a skirmish. Big Mom won't be here, but I'd bet she'd send some of her stronger men to get my sister.”
The news of his little sister being the reason behind his sudden disregard of orders had swept through the ship quicker than scurvy. But his marines were loyal, and technically, they were still chasing after pirates, so the higher ups could be too mad at them.
“Yes, Sir!” his lieutenant snapped, and then he was off, getting the other crew members up and running.
Tomura stalked to the front of the ship, and from here, he could see the outline of your island. His mouth twists in a grimace, and he prays that he's gotten here quick enough to beat Big Mom’s crew.
However, the closer he gets, the more his chest grows tight. There is grey smoke rising into the sky on the east side of the island, and even after so long away, Tomura knows that is where the safe house is.
The shore comes into view soon, and Delemur frowns when he sees a small ship docked at the shore, a large cross on the flag. He's seen that before, but he doesn't understand why Dracule Mihawk would have a shit all the way out here. Maybe it'd been stolen?
They drop anchor in the next couple of minutes, and Tomura flies ahead and drops to the sand, taking a look around with a frown. The beach looked awful, the beautiful sands trampled all the way up to where it became grass. Most of the lush forest had been torn down, most likely caused by the larger members of the raid party. He followed the trail up, picking up the pace until he was in an all-out run.
Tomura slides to a stop, sticken at the sight before him. The entire place is a disaster, the cottage a charred husk of what it used to be. The scent of burning wood is thick in the air, and the once lush and full gardens that you had cared for have been overturned and stomped on. He can see the broken remains of a small pen on the side of the building, but there were no animals in sight.
Carefully, he steps forward, bending down to collect a shard of green sea glass that had survived the fire. The Vice-Admiral flips it end over end then pockets it before walking inside the destruction. The living room is full of burned books and clothes, the furniture broken and ashen like the rest of the house. There is a shelf holding on for dear life, an old record player with a stack of melted records resting beside it.
Tomura moves to the kitchen, taking in the shattered glass of the window and the many planters that take up the majority of counter space, each plant dry and brittle or nothing but ash. A wind chime is still intact, and he reaches forward to brush the pads of his fingers across the metal tube, frowning when the beautiful melody fills the air. That kind of sound didn't belong in such destruction.
Onward Tomura goes, learning about his little sister as best he can through the ruins of her home. Your love for music and books could easily be seen, but how could he ever know what they were? What is your favorite song to listen to now, or what you liked to do on long lazy days. Were you all alone? The pen outside suggested his sister had found animals, but where were they?
Your bedroom was in a bit better shape from the rest of the house since the door had been shut before the fire had started. Tomura carefully sits on the ashen bed, green eyes looking at everything he can as quickly as he can see. He wanted to know everything about you. He had missed so much of your life, and the regret of leaving you behind was suffocating.
Would you have been safer in the military? Maybe, but Sengoku would have taken one look at you and your devil fruit and thrown you into training, just like they did with him. Tomura didn't want that for his baby sister. He had wanted you to live a good life, even if it would be a lonely one.
His thoughts are stalled when he catches sight of what hangs in your closet. His green eyes zero in on the long coat with a high collar decorated with intricate designs. Delemur knows that coat. He has seen it on the occasional times he had run into Mihawk.
The two of them had a mutual understanding to not speak about what had happened between them. Tomura didn't like that the older man had helped Big Mom, but being in the Navy gave him a different perspective. Not to mention his own skeletons hidden away in his closet, and in the end, Mihawk had been the reason that Tomura and his sister got out alive. They were even as far as he cared.
But seeing the Warlord’s coat made him pause. The tiny ship in the bay had already been suspicious, but the coat only added to his rising confusion. All the rumors had pointed at Shanks being the one to have found you, so then why in the fuck wasn't he seeing anything that might belong to the Emperor?
The sound of a bleating goat suddenly grabs his attention, and then he picks up the sound of his men shouting. Delemur bolts out of the house and finds Mihawk's pink charge, Perona glaring daggers at his men, specifically Private Nitchell, who points a shaking pistol at the young woman. Three chickens and an ornery looking goat stand behind her.
“What the fuck is going on out here?” He demands, and glares at the private, “Stand down, Nitchell. Does she look like a threat to you?”
The young man shakes his head, a blush high on his cheeks at getting reprimanded, “No, Sir! Sorry, Sir!”
The Vice-Admiral watches Nitchell stow his weapon and back up from where the ghost girl looks ready to tear his head off. Tomura rounds on the pinkette, cockimg a brow at her.
“Perona right? The hell are you doing here?” He demands and crosses his arms over his chest, unimpressed by the glare that she proceeds to aim at him.
“What's it to you?” She spits at him and floats up, crossing her own arms. He spots several ghosts behind her and prepares to turn himself into dust if one flies at him. He'd seen what those things could do. However, his annoyance skyrockets at her answer, and Tomura is hard pressed not to reach out and try to wring her neck.
“I asked you first,” he snarls right back, and feels like he is arguing with a little kid when Perona sticks her tongue out at him.
“I was coming to visit my friend, Navy Man. You should leave before my dad gets here.”
Tomura rolls his eyes and ignores the threat, “Your friend is my little sister. How did you find this place?”
Whatever argument that Perona was hyping herself up for deflated like a popped balloon when she registered what the marine said. She looks him over, dark eyes flickering from head to toe. The more she sees, the less Perona thinks that this man is lying. He looks like you. His cheekbones and brow are a familiar and comforting sight. But what should she tell him? Perona didn't think that Mihawk would be very happy with her if she happened to spill the beans on everything that he's been doing.
Perona licks her lips and floats back down, dismissing her ghosts and setting a hand on top of Neal's head. The goat grunts at her and butts his head into her hand, happy that the only other person he tolerated had found him and the three chickens hidden away in the intact part of the forest.
“Mihawk found this place a few years ago. After a while, he told me about your sister, and I wanted to be her friend. She seemed lonely, and I know what that's like,” Perona begins and shifts her weight with a sniff. She's been here for two days looking for anything that would help them find out where Big Mom’s crew may have taken you. The only luck she had was finding your goat and chickens. Hank and Sukuna were nowhere to be found.
Tomura's hands clenched into fists at the information. Mihawk had known about you for years, and Delemur was just now finding out about it. How were Shanks involved then? To his knowledge, the redhead and the hawk stayed away from one another. Until recently, that is.
Just what the hell had his baby sister gotten up to?
“She called me five days ago and said that some of Big Mom’s crew had found her island. I came as fast as I could, but I was too late. Shanks and Mihawk are on their way here now.”
Tomura doesn't like the thought of such powerful men working together and all for the sake of his little sister. What had you done to catch their attention? Did he even want to know the answer to that?
“How long until they get here?” Tomura asks after a moment. He would wait here until they arrived. At least he wouldn't have to go tracking the pirates down. He had a couple of choice words to give both of them now that he knows that Mihawk has been here as well. That bastard had looked him in the face not four months ago and had said nothing about knowing you.
Perona shrugs at him, her face morphing into a pout, “I don't know. Another week?”
Shanks and his crew were strong enough to go through the Calm Belt if they wanted to, and that would cut their travel time down by a lot. Gloom Island was a two week trip from here by normal means.
Tomura grumbles at having to wait that long, but he isn't that much of an asshole, and so stalks forward and offers Perona his hand.
“I apologize for getting off on the wrong foot with you. My name is Tomura. Thank you for being my sister's friend.”
The ghost girl blinks dumbly up at him before tentatively taking his hand and shaking it.
“Uh. You're welcome?” Perona has never been thanked for being someone's friend before. It was a little weird, but Tomura seemed genuine and kind like you. Just a bit more…violent it seemed.
Tomura blushes and takes his hand away, rubbing them together before pointing at Neal and the chickens, hoping to change the subject.
“Are those _’s?”
Perona nods and introduces Neal and the chickens. She couldn't remember if you had named the fowl, so she had taken it upon herself to name the rooster Henry and the two hens Harriet and Henrietta. The crew of his ship piddled around the island while Perona told Tomura stories about his little sister, and soon, the sun was beginning to set on the little island. He sighs heavily and invites Perona on his ship for dinner. They may as well get to know one another if they were to be stuck on an island together for the next couple of days.
Those days pass in the blink of an eye, and it is late in the evening on the fifth day when the lookout on his ship announces that the Red Force is entering the bay. Tension skyrockets, and Perona stands away from Tomura while they watch the pirate ship navigate to the shore. She can see two people standing at the bow of the ship, and tears of relief sprout in her eyes when she spots Mihawk's wide hat.
~~~~~~
The fear and anxiety that Shanks has felt during the entire trip explodes the moment they spot the navy vessel docked at his treasure's island. Of course, the rumors had reached your brother. Shanks should have known Tomura would be on his way here to see you. He curls his haki close to himself, refusing to let the older man feel just how manic he is right now. He needed to keep his head clear for this.
Next to him, Mihawk's haki lashes like an angry snake, golden eyes wide and full of fire when he sees the ship. He recognizes who it belongs to and cuts his eyes over at Shanks, who won't even look his way. Dracule had been silent about his concerns with just how Big Mom had found out, and he doesn't like the picture that has been painted for him. He doesn't want to accuse anyone of anything until he has all the knowledge he needs.
Mihawk and Shanks flash to the shore, and the warlord gets an armful of sad ghost girl the second his feet touch sand. Perona buries her face in his chest, arms wrapping around his waist and holding the warlord tightly. Tears sprout and run down her cheeks, and Mihawk can do nothing but sigh and hold the young woman close, one hand stroking the back of her pink hair.
Shanks steps up beside him, a kind smile that he forces on his lips as he pats Perona on the back, “It's alright, kid. We're here now.”
Mihawk shoots him a grateful look, and thankfully, Perona decides to pull away, reaching up to wipe her eyes free of smeared makeup.
“It took you two long enough to get here,” She grumbles and takes a step away, turning to look over at the Vice-Admiral, “Tomura has kept me company.”
Dracule looks up and catches the Navy man's eyes, the green dark and full of suppressed rage. He doesn't expect the younger man to bypass him almost immediately, instead, aiming that almost familiar glare at Shanks. The tension deepens, and sand is kicked up by the haki that coils between the three men. Tomura wasn't anywhere near the pirate's power level, but that wasn't about to stop him. The Emperor was the one responsible for his baby sister getting taken.
“Did he, now,” Mihawk murmurs and carefully maneuvers Perona to stand slightly behind him. He didn't want her to get caught in this, and the Warlord could tell that whatever was about to happen wasn't going to be very pretty.
Tomura isn't here to beat around the bush and cuts straight to the case, “Did you have any fucking plans to tell me that you knew my sister, Mihawk? How the hell did you even find her?”
Mihawk keeps his face free of any kind of expression that may give away his true feelings. Brother or not, Mihawk wasn't in the mood to deal with this right now. Not when you were obviously still missing. What he doesn't expect is Tomura rounding on Shanks, his tone dropping and turning dangerous.
“And you, you son a bitch. You're the fucking reason my gods damned baby sister was found.”
The silence that blankets the shore of the island is deafening. Tomura grins meanly when he sees that panic that pools in Shanks’ dark eyes and stands taller, pointing an accusing finger at the redhead. Mihawk follows the gesture, his heart seizing in his chest when he catches sight of the look of devastation that paints his lover's face. He takes two steps back, bringing Perona with him, away from the man who had promised Dracule that he could trust him.
“You promised me, Shanks,” Mihawk remarks and tries to keep the hurt out of his tone, but the younger man easily picks up on it, making him feel worse than scum stuck to the bottom of his shoe. The hurt quickly turns to anger, and the warlord reaches for Yuro, the blade swinging around to point at Shanks.
“You promised me that you would keep your mouth shut! You drunken, lying bastard. I never should have put my trust in you again.”
His ringed eyes blaze with a rage Mihawk hasn't felt in decades. Not since he was young and impressionable. His heart feels shattered, and out of everything, disappointment rings through his body like a live wire. He shouldn't have allowed the redhead to pass his walls.
Shanks’ eyes widen at the threat, and he takes a couple of steps back from the wicked blade. His own hand curls around Gryphon, and Shanks braces for the fight that would no doubt happen because of his mistakes. He didn't want to fight Mihawk, but he would defend himself if the older man made the first move. He quickly began to explain before Dracule could try and take his head from his shoulders.
“I know, and I'm so sorry, Mihawk. I was drunk that night, and I missed the two of you so much. I didn't know I was being so loud until Benn told me to shut it. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
Shanks is pushed back when Mihawk's haki lashes out, his face flushed red from how angry he is at the lame excuse. How dare he.
“When are you not drunk off your ass, Shanks? There is no excuse that you can give me that will make any of this okay. _ is gone! Most likely slated to be married off to one of Charlotte’s sons because of your inability to keep your mouth shut!”
Perona grabbing him by the arm is the only thing that prevents Mihawk from following after Shanks. He glares at her, about to snap at the girl to let him go, when he sees the unshed tears and fear in her dark eyes.
“We need his help finding her, Mihawk,” Perona says, voice thick with emotion. She doesn't like seeing them fight, and it hurts seeing what she has begun to call family fall apart in front of her eyes.
Her words seem to bring everyone back to the situation at hand, and the wild haki from the three men is pulled back and settled. Tomura relaxes his shoulders, shifting his weight and glaring at the two pirates.
“She's right. Big Mom has a lot of territory. It'll take months for us to search each of her islands if we don't work together,” Delemur frowns even as he speaks, disliking the idea of working with the men who'd found his sister. What even were the three of them?
“What is she to you?” Tomura demands and regrets it the second both men look at him like he was an idiot.
“We,” Mihawk begins and then swiftly corrects himself. He didn't want anything to do with Shanks right now, “I love her. She had no idea who I was when I found her, and it was…refreshing to have someone like that. We should move quickly. _ is in a delicate state.”
Tomura doesn't even want to think about what that means and glances at Shanks for the redhead’s answer.
Shanks shifts his weight, his hand falling from his sword once Mihawk had sheathed his own, but he keeps his distance. He gives Tomura a helpless shrug.
“My crew and I drifted close to her island one day, and we got to know one another. I can admit I was jealous of what Mihawk had with her, so we made it work. The three of us.”
Tomura doesn't know what to say to that, so he keeps his mouth glued shut. How the hell had his little sister pulled not one but two of some of the most powerful men on the Grand Line. He would ask once he found her.
“I'll use whatever resources the Navy can give me to find her,” Tomura says after a moment of rather awkward silence. He reaches into his pocket and takes out two mini transponder snails, and hands them to Shanks and Mihawk.
“I'll ring you if I find anything. I hope the two of you do the same.”
Mihawk dips his head in agreement, handing the snail to Perona and Shanks pockets his. They would work together to find you, even if none of them wanted to.
“I'm going to take a look around and see if we can't find something that'll lead us in the right direction,” Shanks says and whistles loudly to signal to his crew that it was fine to disembark from the ship now. He chances a glance at Mihawk, but the dark-haired man refuses to look his way. He frowns, guilt eating him up from the inside out before he lopes away without a word.
“Perona and I will head to the New World and begin our search,” Mihawk says and then he struts to the ship Perona had taken from his island, not bothering to look back at the Vice-Admiral. He can't bring himself to search the island. Dracule had seen the smoke curling into the sky, and seeing whatever remained of his home away from home would only make the hurt worse.
Tomura is left standing alone on the white sands, and he sighs heavily, looking out over the crashing waves. He smooths his white hair away from his forehead, and he murmurs to himself.
“Where the hell did they take you, Princess.”
~~~~~~
Thousands of miles away, you are escorted past hallways full of mirrors that make you feel dizzy if you look too closely. You cast your eyes back to the floor, one hand tangled in the fur of Hank's shaggy coat and the other holding Sukuna close to your chest. Your pets had chased after the men who had dragged you kicking and screaming from the tiny cave you'd forced yourself into.
Surprisingly, once they had seen that you were pregnant, the men had handled you with much more care and had even allowed you to take the cat and dog with you. Despite not wanting to leave, you had been much more willing once they assured you that you could have them. Hank and Sukuna were the only two things keeping you sane right now.
Sukuna wouldn't stop hissing, a constant low growl echoing in the hallway. His tail was poofed, and he glared at everyone with furious golden eyes. Hank fared no better, his hackles raised, and his ears pulled up. He stayed pressed against his human’s legs as they walked, unwilling to let you out of his sight.
It wasn't long before your group stopped at massive double doors that creaked open. You waltz inside, relieved at the lack of creepy mirrors, but that relief disappears the moment your eyes lay on who hovers in the middle of the room. She is the biggest human you've ever seen, sitting atop a cloud that glares down at you.
Beside her, another massive man stands. He has deep purplish hair, and the bottom half of his face is covered in a black and white scarf. He wears an open vest, and you can see a tattoo running down his exposed chest.
“It's about time you showed up,” Big Mom’s booming voice startles you, and you cut your eyes up to look at her. She grins down at you, her smile wicked as she looks you over.
“Such a pretty young thing. You'll make a nice wife for my son Katakuri. Don't you think so?”
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earthtooz · 2 months
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in which: a moment of impulsivity has ratio knocking on your door at 3 am with a grand confession.
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There is a great cloud of curiosity that surrounds Dr. Ratio.
His intelligence is far beyond the average person’s comprehension, mind working at insurmountable speeds to reach conclusions and answers that no others have come to before. Mediocrity and Ratio could never stand to be in the same room, intelligence and reputation as an academic preceding him.
When people find out that you have been in a long-term relationship with the scholar, you can almost see the question mark above their heads. How did you meet? When did you start dating? How did you start dating? How do you put up with him? (You always answer that with ‘I’m still trying to find out myself’. He always rolls his eyes when you say that, but it’s nothing a kiss to the cheek can’t solve.) 
Only your closest friends know the story of how you started dating, but it’s always one you love recounting, much to the dismay of Veritas. 
For the decades that he has lived for, there have been few moments he regrets, always critically scrutinising every move six steps before he makes them. No one has ever seen him messy, uncertain, or dishevelled- except you. 
Towards the end of your university years, with an urgent final assignment due soon, you’re rudely awoken one night by frantic knocks on your dorm’s door. You notice the clock reads 3 am, and since the knocks only got louder by the second, you throw your covers off with a groan.
Who could be at your door at 3 am? Perhaps a drunk dormmate who forgot their keys? Or someone knocking thinking it was their room?
Looking through the peephole, you’re stunned to see a certain violet-haired friend on the other side, trouble etched deeply into his features. His hair was messy, falling haphazardly around his face, and his usual accessory of a laurel wreath was discarded, flamboyant outfit discarded for something more comfortable. 
It’s clear that he’s troubled by something, but you have half a mind to leave him outside until he goes away (that’s what he’d do to you, or so you think).
Opening the door, you begin by scolding him. “You better have a good reason to show up at this godforsaken time or otherwise-”
“-I’m in love with you.” 
Perhaps if it were a normal hour of the day, and if you hadn’t just been rudely awaken from your sleep, you would have processed his words faster. Instead, you blink at him once, twice, three times, fatigue weighing heavily on your features as you struggled to keep your eyes open. 
“What?” You murmur, shaking your head as if that would clear up the mental blockage.
“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, firmer this time. 
You grab his wrist and drag him inside your dorm, blinded by the harshness of the hallway lights illuminating the outline of his figure. Turning on the softer light on your desk, you take a seat on the edge of your bed, gazing down at your hands. Veritas, however, stays near your door, annoyingly muscular arms flexed over his chest.
“I have so many questions,” you grumble, rubbing your eyes. “Why are you awake? You’re always asleep by 11 to get your ass up at 6 to exercise, or whatever.” 
“Are you avoiding the main point, or just stupid?” He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. “I love you.” 
“Excuse me! You were banging bullets on my dorm room, I’m disorientated right now, not stupid- what?”
It’s almost like his statement from earlier only pierces through your brain now with the way you freeze, eyes morphing into something akin to disbelief and shock. He sees all the changes in your expression in the dimness of the room, nervously biting his cheek with every subtle shift.
“Did… I hear that right?” You whisper after what feels like an eternity. “You love me?”
He nods. “For a few years now.” 
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Am I not doing so in this very moment?” 
Tonight has been nothing but agitating for him. First, he was kept awake by the pounding of his heart and the burning desire to see you, significantly delaying his sleep until Veritas decided to cast all caution into the wind, running to your dorm all the way on the other side of the University. Now, he is trying to pour his heart onto your hands, all because of a moment of impulsivity and bull-headed stubbornness, and a secret he cannot keep to himself any longer.
He may be stubborn (as are all geniuses), but Veritas is never impulsive. All truths will come to light eventually, no matter how hard he tries to hide them. 
“While I accept that my feelings may not be reciprocated, can you at least say something rather than stare at me blankly?” There’s an unfamiliar look of concern in his eyes, contrasting the usual pride and arrogance he always wears.
What happened to the Veritas Ratio you know? Who is this man by your feet?
“No- that’s not. I… I love you too, I have for a while now, but everything about this is… just… unbelievable.”
“Why?” 
“You’re aeons out of my league, Veritas. I never once considered you would return my feelings.”
He stifles back a laugh, dropping his large hands off your shoulders and clutching the mattress on either side of you. You won’t forget about the way the sheets crumple beneath his grip, or the way his head hangs, bangs tickling your legs.
Bravely, you raise a hand to his hair, running through it. Seemed like he could use the comfort.
“You make me too damn nervous,” he breathes, a hand coming to clutch at his chest. 
“Never thought I’d live to see the day you admit you get nervous.” 
“Why’s that?”
“The only thing bigger than your brain is your ego.”
His confession, and everything about that night, was unorthodox, never predicting that you’d end the day curled up next to Veritas, or the long relationship that would follow.
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© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.
2K notes · View notes
tetsumie · 1 year
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"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘"
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read part 2 here!
pairing: tsukishima x reader & suna x reader
genre: hurt/comfort
a/n: sorry i got carried away writing these ahh i sort of twisted the prompt of "when they call you clingy" into my own sort of thing idk how to explain but hopefully this turned out well :,) also not proofread so sorry about the mistakes! and as always feel free to send me requests and tell me ur thoughts on my writing!
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tsukishima kei
tsukishima, you, and a few of the former karsuno volleyball players decided to have a small little reunion dinner after not seeing each other for so long.
everyone's embracing each other with hugs and to be frank, it's really nice of him to invite you to meet his friends from high school! you're really looking forward to getting to know them and maybe even getting to know your boyfriend a bit more.
as all of you are sitting at the table debating what to order, there's much chit chat between everyone and you swear you haven't seen kei so carefree in a while. sure, he's still throwing his sarcastic, snarky comments but they don't hit too harshly towards his teammates.
they are most definitely used to this.
the food has arrived and way too much wine has been ordered. with their slurred words and pink cheeks, you can tell all of them are going to blackout the moment they all get home.
"kei, so how'd you pull this gorgeous girl?" tanaka asks out of nowhere "ain't no way she fell for your snarky ass personality."
you and him both let out a chuckle and he replied with, "nah, they're just clingy as fuck and i guess they were fun to keep around."
you go quiet and the laughter has sort of died out. but the drinks keep pouring and nishinoya speaks.
"god, you're a fucking asshole," nishinoya chimes. "she's way too good for you.
although the conversation begins to take a turn in a different direction, you can't seem to get his words out of your mind.
clingy. he thinks i'm clingy.
a ball of insecurity starts to form in your stomach and his comment starts the train of overthinking. you keep telling yourself that he's had too many drinks.
yet a part of you is telling you that drunk thoughts are sober words.
how long has he thought of me as "clingy?"
the small chuckles and laughs that escape your lips have come to a halt and now you're feeling incredibly insecure. you begin to zone out and start chugging down a few glasses of wine to drown out your surroundings.
after a few eventful hours, you and tsukishima decide to grab a taxi and head home for the night. he unlocks the door to your shared apartment and you immediately head into the bedroom to change your clothes, not sparing him a second glance.
tsukishima enters the bed after cleaning up and his arm drapes over your chest. your body goes completely stiff and you're super uncomfortable with his touch, especially after his comment about you being clingy.
the moment you hear his light snores, you slowly remove his arm off your body and turn to face away from him. a feeling of numbness begins to overtake your body and you feel a sense of emptiness within.
the next morning, tsukishima woke up with a horrible headache and he instantly regretted drinking so much last night. he groans and pats your side of the bed and is greeted by just the bedsheets and not you.
grumbling, he got out of bed in search of you and finds you standing by the balcony with a cup of coffee in your hand. in that moment, his heart skips a beat and he's reminded of how much he loves you.
you yelp in surprise when you feel two arms slither around your torso and his chin resting on your shoulder. "good morning baby," he kisses your cheek.
"hi kei," you say curtly.
"what's for breakfast?"
"i just made myself toasted bread with jam. you can just make some cereal or something. i think we still have your lucky charms in the pantry," you tell him.
he pulls away from you and he feels something is off with you. you feel distant.
the feeling is confirmed when the both of you are sitting on the living room sofa while watching the new episode of your favorite reality tv show. kei expects you to come close to him and rest your head on his shoulder like you usually do yet there you are, in his vicinity, but sitting on the other end of the couch, clinging to a throw pillow.
he can't seem to concentrate on the movie when the only thing he can see is you sitting to yourself, gone completely quiet. he doesn't know what's wrong and he can't rack his mind as to what might have happened that made you so distant.
after the movie ends, he kisses your forehead and he feels your body stiffen.
what's going on? i don't know what i did?
he pulls away and looks at you. "y/n, something's wrong," he states.
you refuse to meet his gaze now and your twiddling with your fingers. he seems to have no recollection of what he's said to you last night. although, he might not recall what he said, it's the only thing you can recall in your mind. ever since this morning, whenever, you look at him, the only thing running in your mind is his words, "nah, she's just clingy as fuck and i guess she was fun to keep around."
"we're good," you reply promptly. "don't worry about it."
he grabs your hands and puts them in his which catches you off guard. you love the feeling of his hand in yours but the rational part of your brain wants to pull away, thinking about how he thought you were so clingy.
"listen, i'm not good at this. i'm not good at communicating my feelings but for you, i want to do better. so please, it would mean a lot if you could tell me what's wrong so i can help you and... us."
this is the most genuine you've seen him in a while and although to most, it may have seemed like some half-assed speech but to you, it felt raw and vulnerable.
"ok well," you began. "last night, when we were out with your friends, you were talking with your friends and well, you mentioned something about me. and it made me wonder if you think i'm clingy?"
he was confused. "no, i don't think you're clingy anymore? i don't know what you're talking about?"
the "anymore" in his response to you was something that saddened you a little. he found me clingy yet never told me?
"so you did think i was clingy, right?"
with a deep breath, he began to explain himself, "when we got together, i wasn't really used to... being so close to someone. you would always hold my hand or loop your arm in mine or something. you would always be holding me or touching me and i wasn't sure how i felt it about it at first. i was never one for physical touch so when you began to show that to me, i just... it felt... suffocating."
you're looking into his eyes, swimming with sadness and searching for answers, and he feels a mixture of sadness and guilt as he continues to explain himself.
"but being with you, i've grown to love your touch and honestly, now that i think about it, i don't know what i'd do if you just stopped being yourself and clinging on to me. i would go insane if you stopped."
kei leans in for a hug and you hug him back. you missed holding him like this and well, you just miss him. but now that kei has said all this, you're not sure about anything anymore.
you pull away and tell him, "i'm sorry you couldn't tell me that you were uncomfortable with my touches. i should have asked you how fast or slow you wanted to go and i shouldn't have forced my affection on to you."
"if you want, we can slow down. i understand," you say with a tone of finality in your voice.
"no!" he immediately replied. "it's.. it's not that. you don't force your affection on to me. you never have. i just am awkward with affection and growing up, i've never had it so i'd get super fidgety and that's why i think i felt like you were being clingy. but i love it."
"i love it when you hold my hand when we're walking to the grocery store. i love it when you doodle on my hand with your fingers when we're waiting for the food to come when we eat out. i love it when you tell me about the little stories from work while you're cooking dinner. i love it when you mumble in your sleep and snuggle close to me when it gets cold at night. i love everything about you."
kei was very much out of his comfort zone as he told you all these things and it surprised you that he noticed all these little details. you could tell he was getting embarrassed, considering how his cheeks were turning pink. you couldn't help but let a little smile seep through your facial features.
"you're so sappy," you reply.
"oh shut up."
you both laugh and then he cups your cheek in his hand, rubbing his thumb in circles. "don't ever think you force your affection on me because you never do, okay?"
"okay, kei."
the both of you spend the rest of the day with one another, making comforting memories together that the both of you will fondly remember in the future.
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suna rintaro
you're not even sure how this argument even started. all you can remember is asking suna if he could accompany you to a work party that you were invited to. it was supposed to be a relatively relaxing event with not too much worries yet suna was once again trying to bail out.
"come on rin! it's one party and we never get to go out anymore," you try again for the nth time.
"y/n, jesus, i told you this, i don't want to fucking go! practice is draining me out and the one day i get off, you want me to go to some stupid fucking work party. can't you see that i want to be home?"
"we won't even have to be there that long! i just want you to come with me so you can meet some of my friends and support me. i'm really not asking for much," you counter. "i'm always trying to go to your games to support you from the stands and i'm asking you to do this one thing for me."
"i never fucking asked you to come to my games!" suna's voice began to rise and you felt yourself shrink. you had never seen him so intensely angry before. he was always so nonchalant so seeing this side of him made you nervous. "god, you're just so suffocating with everything. you always wanna do shit together, like jeez, give me a break. you're so fucking clingy sometimes; i just want space."
your mouth snaps shut and you can't find it in yourself to even reply. suna leaves the bedroom and you can head the jangle of his keys and the front door opens and then slams shut. a tear escapes from one eye and then all of a sudden, it's a full blown mental breakdown. you're sitting on the bed, crying off all your makeup.
after your cries turn into sniffles, you call up one of your colleagues, telling them you won't be attending the party. that night, you end up crying yourself to sleep.
suna had come home quite late that night after storming out.
in his head, he admits that the argument had blown up for no reason. but he just really didn't want to see your coworkers. he was cranky, annoyed, and irritated, making him deeply irrational.
as he walks into the bedroom, he sees you fast asleep in your clothes that you were planning to go out in and your makeup smudged all over your face. he felt incredibly guilty.
he messed up big time and he had to fix this. he hoped in the morning, the both of you would wake up together so he could talk it out and apologize.
you wake up the next morning feeling a lot better than last night. you turn to see suna lying in bed and a part of you just wants to run your fingers through your hair. as your fingers hover above his head, you're reminded of his words from last night.
you're so fucking clingy sometimes. i just want space.
your fingers immediately retracted and you decided to get up to start the rest of your day. you didn't want to let his words get to you. he said his opinion and there's nothing much you could do other than give him space. you'd be doing him a favor by giving him that space that he wanted, right?
suna shifts in bed, arm reaching out to your side of the bed, subconsciously. as he pats down your side of the bed, he feels the emptiness and he jolts up out of bed.
he's walking out of the bedroom and he sees you sitting on the couch, watching something on the television.
a sigh of relief escapes his mouth, thanking whatever deity out there that you hadn't left. even if you did, he couldn't blame you for it. he hurt you and there was no denying that.
"hi babe," he casually says alouds and plops on the couch next to you.
"hey."
your tone is cold and to be frank, you could care less than speak to him right now. seeing him is just a constant reminder of how clingy you are and you really don't want to be confronted with the feeling of sadness again.
in an attempt to smooth things over with you, he tries to start conversation in hopes that things will get back to normal naturally and maybe.. just maybe you'll know that he's sorry without him saying it.
"osamu was talking about some new onigiri thing he made and he wanted to drop some off for us to try. should i say yes?" he asked.
"sure."
your responses to his efforts are completely shut down and he's just praying that things get better with time. he reassures himself that things will go back to normal, it's just a matter of time. within a few days, things will be back to normal!
that's what he thought until his first volleyball match of the season came about. as he was standing in the court, his eyes scanned the rest of the stadium for your figure in hopes of finding you wearing his jersey but to no avail, he couldn't find you.
he assumed you were running late or stuck in traffic. no matter what you would be here, right?
but the first set is already over and you're nowhere to be seen. taking a quick break, he texts you:
suna: r u here?
suna: i don't see u in the stands.
it's delivered and suna's back in the court. he's misreading all of the opponent's attacks and his blocks are all being haphazardly done. the only thing on his mind is you.
the EJP coach calls for a timeout and sits him out for the rest of the match. "i don't know what's going on with you but you need to pull it together. your slacking is messing up with the rest of the team," coach berated him and all suna could do was nod his head.
he sat on the bench and immediately grabs his phone to text you.
suna: can you please answer?
suna: or call me? please?
suna: fuck y/n
suna: r u ok?
with no response, concern is etched onto his face. he tells his coach that he has to go and although he's about to suffer hell when he goes to practice tomorrow for dipping, he needs to see you.
you're seeing all of his messages.
you've seen all of them.
and you don't want to respond to a single one of them.
you know he's coming home and he's about to bombard you with questions and you don't want to respond to him. you don't want to come off as clingy again.
you hear the jangle of the keys and prepare yourself.
he opens the door and finds you in the kitchen, making yourself some snacks.
"so where were you today?" he begins.
"at home."
his hands find their way to your waist and he slowly turns you around to look him in the eye. "why didn't you come?"
you sigh in frustration. "i don't know what you want from me. you say i'm clingy and you want some space and on top of that you mentioned how you've never asked me to go to any of your games so here i am respecting your wishes like you asked yet you have the fucking audacity to ask me where i was and why i wasn't with you?"
his hands let go of your waist and he steps back to fully look at you.
"rin, i don't know what you want from me anymore."
suna's mouth opens and then shuts, not sure as to what to say to you. you were more upset about his comment than you let on and now all your anger and frustration was coming out.
"listen, i-"
"no, you listen to me," you interrupt, immediately shutting him up. "all i wanted that night was for you to come to my work party. it's all i wanted. that party was mainly for me because i helped our company reach this new milestone! and i wanted you to come and celebrate with me and my colleagues. is it so much to ask for my boyfriend to come support me?"
"and then you go on to say i'm clingy and do you have any idea how much it hurt me when you said that? when you would talk to me about anything, the only thing going through my head would be the fact that you called me clingy and god, i just wanted to vanish in thin air because i hated knowing that you thought that of me which is why i gave you your space. i kept thinking you just didn't want my affection."
you rest your elbows on the kitchen countertop and put your face in your hands. you finally burst out with all the feelings that have been suffocating your mind. it felt good to finally relieve it all but you could only imagine what was going through his mind. was he mad or upset or did he just not care about my feelings?
all of a sudden, you feel two arms wrap around your torso and kisses to the top of your head.
"love, you're not clingy. if anything, i'm the clingy one. i always want you by my side like at my games or when i go out with my friends or even if i'm just lying in bed. i want you."
he strokes your hair and now you're turning around to look at him again. his eyes are wide and a bit glassy. this is probably one of the first times you've seen emotion on his face aside from his regular snarky remarks.
"i wish i could take back what i said that night but i can't. but please know that i don't know what i'd do without you. i was really upset that night and all i wanted to was just sleep it off. but your insistence to go got me aggravated and i lashed out. you don't deserve that. you never deserve that."
"i want to be the one you wake up to in the morning. i want to be the one you take to all your work parties and events. i want to be the one you tell you gossip with. i want to be the one you have your late night talks with. i want to be the one you end your nights with. i want to be the one you spend the rest of your life with. i want to be yours."
tears started to escape your eyes and your heart was swollen. suna was never one to be so open with his emotions yet here he was opening so much to you. you hug his torso and sob into his chest.
"i love you, i'm sorry," you say.
"i love you too, and i'm sorry too," he replies, kissing the top of your forehead.
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© tetsumie 2023 all rights reserved 
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9K notes · View notes
soullumii · 5 months
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sleepyhead | gale dekarios x afab!reader
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(18+!!!) afab!reader. second person pov. literally just smut: oral (f receiving), piv, dirty talk, consensual somnophilia. gale lives to please as always
my first gale fic... this man has taken over my entire life.
2k words
Gale’s lips press against yours in the dark, gentle and coaxing. A push and pull. You blink blearily awake from slumber as his hand finds your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleep shift. His brown hair falls over the two of you like a curtain, shielding you from the terrors of the darkness.  
“Mm hello,” you purr against his lips. “What time is it?” You ask when he pulls back. He looks a bit wild, pupils blown wide, his eyes practically look black even in the dim candlelight. He’s breathing heavily, his gaze traveling over you, heated, like the air surrounding fire. He doesn’t answer. 
“Gale?” you repeat, warmth pooling in your belly at the pure desperation on his face. At the want curling in his eyes like a flame.
“It’s late,” he murmurs, voice rough, as though he’s parched. “Though I cannot stop thinking about you. I must…” he trails off, mind moving faster than his mouth can.
One thing you love about Gale is his ability to talk for seemingly hours on end with such eloquence and poetry. But when he’s like this…already hard against your thigh, slowly rutting his hips in circles, captured within pleasure, the words seem to leave him. You love it just as much, if not more. 
He leans in and runs his nose along your throat, breath ghosting over your skin. His teeth graze you, and his tongue follows, licking a stripe up your throat. You moan shakily, cunt clenching around nothing. 
“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, though it’s more breath than substance. Your brain is already beginning to short circuit, especially when the hand on your waist travels down to your thigh, fingertips pressing into the muscle there. 
“You just looked so beautiful on the battlefield today… I tried to contain myself because we had so much to do, but… fuck,” he breathes this against your neck, desperate. He hardly ever uses such vulgar language. “I need you, love.” 
“So you really weren’t lying when you told me you were turned on by my fighting,” you say, surprised.
“I am a lot of things, darling, but a liar is not one of them.”
The sound of his inhale as he leans down to kiss you again sends more molten pleasure swirling through you. 
His hips press against yours, grinding against your clothed cunt in a steady rhythm. You moan into his mouth, your hands reaching up to clench at his sleep shirt stretched over his broad back. 
You’re still sleepy as his hand drifts to the hem of your shift. He slowly pulls it up your thighs, up over your breasts, revealing your undergarments. He paws at your waistband like a cat begging for food. You lift your hips so he can pull them down over your ass. He undoes the ties to your bralette and slides it off your shoulders. 
Gale kisses his way down your body, stopping to close his warm mouth over a nipple while his dexterous hand squeezes and tugs at the other. You moan lightly, pleasure easing through you. He hums appreciatively against your skin, and the vibrations travel pleasantly through you.
“Gale…” you half murmur half moan as he moves his mouth to your other nipple. “I can hardly stay awake…” You feel yourself slipping in and out of consciousness. The gentle chirping of the crickets outside your tent doesn’t help.
“Of course,” he says, leaning back. “We can stop.”
“No—no wait,” you stop him with a hand curled around his wrist. “You can keep going while I’m sleeping, I don’t mind.” 
His eyes darken, his tongue dipping out to wet his lips. “Really? Are you quite sure?”
You nod with a sleepy smile and settle back comfortably. “Mhm.” 
“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips. 
Your eyes flutter shut, your breathing slowing as you succumb to your exhaustion. Your limbs feel heavy, even as Gale continues his way down your body. 
“You’re so gorgeous, so perfect,” he whispers into your skin. His fingers curl into your thighs before he slowly pulls them apart, baring yourself to him.
He runs his hands appreciatively up and down your thighs, squeezing and kneading before hooking them over his shoulders.
Gale presses a kiss to the inside of your right thigh before retreating. You feel his lips again a second later, just between your thigh and cunt, mere centimeters from where you’re wet and aching for him.
And then you feel his warm breath puffing against your core, and your body squirms impatiently. You peek an eye open to watch him.
He looks so handsome as he glances up at you, eyes soft, mouth twitched into a smirk. “I thought you were going to sleep.”
“I am,” you reply, closing your eyes again. “Just wanted to admire the view one last time.” 
He chuckles lowly, “Sweet dreams, darling.”
He doesn’t move for a while, and you find yourself drifting off in the stillness. Your breathing slows, your mind growing quiet as sleep takes over you.
---
The moment your breaths even out as your hands fall slack against your sides, Gale presses his face between your thighs. He uses the flat of his tongue to lick a long, hot stripe through your folds. You taste delicious on his tongue, and gods you’re so wet. You’re soaking his beard, and he’s hardly been between your thighs for longer than ten seconds.
He doesn’t care. You keep releasing cute little moans in your sleep as he takes you apart brick by brick. Or rather… lick by lick.
His hands grip your waist, keeping you close. Your hips buck involuntarily to meet his mouth, grinding against his face. Even in your sleep you’re seeking out pleasure from him. 
God forbid he won’t deliver.
He pulls back one of his hands to slide a finger into you. It goes easily. He adds another without any resistance. You’re so incredibly wet. He wants to remain between your thighs forever. Your sweet, slick arousal runs down his hand to his wrist, and he bends his head to lick it off. 
His hips rut against the floor of his tent, the act of eating you out so arousing to him he has to seek his own pleasure to mitigate the pain. He doesn’t mind. He’d rather see you cum over and over again before he ever does.
He slowly thrusts his fingers into you while mouthing at your clit, delighting in your shaky breaths and wanton moans. You look gorgeous, brows screwed together, sweat beading on your temple. You’re going to wake up soon, and damnit he’ll make sure it’s while you’re cumming.
---
Warmth kindles between your thighs, pleasure and arousal pooling deep in your belly, tingling in your toes and rising through you.
Sleep drifts away from you, hanging onto the recesses of your mind, but ultimately not strong enough against the building pleasure you feel. 
You chase the feeling, the promise of sweet release. Your surroundings slowly begin to materialize around you. The feeling of your bedroll clenched between your fingers, the undeniable feeling of a mouth between your legs, the sound of low, rumbling, appreciative moans that vibrate through you.
Even the sound of your own cries are registering in your mind. 
The melting pleasure collapses into one pinpoint. A supernova explodes within you as your clit is sucked diligently while the two, long fingers buried inside you hook to press against your g-spot. 
Your back bows, eyes flying open as you cum against Gale’s warm and inviting mouth with a cry of his name. He guides you through it with gentle laps of his tongue through your folds. He mumbles words of encouragement, but they’re lost against your skin. 
“Fuck,” you breathe. “Gale.”
“Mm.” You can practically feel his pride radiating off of him from making you come. 
He continues to lick you through it until you’re coming again, hands fisted in his hair as his lips suck once more on your clit, his fingers fucking into you. Your legs quiver atop his shoulders, your mind utterly fucked into emptiness.
When it’s all too much you push him away, breathing heavily, contented tears in your eyes.
“Holy shit,” you huff, trying to catch your breath. “Maybe you should wake me up like that more often.”
His eyes sparkle excitedly. “If that is what you wish, I’d be glad to.” 
“You are such a giver. You really should let me take care of you sometimes.”
He shrugs. “I like giving. It brings me great pleasure to reside between your thighs for as long as you can stand.”
You sigh at his fanciful words, but you appreciate his adoration all the same. He crawls forward as you lean up to kiss him, the taste of yourself on his tongue rekindling the fire in your gut. His hand winds its way into your hair, the other squeezes your hip. 
“I need you inside me,” you whisper against his lips. “Now.” 
He groans, fingers flexing in your hair. Your body jolts with arousal at the sweet tug. 
“Say no more,” Gale says. “Your wish is my command.”
He takes off his trousers then rolls you onto your stomach. His hands grip your hips, pulling your ass up and backwards, and his knee comes between your thighs to press them apart. 
He guides the head of his cock through your slick folds and your hips squirm in anticipation.
He leans across your back, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. “I wish you could see yourself on the battlefield. The way you look with someone else’s blood on your armor… The flush on your cheeks… The way you breathe… You’re so capable, so strong. I cannot help but stare.”
He eases his cock inside you and the two of you moan in tandem at the delightful feeling. Him, at your warmth. You, at the undeniable feeling of being filled. 
He bites lightly at your shoulder before whispering in your ear. “Sometimes I wish I could take you right there. In front of all of our friends and dead foes.”
You clench around him at his words, and he groans, hips snapping forward. You jolt against the bedroll, elbows digging into the feather down material. 
“Gale,” you whimper. 
He hums, “Yes. You’d be saying my name just. Like. That.” He delivers those three last words with hard thrusts, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing in the tent. 
He builds up the pace, fucking into you steadily. Your cheek squishes against your pillow as he fills you, your mind still sleepy but undeniably consumed by lust and love.
“What do you think? Would you like that, love? Would you like to be fucked in front of all our companions?” 
“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please, Gale. Need you—“
“Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs. His hand skates across your stomach as his warm fingers settle over your clit. “As much as I’d love to indulge the fantasy, I’m not sure I’d want them to watch.” 
He begins to circle your clit with reverence, in time with his thrusts as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
“I want you all to myself,” he grits. 
You cry out, melting against him, knees buckling as you reach your release. It rips through you, hard and fast. Unrelenting. A wildfire raging through your nerves. 
Gale chases after his own climax, thrusts growing sloppy and deeper, moans and praises spilling from his lips before he finally cums inside you, hips twitching. 
Your body trembles as the aftershocks roll through you. 
You collapse onto the bedroll, breathing heavily, and Gale pulls you into him. You both lie on your sides, him softening inside you. He buries kisses into your neck, his arms wrapped around your waist. 
“Are you all right?” he asks you, his thumb brushing comfortingly along your rib cage. 
“So good,” you respond, brain blissfully empty, as if the tadpole never existed. You already feel sleep crawling across your mind again, pulling you under. You yawn and grin happily, like a cat that’s gotten its warm milk. 
“Going back to bed already?” he teases, leaning up to press a kiss to your cheek. “I wear you out that much?” 
“Mhmm…”
“All right. Go to sleep darling. I’ll clean you up.”
You’re already halfway asleep when you feel his tongue dip into you once more, licking his cum out from inside you—
Oh well. You can catch up on sleep tomorrow.
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celestialscatterbrain · 5 months
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1. personal synastry and composite experiences and observations
Do not interact if you are a minor. (18+)
Sun in 8th house synastry: I was the house person they were the sun. I definitely developed insecurities I never had before as a result of this connection. With the sun shining brightly on my insecurities, they were hard to ignore and even harder to not project them entirely on the sun. A lot of “you did this to me!” energy. I didn’t consider myself a jealous person until this relationship and a lot of it came from wanting to be “good enough” in the eyes of the sun person. It’s like knowing you have these darker aspects in common and wanting them to see you can bond this way and see them in a way no one can. You also end up pushing limits together. You liked this? Now WE love this. You’re addicted to that? Now WE are addicted to it. Moderation is hard to achieve with sun in the 8th house synastry. It can also bring up insecurities surrounding sex with that person specifically, if poorly aspected. Explosive reactions and emotional outbursts aren’t foreign here. The house person can feel like a vampire being sunburned, with all its ugliness revealing itself from its body because of its interaction with this person. The 8H person wants a full, in-depth analysis of the sun person’s thoughts, intentions, and motivations. The plutonic energy wants to completely envelop the sun, compulsively in some cases, to know WHY they are the way they are, and why the sun presents themselves in certain ways. This is especially true if the sun person did something to hurt the 8H person, who can feel it more than is rational. The 8H person can really struggle with getting over any emotional harm or feelings of abandonment that come from the sun person. The 8H person can potentially resent the sun person for not being able to read them as intently as they could read the sun person. The sex, if and once insecurities are worked through, can bring you so much closer to one another and to yourself. I also feel like any disturbances or intimacy problems between you two can easily be felt by others or there can be blow ups in front of people you know, because the sun is a planet that illuminates wherever the light lands, whether you like it or not. Avoid public fights, because you will kiss and makeup but the damage in other people’s eyes will be done and opinions will be made. The 8H person might be able to see through any facade the sun person puts up, and this could lead to deep discussions that could be extremely healing for the Sun who might have to work through some things. The 8H person can also teach the sun person how to make more money and maybe even encourage them to start their own business. They can be known as a couple that makes a lot of money together. The sun person can also give sugar daddy/mommy vibes and the 8H the sugar baby, even if it neither one of the people involved are rich-rich. This is a highly binding placement. You two might find it difficult or even impossible to separate from each other even if the relationship has run its natural course. You guys are known as the couple that is “stuck” to one another.
Moon in 5th house synastry: *weird* but, for those who have this placement with a significant other, do you love to smell their body odor? I think in the house of children and fertility, it makes sense to love your partner’s pheromones. Something as weird as the smell of their armpits or stinky feet becomes comforting, idk?? This house is also really fun, and you can get a lot of emotional fulfillment out of acting like children together. 5H is ruled by Leo, so I also found that we had a lot of fun putting on “shows” for one another, and sort of making up our own characters and accents to make the other giggle. People are also really excited for the prospect of us having children together, and you’ll have friends volunteering to babysit or be the godparent of your unborn children LOL. Dressing up nice and going out on dates to somewhere with a great ambiance can be a great way to feel connected. Sharing perfume, or gifting each other perfumes or colognes. Loving the scents they wear. Same taste in candles? Candles as gifts. Lots of watching TV together? Having “shows” that feel wrong to watch without the other. Being called pretty by the other means a lot, and being pretty in each other’s eyes makes you feel good.
Moon in 12th house synastry: 12H synastry tends to have an awful reputation, and I get it when it’s a relationship that isn’t meant for you. However, my moon falls in my best friend’s 12H, and it is one of my favorite placements of ours. We have a telepathic connection where we can just look at the other and know what’s up. You preemptively know what will bother the other person and find it hard to understand how other people wouldn’t have assumed that thing would annoy your person. You understand each other’s motives, and can provide the ultimate shoulder to cry on or ear to listen with. When it’s a new interaction it can feel a bit intense, because how are you in my head!!! I feel like you can read my thoughts! It was like that for the both of us. It’s like, when together, both our consciousnesses transported to another realm where we are mutually perceiving something and our thoughts are being put on a radio for the other to listen to. Very spiritual relationship. You KNOW the vibes, and those feelings will be verified through the other person who already felt the same. She will never be wrong in my eyes and I will defend her to the death. We don’t even have to speak on certain days, but we can feel whatever mood the other one is in and check-up on each other accordingly. Whenever we have a strange dream or nightmare, the first thing we do is text each other and try to analyze what it could mean. I as the 12H person also dreamt of us becoming best friends before we formally met. The dreams i would have of her would always be loaded with spiritual symbolism. We also grew up with the same level of emotional attachment to our personal spiritualities and shared religion, which plays a large role in our understandings of one another. Most people just won’t get it, but she always will. She could read my crazy journal entries if she wanted to. 12H moon synastry is just unconditional love. Between friends at least, it feels like a long-lost twin connection. Also, her and I had gotten matching tattoos before we even knew of each other, both of them being for the same spiritual meaning!
Composite Mars in 3rd house: Lots of talking during sex, and lots of car sex— It might sometimes feel like that’s the easiest thing to talk about, or the conversation always steers to that direction. Sending nudes? Sexting. Maybe the only way you two could engage your sexual desire for one another is through sexting, because distance might not permit the full physical expression. If you don’t have a lot of experience knowing the other’s communication style, it can lead to a bit of random defensiveness or perceiving the other as communicating abrasively. I think it can lead to one trying to get reactions out of the other by saying something out of pocket.
Composite Mercury in 12th house: Pay attention to the dreams you have of this person! They will seriously tell you a lot about your dynamic, but don’t take them at face value! Lots of mystical elements to your dreams about them specifically, so maybe reviewing tarot card meanings and astrology concepts can help you decipher the meanings of your dreams. You might find it easier than expected to confide in each other or rant about your brain’s inner workings together. “I don’t know why I’m saying all that-“ or psychoanalyzing each other for fun. Talking about your less-than-desirable attributes. Being honest about your deceptive tendencies or specific lies you’ve told and why. Oversharing things that will usually make other people uncomfortable in the same context (like talking about your exes or failed situationships on a first date). Difficulties communicating when it’s not in person because it leaves too much room for confusion. Deceit is a real possibility though, with someone voluntarily “leaving out details” about their life outside of the relationship to avoid ruining the flow of energy or the dynamic. Having each other saved on your phones under fake names. Having to hide that you’re talking to this person from other people. One of you withdrawing communication to manipulatively make the other think about you more. Taking turns being each other’s therapist. Thinking about each other often but never expressing that, or the extent to which you think of one another. Thinking about the other at night before going to bed. “I started catching feelings for the girl that I’m currently having sex with, so it’s safe to say we don’t talk anymore, unless of course we’re having sex” in Sasquatch .22 by Bay Faction.
Composite Venus in 12th house: There really is a secretive component to this interaction that can feel impossible to bypass. Your family, friends, or society might not “approve” of you two together. One or both of you can be cheating on someone with this person. Only being able to meet up or be affectionate at night or in extremely private settings. The privacy of the relationship can help you open up a lot more than you’d expect to, because there’s no one but you two to perceive the other in this context. No judgments on how you two should behave with one another, so “let’s fully enjoy the moment while it lasts.” No one understanding your interaction or it’s purpose, and you probably don’t understand it either. Sending telepathic love notes. Longing. Intimate and romantic sex that haunts you or catches you off guard. Never wanting to be the first one to admit you’ve caught feelings. Ruining your sleep schedule to spend time with one another. Dreaming about romantically linking with them before it ever happens. Withdrawing once feelings start feeling real. The song “Lips of Angel” by Hinder reminds me of Composite Venus in 12H. “Illicit Affairs,” “August,” and “False God” by Taylor Swift. “Why Can’t I?” by Liz Phair. Gato de Noche by Bad Bunny. Sex by The 1975.
Lilith in 8th house synastry: Wanting to try things sexually with this person that wasn’t necessarily exciting with other partners. “You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll let you.” Possibly experimenting with or preferring BDSM with one another. That Lana lyric that’s like: You fucked me so good that I almost said “I love you.” It might also be controversial if people knew you’ve had sex with one another. Revenge sex? As in, you two having sex might indirectly be spiting someone else, and it kind of feels like you’re dishing out delicious karma on a surprising silver platter— “lol if only they knew” You two might have fun misbehaving together. Doing what you both know you’re not supposed to be doing can make everything feel better, and even more reason to keep doing what you’re doing. Lana Del Rey in Diet Mountain Dew: “you’re no good for me, but baby I want you.” Wanting to be dangerous together. “Leave me bruised so I can’t forget you.” “Seeing you tonight is a bad idea, right?” This placement somewhat reminds me of a union between the death card and the devil card in tarot, with an emphasis on risk-stained sexual liberation. You can become symbolic of temptation in each other’s lives, so it’s hard to deny your impulses. Toxic by Britney Spears.
-D 🖤🕯
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letjungcoook7 · 5 months
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Can I request for some jealous (Ceo) Jk husband with some argument, angst and smuttttt (can you make it a bit lengthy if possible🥹🥹)
Ps - lovee your works <3
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you dated taehyung back in college. and your now husband was best friends with him. after years of no contact, taehyung reappears to visit you and your husband for dinner.
☆ w.c: 6,1k
☆ pairing: ceo!jungkook x fem!reader (bref reader x taehyung)
☆ rating: 18+ minors do not interact.
☆ genre: smut, established relationship, married couple
☆ warnings: oc is taehyung's ex, oral sex (me receiving), fingering, clit playing, deep throat, cum eating, unprotected sex, creampie, a little arguing and jealousy
☆ author's note: I was very inspired to write this, thank you for the request and I hope you like it <3
Jungkook sat at his office desk, post-lunch, and ever so slightly loosened his tie to maintain his professional appearance. He took great care with his appearance. Gazing out the large office window, he heard the distinctive click of his secretary's high heels approaching. Turning toward her, he leaned on the glass desk with his hands.
"Kim Taehyung is here to see you, Mr. Jeon," the woman stated, avoiding direct eye contact.
Kim Taehyung.
A low chuckle escaped Jungkook as he tried to recall the last time he'd heard that name. Taehyung, his former college roommate, whom he had lost touch with when Taehyung moved to France.
"You can send him in," Jungkook said, adjusting his tie once more before standing.
Taehyung entered the room, dressed in smart casual attire, his blond hair complementing the wide smile on his face. Warmly, the two friends embraced. Despite years of separation, their connection was as strong as ever. Their embrace was genuine, as if the years apart had vanished in an instant. They separated, but their smiles continued to light up the room.
"How have you been, Jungkook? It seems life has treated you well," Taehyung commented, looking around the elegant office. "And this place is amazing!"
Jungkook smiled proudly, appreciating the compliment. "Yes, I've worked hard to get here. How about you, Tae? How's life in France? It seems like you're doing well."
Taehyung nodded.
"Paris is beautiful, and I'm really finding myself there. But I couldn't shake the feeling of missing old friends, so I decided to pay a visit to Seoul and catch up with everyone."
"It's great to see you again, Tae.”
Taehyung settled into a chair, still admiring the surroundings, and both had smiles on their faces.
"Well, who would've thought that all that college partying would lead to this?" Taehyung teased, and Jungkook chuckled, rolling his eyes.
"Of course, as if you were a saint," Jungkook responded sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. Taehyung countered with a sly smile.
"I studied more than you," he retorted. "You were more focused on partying and hooking up with all the girls on campus."
Jungkook laughed, acknowledging the truth in Taehyung's words.
"Well, I can't deny that I was a bit reckless back then."
"Back then?" Taehyung bit his lower lip, holding back a smile. "Have you changed that much?"
Jungkook raised an eyebrow, playfully. "Well, yes. After all, I'm now a serious and responsible businessman."
Taehyung laughed and shook his head.
"Serious and responsible, you? I would've thought you'd be the last one to enter the corporate world."
"People change, Tae. You've become a chic designer in Paris, and I've turned into a buttoned-up businessman in Seoul. That's life's irony."
The two friends shared laughter, and a comfortable silence filled the room. There was so much to catch up on, yet they seemed unsure of where to begin.
"Do you remember that party where Jimin ended up in the pool naked?" Taehyung started.
Jungkook chuckled at the memory.
"Of course, how could I forget? That was one of the most epic parties we had."
"And it was at that party that I met Y/N, remember? She was dancing like there was no tomorrow, and I could hardly take my eyes off her."
Taehyung's words made Jungkook remember something he had never forgotten, but in that moment, it seemed to fade in his memory. You and Taehyung had dated during the last two years of college.
Jungkook swallowed hard, and for a moment, he wondered how Taehyung would feel about the fact that you and he were now married. You hasn't told him, not out of a desire to conceal anything, but simply because you had lost touch. Jungkook also recalled that you and Taehyung had shared kisses, that you'd been in love, and that Taehyung knew things about you that Jungkook didn't want anyone else to know besides himself.
"Yeah, I remember," Jungkook finally said, keeping his voice steady. He tried to disguise his nervousness, but his emotions were running high. And now he knew it was only a matter of time before he revealed the whole truth to Taehyung.
Taehyung continued chatting, starting a monologue. Jungkook didn't have time to interrupt, because as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, his cellphone rang. Your name appeared on the screen, and Jungkook sighed as he answered.
"Hey," he whispered.
"Hi, my love," you said, excitedly, as you arrived home from the gym. "When are you coming home?"
Jungkook looked at his wristwatch. "I believe in about 7pm. Why?"
"Just wanting to see you," you giggled. "I miss you."
He couldn't see your expression, but your tone suggested a playful pout. A smile crept across his face as Taehyung observed the conversation with an amused grin.
"I miss you too," Jungkook whispered, and Taehyung chuckled, teasing his friend, to which Jungkook flipped him off.
"Who's there?" you asked after hearing that there was clearly someone else with Jungkook.
Jungkook cleared his throat and took a deep breath before responding, "It's Taehyung."
"Taehyung? Kim Taehyung?" You expressed surprise.
"Unless you're familiar with another Taehyung," Jungkook replied, glancing at Taehyung, who seemed a bit bewildered.
"No," you began, taking a seat on the couch. "I just wasn't expecting this."
"He dropped by as a surprise," Jungkook explained.
"Have you told him about us?" you inquired.
"Not yet." Jungkook's gaze was fixed on Taehyung, who still seemed unsure about the situation. Jungkook took a deep breath and finally broke eye contact with Taehyung.
“Why not?”
Clearing his throat, Jungkook hesitated for a moment, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
 "I just didn't have the chance," he muttered, and you rolled your eyes and sighed.
"Tell him," you said, your voice lacking much emotion.
"I will." Jungkook now turned away from Taehyung.
"He deserves to know."
"I know," your husband sighed.
The room fell into an uneasy silence as Taehyung tried to piece together the fragments of this cryptic conversation. He watched as Jungkook and you exchanged a few more words on the phone, but the conversation was too low for him to catch any details. It was clear that there was something significant left unsaid.
After Jungkook hung up, he turned back to Taehyung, who couldn't contain his curiosity any longer.
"Is everything okay, Jungkook?"
Jungkook hesitated, unsure of how to approach the subject.
"Taehyung, there's something I need to tell you. Something that has happened since we last saw each other."
Taehyung nodded, urging Jungkook to continue.
"Y/N and I... we're married now."
The words hung heavily in the air, and Taehyung's eyes widened in surprise. It took a moment for the news to fully sink in.
"Married? You and Y/N? I didn't see that coming."
" We've been through a lot together."
Taehyung took a moment to process this unexpected revelation.
"I'm happy for you both, but why didn't you tell me earlier?"
“We lost contact after you moved to France, and we didn't want to burden you with our lives. We never intended to keep it a secret."
Taehyung nodded, understanding the situation a bit better.
“It's just... surprising. I have so much to catch up on, it seems."
"Yeah," Jungkook simply says. They lock eyes, the silence between them no longer comfortable. It's heavy, the tension palpable, and both men quickly look away.
"You know it's fine, right?" Taehyung's voice sounds sincere, bringing a sense of relief to Jungkook.
"I know," Jungkook forces a smile, and Taehyung mirrors it. "Maybe you could come over for dinner tomorrow?"
"Sure, that sounds like a good idea," Taehyung responds with a genuine smile.
Jungkook's relief is evident as he nods. 
"Great."
As Jungkook and you worked on dinner and dessert, you both realized that you were equally nervous about this dinner with Taehyung. It was only your second glass of wine, but you and Jungkook needed it to ease your tension. Taehyung, despite his polite acceptance, seemed somewhat nervous too.
Jungkook focused on making homemade pasta, a dish he excelled at. The flour was scattered on the kitchen counter, and he kneaded the dough with precision. Meanwhile, you were determined to create the perfect crème brûlée, but your current attempt didn't look promising.
"God, I'm so stupid. This is not working," you muttered, tasting the cream that was far from perfect. "Besides, he lives in France, and he probably eats the original version of crème brûlée all the time!"
Jungkook leaned in closer, capturing your lips with his own. "Don't be so hard on yourself," he whispered softly, emphasizing each word as he spoke.
You gave him a grateful smile and shrugged. 
"Okay," you said, then planted a sweet peck on his lips. "Thank you, babe." 
You picked up your wine glass and took a sip, a playful glint in your eyes.
Jungkook chuckled, lifting his wine glass.
"Maybe we should save some wine for Taehyung?" he suggested playfully.
You mirrored his tone with a mischievous smile.
"Or maybe we should cancel and go to bed?" you hinted, your gaze filled with desire.
"Are you sleepy yet?" Jungkook teased, a flirtatious glint in his eyes.
You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. 
"You know I'm not talking about sleep."
Jungkook's hand squeezed your waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of the dress you were wearing.
"You know we can't," he whispered, his gaze intense. He then looked at your lips with a serious expression. "But I'll fuck you later. I promise."
"I know you will."
You both pulled away, and Jungkook smiled, returning his focus to the tomato sauce he was preparing. His dark hair swept back, with a few stubborn strands falling onto his forehead. The light-colored dress shirt was neatly tucked into his pants, the top three buttons casually undone, exposing part of his chest. The sleeves were rolled up just below his elbows, and the dress pants he wore had a perfect fit. He winked at you, you sighed and took a long sip of wine.
The dinner was ready and as you and Jungkook cleared the kitchen, the lingering anticipation of Taehyung's arrival hung in the air.
You turned to Jungkook with a mischievous grin. "Care to join me for a shower before Taehyung gets here?"
Jungkook smirked, "Absolutely."
You headed to the bathroom, and the warm water soon enveloped both of you. Emerging from the bathroom, you changed into a sleek black dress, its fabric hugging your silhouette elegantly. Jungkook, shirtless, ran his fingers through his damp hair, droplets trailing down his sculpted chest. 
"Are you nervous?" Jungkook inquired, slipping into his black jeans.
"Why should I be?" you replied, arching your eyebrows.
"I don't know," he shrugged, grabbing his CK shirt to complete his outfit. "Maybe you miss him," he teased. "Maybe you want to leave me for him."
"Never," you pouted, handing him his belt. 
As you helped Jungkook with his belt, he smirked, drawing you into a light kiss.
"Good," he said against your lips, "because I'm not planning on sharing."
You playfully swatted his arm, a smile on your lips. After the playful banter, you both finished getting ready. Jungkook looked dashing in his Calvin Klein outfit, and you slipped into a stunning black dress that accentuated your features.
"Ready for this dinner?" he asked, offering his arm.
"Absolutely," you replied, linking your arm with his.
 In the living room, Jungkook poured himself another glass of wine, and you chuckled.
"I thought we agreed to save some for Taehyung," you teased, provoking him. Jungkook only set the bottle aside after his glass was full.
"We did?" he joked, and you shook your head as you set the table. "I'm thinking of grabbing some whiskey too," Jungkook remarked, lifting the glass to his lips.
"Taehyung doesn't drink whiskey," you replied, arranging the plates on the table. The room fell silent, and you looked up at Jungkook, who was staring at you. "What?"
"It's just..." He shook his head, as if pushing away thoughts. Your husband ran his tongue over his lips before sighing, about to continue, but before he could, the doorbell rang. Together, you both turned toward the door and exchanged glances.
Jungkook took the initiative, leaving his wine glass on the side table, and walked to the door, greeting Taehyung with a warm smile and a hand in his pocket. You approached the door as well to welcome him. Taehyung was dressed in light-colored clothes, tailored pants, and his hair intentionally tousled. He smiled as he greeted you both. "Hi, Jungkook and Y/N." Taehyung extended a bottle of red wine, which you accepted. "Didn't want to arrive empty-handed."
"Hi, Taehyung! Thanks, you really didn't have to bring anything," Jungkook said, guiding him inside.
Taehyung grinned.
"Well, it's been a while, and I didn't want to show up without a little gift.”
Jungkook chuckled, leading Taehyung to the living room.
"We appreciate it," you added, placing the wine on the table. "It's good to have you here, Tae. How's everything in France?"
Taehyung settled onto the sofa, with Jungkook taking the front seat, you beside him. Jungkook's hand rested casually on your thigh, subtly marking his territory.
"France has been amazing," Taehyung replied, smiling as he leaned back into the sofa. "Lots of work, lots of exploring." His gaze briefly flickered to Jungkook's hand on your leg, and now his hand was under Jungkook's, the glint of your wedding rings evident. "You guys should come visit sometime."
Jungkook chuckled, exchanging a glance with you, his hand still comfortably on your thigh.
"That sounds like a great idea," Jungkook responded, a slight edge of tension in the air. "We could use a vacation, right, babe?" he added, looking at you with a smile.
You nodded, a smile playing on your lips, though a hint of unease lingered in the atmosphere. "But hey, enough about me, though," Taehyung interjected, rubbing his hands together and then gesturing toward you and Jungkook. "When did this happen?" he inquired in a casual tone.
You and Jungkook exchanged another look, both knowing each other well enough to realize that neither of you was very comfortable in this situation.
"Well, after college, everyone drifted apart, obviously," Jungkook began, and Taehyung nodded, showing understanding. "A few years passed, and Y/N was at a bar, being the center of attention as always," the guys laughed, and you rolled your eyes, playfully slapping Jungkook's shoulders. "And Y/N saw me, and well..."
"And now you guys have been married for..." Taehyung started, looking at you both, expecting you to finish his sentence.
"Two years," you said quietly.
"Two years," Taehyung repeated. "So, are you officially Jeon Y/N now?" Even though Taehyung's tone was relaxed and calm, you felt a touch of bitterness in his voice.
"Yes, officially," Jungkook responded, trying to dispel any discomfort. Taehyung paused, observing you both with a light smile.
"Well, congratulations and I guess my invitation got lost in the mail, huh?"
Jungkook cleared his throat, sensing the tension.
"Taehyung, it was a private ceremony. We didn't have a big wedding."  "I'll get some drinks for us," you said, trying to steer away from the topic, as you got up.
"Private?" Taehyung raised an eyebrow, ignoring you. "I thought we were close. I mean, I would have loved to be there for you, Jungkook."
“I know and I’m sorry” you heard Jungkook saying with a lower voice.
Taehyung sighed and leaned back, crossing his arms. The atmosphere in the room became strained, and you returned with the drinks, handing them out in an attempt to lighten the mood.  You sat down, taking a large gulp of wine that now flowed down your throat with considerable ease. Jungkook did the same, while Taehyung merely sipped at his drink.
"Well, I understand about it being a private and small ceremony. That's how you always said you wanted to get married, right?" Taehyung looked at you, and the comment made you swallow hard. You understood precisely that the remark was meant to provoke both you and Jungkook. You remembered when you and Taehyung were dating, discussing marriage, and you had always been clear about your desire for a small wedding.
The comment caused Jungkook to clench his fists in anger. Taehyung had managed to provoke him, but he felt guilty, so he wouldn't react negatively in front of his friend.
"But I don't understand why you kept that you were together from me," Taehyung concluded.
"You were in Europe, Taehyung. You changed your phone number and had no social media. How were we supposed to tell you? Through telepathy?" It was your turn to interject into the conversation. Your tone was sharper than you had expected.
"No, I just didn't expect you guys to act like you betrayed me," Taehyung looked at you. Jungkook sighed, attempting to diffuse the mounting tension.
"Tae, it wasn't about betrayal. We lost touch, and things happened quickly. It wasn't intentional."
Taehyung remained silent, absorbing Jungkook's words.
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the weight of the conversation settling in the room. The revelation had stirred up emotions, and Taehyung's hurt was palpable.
Jungkook, sensing the need to lighten the mood, attempted a faint smile. "Look, Tae, we didn't mean to hurt you. It's just life happened, and we didn't have a chance to explain."
Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I get it. Life happens. I just wish I had known sooner, that's all."
"We're sorry, Taehyung," you added, your voice softening. "We should have found a way to reach out, but time slipped away, and we didn't want to disturb you."
Taehyung nodded, the hurt in his eyes slowly giving way to understanding.
"Let's not dwell on this tonight. We can catch up, enjoy some good food, and reminisce about old times," Jungkook suggested, attempting to steer the conversation toward a more positive direction.
Taehyung offered a small smile, "Yeah, you're right. We have a lot of catching up to do."
The dinner went well; you managed to chat without any major tensions arising during the meal. Afterward, the three of you settled back in the living room. With the third bottle of wine in play, laughter flowed freely, and everyone was a bit tipsy.
"Jungkook, there's no need to tell that story..." you said, but he laughed before even starting, and you rolled your eyes, anticipating what would come next. He began recounting the day you had just picked up the Tesla S Plaid from the dealership.
"Oh, but I must!" Jungkook continued, ignoring your attempt to interrupt. "So, we were at that intersection, and I thought it would be safe to test the car's power. Well, Y/N hit the accelerator hard..."
He paused dramatically, looking at you, and Taehyung was now completely engrossed in the story.
"What happened?" Taehyung asked, eager for the revelation.
"Well, the car accelerated so fast that, before I knew it, we were a few meters past the intersection. And Y/N's look... that 'maybe I went a bit too far' look, was priceless."
"Of course, you kept pressuring me and even left the radio on!" you muttered, pouting.
Taehyung laughed.
"You still don't like driving with the radio on?" he asked. When you were learning to drive, Taehyung always had to accompany you because you were afraid to drive alone, but always with the radio off.
"Yes!" you defended yourself. "Radio on disrupts my vision."
"You know that never made the slightest sense," Tae said with laughter, and, from the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungkook's smile fading, clearly jealous of the interaction and reminiscing about the past.
"Of course it does, Taehyung," you rolled your eyes. "It takes your attention off the driving."
"It doesn’t," he countered. "It's like you not liking scrambled eggs but being in love with omelets."
"Scrambled eggs taste more like eggs than omelets," you retorted.
"You're crazy," he concluded with laughter.
Jungkook remained quiet as the two of you bantered. He was focused on his own wine glass, visibly uncomfortable. You reached over, placing your hand on his, which rested in his lap, and he gave you a faint smile.  “Jungkook, why are you so quiet?" Taehyung finally addressed Jungkook, breaking the momentary silence.
Jungkook looked up, forcing a smile. "Just enjoying the stories."
Taehyung raised an eyebrow, eyeing Jungkook curiously. "Enjoying the stories? You used to be the one telling them, not just listening."
"Times change, Tae. We all grow up," Jungkook shrugged, feigning nonchalance. 
The easy laughter from earlier seemed to be replaced by a quieter introspection. You wondered if the memories stirred something within him.
As the night progressed, you suggested watching a movie, a classic you all used to enjoy during college. The familiarity of the film brought back a flood of shared experiences, and for a while, it felt like the past and the present coexisted in that room.
As the credits rolled, you noticed Jungkook stealing glances at Taehyung, as if trying to gauge his friend's feelings or thoughts. Taehyung, on the other hand, seemed genuinely immersed in the film, occasionally sharing nostalgic remarks.
The clock struck midnight, signaling the late hour. Taehyung yawned, stretching his arms.
"Well, I should get going. It's been a great night," he said, standing up.
Jungkook also rose from the couch, a mix of emotions in his eyes.
"Thanks for coming, Tae. It means a lot."
Taehyung smiled warmly. "Of course, Jungkook. Let's not wait years before the next catch-up."
As you walked Taehyung to the door, he turned to you.
"Y/N, it was really nice seeing you again. Take care."
"You too, Tae. Safe travels."
After he left, you closed the door behind you, returning to the living room where Jungkook stood deep in thought.
"Are you okay?" you asked, concerned.
Jungkook's response was sharp, cutting through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. "No," he replied curtly. You felt the weight of the tension settle in the room.
"What's bothering you?" you asked, meeting his eyes. He sighed, frustration evident in his expression.
"Everything," he shrugged, turning away. "I mean, you, him, both of you." Jungkook started to walk away.
"I know, I can imagine," you said, following him, trying to be understanding. He turned to look at you, a mix of emotions in his eyes.
"Can you?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow, unbuttoning his shirt. "Your college best friend is my ex?"
"Jungkook, don't act like this is news," you sighed. "You've always known, and you witnessed my relationship with Taehyung."
"Yeah, but that doesn't stop it from bothering me, seeing my friend interact with my wife," he finally spoke, his eyes carrying a emotions that you struggled to comprehend.
"But that's in the past," you said, closing the distance, gripping the undone collar of his shirt. "Can you try to focus on that?"
"Y/N," he said, his patience evident, locking eyes with you. A rebellious strand of his dark hair hung over his forehead as he gently pulled away from your grasp. "Focusing on it being in the past is fine, but it doesn't stop me from feeling retroactive jealousy when I remember he had you, for God's sake," Jungkook's voice carried a tinge of anger as he distanced himself. You sighed, tilting your head, staring at the ceiling, searching for a solution.
"I can't change that," you murmured, and he let out a bitter laugh.
"Yeah, you can't," he said with bitterness, giving you one last piercing look before retreating into your bedroom and closing the door. You sighed again, gathering the wine glasses and bottles, placing them in the kitchen. Granting both yourself and Jungkook the space needed to navigate through the complex web of emotions.
Jungkook's gaze remained fixed on the dormant television as you entered the room. He was dressed in his typical sleepwear—sweatpants and shirtless. He glanced at you briefly, acknowledging your presence.
"Jungkook," you began, leaning against the doorframe. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" you asked, sensing the tension in the air.
"Did you intend to marry him?" Jungkook inquired, clearly referring to Taehyung's earlier comment. You sighed.
"In any relationship, marriage is a goal, isn't it?" you replied, prompting him to cross his arms.
"Is that a yes?" he pressed.
"Jungkook," you repeated his name.
"Just answer me."
"Yes."
Jungkook nodded with frustration, then offered a cynical smile.
"Wanted to be Kim Y/N?" he asked with irony, and you rolled your eyes.
"Cut it out!" you retorted, irritated by the sarcastic tone.
"No," he looked at you and responded in the same tone as you. "You know what's worse?" Jungkook leaned as if he were about to come towards you, but he merely stayed seated on the edge of the bed. "I did witness your relationship, but especially now, after seeing you two together, I can't stop remembering every time I saw you both kissing in front of me."
Now Jungkook got up from the bed and walked towards you, standing close.
"I can't forget every time he put those filthy hands on you," he sighed, holding both hands at your waist. "Every time he could touch your skin, smell your scent." Jungkook brushed his mouth slowly against your cheek. "Every time he said he loved you, and you reciprocated." He sights. “Every time he fucked you.”
You faced Jungkook, his hands on your waist, his breath on your skin.
"I get it, Jungkook," you whispered, closing your eyes briefly. "But that was in the past. We're here now."
His gaze intense as he looked into your eyes.
"Are we?" he asked, a hint of doubt in his voice.
"Jungkook, we chose each other," you affirmed, your hands resting on his chest. "I love you."
Jungkook's touch was both tender and possessive as he continued to speak, his voice low and filled with a mixture of frustration and longing.
"You're mine now, right?" he murmured against your skin, his lips tracing a path to your ear. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine. "You chose me."
"Yes, Jungkook," you whispered, meeting his gaze. "I chose you."
His grip on your waist tightened, and for a moment, the room felt charged with unspoken words. You could see the conflict in his eyes, torn between the present reality and the haunting memories.
“So show me.”
He wet his lips with his tongue and you looked at him for a while, blinking your eyes slowly. That look from Jungkook was a perfect mix of anger, lust and the need for reassurance. You brought your mouth closer, brushing your lips against his and Jungkook sighed, yearning for your touch. The noise the kiss made was audible, and you held his bottom lip in your mouth. Jungkook frowned, almost in pain. He needed you.
His left hand held yours, the ring on his ring finger was the greatest proof that you were devoted to him, but that wasn't enough. Not now. Jungkook took your hand to his dick, making you squeeze it over the pants he was wearing, making him moan softly. You slid your tongue across his lips and kissed him, in a desperate way. Your mouths moving at a fast pace as you squeezed his cock.
Jungkook held your face with both hands, pulling you closer, while your torso touched and you rubbed your hand on his cock, which moaned in approval. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to yours, looking at you with sharp eyes.
“I love you more than anything in this life” he said angrily.
“Me too, Jungkook” you replied in the same tone, sticking your fingers inside his pants and holding his dick.
He wasn't fully hard yet, but you knew it was only a matter of time. As you pressed your fingers into his thick width and moved at a fast pace to the base of his cock. Jungkook moaned softly, a groan almost of pain, closing his eyes tightly.
“Look at me, Jungkook” you ordered and he obeyed, looking at you while you jerk him off, but your husband’s eyes couldn’t stay open for long.
“I'm trying” he murmured, opening his eyes. You bit his bottom lip, reaching your other hand down his pants and grabbing his balls.
“Try harder,” you said in an authoritative tone and he nodded, swallowing his own saliva and groaning. You held his balls tightly and he shivered, making you smile.
“I hope you never did that to Taehyung” Jungkook grumbled and you sighed angrily.
“Of course not” you growled, increasing the pace, feeling your hand start to get sticky with pre-come.
In a quick movement, you moved your hands away from him and switched your positions, leaving him leaning against the doorframe, while you knelt down and pulled down his pants, making his dick jump out.
You looked at him, with anger, with desire and a lot of mixed emotions as you slowly sucked the head of his cock, and he groaned, throwing his head back, unable to look at you because he was so fucking horny and you were in control.
His dick pulsed as your tongue worked on his dickhead, sucking and rubbing the tip very slowly and without rushing. You were dedicated and he knew it. He loved it.
You slowly swallowed him whole, choking on his cock practically buried in your throat, making it difficult to breathe, but you did your best. Your eyes were full of tears and your mouth was redder than normal and Jungkook was completely surrendered to you.
“You take my dick so well” he whispers and you smile with his dick in your mouth, making you choke. It throbs in your mouth and you pull it away, spreading your drool and his salty pre-cum all over the length of Jungkook's cock, masturbating him while you start sucking his balls, and he moans loudly and shamelessly.
Quickly, Jungkook starts to cum, releasing jets of warm cum and smearing your fingers and the floor of your bedroom, as well as the fabric of your dress.
You smile and run your tongue over every drop of cum left by him, who was still trying to compose himself. Jungkook breathed raggedly and you felt his salty taste in your mouth, leaving no trace of cum behind. He smiled and looked at you, defeated.
You get up and wipe the corners of your mouth, while holding his hand. You look at him, sucking his ring finger slowly, placing it inside your mouth. Jungkook looks at you with a frown and narrowed eyes, while his ring reaches your lips.
“You’re obsessed with me” he stated and you shook your head, slowly removing his finger from your mouth.
"I am."
“So, be a good wife for me and take off that dress and stick your ass up and I will fuck you” he said, swallowing his own saliva.
You laughed and lowered the straps of your dress, taking it off slowly, your eyes fixed on his who was still leaning on the door, composing himself. You walked to the bed and, with your back turned, took off your panties and threw them towards him, who grabbed it between his fingers and brought them to his nose, rubbing the fabric and smelling your underwear.
You laugh and rest your hands on the bed, stretching your ass towards him.
"Like this?" You arch your eyebrow and look at him over your shoulder. He nods his head affirmatively as he walks towards you and pushes your torso roughly, making you bend over the bed. His hands hold your hips and he starts grinding against you, making you moan softly as you bounce against him, moaning your husband's name.
“Is that why you married me?” He says, caressing your ass and then spanking it hard, leaving your skin marked “so I can fuck you whenever you want?” Jungkook laughs and you nod, with an affected moan.
His fingers reach your pussy, completely wet and he slides through your folds, feeling you. Without warning, he penetrates two fingers inside your pussy and starts fingering you, making you moan.
“So wet and warm” Jungkook whispers. “Best pussy I've ever had and that's why I married you” he says with an angry tone and starts to force his fingers deep inside you, moving them intensely before bending them into a hook and hitting your spot G.
You moan desperately, moving your hips.
“Jungkook” you say, your voice cracking.
"What?" he asks with mock disdain.
“Fuck me” you whisper between moans.
"I did not understand, can you repeat?" Jungkook teases you and you almost growl in anger, which makes him hit you deeper. “Repeat, damn it.”
“Fuck me” you repeat in a firm voice. He laughs and takes his fingers out of you, but brings them to his mouth to taste you before holding his own dick and pumping it a few times before rubbing the head against your entrance, slowly penetrating you.
You contract the walls inside your pussy around Jungkook's cock as soon as he's all the way inside you. Jungkook stands still and you can feel every inch of his cock as you twitch, increasing the contact even more. Jungkook keeps one hand at the end of your back and the other, he intertwines his fingers in the strands of your hair and starts to tug.
The sound your ass makes against his hips is loud and you both moan in the same tone. The pace that Jungkook wielded was fast, the thrusts were almost out of pace due to the evident desperation of both. Jungkook undulates his hips against yours, hitting you deep and poking your cervix.
You roll over, pressing your fingers into the mattress hard and feeling your mouth dry from moaning, but you don't care, you just whimper with so much pleasure and lust, looking at Jungkook over your shoulder. Your husband forced the end of your back and moved at a faster pace, hitting you deeper and deeper, while frowning hard.
“Always so tight, no matter how many times I’ve fucked you.”
You don't respond, you just moan loudly, feeling your eyes overflowing with pleasure.
“I bet he never fucked you like that,” Jungkook says, thrusting hard and pulling your hair, making you lean back to rest your back against his chest. Jungkook uses the hand he held on your back to hold your neck, while he leaves his mouth on your ear.
“You know no one has ever fucked me like this” you respond, complaining softly as he squeezed your throat, leaving you slightly breathless.
Jungkook's thrusts got deeper and he almost didn't move his hips away from yours anymore, concentrating only on reaching you deeply.
“Yeah, because when they fucked you the way you deserve, you married him” Jungkook said through his teeth.
You breathed heavily due to the compression he was placing on your neck and, as soon as he let go, letting you breathe, his fingers began to stimulate your clitoris. You moaned his name more, digging your nails into his thigh, the place you managed to reach first, before starting to cum, squeezing him and feeling your legs wobble, but he didn't stop, he continued thrusting into you, but with his arms now around your waist, holding you to keep you steady in your position, until his cock began to pulse nonstop and he finally came, this time, inside you, completely filling your pussy with cum.
The two of you compose yourself and exchange caresses until you clean up and get dressed in comfortable pajamas to lie in your bed.
"Jungkook," you began softly, "I want you to know that I understand your feelings. It's okay to be affected by the past. But I chose you, and I love you with all my heart. Nothing will change that."
Jungkook met your gaze, and the vulnerability in his eyes melted away some of the lingering unease. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, a gesture of both frustration and acceptance.
"I know, Y/N," he replied, sincerity in his voice. "I love you too, more than anything. It's just... it's hard, you know? Seeing you with him brings back memories I thought I had moved on from."
You nodded, acknowledging the complexity of emotions. "We'll work through this together. I'm here for you, always."
Jungkook's eyes softened, and he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The warmth of his touch reassured you, a silent promise of shared strength.
"I don't want to let the past overshadow our present and future," he admitted, his gaze sincere.
You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. It was a tender reassurance, a silent affirmation of your commitment.
He smiled, a genuine expression that reached his eyes. "I'm lucky to have you, Y/N."
2K notes · View notes
14thgalerie · 2 months
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under pressure
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• pairing: theodore nott x reader
• now playing: linger by the cranberries
• word count: 2.4k
• genre: angst
— an old piece that i never finished but i just wanted to post something because my account is so dead. i know exams work differently in hogwarts but for this one, let's just pretend that they do a semestral exam also.
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“Theo?” You call from behind him, as you enter the common room where he sits in solitude. 
He makes no sound to acknowledge that he’s heard you, simply continuing to stare off into space. Long, slender fingers rhythmically tapping on his thighs.
Ignoring this, you make yourself comfortable on the nearest available seat, angling your body to face him. “You would not believe what I got for History of Magic!” You excitedly begin and with much enthusiasm, “But first you have to guess!”
Again, a silence greets you. This sparks concern in you since it was very unusual behaviour from him. But before you could ask, he emits a curious hum, still not looking directly at you. “What did you get?”
“You’re no fun.” You playfully jab at him, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. “Anyways! I got an Outstanding! Can you believe that?”
“It would’ve been hilarious if you hadn’t.” Is all he says in a deadpan, hollow voice. “What do you mean by that?” You prod.
“Imagine taking all of my time just for you to fail once again. I would have actually thrown myself off the pitch. ”
The muted glow of the scattered lamps and candles cast shadows on the walls, creating an ambiance that mirrors the strained emotions between you and Theo. The distant sound of chatter and laughter in the dorm rooms only served to accentuate the silence that ensued.
He sighs, “I am tired. Tired of your complaining, of your whines, of your stupidity over such a simple course. You are so excited over this when it isn’t something to be necessarily proud of. You know…” Theo trails off in an amused manner as if he has realised something funny.
“I find it funny how you are sitting all proud and excited about this one exam when in reality, it was all because of me. You wouldn’t have even gotten half of what you had if it weren't for me or with the help of the others. Leeching off of us like a goddamn parasite who hasn’t a mind of her own.”
Words fail you, unable to conjure up even a whisper in your shock. You stand up slowly, breathing out an unsteady exhale.
The words break on your skin like whips, cracking and splitting open still healing wounds. 
“I have never asked you for anything, need I remind you? You were the one who insisted on spending your oh so precious time teaching me. Time and time again, I reassured you that I could do it myself because I didn’t want you to waste it on me. Yet, it was always fine with you and you were adamant on doing it so don’t you dare put this on me now.” You grit out. “I have no idea as to why you are acting like a rabid dog, snapping at me unprovoked, but nothing will ever warrant that kind of behaviour. “ You shake your head sharply, glaring at him from underneath your eyebrow. 
You felt yourself becoming dizzy with panic and anxiety, confusion with the whole situation making it worse by the second. It was spreading so quickly and far into the recesses of your soul that you would fall to your knees if not for the support of the couch behind you.
Not willing to have him see you break down from his nonchalant words that were deliberately chosen to attack your deepest insecurities— unable to understand how it so easily came from the last person you expected it from. You quickly move towards the stairs, ignoring the weak call of your name. 
Tick, tock, tick, tock. 
Seconds—or was it minutes— slipped away since you have made the decision to lock yourself in your room. Leaving the room before everything gets worse. Surrounding yourself with a number of inked parchments that are filled with hundreds of thousands of words, none of which your brain registers. Despite your earnest desire to find solace with work, it was all futile as they were only mere words on paper that held no significance in comparison to what was brewing in your mind.
Instead, an incessant question pesters you. Was it really something to be so excited over? Lost in a silent deep rumination, accompanied only by the rhythmic flutter of an owl's wings as they flew past your open window and the rustling trees to occupy the silence. 
Tick, tock, tick, tock. 
The clock is still there to remind me of the hours that have passed— 3 and a quarter to be precise.
Perhaps you were being too over the top but you hadn’t meant to. The pure, unadulterated exhilaration overwhelmed you after Professor Binns called you aside after your last exam. It had become an accepted knowledge to you that History of Magic wasn’t necessarily your strongest suit. Enough so that it would’ve been perfectly fine for you to receive a less-than-average result.
To hear how exceptional you had done this time, possibly even greater than many of your classmates, your mind instinctively went to share your achievement with Theo. After all, he was the one who patiently dedicated hours guiding you in your review and it took precedence over his own. Assurances, that came off as more of arrogance, of how he would do just fine and that he could ace it even if he wore a blindfold.
Maybe that’s where it all went wrong. Could it have been the lack of sleep before? He does get a bit irritable with a lack of rest. You’ve seen it personally in the weeks that lead up to Quidditch games. The fatigue, in addition to the stress of the final exams before the holidays, must’ve steered him into that state. 
Despite feeling upset and somewhat finding fault within yourself, you couldn’t muster up the will to apologise first. While his behaviour tonight could have been explainable, for goodness’ sake, the way that he has gone about it was unwarranted— shouting and hurling the harshest words that he is capable of, at you. The person that rejected every offer, made by him, because you were scared to impose on his studying hours. Now he cannot even be happy at what you had worked so dedicatedly on with him?
After spending hours in the cold and dark room, doing nothing but ruminating on the argument, you realise that you refuse to allow his words to dampen your joy and excitement any more than they have already. Sitting up straight, you stretch your arms wide. Swiftly tidying the scattered papers and dried pens into an acceptable arrangement in your trunk before you settle down beneath your duvet cover. Giving up on the idea of getting any work done when your mind was elsewhere.
The both of you made plans to have a sleepover in your dorm room after your roommates announced that they would be spending the night elsewhere. However, it will be safe to say that the idea had crumbled into non-existence after the heated exchange of words between the two of you. 
As you lay there on your side, facing the stone wall with your back to the door, you couldn’t help but reflect on your argument. A hailing storm brewed in the furrows of your mind, unable to piece together what exactly you should do. The only thing you wanted was to hear his beating heart beneath you as you lay on his chest. But you knew that it wouldn’t be right for yourself to concede.
Of all the ways that you’ve imagined for him to react, what had truly occurred did not even appear in your mind. It left you tossing and turning in frustration and confusion, unable to fall asleep in peace. Only the warmth and lasting scent of his cologne on your duvet keep you calm— the realisation that you couldn’t even properly be mad at him makes you huff.
In the silent war within you, you were deaf to the aged door groaning in protest as its rusty hinges emitted a creaking sound that left the person behind it wincing. Nor did you hear the unusually gentle footsteps that followed.
So much so that even the shadows that lurked within the walls would have thought that the footsteps were a figment of their imagination. In the way that the presence hesitated outside of your room as if they were heavily contemplating.
It was only at the weighted dip of the bed behind you and the hesitant arm that crept around your waist that were you pulled from your trance. Yet, you bore no intent of recognition for him even as he had fully suited himself behind you with his chin tucked in the crook of your neck.
As his presence enveloped you, he began with a slight tremor in his voice. “Y/N…I-“
“I could write and speak a thousand sorry’s and reasons for why the words had so easily slipped from my lips, but they will never unspeak them from existence. I promised your mama that I will never let a speck of hurt flash across those eyes, and I will forever apologise to her for breaking that promise.” A shaky exhale lines the last few syllables. “I was so unnecessarily horrible and mean to you without meaning to. So consumed by this- this emotion that flooded me, something that I had lost control over.”
Every syllable was accompanied by a hesitant tone that left the words sounding shaky; nervous. Coupled with the drop of tears that lined your neck right where his head sat.
You listened, listening to his apology, but the wounds were still fresh. The echo of his sharp words runs deep beneath your skin, embedded into your bones, prickling with every second you are reminded of them. The sincerity in his voice clashed with the pain he had caused with his words, leaving you torn between the desire to understand and the reluctance to let go of the hurt.
“You really hurt my feelings, Theo.” If he wasn’t already drowning in misery, hearing his name fall from your lips after he worked many weeks to be called something else had him gasping for breath. “I genuinely want to forgive you, but at this moment, I can’t quite find it in me to do so. You blew up on me for absolutely no reason. I need you to help me understand, to give me a reason behind your outburst, not mere words of guilt. Because even if you say sorry a thousand times, I would never be able to forgive you for clearly attacking me where I would greatly feel it.
His voice, meek in the tense air between the two of you, unfolded with a raw honesty that lays bare his desperation for this to be over.
“The exhaustion from lack of sleep and finding that I barely got a passing grade…It was a bit too much for me. I have no idea why it even bothered me when, for so long, I could hardly give a damn about these stupid exams," he shared, sighing with exasperation.
A pang of guilt and shame flared within your chest at the knowledge. The initial shadow of hesitation and guilt that crept on you the days before came rushing back in. You should’ve known better than to allow him to persuade you. Turning around on the bed to face him. But before you could wallow yourself in these emotions, Theo quickly puts your mind to rest.
“Don’t blame yourself, darling.” He tenderly pushes a thumb against the forming frown on your forehead. “I should have told you that I needed to study also instead of leaving it to luck. I guess I was being a bit of a confident prick that got used to not reviewing for an exam that I fully forgot I missed a few lectures a few weeks ago. I truthfully never had and never will blame you, not when I had been the one, adamant enough, to help you out despite your protests.”
His admission carried a mix of self-awareness and remorse. The vulnerability that was clear in his words began to bridge the hesitance inside of you to relax, the layers of miscommunication slowly peeling away. 
You could sense the weight he carried. Despite his casual indifference to his studies, you knew that it was something that he silently prided himself in. To have that be ruined in addition to the cumulative stress that built up over time with his hectic schedule. Being reminded that even if he may seem so perfect on the surface, beneath that, he was still human; flawed, vulnerable, and young. Although the hurt had begun to shift, not fully dissipating yet, it had turned into a sense of empathy that allowed you a clarity of thinking.
A small, understanding hum escaped you. The strain in your voice is gone now, ”We need to work on our communication, then. No longer hiding things from each other for any reason, even if we think it does not matter. Part of our relationship is to work our problems side by side, even if it doesn’t concern the other. We shouldn’t have things fester until it explodes on us.” 
He nods, burying his head back into the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you.” You gently pull his head back and look at him fondly. “And we need to also address the way you spoke to me earlier. Just because we were in the heat of the moment and lost in our emotions does not mean you have the right to do that, not when my mom raised me without raising her voice.”
“I’m really sorry. Merlin…I can still see the look on your face and I don’t think I would ever forget and forgive myself for being the reason behind it”. “I won’t say I forgive you just yet, that’s a boundary crossed for me. We should’ve had this talk in the beginning but better now than never. Let’s take a pause for now, and resume this conversation with a clear head.” He met your gaze with a blend of appreciation and a sense of resolve. 
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masterlist
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garoujo · 10 months
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NOW PLAYING: ✩ ˛˚ . 𝓓𝓐𝓓𝓓𝓨’𝓢 𝓖𝓘𝓡𝓛 feat. GOJO SATORU!
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ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ wc: 4.8k! your step dad knows that at the end of the day you’ll always be a daddy’s girl.. you just don’t realise it yourself!
warnings! f!reader, stepcest, noncon!somno (kissing & touching) -> eventual consent (it happens more than once, you wake up during one of them & it escalates to more), stepdad!gojo, age gap, you refer to him as ‘daddy’, this is my submission for @killsaki’s family ties collab, fank u so much starry for letting me join & write this! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! it’s been a while since i’ve written step daddy!gojo but pls head the warnings! ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა
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it’s late, you think aimlessly as you find yourself blinking drowsily at the crappy slasher you’ve wound up watching on the couch in the living room. you’re tired, but you can’t sleep and the more you think about it the more restless you feel as you try to burrow yourself deeper into the plush blanket that’s wrapped around you, comfortable but you still feel cold as you wait—beg for sleep to take you.
another drowned out screen rattles you as it pours into the room and you find yourself pouting before deciding to flick through your phone instead. it’s like you’re caught in a haze as you swipe through your feed, offering the tv a quick glance every so often but you’re not paying enough attention to your surroundings to hear the careful steps behind you.
there’s another scream followed by another sigh from you before you jolt when long arms fall across your shoulders, followed by a smooth voice that steals your entire attention with how much it seems to soothe you.
“oh? you’re up late.” your stepdad gojo drawls as his looming figure drapes over the back of the couch behind you, his chin resting on the top of your head as his crystalline gaze squints at the tv screen before you nudge him off with a huff.
“what the hell, satoru!” you grumble as you turn around to shoot him a frown from over your shoulder, but that only seems to make him meet you with a smirk before he’s rounding the couch to see you clearer. “but yeah, i just cant sleep.”
“you scared?” he’s teasing you, you can tell by the way gojo’s smile twitches wider, sending you a narrowed sort of look beneath the snowy peaks of his hair as he tilts his head at you. but you hate how good he was at it, making you cross your arms as you try to focus back on the movie you were now suddenly so interested in again.
“you’re so annoying.” it’s a half-hearted rebuke, you’re far too tired to think up something witty and you know even if you did, he’d say something even more infuriating.
gojo was always like that with you, he seems to take pleasure in getting to you, prodding you for a reaction and it’s annoying how good he is at doing it. maybe that’s just how he was, the role of father to someone else’s child seemed to come a lot easier to him than it might to others, but you always put that down to the megumi he always spoke about, so that was never an issue. although you’ve never been able to shake the feeling that your stepdad likes teasing you a little more than he does everyone else.
“hm, you need protectin’? ‘ts my job remember.” his honeyed tone brings your tired gaze from your thoughts and back to him before he knocks his hand against your thigh, ushering you along the couch before his lanky body is falling into the spot right next to you.
“i can take care of myself.” you huff as you look away from him again and you hear gojo hum like he’s thinking it over before he breathes out a laugh, letting his palm push under the blankets to smooth across your thigh like some sort of faux attempt to soothe you. the touch lingers longer than you’d like but you swallow it down, he’s always been a little touchy.
“oh? but a sweet thing like you is always first to go.” you hate the way the compliment mixed with the back and forth motion of his hand on your skin feels like it burns you. it’s like something ignites in your skin despite how cold you felt a moment ago and it’s sinful the way your instincts seem to push you closer to him as you seek out more.
your stepdad gojo always ran warm so you’ll blame it on that rather than the heat that’s buzzing along your shoulders and thighs with every swipe of his hand, his fingers squeezing comfortingly at the skin as you make yourself comfortable in his side. despite the teasing, you were always close so the proximity isn’t something that was completely new, although this feeling is.
“nah, it’s always the annoying, handsome ones.” you’re blissfully unaware of your adorable little reply until you hear the snowy haired man next to you chuckle before he’s pulling your legs over his, sending you a look that makes you cast him a sidewards glance before you’re avoiding it all together.
“is that right?” gojo goads, deliberately as he pinches at your thigh a little too hard but just enough to have you kicking your legs before he’s wrapping one of his long arms around your shoulder again, this time to curl you closer into him as his lips rest against your temple. he can feel you grumbling, probably a little embarrassed you just called your stepdad handsome but he’s sure the things going on in his mind right now are a whole lot worse.
“shutup, you’re missing the movie.” but you’re just too adorable for him to ignore.
but your stepdad thinks you’re so pretty when an hour or two later you’re finally asleep — your cheek pressed against his shoulder when his ministrations on your skin mixed with his comforting body heat has finally lulled you.
gojo finds himself wanting to rest there a little longer as he stretches out his neck meanwhile probably the fourth sequel to that shitty movie plays. but he lets his muscles pop before he’s pulling you closer and sighing when he finds his eyes dropping to the press of your chest against his own, broader one. it’s sinful, he knows he shouldn’t deliberately put himself this close to you, not when he’s well aware of your little crush on him — one that he welcomes, maybe due to his own growing affection that stemmed way past that of a father figure at this point.
although despite his own selfish desires to keep you pressed against him all night, he knows you’ll complain tomorrow about the uncomfortable sleeping position and as much as he’d like to use the opportunity to insist that he’s the comfiest, he knows he should let you sleep.
“gotta get you to bed, angel. yeah?” so gojo tries to push himself up from the couch as he whispers to you, carefully as to not rouse you from your sleep but it proves unsuccessful when your brows fall into a frown. your arm round his waist to squeeze yourself closer as your pretty, sleepy feathers tilt perfectly up at him and it’s almost like you’re teasing him as he falls back against the cushions behind him, your lips parted and pouty — like you’re begging for him.
your mom did always complain about how much he spoils you.
he shouldn’t, but it wasn’t uncommon for dads to kiss their daughters goodnight and who is he to skip out on the necessities of his role. so gojo let’s his gaze drop to your lips before his fingers are tracing along the shape of your jawline, holding you there before he’s leaning into kiss you once on the lips as a goodnight and then again because he wants to, because he can.
the kiss is short and sweet but you whimper as he pulls away, pushing yourself closer like you’re asking for more and it’s like his self control seems to snap, string by string at the sight of you so pliant against him. suddenly the man who was considered to be the strongest is nothing but weak at the sight of his own step daughter.
“gotta stop teasing me like this, sweet girl. g’nna make me do something you’ll hate me for.” but gojo leans in again anyway, deliberately this time as his lips end up back on yours for a kiss that’s just as warm although it seems harder. you’re pulled in close and despite the way something in his chest tells him to stop, he won’t—he can’t. he lets his mouth press you open, moving you so easily but still gentle enough not to wake you as he parts your lips, grunting when his tongue finally pushes up against yours and his hands fall to your body once more.
he lets his tongue graze along your own, tasting you deeply until there’s a twitch in his hips and a throb in his cock when his palm falls to your chest, taking a slow handful of your tits before he’s swiping his thumb across the shape of your nipple and growing hungrier when it pulls a whimper from you.
gojo knows he’s too far gone now, but you’re still asleep — his own little step daughter putting all of your trust in your step dad like he isn’t kissing your pliant body right now, squeezing and palming at your breasts in his palms before he’s throwing caution to the wind and trailing under the hem of your shirt instead. your skin feels like silk beneath his hands and the first, real press of your chest is heavenly as he licks into your mouth, wishing he could feel you kissing him back as he pinches and rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.
he gives himself a few moments before he pulls away, before he gets carried away and lets his hand fall back to your hips. but it’s like instinct the way it explores the topography of your body — finding the heat of your intimate skin almost too quickly as his lips trail hungrily down your neck. 
gojo can feel the sweet press of your pussy through the little shorts you’d opted to wear, he can imagine how it would feel when his tongue would graze through your slick folds but he knows he’d still rather have the real thing, instead he’s left with an infinite void that only seems to make his cravings worse. he rolls your sensitive skin between his teeth before he rubs at your clothed clit with two fingers and the sound it pulls from you is oh so fucking sweet.
“oh, daddy knows what y’need.” you’re so fucking sensitive, he wants nothing more than to hear you cry for your daddy — breathing out sweet little uh-huhs and pleas as he pushes into you but he won’t wake you, not yet. so he’ll keep his movements gentle, light despite the way he can feel you growing warmer, stickier under the press of his thumb when his voice is pressed to your skin and your thighs twitch with every intoxicating flick of his wrist.
you’re close and he’s warm, breathing deep as gojo pushes himself deeper into you — igniting the spit soaked nerves along your skin as he suckles another mark into your neck but just as he goes to toy with the waistband of your shorts, he stops. he swallows deep, harshly as he catches his breath — like he’s just snapped out of a daze before he’s giving you another sweet kiss on the cheek and a look that lasts a little too long before he speaks.
“time for bed, sweet thing.”
but you’ll wake up alone, warm and sticky like you just woke up from a lewd dream with the pulse of a hickey on your throat — tucked up in your bedroom like you didn’t fall asleep on the couch as you mutter out a “daddy?” and you’ll stay unknowing. for now. until he says so.
you’ll have that pretty little dazed, confused look on your face when your soft footsteps make their way to the kitchen and gojo, your stepdad, will be there to meet you like he always is when your mom is on another business trip as he leans over the counter — his head propped up against his fist as he sends you a teasing expression.
“why’re you looking at me like that?”
“hey now, no good morning? you break my heart.” you smile a bit at his words, blame it on your body still waking up but he seems to like that as he pushes himself up from the counter, giving you a little relief from him bothering you as your stepdad opts to putting a cup for you right next to his own on the counter.
“mom will kill you for using so much sugar in your coffee, didn’t she tell you to stop that.”
your words make gojo’s usual smirk stretch along his features as he takes a few languid steps towards you, sending you a half-lidded look over the frames of his glasses before he’s chuckling. “come on now, don’t be like that. i think we’re allowed our own little secrets.” he quips back quickly, letting his palm pat along your shoulders and you think it’s strange the way your skin seems to twitch and tingle at the swift, seemingly innocent touch despite the way you feel it turn your stomach.
but despite the uneasy feeling that you’re not sure you like at all, aswell as the increasing damp spot in your panties most mornings and the uncomfortable heat that only seems to grow and burst in your stomach every time you see him. you still seek him out when you’re tired and he welcomes you with open arms as you curl into him on the couch, it’s only natural to take more when he’s so eager to give, right?
this was torture for your stepdad too after all, gojo wants nothing more than for you to blink up at him as he breaks you open — he wants to feel the stretch of your walls and taste of your slick pussy on his tongue but he’s held himself back. you should be grateful that he’s only settled for playing with you through your clothes when you sleep on his chest, quenching his thirst for you with a few messy, sloppy goodnight kisses.
but you’re feeling particularly restless tonight despite the way you normally slept so well against your stepdads chest — finding your sleep anything but deep as you slip in and out of consciousness uncharacteristically. it always seems to find you again quickly, normally due to the soothing graze of your snowy-haired pillows fingers along the length of your spine or the smooth hum of his voice.
though when you wake next, the last thing you want to do is sleep when you realise your thighs are spread and your step dads lips are on your neck, his hand pushed down the front of your shorts to rub sticky circles into your clit through your panties.
“daddy?” your voice is weak, wound up tight with the way gojo’s pressing the pads of his fingers into you and keeping you in place, but he freezes when he realises you’re awake — readying himself to pull away despite the way your body is begging him to stay. he grunts and his hand works to leave you but you reach for him and pull him back before you tangle your other hand in his hair. “daddy~”
your back feels sticky where it presses against his chest and despite how disgusting it should feel, you’ve never felt warmer as you spread your thighs wider and you lose every sense of right and wrong with his touch. you hook them over his own as his hips press tight against yours from behind, the angle letting you feel the heavy press of his cock against your lower back as he chuckles breathlessly into the crook of your neck.
“oh? well good mornin’ sweet thing. didn’t know you were so greedy f’ me.” gojo’s lips curl when you shudder into him and he takes your new found consciousness as an invitation for him to push through the final layer of your soaked panties, finally allowing himself to pet through your folds as he eases past the thin fabric.
“what—ah! what’re you doing?” it’s filthy, the break in your voice when he groans at the slick he collects under his touch — trailing it up the press of your pussy to circle your clit as you murmur out another sweet cry for your daddy. so sweet, that only makes him press down on the sensitive bud harder, keeping you tight against him as he rubs at you with two fingers and smears a gentle kiss behind your ear.
“don’t try and pretend you weren’t teasing me, ‘ts mean to lie to your daddy.” your body does little to defend you when every swipe of gojo’s fingers has your hips twisting under his touch. “hm, think i’m spoilin’ you too much, ‘s that it?” his movements slow with his words and he thinks it’s adorable the way you hiccup and beg for him to keep going, grinding into the press of his palm as you babble about how you like when he spoils you.
that’s what everyone says, your mom would always tell him to stop babying you but fuck if only she could see you now.
but he hums, with that same teasing demeanour he always has before his movements come to a halt and the look you send him over your shoulder makes his cock twitch as pretty tears gather at your lashes. gojo sucks his lower lip between his teeth, then he leans into give you another affectionate, soothing kiss on the cheek before his fingers are sinking into your pussy.
“mmm, do i treat you well, sweet thing? you’re such a daddy’s girl, ain’t ya?” you feel him smirk against your cheek as he curls his long fingers inside the squeeze of your walls, letting his palm rub against your slick pussy everytime he sinks them deeper into you until you’re shaking filthily in his lap. he quickly finds a pace that makes your toes curl from where they’re hanging over his thighs, your body rocking in time with him as you ride his fingers and you know he fucking loves that when he rewards you with another hickey suckled into your throat.
“yes, yes, y-yes! ‘m daddy’s girl— satoru, please,” you can barely think never mind speak with how perfectly gojo’s pressing into the sweet spots inside of you, your words coming out a jumble of moans and whines. it’s like he’s mapped out your nerves before hand despite the way this has been the first real feel of you. but his fingers are so long that it’s almost too much with how well he seems to pet at your walls, so good that you could spend forever right here.
“oh, then i’m all you need, yeah? your one ‘nd only?” gojo’s words are possessive when they’re buried into the next hickey he sucks into your skin, his tongue hot as it lavs over the raised mark but it only seems to ignite the flames that lick at your spine as your legs shake. your thighs close around his wrist but he only fights to pry you back open so he can watch the way you cream around your stepdads fingers, laughing so fucking infuriatingly when he keeps going until you’re twitching and making his smug smirk stretch even wider.
“so good fo’ me, wish you could see how pretty y’ look like this, princess.” you’re breathing in short, quick pants as the buzz from your orgasm makes you dizzy. but despite that, you still seem to move so easily when you feel your daddy pat at your trembling thighs, urging you to push yourself off his lap and onto the cushion at his side before he’s turning to look at you once more.
“gonna look even better on daddy’s cock though, yeah?” gojo lets his large hands smooth their way up your thighs before he pushes himself up to his knees — easing down the waistband of his sweats to take out his heavy cock as you nod shyly, still reeling from your orgasm as your eyelashes flutter prettily.
you should feel gross with the way you almost drool at the sight of your stepdads cock, someone who’s meant to parent you not fuck you, but you think that shameful part of you already died when you creamed around his fingers. now, you’re only left with the longing to have him sink up into you, warm and long. so he leans down to kiss you greedily, pressing you into the cushions beneath you as your thighs spread for the push of his hips and wrap around him.
“hmmm, so greedy. my pretty baby.” gojo mumbles as he yanks your shirt up to pool around your breasts and the sight makes his cock twitch as he pulls back to give you a pretty look, brushing his hand through the snowy peaks of his hair so you can take in his hypnotising gaze that make you shudder underneath it like you would on a white winter. he presses the blunt tip against the entrance to your pussy and he gives you another teasing grin when he pauses for a few moments, waiting until your lips part to whine at him before they curl around a moan when he sinks into you instead.
but he knows he’s really fucked with the first saccharine squeeze of your walls around him as he breaks you open, watching the way your puffy folds spread for him because he knows he’ll never be able to stop. now he’s had a taste of the pretty little pussy that’s always parading around his home, he wants to keep you all to himself — ruining you for anyone who isn’t your daddy. you won’t need anyone else when he’s here.
“daddy! ‘s too much..” you gasp and it draws gojo in so he can kiss you again, rocking gently into the hug of your pussy until he finally bottoms out with a drawn out, long groan as his hips press flush and tight against your own. but because your step dad has always been careful, caring he gives you time to adjust to the stretch as his mouth twists softly into yours — bathing you in sweet kisses that make you relax before your hands are in his hair and you’re smearing your slick along his pelvis as you whimper for more, please! ‘ts s-so big..
“oh, but y’re so hungry for me.” his words are emphasised by the slow sway of his hips, pressing the length of him along the sweet spots inside of you that he reaches so easily as he pulls away to suck on his lower lip. “see?” he grits again as he presses down onto your stomach and it’s insane the way he suddenly feels deeper — the sharp cut of his stare so intense on the way you take him that you wouldn’t be surprised if he could see through you.
“look at me, angel,” gojo’s lips part ever so softly as his eyes search for yours again “wanna see you when y’re on the end of daddy’s cock,” and he wants to pinch your cheeks when you give him a starry-eyed look.
“wanted this pussy for so long, knew it was fuckin’ made just for me.” his words are hissed from between his teeth as he starts a pace that’s not particularly fast, but it’s heavy enough to have you jolting beneath him as his hands grab at your hips to keep you in place. his words are true after all, he can’t even count the amount of times his sweet little step daughter had him hard — too warm under his clothes despite the way he always seemed to look away before you caught him.
maybe if he’d met your gaze, coaxed you into him and let you catch the way he’d drink you up he’d have had you like this sooner. but gojo thought you to be so untouchable, but now your pussy is squeezing tight around his cock and he’s mouthing at your throat like he’s dreamed and that thought seems to fade away.
but your mind is a mess with how well he’s fucking you — losing yourself in the feeling of your daddy, in the feeling of finally having him close to you as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to meet every wet connection of his hips with needy little grinds of your own. the blunt head of his cock feels like it slides along all of your sweet spots perfectly and you’re not sure if it’s still the lingering aftermath of your orgasm that has you so close already, or the realisation that the man over you is someone who should be anything but.
the reality is gojo’s deliberately dragging the pleasure out of you, rocking his body seamlessly with your own because he’s determined to have you craving him like he will you. he’s grinding his pelvis along your putty clit with every thrust and he doesn’t think he’s ever tasted anything sweeter than the sound of his name on your lips when he’s kissing you once more.
“daddy~ ‘m so close!” you gasp dreamily and your pussy squelches as warmth bursts and tingles across your thighs — the sweet lull your voice seems to have taken making the man over you’s pace stutter as he forces more of his cock into your slick walls.
“oh yeah? can tell, squeezin’ real tight already.” gojo grunts as he pushes his body closer to your own, rutting you into the cushions below you like a wild fucking animal despite the way he feels completely at your mercy. he’s past caring, past holding back when the heavens and the earth have dropped a perfect little thing like you right in his lap like he’s the honoured one.
“you want daddy’s cum, sweet thing?” his hands almost curl into your hips and he swear his lungs quake on his next thrust as the needy coax of your walls tremble around him. he needs you to want him, to beg for him before he crumbles under the weight of his own desire. you offer him another moan, followed by a mantra of sweet little yes daddy’s and uh huhs that only make him greedier, but it’s not enough.
“hm? can’t hear you, gotta be nice ‘nd loud f’ me.”
but despite the way you know your mind should be signalling, ringing for you to stop. you can’t, your lips part and you feel like your body is going to crumble with every one of gojo’s crushing thrusts. “yes, yes! p-please, want your cum, daddy!” you gasp despite the way you shouldn’t but you feel him pet at your cheek so softly that you can’t help the way your body betrays you.
“then don’t hold back on me,” your step dad grunts and you don’t, your pussy throbs around him and he grits his teeth as your cream around his cock. his hips press into yours, snug and tight with the first milking compression that has his huge stature curling over you as he sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck. but he doesn’t stop, he coaxes and fucks you through your orgasm until you’re like putty beneath him, thighs trembling to pull him closer and he hopes the fucking walls remember how pretty you sound when you cry his name.
“only f’ me, sweet girl. yeah?” he asks again and you struggle to stutter out anything coherent with how good you feel, the slight sting of overstimulation making you feel warm as gojo’s breathing becomes laboured and he finally spills hot and thick inside of you. but it’s filthy, when the back and forth stutter of his hips only seeks to push it deeper inside of you, a gooey ring of liquid forming around the base of his cock everytime he draws his hips back before they sink into you with another louder squelch.
he finally stills a few moments later as you whimper at the slight throb between your thighs, pushing gently at his chest to ease him off of you as he gives you a handsome, pink cheeked sort of smirk that you can’t deny makes you feel warm, loved.
“you could’ve atleast woken me up!” you hiss, playfully as you swat at your stepdads chest but he’s quick to take your hand in his before he’s intertwining them, leaning in to press a few kisses along your cheeks until you’re giggling and the infuriating smirk seems to return to his features far too quickly despite the way his softening cock still rests inside of you.
“oh yeah? but you were already so wet you must’ve been dreamin’ of me, sweet girl.”
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© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
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wheatnoodle · 1 year
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robin is using everything in her power to find steve a boyfriend. now that she had finally gotten her head out of her ass to see that nancy didn’t find her rambling annoying, but charming and that got comfy in their new relationship, she wanted nothing more than the same for her best friend.
for too long, robin has stood back and watched as steve got used and played again and again. too many men and women coming around and flashing him pretty smiles and saying all the right things just to take him on a date, get him to drop his pants, and then he’d never hear from them again. she sees the way it effects him, the way he seems to be deteriorating right before her eyes.
he’s given up flirting with the babes that walk in the front door of their job, choosing to stay behind the counter. he leans on his fist, flips through a magazine and only glances up to say hello.
unless, of course, that customer is eddie munson. eddie, who will come in so quiet and lean down in steve’s space to break him from his trance. and steve will smile. and he’ll blush. and he’ll giggle and look away so eddie can’t see how flustered he is. and he waves the late fees every time. and she continues to watch.
robin is using everything in her power to get steve eddie as a boyfriend. sweet eddie who holds the door for steve and makes him smile brighter than robin has ever seen.
and it’s this reason that she was able to convince steve to join her and nancy at a bar in indy and invite eddie along so he “doesn’t third wheel”. meaning it’s also this reason she’s currently tearing apart steve’s closet for the perfect “date me!” outfit. because if he pulls up to this place in a polo and robin’s the one who brought him? she could never go back.
“robs, i can’t wear these.” steve is bright red in the face as he looks over his shoulder in the mirror. she got him in the tightest jeans he owns, the denim light and hugging every single curve from the waist down. he’s lucky he can even breathe in them. he hates how his butt is on display and there’s no room in his crotch to move comfortably and what if his knees get cold where they’re exposed to the outside elements?
“you absolutely can and you absolutely will. turn around and let me pretend you’re a girl so i can drool over your ass,” robin whistles from her place on his bed. she’s surrounded by piles of clothes, a multicolored avalanche of preppy and she just might go insane. “now you need a shirt.”
“i don’t get why you’re putting in all this effort. i’m just gonna embarrass myself in front of him. especially if i try to make a move,” steve grumbles and tugs his current sweatshirt over his head. robin’s got a pair of scissors from his bedside drawer and a clearly well-loved pink floyd t-shirt in hand. “what are you doing?”
“how much do you love this shirt?”
“robin don’t you-“
“how much, steven.” her gaze is firm and he knows it best to just give in. he rolls his eyes and shakes his head with a huff and robin smiles back at him in victory. he’s turned back to the mirror, listening to the sound of slicing fabric behind him.
she tosses it to him once she’s done and he pulls it over his head. dear god his waist is on display. and the trail of hair down to- oh this is humiliating. “robin.”
“steve!” she squeals, clapping her hands together.
“robin,” he whines, throwing his head back and tugging at the jagged edge of the shirt.
“steve!” she answers in the same tone with a bright smile. “you’re so hot! eddie is going to eat you up and if he doesn’t, then somebody else absolutely will.”
“you think so?” steve looks at her through the mirror. a soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips and she can’t help but smile back, full of love and warmth.
“i know so.”
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lackadaisycats · 26 days
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Why does Fablepaint draw such mean spirited art of Rocky. Is it a personal sense of humor kind of thing? Or does disturbingly mean spirited art the only way for FablePaint to draw this character. Is it possible for some more lighthearted and optimistic stories regarding Rocky to show up anytime soon? I’m not saying this to try to be offensive or aggressive, I just think the world’s depressing enough, why make the fictional world sad as well. I do love the comic, I just wish it was happier.
I don't think Fable's art of Rocky is especially mean-spirited. At least no more so than mine has been. Rocky has always been a character with a knack for getting himself into trouble. I do know that Fable likes Rocky and finds various aspects of Rocky's personality and circumstances pretty relatable. I think a lot of what you're seeing actually comes from a place of affection, and maybe even a little bit of vicarious self-deprecation. I will tell you from my own experiences, this is very common among creators (myself included). A character may not be an intended self-insert of any sort, but you inevitably still end up with bits and pieces of yourself reflected therein. And in many ways, you're also inevitably sorting out some turmoil close to your own heart through the character and the story they inhabit.
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About the broader topic of sad things in fiction... Yeah, the world is harsh, cruel, and unfair even at the best of times, but I don't think art that fully disregards this does much service to anyone. The most fluffy, pastel-colored, marshmallow-mild media will still tend to present us with some conflict, because that's how a story manages to resonate. It's hard to convey something meaningful about human resilience, or abiding love, enduring friendship, confronting inner demons, triumph over injustice, or about the absurdity of living without acknowledging the darkness. Even if you're just writing something to make light of the implacable dark, it must be there for you to laugh at.
I think it's fine to use fiction as a temporary retreat from your own real life concerns. And I think it's fine to have comfort characters who you turn to when you need some uplifting. There are a lot of really sweet and lovely fan-works featuring Rocky out there that are much gentler with him than Fable or I will be. You can stick with those! That's okay! But canonically, he's part of a story about a tumultuous time in history, and a tumultuous time in his own troubled life. He's a flawed character surrounded by other flawed characters. He's willfully taken on the role of a violent criminal, in fact. And though I don't think the story of Lackadaisy is without happy, silly, lighthearted aspects, it's not only that. I can't change that without undoing everything I've been working toward. I hope that's understandable.
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swiftispunk · 11 months
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Hiiii I just had this idea I know I submit requests all the time but…ok.
I just love that Joel is a natural protector. He wants to keep the people closest to him safe. However, reader is kind of proud and horrible at accepting help and favors from him. One day she’s cooking and accidentally slices herself with a knife and Joel’s trying to help her and she’s just not letting it happen. She’s trying to tend to her injury herself but she’s getting dizzy and failing miserably and Joel is like “Jesus Christ. Sit down, shut up, and let me fix you for fuck’s sake. If you don’t swallow your pride I’m gonna make you swallow it myself”
And like. Wow. Watching Joel be so skilled at wrapping her injury and be so commanding is kind of a turn on! So she still keeps up her proud attitude until he’s fucking her lol
I can just picture Joel fucking her while saying “you’re gonna let me take care of you from now. Got it?”
i’m in a state | joel miller x f!reader
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an in my hometown story (prequel) | series playlist
pairing: pre-outbreak!dbf!neighbour!joel miller x afab!fem!actor(ish)!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 2.1k summary: the moment that sends you over the edge with your neighbour, joel. warnings etc: metaphorical smut, blood, hurt/comfort, stubborn!reader, sexual tension, fantasizing about joel miller’s hands, sex dreams (p in v sex + surprise sir kink WHAT), masturbation, pet names (sweetheart, darlin’), 10 year age gap (reader is 20 here, joel is 30), mentions of food. NO USE OF Y/N.
A/N: oh what’s this? yeah sooooo i couldn’t get it out of my head how much this was joel x superstar (aka in my hometown coded). so here’s a little prequel story for them, my two favourite babies. i missed being inside her head tbh. for those following the story, this takes place pre-part one (1997), and can be enjoyed as a stand-alone.
Summer. 1997.
You've known for a while that you're in love with Joel Miller. But that means something a little different when you're fifteen compared to when you're twenty.
When you were younger, it had meant carving his initials into your dresser, planning your imaginary wedding, reading catalogs and fantasizing over what dress you'd wear on your first date or what dining set you'd buy to furnish your shared home with his Big(?) Contractor's Salary.
Now, you're in college. Third year at the University of Texas at Austin. That Barbie-dream-life with Joel doesn't exist, and that's okay. Because now Joel's just...hot. Your hot thirty-year-old neighbour who's got the thickest arms you've ever seen, a patchy beard you'd love to sink your teeth into, chapped lips you've been thinking about kissing for years, big hands you want wrapped around your -
Okay, relax.
It's July Fourth weekend, and your dad's hosting his annual backyard barbeque party. He's loved throwing little get-togethers like this ever since your mom left, loves surrounding himself with friends and good times after being deprived of them for so long. You get it.
You're in the kitchen chopping celery for the potato salad when Joel finds you, ducking into the fridge for a beer.
"Hey, kid," he greets you in that familiar grumbly timbre of his. You look up from your work for one second to respond and -
Shit shit shit.
The knife slips, slicing a deep, clean line into the skin of your palm.
"Ouch - fuck," you mutter, immediately sticking your hand under the kitchen tap and hissing through your teeth when the water pressure hits the open wound.
"You okay?" Joel asks, having witnessed the entire incident happen, too fast for him to stop it. He leaves the beer in the fridge to come to your side, reaching his hands out helplessly to offer some assistance.
"I'm fine," you insist. "I got it."
You can't even look at him, it's fucking embarrassing, hurt and hapless in front of the smoldering hot Joel.
"You don't got it, you're bleedin' all over the fuckin' potatoes."
Oh, fuck.
You look down into the sink only to find you'd completely missed the fact that, yep, there had definitely been a colander full of Yukon Golds in there.
Well, so much for the potato salad.
"It's not even that bad," you snap, shutting the tap off and grabbing the nearest rag off the counter to wrap it around your hand.
"Would ya just let me see?" Joel presses, his fingers grazing your arms to try to hold you still while you turn away from him towards the pantry.
"No - it's - it's - fuck! "
You bump your injured hand into the kitchen island on your way to the pantry, kind of putting a damper on your attempts to prove that you're not in any pain.
"Stop movin' - " Joel tries to follow you as you make it to the cupboard, reaching out in vain as you strain with one hand towards the top shelf, trying desperately to find what you're looking for, to demonstrate how much you don't need his help.
"There's a first aid kit right here..." you murmur to yourself.
"Hey, kid, stop, will ya?”
His voice is firm now, and so are his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him. You protectively clutch your cut hand to your chest, still wrapped tightly in the rag.
Joel holds you there, while you look back at him indignantly.
"Would y’just sit down and let me fix it?”
Your nostrils flare and you consider arguing it further, but the pain is really starting to settle in now and it’s feeling more and more futile to keep fighting with Joel, especially when he’s this close to you, gripping your arms with such…paternal authority.
"Fine,” you concede. “Okay."
Joel nods approvingly.
"Now where's the first aid kit?" he asks, eyebrows raised.
You cock your head towards the top shelf of the pantry, where you'd been fruitlessly rummaging just a moment ago. Joel's gaze follows your eye line and then he guides you down into one of the kitchen chairs, turning back to the pantry to fish out the white box tucked behind the sewing kit, a leftover from your mom.
"Right..." he hums to himself as he sets the plastic box with the big red "+" on the table and begins sifting through it. You watch as he digs around its contents, competently setting out some band-aids, a few cotton pads, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a tube of Neosporin and a roll of gauze. He’s clearly done this before.
“Let me see,” he says softly then, kneeling down to grip your arm in one of his big hands while your eyes widen at his touch. Joel carefully unfurls the rag, now soaked in your blood, to reveal the grisly cut beneath.
"Shit,” Joel curses quietly. “It’s still bleedin'..."
He rises with a low grunt, pushing off you with an absent hand on your thigh. Your skin sears where he touches. Back on his feet, Joel glances awkwardly around your dad’s little kitchen.
“Cloth? Clean cloth?” he clarifies.
"Under the sink," you inform him while bright red blood begins to pool in your palm again. You bite your lip to stop from crying because it really does fucking hurt and all that blood has got to be cause for concern. But crying's the last thing you need to be doing right now.
Joel finds what he’s looking for and returns to situate himself on his knees in front of you again. He wraps the fresh rag around your wound just as the blood’s about to drip down onto the linoleum. Joel encases your bleeding palm in his two big hands as he compresses the cloth into your skin.
"We'll just hold that there for a minute,” he mutters, fixing his eyes on yours as he squeezes your hand between his.
You work to control your breathing, but it’s not because of the cut, more the way his massive palms engulf your entire hand, sending your imagination running wild as you consider how big they’d look other places…over your ass, maybe…across your stomach…on your tits…
"Does it hurt?" Joel interrupts your fantasizing, and you shake your head slightly as you come back to reality.
"No," you lie.
He rolls his eyes.
"Just gonna check it again..."
You visibly wince when he unravels the cloth, grimacing as the fabric drags over your open wound.
"Might wanna work on your acting there, superstar,” Joel smirks.
“Ew, shut up, only Tommy calls me that,” you reply grumpily as Joel assesses your palm, turning your hand over in his to see the extent of the damage.
"It's pretty deep, kid. Stopped bleedin' at least."
"It's nothing."
Joel scoffs then, shaking his head in disbelief and you think he almost seems a little angry. Think it’s kind of a sexy look on him.
“Christ, you're proud, huh?” he gripes, letting your hand go. “You can just say it hurts, you know."
You sigh and finally let the truth slip, agony coating your voice as you give in.
“Fine, okay - fuck - it hurts.”
“Was’at so hard?” he smirks, eyebrows cocking. Asshole. Stupid, hot, perfect asshole.
You roll your eyes dramatically. How’s that’s for acting, Miller?
But Joel's not paying attention - now he gets to work. You watch as, with tender care, he clutches your wrist to hold your hand steady, starting first by cleaning the wound with a cotton pad he soaks in rubbing alcohol.
While he tends to your wound, your mind wanders, head fuzzy from blood loss and Joel’s meticulous touch. He’s so precise with it, his thick fingers managing the delicate task with ease. You wonder what else his fingers are precise with, your eyes glazing over as that thought invades your brain and -
Oh, god. Fuck. Fuck. You want him. You want him so much it’s making you squirm in your chair, Joel reminding you to, “Sit still” while he presses the gauze into your skin. But the pain mingled with that commanding edge in his voice only makes you want him more - and you didn’t even know that was a thing for you.
Joel seems blissfully unaware of your spiralling, cooing gentle, “Shhh, it’s okay”s at you when you flinch at the sting of the alcohol, a soft, sweet sound that only makes things worse, goosebumps rising on your skin as his quiet hum vibrates through you. Finally, he applies a thin layer of the Neosporin over the cut, dabbing it over your skin with his calloused fingers.
"So...theatre college. How’s it goin’?” he says as he applies a bandage over the wound.
“Um...yeah, you know, it’s going,” you reply, still feeling very much dazed and distant, Joel still very much on his knees in front of you in an extremely distracting way.
"Surprised you didn't just head straight out to California," he murmurs, wrapping more gauze over your bandaged palm for good measure.
It's an interesting idea, and one you'd considered. At the time, you'd still been dreaming of your Barbie-dream-life with Joel. Staying at home meant it might still happen. Now, of course, you can’t wait to get out.
"Well, UT has a great program," you shrug simply.
"Maybe one day, though, right?" Joel grins up at you and you smile back.
"Maybe," you nod.
"All done," he declares then.
You're not expecting it and you don't know why he does it (maybe some kind of fatherly instinct), but as Joel finishes wrapping the gauze around your hand, he tentatively leans in to plant a quick kiss to the bandage and shit, fuck.
Electricity flows from the place his lips touch and all of a sudden you think you see it in him too, that attraction, that want. His brown eyes peak up at you when his lips make contact with your covered skin and he must know what he's doing, there's no fucking way he would just do that if he wasn't trying to drive you crazy -
"What happened in here?"
Your dad, suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway, easily cutting through the tension as he walks in on your little moment. Your head snaps up to see him taking in the scene, bloody potatoes in the sink and the first aid kit torn open on the table. Joel gives you your hand back and stands hastily, taking several steps away from you as he does.
"Just had a little accident - uh, it's alright now," Joel grumbles, voice thick, and then he's ducking out of the room in a rush, beerless. You and your father stare at each other, both dumbfounded but...for different reasons.
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
"Christ, you're proud, huh?" Joel grunts as he presses you against the kitchen island, those big hands of his trailing up your sides and landing over your naked breasts. "F'you don't swallow that pride, darlin', I'm gonna make you swallow it."
He punctuates the tantalizing threat with a hard squeeze of your nipples, and you groan as his mouth collides with yours, tongue licking into your mouth feverishly as he grinds his hips into you.
"Make me, Joel," you beg, reaching between your bodies to stroke his cock, as you tear your mouth from his and nip at his strong jaw, eliciting a delicious groan from him that reverberates into the hollow of your neck.
Joel wastes no time, hoisting you up onto the island so your legs wrap around his waist, his cock sliding inside you with ease, as if you were made to take him. You cling to him with your hands behind his neck as he rocks his hips into you, making you whine and keen and moan with each thrust of his length into your wet heat.
"You're gonna let me take care of you from now on, you got that, sweetheart?" he whispers raggedly in your ear as he fucks you, his strong arms braced over your thighs and holding you steady as he pounds into you with all the force and intensity you'd always imagined he'd use.
"Yes, sir…” you promise him, and Joel growls at the word as it slips from your mouth, the memory of his voice from earlier seeping into your reverie -
Shhh, it's okay...Sit still...Stop movin'....
The echoes of his drawl begin to fade as the vision sinks to black and...shit. All too soon it hits you as you wake with a stir.
It's not real. Just a dream. The party ended hours ago. You’re alone in bed after dark.
Also…sir? What the fuck? Your subconscious clearly has some interesting ideas it wants to make known to you so that’s…cool. He just had to get all commanding and bossy earlier. Fucker.
Tragically, the wet spot in your sleep shorts definitely is real. You sigh, letting your measly fingers finish what your dream-Joel had started. You come quietly in the confines of your bedroom, the image of Joel on his knees in front of you the last thing you see before sleep takes you again.
Well - you're off the deep end now.
One way or another, you've got to get your hands on Joel fucking Miller.
I'm in a state, I'm in a state Nothing can touch us, my love I'm in a state, I'm in a state Nothing can touch us, my love
in my hometown taglist <3
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@tieronecrush @illgowithyoufren @shehads-world @atremises @gabywho @detectivedaughter @wroetospidey @baddiesforcorpse @grippingbeskar @halseyhoodjpg @soph55 @pedritosdarling @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedgito @evyiione @rogersbarnesxx @mo0nfleur @slut-4-multifandoms @stevie75 @b-y-3-n @joelscruff @sl-ut @tinygarbage @pedropascll @denialismysanctuary @nightdreamss @notpetewentz @bigboiseason123 @witheldclouds @xxmr-potato-headxx @harryhubba @cyberfa1ryar1 @pedrosballsack @thevelvetrevivall @somesaltycorner @marysheperdith @midnightswithdearkatytspb @kaeferandplaza @life-in-the-city @cowgirl---bebop @zhxw @averagedilfenjoyerr @pointlessandfutile @iso-la-ti-on
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soulofapatrick · 2 months
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In the Quiet Moments - Aaron Hotchner x female reader
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Summary: A case makes you admit your feelings to Hotch
Words: 1.8K
Warning: none, just fluffiness
Y/N's POV
The jet cabin is cloaked in a heavy silence, a stark contrast to the usual banter and camaraderie that fills the air after a case. Each member of the team occupies a space, physically present yet emotionally distant, lost in their own thoughts and the weight of the horrors we've witnessed. I hate this part of the cases, the cool down. The somber atmosphere that feels suffocating when things don’t go as well as they could have. The exhaustion on everyone’s faces. The guilt in their eyes. 
I’m stood by the coffee machine, nursing a hot cup to keep away the nightmares. Everyone’s doing what they can to distract themselves. Spencer’s taken the couch, his lanky frame stretched out across it and my coat as his pillow and soft snores emitting from him. In the nearest four seater to Spencer is sat Rossi, he’s playing a game of chess with Emily to distract themselves. Morgan’s sat in the two seater with his headphones on and JJ’s asleep opposite him, leaving Hotch sat on his own in the other four seater. 
The soft glow of the cabin lights casts a gentle halo around Hotch, illuminating the worn lines etched into his features. There's a subtle furrow in his brow, a testament to the weight of responsibility that rests upon his shoulders. His gaze, fixed with unwavering determination, traces the lines of the case files spread out before him, each page a glimpse into the horrors we've witnessed.
Despite the exhaustion that hangs heavy in the air, Hotch remains steadfast, his posture rigid with resolve. His jaw is set in a firm line, the faintest hint of weariness lurking beneath the surface. In the quiet solitude of the cabin, he seems both distant and yet achingly present, a pillar of strength amidst the chaos that surrounds us.
As I watch him from across the cabin, a surge of empathy washes over me, mingling with the exhaustion that gnaws at my bones. Hotch's unwavering composure belies the turmoil that rages within, a silent battle fought in the depths of his soul.
It what makes me decide who to sit with. I need to feel someone and that someone would usually be Spencer but he’s taken up too much of the couch for me to join his sleeping form so I head towards Hotch. 
My steps tentative as I don’t want to disturb the quiet peace, approaching Hotch as the soft hum of the jet engines create a soothing backdrop. Hotch looks up, his gaze meeting mine with a flicker of acknowledgment, a silent invitation lingering in the air between us. 
Hotch's gaze softens as I gently push his shoulder, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes at my playful pout. With a subtle nod, he shifts over to the window seat, making room for me to slide in beside him. The warmth of his presence envelops me like a comforting embrace as I settle into the space next to him, the gentle hum of the jet engines a soothing backdrop to the heavy silence that surrounds us.
"What are we looking at?" I inquire softly, my voice barely above a whisper as I pick up the nearest folder, my heart sinking at the gruesome images that greet me. Hotch takes the folder from my hands with a shake of his head, a silent gesture of protection against the horrors contained within despite me being a member of the BAU and seeing this stuff on a daily bases.
With practiced efficiency, he begins to stack the folders, creating a barrier between us and the darkness that threatens to consume our thoughts. I meet his gaze with a mixture of determination and vulnerability, my silent plea for solace echoing in the depths of his gaze.
"What do you need?" Hotch's voice is gentle, a beacon of calm amidst the chaos that swirls around us. But instead of answering, I find myself drawn to him, a primal instinct guiding my movements as I gently manoeuvre him into the corner of the seat, his warmth enveloping me like a protective shield.
I lay my head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing lullaby against the backdrop of our shared exhaustion. With a faint smile, I hand him a case file, the words barely a whisper against the material of his suit jacket.
"I sleep, you work," I murmur, the weight of our shared burdens momentarily forgotten in the quiet intimacy of the moment. And as the jet hurtles through the night sky, carrying us home to the familiar embrace of the unknown, I find solace in the unspoken bond that binds us together, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us all. 
His scent surrounds me, a mixture of leather and cologne, familiar and comforting in its simplicity. It’s a scent that speaks of strengths and resilience, of the countless battles fought and won in the name of justice. And as his hand finds its way to my hair, the gentle caress sending shivers down my spine, I can’t help but lean into his touch, my eyes fluttering shut as I bask in the warmth of his presence. 
In this fleeting moment, nestled against his chest, I feel safe, cocooned in the protective embrace of his arms. His heartbeat, steady and reassuring, lulls me into a state of peaceful oblivion until it suddenly picks up when I burrow a hand under his suit jacket and into the fabric of his button-up shirt. It brings back that yearning I’ve been trying to bury, a desire that simmers just beneath the surface, threatening to engulf us both in its fiery embrace. I long to lean up, to press my lips against his in a silent confession of the emotions that swirl beneath the surface. But he’s my boss, and I’m just his friend and college, bound by the unspoken rules that govern our professional relationship. 
As I nestle against Hotch's chest, a pang of longing courses through me, igniting a fire that threatens to consume us both. I find myself nuzzling at his shirt, the fabric warm against my nose and cheek, his solid and toned chest a testament to the strength that lies within. In the hushed stillness of the jet cabin, I hear Hotch’s breath hitch, a subtle indication that he, too, is affected by the tension that crackles between us. 
His voice, when he speaks, is quiet and measured, a soothing balm against the storm raging within, “What’s on your mind?” Hotch’s words are laced with an undercurrent of curiosity, a silent invitation to share the burden that weighs heavy upon my heart. And as his gaze meets mine, I see something flicker within the depths of his eyes, a vulnerability that mirrors my own. 
For a fleeting moment, his eyes dip down to my lips, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken desires that simmer just beneath the surface. And in that moment, I see the truth reflected in his gaze, a yearning that echoes my own. 
Summoning every ounce of courage I possess, I run my hand up from his chest to his cheek, the touch tentative yet filled with longing. His stubble grazes against my palm, tactile reminder of the intimacy that binds us together. And as my fingers slip into the soft tufts of his black hair, I see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, a question hanging in the air between us. 
I’m shifting my body slightly, bringing my lips tantalisingly close to his, I feel the tension crackling through his entire being as if he wants this but he wants to remain professional. Uncertainty hangs like a veil, casting a shadow over the moment, yet I can’t help but be drawn to the magnetic pull that binds us together. 
“Stop me if I’m reading this wrong.” I murmur, the words a soft whisper against the canvas of our shared intimacy. It’s a plea, a silent beg for him to guide me through this uncharted territory of our desires. 
And then, in a heartbeat, everything changes. Hotch surges forwards, his lips meeting mine in a breath stealing kiss that ignites a firestorm of emotions within me. It’s a symphony of passion and longing, a silent confession of the unspoken desires that have been lingering between us for far too long. 
His hands find their way to the small of my back, drawing me closer in a gesture of unspoken longing. His touch is both gentle and possessive, a silent promise of the depth of his desire. His lips, warm and velvety against mine, ignite a firestorm of sensation that courses through my veins like liquid flame. It’s a kiss that speaks volumes, a language of passion and longing that transcends the boundaries of words. 
In his embrace, I feel alive, every nerve ending ablaze with the intensity of our shared connection. It’s a if the world fades away, leaving only the two of us suspended in a timeless embrace, lost in the depths of shared desire. Hotch makes me feel cherished, desired, and understood in a way I’ve never experienced before. In his arms, I find solace, a sanctuary from the chaos that surrounds us, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that threatens to consume us. 
But, just as we lose ourselves in the depth of our shared desire, a sharp wolf whistle pierces the air, snapping us back to reality with a jolt. Morgan is standing before us, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he observes our flushes cheeks and disheveled appearances. 
With a nervous laugh, I jump apart from Hotch, the remnants of the coffee spilling across the table in a chaotic mess. My cheeks flame red with embarrassment as I fumble for words, the panic evident in my trembling hands.
Morgan’s laughter echoes through the cabin, a lighthearted reminder of the camaraderie that binds us together. With a playful wink, he saunters away, leaving Hotch and me to contend with the aftermath of our momentary lapse in composure as we hear Morgan telling the others what he just witnesses at the end of the cabin and hearing the gasps and giggles and laughter. 
I glance at Hotch who’s cheeks are as red as his tie, his expression a mixture of amusement and affection and I can’t help but smile despite the embarrassment that lingers in the air. 
“Get some sleep, we’re gonna need it.” He mutters, pulling me back into his arms so my head is on his chest again and this time I let his heartbeat begin to lull me into the sweet bliss of sleep as he pours over the now slightly coffee stained case files, not quite sure if this is all a dream or not. 
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Criminal Minds Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023
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hi lovely x could you write something about you being lando’s comfort person? like he just comes to you when he’s feeling off or something is wrong and you cuddle and talk and that makes him feel better? thank you if you do xx
Just You. Only You. - LN
Complicated friends to soulmates lovers trope coming in strong.
Also just for a bit of timeline context, this is after the Qatar race weekend.
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The whole race weekend felt deflating and exhausting.
When he arrives home in Monaco the apartment feels eerily empty and being there without someone there to come home to, honestly he feels hallow. He tries to ignore the attack of his own thoughts, but just having finished things in Qatar where he was incredibly hard on himself, the media and fans rip into him for simply being jealous of Oscar for the Sprint win.
He stay in his apartment just long enough to shower, change and grab a small bag of stuff before heading out. Not wanting to be surrounded by the reminders of why he feels so shitty in himself.
Heading to another part of Monaco, he finds himself at a door, pressing the buzzer. He knows y/n is there.
"Hello?"
"Hey, y/n."
There's not even a response, just the clicking of the door unlocking allowing him to get through and move to the lift. But eventually he gets up to her door which is dangerously always unlocked but since she lives in Monaco where crime isn't really an issue unless it's white collar, he guesses she doesn't care that much.
"Hey." Y/n smiles lying on the sofa. "What bring you to my humble abode?"
Usually he'd make a joke questioning just how humble her abode is. When he doesn't, she frowns then opens her arms allowing him to move and immediately move over to her. His body lies heavy on top of her.
"What wrong, Lan?" Y/n asks softly, that gentle tone that wraps him in cotton.
"The race...the whole weekend...everything." Lando lets letting out a heavy breath that unknowingly earns a frown but she doesn't let it show for long and he doesn't see it as she plays with his hair.
"You're going to be ok." Y/n whispers, her words washing over the young man who just sinks down against her. "I wish you saw yourself the way I see you. You are so amazing, I just...I really wish I could just force you to see yourself the same."
Lando's face flickers with a smile but it's only temporary.
"I'm not winning...I'm not getting the rewards everyone else that is so great is getting. Charles got two wins in his first year with Ferrari-"
"And then none for the two seasons that followed...You are too hard on yourself. You shouldn't compare yourself to others, Lando. It's not healthy."
"My entire career is based on comparing myself to others."
Y/n remains quiet making Lando feel a tug of guilt that leaves him nuzzling down into her. He loves y/n, she is the only person who makes him feel safe like this.
Their friendship is complicated because of these moments. Their time alone with each other is always like this, but when they're around others it's like these moments don't exist.
One day Lando knows he's going to marry her. It's just going to be a matter of time before he finally makes his move. But for now he'll settle for these late nights and private moments. Just for them to enjoy each other.
The soft music suddenly fills the silence and Lando smiles hearing the gentle song that so perfectly suits y/n while Lando prefers techno, you'll catch her listening to Hozier or Noah Kahan. Something that doesn't has so much of a deafening club beat.
"Can you come to the next race?" Lando asks not looking up in fear of her answer but with where his head is placed. He finds her heart thudding all of a sudden under his head. "Your heart is beating so fast. You're not about to die underneath me."
"You're such a muppet." Y/n scoffs then rubbing Lando's back. "I love coming to races with you, if you invited me more often, I'd be there all the time."
"You have an open invitation. It's you attending university that is the problem here."
"It's not a problem. You're just jealous that I'm smart enough to actually get into university." Y/n jokes then sighing. "It's Austin next isn't it?"
"Yeah, then Mexico where you're going to come join us too. And obviously Vegas! You have to come to the last race in Abu Dhabi too." Lando smiles while y/n laughs at his growing excitement.
"Sounds like my calendar is full. I'll have to inform my professors that my best friend takes priority when it comes to social life vs school grades."
"I'll compensate you for it."
"Well now I just have to accept it." Y/n giggles before she sighs. "I have to be there for my only therapy client."
"You do." Lando confirms grinning at her. "Can I sleep here tonight?"
"You know you can." Y/n states before she swallows thickly then yawning as she shifts. "You have too options. Bunk in with me, or I'll see up the sofa?"
"Stupid question."
"Alright, come on." Y/n laughs patting him in gesture for him to get up.
They both get up and while she goes about her usual skincare routine, throughout which she feels Lando's eyes burning through her being all while she tries to ignore the feeling of his eyes just on her constantly.
"Come here, Casanova. We're going to give your skin some well needed attention." Y/n smiles making him get up looking genuinely excited as he jumps up from her bed and moves to sit on her drawers. Thankfully they're stable enough to not just fall over from his rapid movement.
"Why am I Casanova?" Lando asks with his eyes closed as she cleanses his face.
"Sorry?" Y/n frowns confused by the question.
"You called me Casanova, I just...I'm confused why."
"Oh...I mean you don't have any shortage of interested women. I don't even think you have to try most of the time, right?" Y/n smiles while Lando opens his eyes. "Don't look at me like that. Max has told me you've got no shame about it."
Y/n can tell she might've just undone all the comforting and mood improving. Until...
"Are you one of the interested women?"
She actually chokes on her breath and splutters for a moment looking shocked that he just came out and said it.
"We're best friends-"
"Not what I asked." Lando cuts in while she bites her lip and suddenly his ego gives him a boost of confidence. "I'm taking that as a yes."
"You're so annoying."
"Because I'm right." Lando smirks then wasting no time getting to do something that he feels he's waited far too long for. He kisses her, a smile nearly fighting him on being able to actually do it. "Fuck. I wasted so many years waiting to do this...You'll still be my personal therapist?"
"Of course I will." Y/n smiles before tilting her head a little and grinning at him. "I don't think I'd be able to live if the job passed onto someone else. But...I will have to go back to university at some point. I'm not paying for this degree to get nothing in the end."
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spanishskulduggery · 2 months
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Just in case anyone needs to hear this - there was a time when I was REALLY bad at Spanish... I wanted to be good at it, but I wasn't
I have a core memory of me of sitting on my bed surrounded by flashcards and just crying out of frustration because I really did want to learn Spanish and be able to understand it, but I was not there
Whenever I got something wrong or messed something up or couldn't remember a word or just plain didn't know the answer to something I felt like such a failure and that all the work I was doing wasn't getting me anywhere
I think a part of me wanted to be really good at Spanish and if I wasn't perfect then I wasn't good, if that makes sense... and there were times when I wanted to give up but I also knew I couldn't or wouldn't give up
I don't know if this is determination on my part or stubbornness but as much as I despaired thinking I was never going to know Spanish, I also felt in me that I could not walk away from it, at least not for good
I don't know when the despair started to fade away... I think it was when I was starting to tutor people at school, or when I was understanding the grammar more - at least things I had already learned
Some of it was just the memorization of tenses and conjugations where it wasn't a struggle in every way at every moment
And then I started to get to the point where I was good enough to read things, and I could look up answers on my own with a dictionary and I could find other people discussing the grammar I had struggled with, or trying to find context I didn't have for some phrases I was seeing
I got to a point where I was more comfortable, but still didn't know as much as I wanted... all I knew was that people were struggling with things I already knew, which meant that I had learned it, and that I knew what I didn't know so that helped immensely because it made me feel like I had something to gauge my progress
So again if you see me and think "wow they know so much I'll never get there", don't compare yourself to me - I've been studying for close to two decades now and I still don't know everything about everything
Grammar I know because I took lots of classes and read A LOT, and not just books I mean I was reading grammar sites and dictionaries to try and figure out things like "what's that se mean?" or "why is this word feminine if it has the masculine article?" or "why are these two conjugations different but okay to use?"
It feels like it takes forever to get there, but learning Spanish to the degree that I have feels like a real achievement for me - it's not something I lucked into or got right on the first try, it's something I earned myself for myself
It's going to take time but if you put in the effort and if you really want it, you can get there too
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rafedaddy01 · 4 months
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Hii, I was thinking about a posesive Rafe that’s in love with Topper’s younger sister, The whole island knows she’s his girl but when he realizez Pope/Jj (or Both) has a crush on her The PDA goes to 100%, Topper hates this of course because it’s his sister and Rafe makes a plan. At a party The guys walk in on them while she’s riding him but Even when they walk in she doesn’t stop. And she looks anything but inocent, and before she got togheter with Rafe she was super inocent and shy about sex and sexual stuff and if he Could Say something about that It would be Great. Hopefully you like The idea 🥺
My Bestfriends Sister
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Summary: Rafe must show the world that you’re his, but what happens when you beat him to it.
Warnings: smut, riding, oral, fingering, language, possessives, arguing, fighting, drinking
I have a plan, I always have a plan.
Sometimes they work out sometimes they don’t, but this one will. She is my girl and nobody can have her.
“Topper man, I’m telling you. It will work!” I plead with my best friend. He’s never been fond of the idea of me dating his little sister, but fuck him. I love her and he’s just gonna have to put up with it.
“Rafe..” topper scratched his head as he contemplates for the right words.
“Don’t take this the wrong way but your kinda a fuckboy, what makes you think you could my sister happy?” Topper looks nervous, he best fucking be. He knows if best his ass in a second if he said something to upset me.
But I’m not that man anymore. Not for a while, not since.. her
I glared at him for a second before I found my words.
“Trust me bro, it’ll work”
** later at the party
“Dude, did you see y/n tonight. In that tight little dress that hugged her ass so perfectly! I’m gonna ask her out tonight” the pouge scum had the audacity to speak about my girl right in front of me, he doesn’t know what he’s in for.
To be fair he doesn’t know I’m right behind him, but he will soon.
“What the fuck did you just say?” I turn him around so quickly I’m surprised his head is still attached to his body.
“Say that shit again and you won’t live to see another day, pouge” I spit the word in his face so that he remembers his place.
“Shit relax Rafe, I thought you’d of all people appreciate a little ass” JJ chuckled like it was the funniest shit he’s ever said.
“That piece of ass is my girlfriend you piece of shit”
The last think I remember is swinging my fist right into his perfect little nose and stepping back to watch the blood seep out as his friends surround him.
I need a drink.
I stumble into the kitchen and pour myself the strongest shit I can find, whiskey. It’ll do.
“Rafe!”
Instant comfort fills my chest at the familiar voice.
“There she is” I wrap my arms around my girl and bring her close, embracing her rose scent. “Missed you”
I plopped her down onto the counter and stepped between her thighs. “So much” my mouth travelled to her neck and my fingers traced up her smooth thighs, pushing the material of her skirt up.
She tilted her head back and a small giggle left her lips. Fuck that sound, had my dick straining against my jeans more than it already was.
“I miss you too” her voice was low and dripping with arousal, almost as much as her pretty cunt when I dipped my fingers to touch her soaked panties.
“Fuck” I growled as I wrapped her legs around my waist and carried her out of the kitchen, past the crowd and showing everyone that she’s mine.
I push the door to her room open and throw her onto the bed.
“My dirty girl, can’t even let me enjoy one night of fun without being a horny slut can you?” I stride over to her and pull her to the edge of the bed before kneeling down to her pretty clothed pussy.
“Please” her whine was music to my ears.
“Please what baby” I run my nose up the inside of her thigh until I nudge her covered clit, which is already magnificently swollen with want.
“You have to use your words” I bite the inside of her thigh as I trace my fingers over the wet spot on her panties.
“I want you, I need you Rafe, please!”
I barely let her finish the sentence before I’m tearing her panties down and diving in for a taste.
“Fucking magnificent, you taste like heaven baby” I groan the words into her cunt as I dive in for more.
“Rafe!” She grips onto my hair and it drives me wild, I’m in deep shit with this girl.
“Scream baby, let everyone know your mine” I demand her just as I stuff her pretty cunt with two of my fingers and curve.
I know her body like the back of my hand and one push onto her delicate spot has her melting right into me.
“Oh shit! Rafe, god don’t stop”
She’s grinding down on my hand and I’m about to bust if I don’t get inside her right now.
“Come on baby, let go for me” I praise her through her high as she slowly starts coming down.
“Good girl” I knead her thighs as I push off my knees and stand to undress.
She watched me with hungry eyes as I strip down my boxers and my dick hits my stomach.
“You dirty dirty girl, what happened to that innocent y/n I met? Hmm?” I stroke her cheek and plant my lips on her before pulling away and aligning myself up.
“Wait!”
“What is it baby?”
She gives me the most innocent look and says “I wanna ride you”
A dark chuckle leaves me body as I position myself on the bed.
“Come here bunny” she crawls over to me and I help her out of the rest of her clothes so her perky tits are right in my face and she sits down on my cock.
“Fuck” we both grown out at the relinquished feeling.
She’s starts bouncing up and down and I’m grabbing her tits, putting one nipple in my mouth and sucking. Fuck this is heaven, and I’m the only one who gets to see her like this.
Almost like she could read my mind she says, “I’m the only one rafey, I’m yours, oh god, right there”
Just when I’m about to take control the door swings open.
“Hey Rafe I-“
I expect her to stop at the presence of her brother and kelce but she starts bouncing again while making eye contact.
“Oh my god!” Topper rushes out of the room while kelce on the other hand leans against the door and watches.
And my little slut loves it. She puts on the best show, “oh shit, I’m so close!” She starts toying with her clit while making eye contact with kelce.
I grip her throat and face her towards me. “Your mine, got it?” I slap her ass and take control, thrusting up into her.
“Get out” I bark at kelce without even looking at him and he leaves.
“Such a slut baby, does it get you off to know that my friends and your brother saw your fall apart on my dick?” She clenches around my cock at my words.
“Yes!”
I’m thrusting at a relentless pace now and she’s taking everything I’m giving her.
“Such a good girl, and all mine”
She comes with a scream as I pound into a couple more times and let my cum go deep inside her.
“And now everybody knows it” I kiss her hard and deep and feel her body fall into me, I’m never letting her go.
Taglist
@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx @spencerreidsrealgf @rafescokenostril
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necroticintellect · 8 months
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A Motivational Ramble For Writers
I think most motivational speeches aren't necessarily motivational in the long run because unfortunately, they lack so many aspects of reality. Yes, of course hearing all the longggg metaphoricalllllll poems and forty different beautiful ways of phrasing 'you can do it' may be motivational for that day, maybe even the next week. Still, I don't at all think that's going to open your mind in a way that genuinely allows you to FEEL motivated.
So I'd like to maybe change that. Of course, my words are only as effective as you allow them to be, but I'm going to share narratives that have personally helped me. I'm aware everything doesn't work for everyone, but I truly hope this provides motivation.
To condense a righteous "my writing journey" monologue into a simple sentence, I've been a new author before just like every other, and yes I can definitely relate to what you go through before finding yourself—and the courage to put yourself out there.
For starters, I need you to ask yourself why you're afraid. Don't tell me you aren't, because I'm almost sure that's not true. And if I AM wrong, think back to the times you have been, and reflect on them.
The reason I say I'm almost sure that's not true… is simply that to be unmotivated, you need to have something holding you back. It's obviously not the sheer desire not to write, because if that were the case, you wouldn't be reading a writer's motivation post would you.
I think you're afraid of going against the grain. 
I think you're afraid that by going against the grain, you won't succeed in that genre.
I think you're afraid that if you do experiment with genres, you'll not gain an audience, or lose the audience you've already gained.
I'm quite aware it's not just easy to stop being afraid, but I'm going to put it bluntly. Stop being afraid. You need to plant that seed. Water it as slowly as you'd like, but plant it.
You as a new author will never in a million years get anywhere when you stick to one genre. Sure, people may shower you with compliments about your skills with it, but sometimes you need to throw away that comfort in validation, and open your mind to a bit of criticism—which in the writing world, is essential for growth. Don't tell me you aren't good at drama if you've never attempted it. Don't tell me you can't attempt it because you think you won't do well.
Did I like it when I was told my storytelling ability was not really put together to handle a romance? Absolutely not. Especially since I had WAY too much confidence at the time, because I surrounded myself in a criticism-free shelter. 
But anyway, no I didn't like that. But I'll tell you I didn't let it make me throw a piss fit and quit, I just sucked it up and moved on to the next genre, as I did with all the genres imaginable. I can now confidently say I suck at everything but psychological drama. And that's from a place of honesty, I'm at peace with that fact after…many trials and errors haha.
So in the most loving way possible, author to author, e-friend to e-friend even though we probably have never spoken… suck it up, and grow from what you had to soak in. 
Quit letting inevitable criticism get you down, and stop being afraid of possibly receiving it. Especially if you're a fresh new writer. I know it's hard to hear stuff like that, but as you haven't yet allowed yourself the time to experiment, it's important to take criticism a little more seriously than you would when you've been writing for a while. Don't let it make you put your story down, or let it give you depressive writers block.
My first-ever critic meant to be somewhat-insult was "You think you're all that because you know how to use metaphors, but this is really just a heap of just that. Metaphors. There's no story here whatsoever."
Yes, I vividly remember that because wooooo did it piss me off. But you know what? I look back and wish I could hug that person because reading my old work, that was true. But once again, I used that anger to reverse that curse. And even sometimes I find it still rings true, but I'll continue to work on it.
So authors, get angry. Get STEAMING. Get PISSED. But in the midst of that, you need to have the hunger to prevail. If you're just sitting behind your screen angry steaming and pissed, that person won for the reason they all along had. To make you quit. Yeah, sadly people get off on that. It's unfortunate that some criticism will be rude especially when people have the convenience of hiding behind a screen—but it's reality.
YOU NEED TO WIN by using that as fuel to NOT QUIT, BUT SUCCEED. Because just like me, you'll probably find that early-on criticism was almost always true. They could have worded it…nicer, but it usually rings true.
So now, I want you to remember every insult you've ever received if you can. Let it brew…let it make you want to succeed, and not quit.
Writing…is a learning process.
You never stop learning, so drop that mindset if you have it. Criticism isn't always meant to be malicious, so drop that mindset if you have it. You aren't this writer against the mean, cold world because someone pointed out imagery isn't your strong suit, drop that mindset if you have it.
People want to help more than tear down, mostly. I do, anyway. Obviously you have your trolls in any environment…but lots of people mean to help, and when you have hostility against criticism—you'll automatically take it negatively.
So anyway, I hope this has been slightly more motivational than the general YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU SET YOUR MIND TO DRINK WATER rants.
Because one more piece of advice, that's a lie. If you aren't good at romance you just aren't, that's alright. Put your energy into the genre that you ARE good at. You can't force it. So get to experimenting, stop being afraid, you will find your niche. If your audience leaves because you're doing essential experiments, I wouldn't bat an eye over those toads. You'll find a new and solid one. It's a process.
Get to writing, I believe in you.
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