#this is a lot longer than i thought it would be

[witchywithwhiskey]

the alpha next door

pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader

summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov

word count: 8.9k

a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!

When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were. 

The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved. 

But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…

Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him. 

The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.

When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside. 

On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.

Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart. 

As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.

That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.

That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.

But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.

That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.

He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door. 

Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume. 

So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent. 

Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.

Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit. 

But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life. 

Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help. 

But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.

“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.

One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up. 

That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.

Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you. 

Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup. 

He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.

It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come. 

He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.

A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged. 

Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.

Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing. 

The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him. 

But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.

Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.

Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.

Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat. 

His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.

When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.

You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.

A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve. 

The alpha next door was just so…sweet. 

It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor. 

And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.

Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?

It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet. 

It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together. 

You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard. 

Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous. 

Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun. 

You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct  sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.

It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…

Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.

Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body. 

Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.

The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically. 

You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.

The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…

You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.

Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve. 

“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.

You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due. 

You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.

“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you. 

The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it. 

“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock. 

You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.

It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!” 

So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more. 

It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun. 

Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway. 

Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.

Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve. 

“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength. 

Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together. 

In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.

“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes. 

Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.

Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.

Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.

He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands. 

Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges. 

Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.

Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.

You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.

At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…

God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you. 

Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.

That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his. 

You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy. 

It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped. 

“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you. 

As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.

By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound. 

But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.

“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole. 

The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body. 

Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.

“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.

He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.

With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.

“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy. 

Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.

“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?” 

As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot. 

Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.

“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach. 

“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock. 

Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.

“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink. 

“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in. 

Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.

“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?” 

Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.

“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.” 

Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot. 

You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.

You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it. 

Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door. 

The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible. 

Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment. 

Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.

“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words. 

You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.

“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed. 

“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”

You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt. 

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!” 

“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.” 

“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast. 

Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.

As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.

For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver. 

Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet. 

But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.

You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips. 

“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer. 

Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.

“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”

Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot. 

It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.

“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.

When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr. 

“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him. 

“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness. 

You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him. 

“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.

The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.

Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.” 

You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.” 

Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”

You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate. 

But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.

#CT 2024 raffle entry #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #alpha steve rogers #alpha steve x omega reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers one shot #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans characters #mutual pining #idiots in love #omegaverse #witchywithwhiskeywork

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

WHIPPED

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary - You strain from your husband who will not give you attention. He doesn't like that.

Warnings - NONCON, domestic violence, dub con, manipulative, belt whipping, spanking, tommy is mean, degrading words, breeding kink.

Word count - 3k+

Notes - You voted, you received.

Something in Tommy’s intellect changed overnight. Every once in a while, his mind would travel back in time to the war. But now, when he awoke from his nightmares, he still felt like he was crawling through the tunnels. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up more frequently, his hand rested on his gun a lot. Feeling too skeptical that he’d need to fire it at any second. 

It had impacted your newly wedded marriage, but you didn’t dare to say anything to him. You showed you cared by holding him a little tighter at night. Whilst he laid on the bed like a stone figure, staring up into the ceiling as he refused to fall asleep. 

The sex had turned emotionless like flowers dying without water. The intimacy was dead. It made you down in the mouth and filled your heart with despair. You only wanted to kiss him, talk to him, be held by him. But he had forgotten who you were. 

Over the weeks, your sadness turned into anger. You refused to be upset by his neglect any longer. So, you found other ways to find pleasure in your life and quickly realized that the only way to get your husband’s attention was jealousy. It frustrated Tommy when you started to ignore his presence, venture out without informing him and associating with his family more than him. Tommy would lecture you, wagging his finger at you. You’d only simply nod your head, awaiting for it to be over. Then it would repeat all over again. But Tommy’s mind was too caught up in his business to find the time to truly teach you a lesson. 

Until now, the surprisingly last straw was Arthur whispering something into your ear, resulting in you playfully slapping his shoulder and giggling like a teenager. Tommy’s head snapped to you two, everyone in the reading room still watching Tommy as he awaited for you to acknowledge him. 

After a pause, you finally looked up to Tommy and the stare off commenced. Your eyebrows were furrowed as Tommy’s eyes twitched, he knew you had never been unfaithful. But his mind was now racing with thoughts of the possibility occurring if he didn’t put a stop to his behavior.  

“Well, we will have a break. It seems that my wife has forgotten her manners and I must reteach them…” Tommy declared confidently as he lit another cigarette between his cold lips. 

All heads snapped towards you and Arthur’s face turned beet red. 

“Thomas” you sighed as you pressed your hand to your forehead, cheeks turning a shade darker from embarrassment. 

Any other time, Tommy adored it when you called him by his full name. But this time, he felt as if you were challenging him, trying to humiliate him in front of his family. Tommy took three large strides towards the door and motioned for you to exit in an exaggerated manner. When you merely continued to stare back at him dully he snapped. 

“Get the fuck up!” Tommy raised his voice, causing everyone in the room to flinch. 

Tommy’s eyes were strained, a vein popped out of his forehead as his hands formed to fists. 

“Tommy” Arthur protested, leaning forward in his seat. 

Arthur was always so loyal to Tommy, but grew to be highly protective of you. He was prepared to cop the fire instead, take a beating if he had to. It was his doings anyways, not yours. 

“It’s alright Arthur” you soothed his guilty look, looking confident even though your heart was pounding in shock at your husband’s outburst. 

Tommy saw red when you reassuringly pressed your hand to his chest. Without waiting any longer he marched towards you. You jumped up from your seat before he could yank you up. But he still latched onto your bicep and pulled you out of the room with no care as you winced from his hold. 

“Tommy… You’re hurting me!” You cried as he pulled you up the stairs. 

There was no answer from him. Only the sounds of grunts through his hard expression as he led you to the bedroom. Shoving you into the room, Tommy slammed the door shut and stomped around in circles, his hand tugging at his roots as he heard the shouts and cries of his fallen fellow soldiers. Your arms crossed over your chest, a frustrated expression set on your face by glue. 

“Thomas you’re being dramatic” you pointed out, shaking your head at his behavior. The embarrassment had drenched you completely, he was too furious to notice how awful he had made the situation. 

Tommy’s head shot towards you and he glared at you. 

“Pardon? You parading yourself around my brother in front of my entire family is nothing more than me being dramatic!” Tommy roared as he marched towards you. “Why don’t you fucking respect me!” Tommy yelled, his pale skin now red as he grabbed onto your shoulders in a warning touch. 

His anger spattered onto you as you felt your chest tighten, you scoffed at his words, not intimidated by his hold on you. “Oh calm down Thomas!” You hissed at your husband. 

You fell to the fall before the pain even shot from your cheek. Before the redness even grew on your timid skin. You choked out in shock as you raised your hand to the burning sensation on your cheek. The back of Tommy's hand was still positioned in the air from where he hit you. Tommy had never hit you before, he had vowed to never do it. 

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down” Tommy growled.

Swiftly, he bent down to yank you back up to your feet. When you struggled against his hold and tried to smack him away he hit you again with the front of his hand this time. Then he hit the other cheek just as hard. You screamed out in fear but his hand was swift to smack over your mouth. 

“Who do you fucking think you are? Huh! You wear my name! You’re in my house!” Tommy lectured, shaking you around like a ragdoll before he shoved you back to the ground. 

Tommy went back to walking around in circles, his hand roughly massaged his chin as he wondered what to do with you. His disobedient wife. You laid on the floor, frozen in fear as you stared at his polished shoes twirling around the room. With your hands pressed against your stinging cheeks, tears shedded from your aching eyes. Your sobs were silent and rough. 

A heavy sigh left his lips as he looked down to you. Slowly, he undid his belt and slipped it out of the loops of his pants and folded it in half. Tommy fell back onto the brown leather armchair in the corner of the room and lightly slapped his belt against his knee. 

“Come here, lay over my knee my darling…” Tommy spoke in a soothing voice, but had a wicked grin on his lips. 

You looked up at him with fearful eyes, then your stare was stuck on his belt slapping against his pants. Knowing his intentions, you whimpered out pathetically and shook your head against the floor. 

“N-no” you objected weakly. 

“It wasn’t an offer” Tommy grunted, he leaned towards you, the grip on the leather tightened. “Do it before I show you how strong my foot is” Tommy warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

It took you a moment to get up, you were too busy having a little silent breakdown as you whined at his response. The smirk on his lips grew larger as he watched you gradually crawl towards him, wincing to yourself as you climbed up onto his lap and laid stiff on top of him. 

Tommy sighed as he pulled up your dress, his hand rubbed your ass briefly before he yanked down your panties to your knees. The leather brushed over your backside and you gripped onto his leg in fear as you sobbed quietly. 

“You seemed to have mistaken my kindness for weakness, my darling. I have no problem with showing you my ruthlessness, the many tales you heard of me before we had even met” Tommy explained as he dragged the belt all over your skin. 

“You’re scaring me Tommy” you sniffled out. 

The inside of your throat felt swollen and your chest ached. A harsh slap with the belt landed on your rear. It caused your panicky yelp to echo throughout the room. When you tried to impulsively wiggle yourself off of him he smacked you again with the leather. 

“You’ve lost your privileges to address me by my first name, correct yourself right now!” Tommy ordered, his hold on his belt tight as his free hand went around your back to keep you trapped. 

“Tom-uh Mr Shelby?” You answered unsurely, your expression wincing as your shoulders raised. 

“Good girl!” Tommy praised as the belt smacked against your rear again. 

You chortled out as he continued on with your punishment. Quickly, you lost count with how many times he hit you as he flicked his wrist in a haphazardly manner. Sometimes he’d focus purely on one cheek. Or do slow and heavy smacks across every inch of your skin. Then he’d do quick stings across your rear. 

“Please stop!” you begged, your voice dry and weak, your mouth pressed against his knee as you tried to muffle out your cries. 

“Aw, my darling can’t take it anymore eh?” Tommy chuckled. 

He dropped the belt onto your back and rubbed your tender backside with his bare hand roughly. 

“Please I love you Tommy!” you exhorted, desperately hoping this would ease his suspicions. 

The screech was piercing when he smacked your bruised skin wickedly with his palm. 

“Correct yourself, whore” Tommy spat. 

‘Ah! I love you Mr Shelby” you sobbed out. 

Your head fell back down to his knee, your teeth bit into his leg to silence yourself but he didn't mind. Surprisingly, the pain felt nice to him. 

“That’s a good girl…” Tommy grinned, rubbing your ass again roughly as if he was praising you. “I’m going to beat your ass beyond breaking point. Then I’ll know you’ve learnt your lesson” Tommy addressed. 

“No Mr Shelby please! I understand!” You protested as you squirmed over him. Tommy was quick to hold you on top of him as you tried to swing your body onto the floor. “Please forgive me! I won’t do it again!” You pleaded as you tried to blink back your tears.   

“Stay still before I hit you with the buckle!” Tommy threatened, his words hissing like a viper. 

You mewled out, but listened to his demand. Tommy picked up his belt again and proceeded to whip you with it. 

When your cries had died down and you laid still on him, Tommy dropped the belt to the ground and rubbed your black and blue rear. When his fingers rubbed against your slit, he grinned to himself as he brought them into his sight. They glistered in your fluid and he sucked his fingers clean, moaning to himself at your sweet taste. 

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one that enjoyed this”' Tommy commented as his fingers returned to your cunt, fondling with your folds and teasing your nerves by randomly pushing in a digit. “Have you learnt your lesson?” Tommy cocked an eyebrow to you. 

As you tried to turn your head back towards him, you nodded to him. “Yes Mr Shelby” you spoke out breathlessly. 

“Which is?” He questioned. 

You choked on your words as you blinked back your tears. “To be a good wife to you!”

“Such a good wife…” Tommy soothed as he caressed your bruised ass. “Stand up and strip for your husband” he instructed as he leaned back into his seat. 

Through gritted teeth, you stood on your two feet and slowly stripped till you were completely nude in front of him. Your body shook like a leaf in the wind as you resisted not to cover yourself with your arms. Tommy sighed to himself as he looked your heated figure up and down, and then he pulled out his length and gradually stroked himself a couple of times. Not failing to express how aroused he was through his groans. 

“Come here and sit on my cock eh?” 

“Mr Shelby please” you begged weakly, eyes stinging with discomfort. 

Tommy leaned forward and pointed his finger to you. “Shut up before I change my mind, bend you over and fuck your ass” he warned, his pointed finger completely still. 

You nodded your head like a begging dog and practically ran over to Tommy despite the pain that shot through your rear. You straddled your husband, his hands were on your hips as he grinned up to you, his cock pressed against your inner thigh. 

“Who do you belong to?” Tommy asked as his length pushed into your throbbing, soaked entrance. 

“You Mr Shelby!” You answered through a groan as you slid down his shaft. 

“Good… No more talking to anyone, at all, without my permission eh?” Tommy commanded with a resolute nod. All you could do was nod back as he rocked his hips against yours, his fingernails dug into your flesh as your walls squeezed his size. 

“Mr Shelby” you whined out. 

“You’re mine” Tommy growled animalistically as he leant in to bite your neck. “Only fucking mine. You wanted my attention? You fucking got it” he grunted as he rutted himself deep inside of you. 

Your eyes rolled back as you held onto your husband tightly as he drew blood from your neck. The pain dissolved as the pleasure quickly built up inside of your core. Your mouth had fallen open as you were moaning out shamelessly, Tommy slapped your ass and you squealed. 

“You’re clenching around me so tightly darling, you want to milk me empty eh? Get yourself pregnant?” Tommy asked, his own breathing heavy as he pounded himself into you. 

“Yes Mr Shelby!”

“Keep on squeezing me then, just like that” Tommy coached as his hips thrusted at an immaculate speed. “Maybe another baby in this house would keep you tamed. Let’s give Charlie a little brother or sister eh?” He suggested, a proud smirk on his lips.

All you could do was hum in compliance as you clenched around him. It was so slippery you had to hold your body in place. His balls were slapping against you as you felt your climax climbing as high as it could. The scream from your hot lips echoed throughout the room as you held onto Tommy for dear life. He grunted in response, and shortly followed through with his own climax. 

Your body fell dead on top of him as you tried to catch your breath back. Through deep breaths, your chest rose and fell as your eyes remained shut. Tommy breathed out, his hands caressed your lower back as he inhaled your scent. He was still buried inside of you, he could feel your fluids drip out slowly. 

“Fuck, that was something else, wasn’t it my love?” Tommy asked teasingly as he patted your rear. 

You whimpered, tear stained eyes as you looked up to your husband, he smiled softly to you, you smiled softly back. He guided your hips up, his coated cock slipped out of your swollen entrance with a pop and he helped you onto your feet. 

After he slipped his member back into his pants, Tommy guided you to bend over the bed, you winced as you followed through and he examined you. Down on his knees, Tommy pulled your lips apparent with two fingers as he watched your mixed fluids drip out of you. His hands caressed over your abused skin as he stood back up again.

“If only you could see how beautiful you look my dear” Tommy sighed, his voice dark and husky. 

He pulled you back up and held you in his arms, your flustered body caved against him. Your knees buckled as Tommy held your weak stance up, he murmured to you, his face rubbed against yours like a needy cat.  

“You wanna come down for the rest of the meeting?” Tommy hummed in the crook of your neck. 

The thought of you going back down there frightened you, the humiliation of this sudden occurrence felt too overwhelming. Having all eyes on you would cause you to have a breakdown without a doubt, you knew they heard you, your cries had echoed to the fields. 

“No Mr Shelby” you answered timidly, sniffling to yourself as you tried to cry silently. 

“That’s alright, you rest up, you look exhausted. I’ll come check on you later, I have some business to attend to after this, okay?” Tommy spoke innocently as he led you to the bed. 

Tommy helped you in, you winced at the friction of your rear to the sheets but made no comment to your husband’s kindness. The covers were tucked in around you, Tommy petted your hair to the side and smiled at you. 

“Thank you Mr Shelby” your smile shaked, cheeks still a dark shade of red. 

“Sleep well my love” Tommy whispered before he planted a tender kiss on your lips. 

It’s what you missed so badly, instinctively, your arms reached up from under the sheets and tried to snake around his back. But your body felt so weak, you couldn’t bring yourself up. Tommy hummed and pulled your body up, his hold on your lower back as the sheets slipped down your body already, his tongue slipped straight down your throat as your tongue massaged him. As you moaned directly into his mouth, Tommy pressed your faces together as he gently laid you back onto the bed. 

“I love you” you whispered once more as your head fell deep into the pillow, your tired eyes remained shut. A low hum echoed out of Tommy as you quickly fell asleep. 

Tommy walked back down into the reading room. He knew everyone had heard everything, his eyes locked with Arthur’s. As he shot him a glare, Arthur lowered his head submissively as Tommy continued on with his discussions and concerns to his family.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #smut #dark smut #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders

[hana-no-seiiki]

THE PERFECT TASTE FOR ME

SYNOPSIS: Starfire’s too sweet for Dick, Dick’s too sweet for you.

PAIRING: Yandere! Dick Grayson x Cat Villain! Reader

“If I had known this is how’d you end up. I wouldn’t have left you behind.”

You didn’t mean it. You would have left Dick for Jason either way. It wasn’t your choice. Love worked in the most mysterious and cruel ways. You were fated to separate.

Still, it made for a good taunt and you say a lot of things you don’t mean in the heat of battle. And frankly, you really needed a filter.

“You’re so pitiful, Dickie. I thought you were better, but the fight in you has dulled like your taste in partners it seems.” Your claws gripped on Dick’s throat, keeping him on the floor, writhing — sweating.

God, he missed this. He missed you

There was nothing wrong with Starfire. Truly, being with her felt as natural as breathing. He had been crushing over her for far longer than he’d been with you. Their relationship had been what many would call picture perfect. Something many would aspire to have. Healthy, caring, compassionate, trusting.

But once he tasted you, nothing else could compare.

“You jealous? I thought you were above that Kitty.” Dick coughed as he kicked you off of him. His right leg scoring a good hit to your side, his fist connecting to your jaw — ripping you apart from his form.

“No, just pawsitively disappointed.” You rubbed the spot he hit on your face, standing up. Already ready for another round in a matter of moments.

Dick sucked the air into his lungs, stance and form for a fight at the ready.

The taste of battle, the blood of his mouth, you. There was nothing else that matched perfectly for him.

He’s sure Starfire would understand.

everyone press f to pay respects for @sophiethewitch1 ‘s favorite sweatpants + starfire (girlie deserves better)

#Spotify #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagine #yandere fic #yandere core #yandere batfam #batfam #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson x reader #robin #dc robin #robin dc #yandere dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #yandere nightwing x reader #dc x reader #yandere dc x reader #yandere nightwing #yandere x darling #yandere headcannons #yandere imagines

[ellecdc]

I HAD AN IDEA FOR A REQ BUT I FORGOT IT AND I JUST REMEMBERED AGAIN

okok so shy!reader (similar to r in the poly!marauders + lily fic that i am genuinely obsessedddd with) but with barty and she just gets so flustered and blushy when he’s so loud and outspoken about his affection for her

barty would absolutely accidentally (& lovingly) torment poor shy!reader. thanks for your request! (I'm obviously currently in my Barty-girl era - I deserve jail time ur honour)

Barty Crouch Jr x fem!reader who tries hiding from Barty, much to Remus' chagrin

There were very few places in the castle that Remus could escape to from his nettlesome roommates. Thankfully, his roommates would rather be trampled by a stampede of hippogriffs than spend their precious free time in the library of all places. Unfortunately, Remus was still too easily spotted in his current hideout.

“Rem! Hide me!” He heard you squeak as you came flying around one of the stacks of books; eyes wild like a prey animal looking for their last chance at survival. 

“What?” Remus asked dumbly, but it was no use. 

You let out a cartoonish ‘eep!’ sound and dove underneath the table Remus was currently sat at; your head basically situated in Remus’ lap as you looked up at him desperately. 

“Please.” You practically begged. “You never saw me!”

“Who’s looking for you?” 

Remus' question was answered in the form of a haunting whistling weaving its way casually through the aisles and aisles of books before pausing directly in front of Remus’ chair.

“‘Lo, Junior.” Remus greeted politely, causing the Slytherin boy to narrow his eyes at him.

“Lupin.” He drawled suspiciously. “Aren’t there usually…more of you?”

Remus grimaced as he felt your nervous claws dig painfully into his calf. “Nope.” He replied an octave too high to be considered casual. “Just me.”

Barty simply offered him a disbelieving hum. 

“So, Lupin,” Barty continued, chewing the vowels of Remus’ surname as if it tasted particularly rancid in his mouth. “See anything around here lately?”

Remus hummed as if pretending he was in thought. “No…nope, definitely haven’t seen anyo- anything.”

But it was too late.

“Haven’t seen anyone, hm?” Barty surmised with a wicked grin. “Not even…say…a certain witch who happens to be the object of my affections?”

You dejectedly thumped your forehead against Remus’ knee, hitting the nerve which caused his leg to kick out reflexively, thus pushing you over under the table.

“Merlin’s tits, Lupin, are you having a fit?”

“Oh my sodding Godric.” You finally grumbled from under the table, causing Barty’s face to brighten up astronomically. 

It took you far longer than Remus would have liked to be sitting in the awkward semi-company with Barty to extricate yourself from under the library table, and your efforts were accompanied by an awful lot of painful sounding bumps and cursing before your - albeit rather bedraggled - form materialized beside Remus. 

“There’s my girl.” Barty nearly sighed in relief; a dopey lovesick smile spreading across his face.

“Do you see it too?” You whispered to Remus conspiratorially.

“See what?”

“That look.” You whispered again, causing Remus to snort.

“The look of adoration currently decorating Junior’s face? Yeah, I see it.” 

You scoffed at him. “Barty doesn’t adore me.”

“Says who!?” Barty nearly screeched, causing Remus to look around nervously at the attention the trio was quickly gathering. “I’ll kill them.”

“What?”

“Can I be excused from this conversation?” Remus groaned as he returned to his seat.

Barty quickly agreed at the same moment that you hissed no!

“Listen - my darling angel - though I think you’re really great at just about everything you do, you are absolute pants at hiding.” Barty offered you solemnly as if he were gently giving you quite devastating news.

“Maybe you’re just too good at this finding thing.” You huffed as you crossed your arms; quite petulantly, in Remus’ opinion.

“At finding you?” Barty asked as his face broke out in a Cheshire cat grin. “Always.”

Remus was certain you were going to melt through the floor below you, and - quite frankly - if it got you two away from Remus’ library sanctuary, so be it.

#marauders era #marauders au #reader insert #self insert #marauders fanfiction #barty gate #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr imagine #barty crouch jr x reader #barty crouch jr x you #shy!reader #fem!reader #barty crouch jr blurb #Barty Crouch jr ficlet #ellecdc fics

[thefunkfactory]

Wings

Inspired by Anon Ask

Emery was waiting in his apartment for his date, Vinny, to swing by and pick him up. As he paced around he was looking at the clock and preening himself in the mirror, then he heard a ding from his phone. He checked his phone and the message from Vinny read “im here bruh”, Vinny told him he was DL and didn’t want anyone knowing. Emery was fine with it, the guy was super fine. He hurried down to his date’s car and hopped it, but as soon as he got in he was assaulted by a musty smell, the car smelled like it was hot boxed earlier that day with the guy’s farts. Immediately the big hunk driving told him that he wanted to take Emery to his favorite restaurant, “Oh which restaurant?” asked Emery, “I wanna surprise you” Vinny responded as he grinned, Emery agreed and sat back as Vinny started to drive.

(Vinny)

They pulled into a parking lot and got out, Vinny excitedly said “Oooo I havent been here in so long bruh”. Looking around the strip mall Emery just got taken to he asked him “Which restaurant is it?”, Vinny pointed in front of him and said “It’s the Wingstop! Im so pumped”. Rolling his eyes in his head Emery went along inside with him to the subpar first date location he was just taken to. Vinny and Emery ordered and sat down, “Hey, at least he paid” Emery thought to himself. For a few minutes Emery and Vinny just talked to each other and flirted a bit until their food was ready and was brought out to their table. Within a matter of minutes Vinny had completely devoured everything that he got, it took Emery a little while longer. As Emery continued to eat, he and Vinny continued talking when all of a sudden “PPPFFFFBBBTTTT” Vinny let out a loud fart that echoed in the restaurant. As Emery watched it happen Vinny’s mouth opened up a little bit and Vinny began drooling. Vinny didn’t react one bit, it was almost like to him it didn’t happen. Not wanting to be rude Emery didn’t say anything, he only grimaced as he was enveloped by the foul-smelling fart Vinny just released into the restaurant. “So what do you do for work?” Emery asked, trying to distract himself from the stench, “Uhhhhhh…I…have an…uhhhhhh Only…Fans”, Vinny said with such intense vocal fry it was a little difficult not to giggle. Emery eventually finished his mean even though the stench his date kept farting and belching out was making him lose his appetite.

“That was actually quite nice”, Emery said as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, Vinny just stared back with a look of dumbfoundment in his eyes “…yes…was…good”, Vinny eventually said, sounding more like a caveman than anything else. As Emery was about to joke that he sounded like a neanderthal, he felt a gurgling in his stomach. Excusing himself from the table, he got up and began to walk past Vinny to go find a bathroom. Suddenly Vinny reached out to grab Emery’s wrist and asked with the cadence of a stereotypical imbecile “…me…you…sex now?”, Emery pulled his wrist away as politely as he could and told Vinny “Not on the first date. Maybe next time”, Vinny looked disappointed and didn’t respond. As Emery made his way to the bathroom he entered a stall and sat down expecting to be there for a bit. All of a sudden the gurgling came back with such a roar that it sounded like Emery hadn’t eaten for days, as soon as the roar ended Emery suddenly let out a boisterous fart that was significantly louder that Vinny’s was earlier. Feeling lightheaded all of a sudden, Emery tried to get up feeling like he was gonna pass out when again he let out a noisy fart which would have made anyone in the bathroom with him laugh, good thing he was alone. As he let out the second fart he realized that it felt good and it smelled even better than it felt, it reeked of rotten eggs and the wings he just ate. Emery wiped the thought out of his head and made his way to the sink looking at himself in the mirror. Trying to rationalize what was happening he thought to himself “It must be food poisoning, the wings must have gone bad. There is no other reason that I could be…so…” his thoughts began to trail off as he felt a silent fart squeeze out of his cheeks. “Huhuhuh…stinky” Emery said aloud. He closed his eyes and put his hand down his pants and rested his hand between his cheeks. He looked at himself in the mirror and against his better judgment “FFFFFBBBBTTTT” another loud, malodorous expulsion of fart fumes shot out of his ass and right into his hand. Emery lifted his hand up to his nose, “No no no…” he thought, closed his eyes, “This is so gross!”, and took a deep whiff “What…did…i…dooooo…”. Suddenly he felt his entire body contract, he felt as if his entire body had a cramp. From his toes up to his head, he was overwhelmed with the pain that shot through his body. However, just as quickly as it started it stopped, Emery opened his eyes and saw that the twinky guy standing in the mirror was replaced by a bigger more masculine man. He flexed his arm as he proudly let out another fart.

He looked at his new physique proudly in the mirror when all of a sudden he was overcome with the feeling something wasn't right, his mind was fighting back against whatever it was that was fogging up his mind. He tries to think of why he was feeling so lightheaded and foggy and thought that the fart fumes must be dumbing him down. In reality the stench wasn’t making him dumber, the stench was Emery’s intelligence converted into smelly fumes, Emery’s mind was simply going straight from brain to butt. He started to quickly go to the bathroom door to try and escape the fart chamber he had created when all of a sudden it opened and in front of him stood Vinny. Pushing Emery back into the stink filled bathroom, he put Emery back in front of the mirror and held him in place by the shoulders. “Fart…more…feel…better…” Vinny pushed out, obviously struggling to think of the basic words he was using. Emery took his advice as he looked at his own reflection in the mirror, “PPPPPPPPFFFFFFBBBBBBBTTTTTTTT”, as the awful stench was released from Emery’s perky rear he watched his reflection as his eyes grew duller and his mouth began to crack open just a bit. “Huhuhuhuh…brooooo i smell so rank”, Emery chuckled. “Stinky…straight…bros…sup- superi-…uhhh better” Vinny said, obviously dumber than he was when he picked Emery up. Emery tried in one last ditch effort to save himself from the smelly jock he was becoming, Emery thought to himself “Im not straight I love men Im gayyyy…” his thought drifted off as suddenly the mental image of him fucking a slutty blonde with big tits took over whatever cognitive abilities he had left. That was the final nail in the coffin as one last almost silent toot exited Emery, somehow it was smellier than the rest. Emery didn’t care tho, in fact Emery was proud of his smelly ass trumpet.

Vinny and Emery sauntered out of the bathroom and ordered more wings up front, sitting back down the two best bros just dumbly looked at each other without saying anything to one another. The wings were set down in front of them and they both immediately started demolishing their second basket of wings. As Emery finished he let out one final disgusting fart and as his bro dumbly guffawed at him Emery said for the first time in minutes “…me…stinky…”.

As the bros got back into Vinny's ride, Vinny took Emery’s phone and downloaded Grindr. Emery looked at it and said “…me…not…gay…”, and Vinny responded “… make…new…farty…bros…”

#farts #dumber #jock tf #stink #gay to straight #TTF

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Will Graham Headcanons (General)

''I would become a monster for you.'' — Will Graham.

❝ 🔪 — lady l: I've had this in my head for a while and finally decided to write it down. Will is a poor baby and I just want to love him ❤️. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 🤎

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, manipulation, kidnapping, death and mention of suicide and violence, toxic relationships.

❝🔪pairing: yandere!will graham x gender neutral!reader.

Will Graham is desperate to be loved, to be accepted for who he is. He no longer wants to have to hide who he is, his true nature. When you came into the picture, he knew he could have it with you. Will knew you would love him and accept him for who he is. You were the beginning of his downfall.

He longs for someone who accepts him unconditionally, without judgment, and who understands his inner nuances and dilemmas. This search for acceptance is exacerbated by his reluctance to hide his true nature, even if it means facing the consequences of being misunderstood or even feared. Will doesn't want to be a monster, but for you, he'll be willing to become one.

His unique ability to empathize with the killers he pursues consumes him, leading him to delve deep into their minds to understand their motives and methods. This ability helps him understand you better, and delve into your mind and when he does this it only strengthens the feelings he has for you. You are something he must protect and love above all else.

Will has his night terrors constantly and every time he has them he will come to you for comfort. Even though he's not the biggest fan of being social, you keep him calm, the warmth of your hug and the kind words you whisper to him make him even more dependent on you.

He is desperate for your love and your constant acceptance. He wants your affection and love above all else and is willing to play dirty to get it. Will is an excellent manipulator and he will know how to use your feelings against yourself, and make you feel bad.

You're not going to leave him, are you? Can't you see how much he needs you? How desperate is he for you? Will is going to hurt you for even thinking about leaving him. You're so bad for this and Will will have to fix that. You won't leave him, not alive, at least.

Will is a born manipulator, albeit a subtle one. He will know how to make the situation favorable for him and will make you trust him, using both his empathy and manipulations to get what he wants. You will be his no matter what.

If Will sees no other alternative, he will probably kidnap you. It's not what he wants, since he wants a normal relationship with you but if he's too unstable or feels for even a moment that you won't reciprocate what he feels, Will will kidnap you. He will feel bad about it but he won't let you go. Not until he's sure you won't leave him.

Will is extremely possessive and jealous of you. A lot of this jealousy comes from the fact that he doesn't think he's good enough for you, that you deserve someone better than him but he's selfish and won't let you go. You are his and he will not be subtle when he is jealous, which happens very often.

He will be bitter and sarcastic towards anyone who made him jealous and will try to make it clear that you are his. Hands on your waist and a hard look usually do the trick. But if it doesn't work, Will will be more aggressive and will use threats and in more extreme cases, violence, which can end with a bruised and bloody corpse. He would deal with the consequences after comforting you for seeing such a violent scene.

Will is as protective as he is possessive. He loses his mind at the thought of you being hurt, or worse, dead. Any injury inflicted on you will not be treated lightly and Will will demand to know who it was that hurt you. He hates knowing that someone hurt you and he will get rid of them sooner or later. He is not a killer, not at first, but for you he will become one. If for some reason you died, Will wouldn't be able to bear it and would waste away until death claimed him. He can't live without you.

Only a very small number of people will be allowed to Interact with you and only after Will is sure they are not a potential threat. He can't risk you being taken from him and he won't. Anyone who tries won't live long to tell the tale.

Will is going to try to make you happy because he can't stand the idea of ​​seeing you sad, especially if it's his fault. He will take you for a walk with the dogs who, by the way, will become attached to you in the same way as their owner. Although he's not rich, Will won't mind spending money to spoil you a little. Everything to make you happy.

To Will Graham, you are more than just an object of his desire. You are his redemption and his ruin, his salvation and his perdition. He is willing to face any challenge, even turning into a monster, to keep you by his side. He's already unstable, you were just the final straw for his darkest thoughts to fill his mind. And only God knows what he thinks about you.

#hannibal #hannibal nbc #nbc hannibal #yandere hannibal #will graham x reader #yandere will graham #yandere will graham x reader #yandere will graham headcanons #dark!will graham #x reader #yandere headcanons #headcanons #yandere x reader

[ozzgin]

Ngl, I'd be in love with daitou's tattoos and would want to see All Of Them. They're so interesting! And I wanna touch em. Can I be 🦇 anon, if you don't have one? -🦇

Yes! I actually had this tattoo-related piece of lore for the longest time now, but I was never sure how to insert it into the story. 😭 It’s finally my chance to introduce you to tebori, the traditional Japanese art of tattoos.

You hand Daitou another tissue.

“How did you even catch a cold in the midst of summer?” you ask, somewhat incredulous.

The yakuza man lets out another hearty sneeze.

“I guess I stood in the rain for too long, heh.”

A raspy chuckle escapes his mouth. Indeed, last night had been storming and he'd been tasked to discard the bodies from a recent gang fight. Less hassle with the police that way.

Obviously, he can’t tell you that, especially since Kazuya gave him a proper scolding last time he was too generous with the gory details. “What’s the matter with you? Why don’t you just hand her a bone saw and ask her to hold the trash bags, too? Fuck’s sake…”

“Don’t worry too much about me, miss (Y/N). I’ve had worse.” He smiles and turns slightly, pointing behind with his thumb. “After my back piece, I thought I was going to die!”

You raise your eyebrows.

“The tattoo? How would that make you sick?”

“I’ve had all my stuff done the old-fashioned way. Everyone in our Family has been going to the same artist for longer than I've been around."

Daitou raises his hands and gestures the act.

"You use a thin bamboo tool with a needle at one end. Like woodblock carving, y'know? One swift move. Takes a lot of skill, 'specially for linework. It's actually less painful this way, although it's much slower compared to a machine.

Now here's the thing, back in the day pigments were made in a way that caused immune reactions from the body. So for a day or two after your tattoo, you'd have high fever, lethargy, stuff like that. They've improved the formula since, or so I hear. Our old man refuses to switch. 'What? Ya scared of a little heat? Yakuza tattoos aren't for everyone, go back home if you can't handle it, punk!', he likes to say. It's like a manly thing for him, y'know.

My back tattoo, that one took the longest. After the final session, I had the worst fever of my life. Couldn't get out of bed for days!"

He ponders for a moment and grins.

"What's so funny?"

"Would've been nice to know you back then, miss. Just havin' you here makes me feel better already, hehe."

[More yakuza]

#yandere yakuza #yandere x reader #yakuza x reader #daitou #yandere boyfriend #🦇 anon has been added to the list

[shehungthemoon]

Bucktommy Fic prompts: first vacation or snowy cabin vibes

first 118 bbq

Buck rescues a kitten from a tree and keeps it #catdads

Buck telling Tommy he was a sperm donor with zero context like ‘oh yeah biologically I have a kid’ and walking off leaving Tommy like ???

First Christmas together

Idk if it’s your vibe but something relating to the ring cutter?

Babysitting jee

Tommy realising ‘random facts with Buck’ is a thing

Flying lessons

Sorry I have a lot of thoughts and zero ability to write lollll

Oh, anon. I saw "babysitting jee" and could not get the image of Tommy looking at dollar store kids coloring books out of my head. And here we are 🖤

"Are you sure you're okay with it?" Buck asked into his phone, balancing it in between his shoulder and ear as he unpacked his locker for the night. "It's just that Tommy and I don't really get a lot of time to see each other with our schedules and everything, and—"

"Buck," Chim interrupted, "Yes I'm sure. I've known Tommy longer than you have, unless you've somehow forgot that since the last time you begged me for old, embarrassing photos of the man.

"Yeah yeah," Buck mumbled, "I know I know, sorry." Chim made a satisfied hum. Buck finished zipping up his bag. "Bet I know him better though."

Chimney started squawking indignantly over the phone. Buck grinned into his chest.

So, Buck invited Tommy to come babysit Jee with him that night, nervous the whole time he typed the text.

-i know it's not really a great date setting

He typed after he sent the initial message.

-totally ok to say no

He was stupid to be nervous. The reply came almost immediately.

-Are you kidding? I've been waiting to meet that girl ever since Chimney sent me those first pictures.

-Of course I'll be there

---

Tommy met him at Buck's door with a sweet grin and a bunch of coloring books in his hand. Buck couldn't do anything but stare at him for a moment and smile back.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Buck wondered if those butterflies in his stomach would ever go away. When Tommy leaned forward and pressed a gentle, quick kiss onto his lips, Buck came to the conclusion that there was no possible way they ever would.

"I brought these," Tommy said as he walked into the apartment, shaking the coloring books in the air and looking just a little bashful about it. "Didn't want to show up empty handed but I figured wine wasn't the right call for the venue."

Buck chuckled and shut the door behind him. "You definitely figured right." He pointed over toward the media area. "Wanna meet the start of the show?"

Tommy grinned. "More excited to see her than you, really."

Buck scoffed with feigned-offense and pinched Tommy's arm before moving his hand to the small of Tommy's back, pressing him gently toward where Jee was set up in front of his couch.

Jee looked up from her toys with wide eyes when they came into view. "Hey hey, princess, I got someone for you to meet!" Buck held his free hand out to point at his boyfriend. "This is Tommy. Tommy, this is Jee-Yun." She kept still in contemplation and made a humming noise up at them.

Tommy crouched down and gave her a little wave, and Buck would have laughed at the sight of such a big man making himself so small if it weren't the most endearing thing he'd seen in ages.

"Hi Jee-Yun. It's really nice to meet you," Tommy said with a quiet voice Buck'd never heard before. Jee just kept staring over at him with blinking, assessing eyes. "I really like your sparkly dress," he continued, and that seemed to do it. Jee broke out into a wide, squinty-eyed smile and let out one of those little kid laughs that melted hearts.

"Sequins," Jee said brightly; or at least tried to say, there was definitely an 's' sound in there somewhere.

The floor became their home for the next few hours, Jee happily adjusting to her new friend and toddling between the two of them, carting markers and dolls and pieces of Goldfish back and forth across the carpet. The two of them got easily talked into playing Barbies for one memorable twenty minute stretch, in which Buck learned quite a few things about Tommy's sense of fashion.

"You can't put those rain boots on Tiffany when she's wearing that dress, they don't go at all," Buck said contemptuously.

Tommy rolled his eyes. "Why not? There's yellow in the belt." He squinted and held Tiffany up a little closer to his face. "Sort of."

Buck groaned painfully. "They're way to clunky for that outfit! And it's not even raining, Tommy! Why would she be wearing rain boots?"

Tommy blinked at him for a second before slowly tilting his head up toward the ceiling. Of his very-much-indoors living room. Buck groaned louder.

Jee solved the problem easily by shoving the rain boots onto Tiffany's arms and yelling out Gloves! Buck was a little miffed he didn't think of that first.

Dolls, juice-box breaks, Buck chasing Jee around the first floor making firetruck sounds and sending Tommy into stitches from where he was still sprawled in front of the TV—the evening passed all too quickly and with more laughing than either of them had done in weeks. Which of course meant that by the time that Maddie and Chimney texted that they were going to be heading back soon, both grown men were beyond pooped and covered in more sticky substances than was probably recommended by most health codes. Jee had not decided to take it easy on the new guy, that's for sure.

Buck had handed a squirming Jee over to Tommy a bit ago while he got his niece's stuff all organized back together in her bag. By the time he'd gotten the rest of her leftover snacks out of the fridge and made a passable effort at tidying up the counters, the excitable sounds of Tommy and Jee's earlier conversations had died down and Buck decided it was about time he headed over to check up on them.

He was greeted with the sight of the two of them tucked into the couch, Jee set up on Tommy's lap with one of her new coloring books in her hand and an assortment of markers wedged into the crook of Tommy's bent knee in easy reach beside her. She was quietly and happily plugging away at one of the drawings—a startlingly pink giraffe, Buck thought he could make out—scribbling nonsensically across the page with an intently closed fist. Tommy had an arm resting along one of her sides to keep her from falling off, but the man himself was very much not paying too much attention anymore. His head was lolled back against the cushion, eyelids fluttering as he caught a few needed minutes of rest. Buck wasn't worried; he knew by the way Tommy's finger was still drawing lazy shapes along the frills of Jee's sparkly dress that Tommy'd be awake and aware in an instant if she needed him.

Buck stole a moment to just stand there and watch without either of them noticing. He took it in.

Tommy. His boyfriend. With a baby tucked happy against his chest.

Unbelievably small compared to him yet being held with all the gentleness in the world. His boyfriend and his niece. Both safe and content, on his couch.

Something tugged warm and tight behind Buck's ribs. The feeling almost toppled him over, dragged the breath from his lungs, love, pride, want.

He could have been sick with it.

He quietly padded over and lowered himself onto the cushion next to them before he could get too overwhelmed. He couldn't help himself. He leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss against where he knew Tommy's dimple was, and soon enough felt Tommy's smile underneath his lips.

"You having a good time there, Jee?" Buck asked quietly, pulling back just enough to see her. She twisted around to nod empathetically up at him.

"Uncle Tommy got me a jungle," she said, holding her booklet up with a grin, and Buck let out a surprised noise.

"Uncle Tommy, huh?" He teased, poking Tommy in the ribs and looking at him fondly. Tommy swatted his hand away and then grabbed his fingers before he could retreat too far, and Buck let him tug him in close and rest their now tangled hands against his side. Buck settled in sideways against the back of the couch and tried to push down the fondness bubbling up inside him before it burst.

"She said it earlier," Tommy said, brow furrowed just a bit. Buck wanted to press it out with his thumb. "It felt mean to correct her." Buck just hummed and squeezed his hand until he'd relaxed back into the couch again.

Tommy let him rest his forehead against his shoulder, and the three of them whiled away the next quarter hour laughing at Jee's animal noises and picking crazy colors for tigers and monkeys and toucans.

Maddie and Chimney showed up before for too long, greeting Tommy with just as much warmth as they did Buck, especially after they saw just how adamant Jee was about hanging off of Tommy's calf and not letting him go even in the face of Goldfish bribes.

Maddie and Chimney finally got her detached with the promise of an extra bedtime story, and in a flurry of side-hugs and handshakes and little versions of such for Jee, they said their goodbyes. Tommy waved them out the door with an arm around Buck's shoulders.

They stumbled up to bed that night too tired for much else other than sleep, Buck's heart skipping a beat in his chest every time he caught Tommy's eye or felt him brush against him as they moved around the loft. Tommy's strong arms wrapped around him as they drifted off. Buck pressed himself hard back into Tommy's chest and fell asleep to the feeling of feather-light kisses pressed against the back of his neck and a heart beating alongside his own.

#bucktommy #911 abc #fic #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #jee yun buckley han #fic prompt #my fic #drabble #911 fox #ask #🌻 #oliver stark #lou ferrigno jr

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt I. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc

genre: smut, a hint of angst

word count: 10.6k

summary: yoongi never promised his healing time would be easy and when he hurts you enough that you need your other "boyfriend", jungkook is quick to rescue you.

pinterest board: blur | playlist: car playlist

warnings: mentions of a sex toy, jungkook is upset and angry at his hyung, public sex, dirty talk, sexual tension and frustration, praise kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), bruising, cum swallowing, going behind someone's back........

note: HI MY LOVES—MY STEAM DRABBLE IS HERE AND I'VE NEVER BEEN MORE EXCITED TO POST SOMETHING, OH MY GOSH. OKAY, before i say anything else, i would like to put a disclaimer here: even though all my characters are fictional, they are still human in this world, which means they fuck up, which means they're not perfect whatsoever and never will be. i would like to really put an emphasis on that before you read and if i receive any vulgar and rude asks about this, i assure you that i will not respond to them. OKAY ALL SERIOUSNESS ASIDE—this was fucking AMAZING TO WRITE and i already CANNOT WAIT to start writing another part, this time with yoongi included. i promise to make everything right and—SPOILER—this couple WILL get a happy ending, so don't worry, my loves. ENJOY READING. SPAM MY INBOX. I LOVE YOU.

There’s a mango-scented candle rustling in a bag, resting on the passenger seat, and Jungkook is driving very carefully so as to not knock it over and possibly break it. For a moment, one that reemerges in his headspace as he keeps his foot light on the pedal, he wonders if he should buckle a seatbelt around it and ensure its safety that way, his fear of ruining his surprise for you causing his brain to come up with the strangest of ideas—in the name of the love he carries for you. 

Is it love, though? 

Jungkook furrows his brows, that thought seizing his sternum enough that he has to turn his music down and let some fresh air in through the window so he doesn’t crash his fucking car. Icy sweat stings his spine, his stomach churning and without sparing a second longer, his eyes take after the sadness of the weather outside his vehicle. His vision blurs and he rubs his eye, one at a time, to focus on the road.

A red light blinks at him and suddenly, there’s fury that he feels deep within chest. 

Conceivably because slowing down means he has to face the onrush of emotions sloshing in him. Has to hear the rain not just outside, but inside, too. Has to feel the prick of those raindrops along his waterline. The heft of those clouds outside and inside his clavicles as well, tightening and tightening. 

Jungkook sighs, drumming his fingers upon his steering wheel, trying to distract himself from it all. From the invading question that absorbs his body like the vapor rising across the night-clothed street—when did he get so emotional? 

Unfortunately, he knows the answer right away.

You’ve been sad. On your own. 

It’s been a few weeks since all three of you made a deal to stick together. Yoongi has been brave, his good mood clutching him for a lot longer than Jungkook sadly estimated. You’ve spent these past two Fridays and weekends together, out and about, rolling in bed, rolling in Yoongi’s apartment. It was all fun and games until the boss reached a dead end. Somehow. Jungkook still doesn’t know what it was that Yoongi actually saw—what was that one particular thing that caused him to spiral. 

To relapse. 

And you didn’t tell him until it was too late. 

Perhaps, you did tell him—nonverbally, that is. You stopped adding your signed messages whenever he was texting with Yoongi during the week and even those alone stopped coming in as the days went on. There was something wrong and he knew it. His intuition only proved to be right when another weekend showed its face and it contained no undertone of you. And no suggestion of Yoongi either. 

Silence. Dead silence. 

And it wasn’t until Jungkook got an incoming call from an unknown number half an hour ago that he realized the gravity of the situation. 

It was you who called him up, sobbing into the phone, having stolen his number from Yoongi’s device. As difficult as it was to understand what happened, Jungkook tied all the strings of information you gave him between your broken breaths and blubbering: Yoongi hasn’t spoken to you all day and took a shower alone, the latter being the most devastating of the two. 

He felt bad for you, terribly bad for you—but simultaneously, he was upset with you. 

Still is. 

It’s one of the reasons why he’s driving up to Yoongi’s apartment. With a mango-scented candle and a puffed-up bag of cheese balls. He doesn’t want to think what the other reasons are, not when he’s staring down his gift for you, clicking his tongue at last and reaching over for the seatbelt and sliding it into its buckle. Just in time for the traffic light to turn green.

Now, now he’s speeding down the road, turning up the volume of his car playlist. A slow song by the Arctic Monkeys is playing and it’s a movie—the set of circumstances that are happening in the present. The rain, the tightness in his chest, the but faint adrenaline of the momentum. What is he really doing? 

It feels as though he’s following a script, however his eyes haven’t skimmed down the entire thing. He doesn’t know how this is going to end. Hell, he doesn’t even know if he’s doing the right thing because he’s planning on staying outside of his hyung’s apartment. Like hell he’s going inside when his sweetheart—

Jungkook purses his lips. Moves the shift stick. Kills the engine. Closes his eyes. 

His heart thumps. Turbulently. It stirs worry in him. What if he’s going to die? 

This is the first time he’s left in the hands of the unknown. He’s always had the sixth sense of knowing tactness like the back of his hand, although this time he doesn’t know shit. Doesn’t know if he’s breaking his best friend’s trust. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen once he sees you, possibly wearing one of your nighttime robes. The last time you touched him was the last time he had his release. His hand doesn’t feel as good as yours does—and his orgasm isn’t as fulfilling as when it’s shared with you. He’s brimming with frustration, with anger so vast that he could explode and he knows it’s unfair to be mad at Yoongi, when he himself said it wasn’t going to be easy, that it was going to take a lot of work. But Jungkook can’t help his feelings. Can’t help to see you. 

Only you. 

Broken, tear-stained, when it should be blush painting your cheeks red from all the love and happiness your own boyfriend should give you as it’s his duty. Something he’s responsible for. Something he should put above himself. 

“Drunken monologues, confused because it's not like I'm falling in love, I just want you to do me no good and you look like you could,” Alex Turner sings and Jungkook’s chin quivers, his heart gaining tempo, his perturbation rising—owing to the violence of that muscle, owing to the state of your feelings. 

He wonders if you’re still crying. 

He’s outside of Yoongi’s apartment. Didn’t even realize it, mind too fucked up, too full of you. 

Grabbing his phone, he sends you a text. 

I’m here. Come outside 

A reply pings right away. 

SWEETHEART: ? 

SWEETHEART: it’s raining 

He’s halfway typing his response that he doesn’t want to go inside, but he decides against it. Doesn’t want to make it worse for you. If you knew of the dark corners of his mind that don’t particularly like Yoongi at the moment, you wouldn’t look at him with those pretty eyes of yours as you always do. 

He can’t afford that. 

I have an umbrella

As his thumb hovers above his phone, waiting for your reply, he can almost hear your sigh. Can feel your breath on his clammy palm as he rubs it on his pants in effort to rid himself of the nerves crawling in his veins. The breath he was favored enough to hold in his grasp the last time he had you to himself—clamping your mouth shut as he spanked your clit for being so beautifully responsive to his touch, rubbing it until your eyes whisked back while Yoongi slept beside you, unaware. 

It’s engraved in his brain. It plays on loop before sleep overtakes him at night and it’s his first thought in the morning once consciousness reminds him that you’re not his. 

SWEETHEART: is it cold outside?

He figures you’re asking the question in order to decide whether you should change or not. It seems as though warm pajamas don’t exist in your world, for the beginning of September is in the process of blooming. It nudges his anger; provokes it enough to fill it with a lethal dose of a yearning to buy you the warmest pair of pants he could find. He clenches his fist, thumb quick to type a response. 

Wear something that covers your legs or stay home. 

The same thumb shakes at the expression of his firmness, his anger disturbed, wholly—wholly disturbed. If you come out wearing your little shorts—

A reply pings again. 

SWEETHEART: ok ill change

And another one right away. 

SWEETHEART: ill text u when i come down

That’s a good girl. 

He almost types it right then and there, but something within, despite the slowly calming storm of his feelings, despite his cock tightening in his pants at the swift image of your bare legs, at the lingering perception of you being a good girl and listening to him, drags his thumb to his emojis. A sudden renewal of his sixth sense, and he doesn’t understand how it’s happened as it dawns on him, makes him realize that’s not exactly what you need right now. You didn’t call him for a fuck. 

You called him for emotional support. 

👍🏻

And like the good girl you are, you merely take five minutes. Stay true to your words, text him as you’re coming down and Jungkook grabs his umbrella from the backseat. Doesn’t forget to unbuckle the seatbelt in the passenger seat. Saves himself from the embarrassment. 

The trees sway in his direction, inviting him in, once he takes two steps at the time, coming up the stairs. He watches them through the clear roundness of his shield, beckoning him closer. The rain pelts against it, but softly this time. Merciful as it knows you’re about to emerge from the ocean of such unfathomable sadness. It doesn’t wish to frighten you, rather it desires to soothe your escaping, make it less harrowing. Even the wind that whips at him stills as soon as you open the door, bathed in light. 

And Jungkook is struck with the notion that he wants to do the same. 

You’re wearing flared leggings. Gray. With sneakers of the same color and a white top that hugs your waist, that seems way smaller than the last time he touched it. He gets a glimpse of it, and it unnerves him, as you lift your hand to curl a strand of your hair behind your ear because otherwise your body is shrouded in a flannel that’s too big for you. Too robust for you and your particular liking of tight, little clothes. 

He doesn’t want to know who that garment belongs to. Doesn’t even want to come close to unfolding that thought, to even let it get a taste of his burning blood. Because there’s another matter at hand. 

You’ve lost weight. 

And he’s going to kill his hyung for it. 

You step out and it’s an instinct, the way his arm draws closer to you so you don’t get touched by the rain, even if it means the raindrops get to trace the back of his head and the nape of his neck. Yet even that invigorating, tender liquid doesn’t cool the scorching lividness that takes place beneath his skin, beneath his bones. But then you touch his hand, left to left, drag it away and hide yourself in his chest. Everything changes when you do that. 

Jungkook explodes. Silently. Gently. His chin quivers again and he doesn’t care that you can hear the tremor of his heart as you lay your ear against it. Doesn’t care that his grip might hurt you as he hugs you back, thinking he could wrap his arm twice around your much different waist. And he takes you like this. Back to his car. He doesn’t even feel the wetness pooling in his waterline, leading you as you walk backwards. And you laugh, you laugh softly while he inhales your mango scent that has somehow even crept up to your scalp, and he doesn’t believe it’s that easy. 

It can’t be that easy to make you feel better. 

He opens the door for you, a façade of nothingness plastered on his face as he tries his hardest to remain stoic so you wouldn’t see the turmoil churning within every perimeter of his body. And it’s an instinct, too, the way he catches your little purse when it slips off your shoulder, even though he doesn’t see it, too busy devouring your gaze—afraid, awfully afraid that tonight might be the last time he sees your pretty eyes, considering the contempt he’s now showing his hyung. 

If Yoongi finds out about this, it’s over. 

His life is over, too. 

Anger, frustration, sadness, love—how is he able to feel all of those emotions at once? You purse your lips, your weary eyes skip his features all the way to his mouth, stopping at his lip ring and the question rises again in his brain. 

Is it love? 

The rain falls harder. And so does he, unfortunately. 

“I got you something. It’s right there.” He tips his chin to the passenger seat without taking his gaze off of your busy eyes. They’re still looking at his mouth, watching every word come out. He finds it so endearing that there’s nothing more he wants to do than grab your cheeks and kiss you for it. Maybe his frustration would loosen a little bit if he did it. “Don’t sit on it.” 

It’s that addition to his previous sentence that causes you to flick those pretty irises of yours up to his. And he studies it as the double meaning uncoils in your brain, even though it was by accident that it tumbled out of his mouth. The weariness in your orbs parts like clouds upon the heavens, though no sunshine spills through them. There’s still a lingering blankness, something unknown, something foreign. Then, the tiniest of smiles curls your mouth and it jolts through him, his heart thudding harder—to the point that even more profound discomfort settles in. 

“Did you get me a dildo? I could use one right now.” 

The perplex that seizes him almost causes his legs to give out. And he can’t help it, the way his eyes roll back and his hand, with your purse hanging from his forearm, runs down his face. Jungkook wants to get drenched in the rain—maybe if the raindrops put out the sudden fire licking at his every nerve ending, maybe then he’ll come to understand how you manage to be in the mood when your state of mind can’t possibly let you have dirty thoughts. 

His cock tightens again and he calls you by your name, firmly. He can’t have this. Not right now. He needs to be sensible. You need it. “Get in the car.” 

You listen, but your smile falters. Grabbing your bag from his forearm, you turn around, bending over to wrap your fist around the bag on the passenger seat. Jungkook doesn’t mean to look at your delicious round cheeks and once he discovers that they’re hidden under that layer of the hideous flannel, he sighs a breath of relief. He can’t look at you that way. Averts his gaze, immediately. 

As soon as you’re seated, he clicks the door shut. Considers letting the rain have him. Did he make a mistake, being firm with you? 

Inside his car, his favorite song is mellowly playing. In the mere few seconds, you’ve managed to suffuse the entire atmosphere with your mango scent and Jungkook inhales it. It takes him into a whole different world, one filled with eternal sunlight as the song portrays it. He finds himself in a country of spring that has been briskly rained upon and now is being softly seared with those shafts of light and speckles of heat, the details of your beauty. 

“For the love of my life, she's got glow on her face…” the singer sings and the lyrics plod into his mind. Jungkook wishes the description applied to you at this very moment like it had before, like it had every single time he stole a glance at you. He misses your glow and your glitter and it pierces his unstable heart that he finds no traces of those particles of shimmer on your cheekbones and eyelids as you’re rummaging through the bag, not even on your cupid’s bow as you gasp, gently, discovering he bought you your favorite things. 

You’re looking at him with such smothered joy and it would relieve his feelings if he didn’t feel such guilt, if he didn’t feel as though he was a crumbling pillar, a failure undeserving of your time. 

You take the candle into your small hands. Such a stark contrast—his heart aches at the sight of it. You pop the lid open, sniff the aroma and your mouth rounds in a terribly, terribly cute manner. Jungkook is glad for the lack of light in the space of his car, which hides his growing manhood. He props an elbow on the door and pinches his nose, trying to regain his composure— 

“It’s mango-scented,” you say in disbelief, pouting and Jungkook can’t breathe. “And cheese balls, are you kidding me?” You open the bag right away, plopping the treat into your mouth. He’s surprised you eat just one—it doesn’t feel right. “Thank you. Honestly. Thank you.” You cradle it into your chest and Jungkook has to look away. 

What has Yoongi done to you that you react this way to such silly things? He needs to ask, but he fears your answer. And what’s worse, he fears what he’ll do to him once you tell him. 

“What did you tell him?” He needs to get away from this place, but it has to correlate with your plan, if there even is any. If not, he’ll handle it. Figure something out. 

You take a sharp breath, loading your gifts back into the bag, keeping it nice and safe on your lap. Then, you lick your lips and look at him with an intention that causes his heart to jump right there onto the wonderfully clothed flesh of your thighs. “I told him I was going home.” 

Home. Since the moment he knew of your existence, your home has been the place wherever Yoongi resided. It never mattered where. Jungkook grips the steering wheel, knuckles white. “Where do you live?” 

You tell him your address. He knows that from this day on, he’ll never, ever forget it. He starts the engine, wondering in the meantime about the ordinariest things of your life. Do you live there during the week and spend your weekends at Yoongi’s apartment? Or has he completely overtaken your life that you spend every hour of it in his presence? He wants to know. And he wants to get some food in that slim tummy of yours. “Do you have any food there? When was the last time you were there?” 

It’s you who looks away now, staring ahead, playing with your fingers while the rest are still wrapped around the bag. “I don’t live there anymore. Haven’t been there in months.” 

Jungkook bites his lip. Too, too many questions are hovering in his brain—he barely has the capacity to think about them, let alone hurl them at you. “What did he say when you told him you were going home?” 

You snivel and his heart on your thighs twitches in pain. He has to grip the steering wheel harder in order not to jump out of this car and kick down Yoongi’s door. 

“Nothing.” 

Jungkook puts the car in drive, wordlessly, seething inside. He’ll invent another plan while yours will remain its prototype. Will keep you safe.

Safe, fed and tearless. 

The drive is quiet, save for the euphonious melodies emitting through his never-ending playlist. The rain has become less severe, soft in nature, only adding to the background noise—adding to the process of your mollification that he’s overseeing. He’s put a stop to the questions. Has figured you have enough of them, for the only reason you decided to lie to your own boyfriend and go behind his back was because you needed to get out of his clutches. 

A decision he approves of. 

The quietness has helped him regain his composure fully, set some things straight in his brain as the anger in him slowly dissipated. Space is good, for both his hyung and you and he’s proud of you for allowing yourself to get to this point that you walked away. Yoongi, evidently, has returned to his hermit tendencies and Jungkook knows very well that it’s something that he needs in his healing time. It’s who he is; who he always has been. He didn’t push him away too many times for him to be possibly wrong about this and while the information he gained from you that Yoongi changed his ways shattered Jungkook’s heart and glued it back together, he knew, somehow, deep within him, that it was just an effort. For you. 

He didn’t think it was a façade because Yoongi is certainly not a phony person. 

He did it for you. Tried his hardest. And succeeded. With your help, he’s sure—which makes it all the more beautiful—but Yoongi is still Yoongi. 

Someone who deals with things on his own. 

And although the distance he needs hurts other people, he doesn’t mean it. Jungkook knows this just as well, despite the fact what he truly thinks is that Yoongi should try harder. 

For you. 

He needs to tell you this. Needs you to know. But he doesn’t think you’re ready to hear it just yet, which is okay. The plan is constructed, he’s here for you and he will make you feel better. He will caress your heart and make your belly full. Will make you forget for a little while before he gently brings you back to reality. 

You deserve this. After everything you’ve been through. Because of him. Because of Yoongi. 

And because of this, he no longer feels guilty that he has you to himself without Yoongi knowing. Even if that means he risks his brotherhood, even if that means he risks his affection for you seeing the light of day. 

You’re more important. 

It’s this thought that gets interrupted by a sudden ring of your phone. You jump, zipping your purse open and Jungkook keeps his eyes on the road. He doesn’t really want to see the kind of picture you have Yoongi saved under. He has to keep his feelings intact. Remain calm. 

Your breath shakes. “He’s video calling me.” 

Sparks of electricity nip at his fingertips. A surge of adrenaline, the threatening, false notion that he’s doing the wrong thing. Jungkook almost smirks. It’s so fucking thrilling to him. 

He lets you decide on your own what to do, but you grow unsure, nerves burdening you. He feels that heft and it’s quick to sober him up. 

“Should I get out of this car? Say I’m taking a walk?” you ask, your pretty, pretty eyes wide, your pupils so tiny. Jungkook wants to take your hand in his, take your fear that makes you think these silly thoughts and crush it. 

He’s here. He’s going to take care of this. Of you. 

“Let it ring.” 

You look back down at your phone, lip between your teeth, but Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, the red of the stoplight pervading you with the danger of your girlish freedom. And it does ring two more times before Yoongi gives up. 

Good. 

You have the right to need to distance yourself just as much as he does. Give him the same silent treatment like he did to you.

There’s a smug smirk plastered on his face when he catches you putting your phone back into your purse before the light turns green. He speeds down the road, driving with just one hand, ready to unfold his plan. 

One he’s already shared with you. 

He’s taking you to the mall. 

His hand itches to take yours as you walk beside him. Strangers stare you down, but you keep your attention on the myriads of shops lining the side of the promenade. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that there’s so many people wasting their Thursday at such a place like this. At this hour, especially. It kind of makes him regret that he took you here, despite the fact the sole purpose of it was to feed you until you were full. The lights are too bright, children are screaming and running around and it’s giving him a headache, but one look at you changes his mind in an instant. The glow he missed has found its way back to your cheeks and there’s a glint to your eyes that he hasn’t seen in a long while. The paleness is gone and he’s not really ignorant to the way a bush of roses begins to bloom in his chest at the realization. 

You stop dead in your tracks all of a sudden. Your little purse slips off of your shoulder. As attentive as he always is, he slides it back up, a smile tugging his mouth to the side. He thinks it’s just so damn cute. And the fact you don’t pay any attention to it as well. Probably used to it. 

Red posters of sale adorn the storefront that has caught your eye. Jungkook is unfamiliar with it, but you seem to be completely enthralled by it. 

“Where do you wanna eat?” he provokes. Already knows what restaurant you’ll be feasting at, obviously, but poking you is a matter of enjoyment for him. “There’s so many food courts to choose from.” 

You look at him and clutch your stomach, as if the mere mention of food made you hungry. A faint, faded light flashes across that glint in your irises before it dwindles away and Jungkook is ready to throw you over his shoulder and push people off of his path to get you there right now. 

“Can we… go here first?” you ask, hesitatingly, grabbing a hold of his elbow, but he feels as though you’re squeezing his heart, wringing it out of all that liquid emotion that he swallowed down earlier in the car. Your touch is warm, like the pond water kissed by the sun back at his cabin, seeping into his skin and languidly streaming through his body. 

It’s automatic, primal and right, the way he clasps his other hand across your fingers wrapped around his bicep and the way your body draws closer to his. It should be normal to do this when he’s seen you bare—when he’s seen you feral, needy and disappear into your pleasure, one he’s the creator of. Why does it feel so thrilling? So dangerous? 

You can meander through as many stores as you want. And he tells you that, or at least tries to, as he smiles at you, softly, and nods his head, letting you lead him inside the shop that has so vehemently caught your attention. 

A trillion styles of jeans, tiny tops, skirts and shorts of the same size, Jungkook understands your fascination as he takes it all in. And he’s pleasantly surprised when you indulge him as you fondle every material of every clothing you like, telling him how pretty you find it. You’re not timid to show him your disappointment either, wrinkling your nose, when the fabric is too frail or too expensive for the price, muttering vulgarities directed to capitalism and leading him away. 

It isn’t until your sight stumbles upon a rack of dresses that your breath, audibly, hitches in your throat. And you unlink your arm from his, going straight for your seemingly new obsession. 

A red dress. A sheer fabric, more like. With roses sewn in, a split in the middle, one strap covering only a part of the hanger. It’s the only piece of clothing you actually take into both of your hands, putting it against your body, as if to see what it would look like on you. Fuck if he knows what you’re doing—all he knows is that his throat is dry, the image of you wearing something like this making him a living, breathing corpse. 

Jungkook clenches his fists. Even more so when you disappointingly click your tongue upon seeing the price tag, putting it back where you found it. The thought of you not having that dress causing his heart to lodge, tightly and disturbingly, in the shriveled walls of his throat. 

Not happening. Not under his watch. 

That dress was made for you. 

Jungkook licks his lips. Doesn’t stop the words from spilling out. “Why don’t you try it on?”

You give him a look as if he was a mad man. And he is. That he certainly is. “Please, this costs more than I can afford. I’d only go home crying if I tried it on and had to put it back.”

He stifles a laugh at how ridiculous you sound. Picks up the price tag. Less than two hundred thousand wons. It wouldn’t even make a dent in his bank account. 

He grabs the hanger. Hands it to you. “Go try it on, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes. Don’t look amused at all. Your brows knit ever so adorably and the corners of your mouth curl downwards, arms crossing over your chest. Oh, he’s going to wipe that expression off of your face. Paint it in pretty, pretty colors. “No, thanks. I think I cried enough today. Let’s go.” 

You walk past him, but Jungkook stops you. Grabs your arm. Calls your name, firmly. “I’m not gonna repeat myself.” 

You huff. “Is there something wrong with your ears?” Your brows quirk and he thinks he died again. Might melt into a putty. Just for you. 

He smirks, showing his teeth. “It’s no issue for me,” he says, speaking of money, taking your hand in his and enveloping your fingers around the hanger. “So be good and try on this dress for me. Off you go.” 

Jungkook turns you around and, with his palms on your shoulders, he leads you towards the dressing rooms, not stopping until he finds one that’s unoccupied. You huff and puff again, but he gently pushes you inside. And when you open your mouth to say something, he drags the curtain to the side. A laughter bubbles in his chest. 

“You’re not buying this for me.” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Strip.” 

There’s no witty remark, no exhales of your exasperated breaths, only the obnoxious music blasting through the speakers and he assumes that you gave in to him. A tendril of proudness, not of his actions but for you and your good behavior, swims in the hot bloodstream of his veins and it’s now, now that he’s almost alone and you’re out of view, save for your feet clad in pink socks under the curtain, that he perceives that he’s coated in sweat. The disorder of his colorful, all kinds of feelings has turned him so numb that he doesn’t even feel grounded in his body. He needs a strong sip of alcohol. And a good meal. 

He begins to flutter the sides of his leather jacket, just to alleviate himself of how hot he feels, when he hears you gasp, your footsies shuffling on the carpeted floor. He takes a step towards the dressing room, a trembling hand reaching for the curtain and stopping there—a spasm of nerves zaps his abdomen, spreading iciness to the tips of his fingers. He knows what he’s about to see will make him a dead man for the third time this evening and because of that, he takes a deep, soundless breath, closing his eyes for a mere second before his hand pulls the curtain away. 

Nothing, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for the sight before him. 

And nothing is what you’re wearing underneath the dress. 

Abruptly, there’s no music. There’s no gasps emitting out of that marvelous mouth of yours. And the film in front of his eyes is in slow motion, accompanied by the winged fuckers going equally mad inside his stomach. You’re twirling. From side to side. Patting down the material tight against your slender body. A grin on your face, one that he’s last seen during that time joy rested in you, bathes you in a glow that he longed to see. The glint, the light in your eyes takes on a whole new intensity and it shoots embers into his bare hands, burning him ferociously and curtly—just for him to find that he likes it and that he wants more. You turn around, facing him, and you swathe him with that flaring, almost raging light. It’s the sole thing he senses amidst the numbness of his headspace. 

Except for one thing. 

The ruffle of the sorry excuse for a rose beneath the singular strap of the dress is but an inch above your stiffened nipple while the other, just as excited, is left bare for his eyes—as if the principle of being exposed like that awakened your body. But it’s the vast, stitched red buds of that flower across your small waist, stomach, mound and the apex of your thighs that brings his attention to this other thing that he’s aware of. 

He’s hard for you. 

This image of you will perpetually haunt his dreams. Your little, carmine rose tattoos as if lining your skin, mainly. His throat swallows, dryly. 

Jungkook cups himself in an effort to hide his arousal and his bafflement from your stark, astonishing beauty. He thinks you’re unquestionably otherworldly, so far beyond his reach and his league that it aches. As much as the apprehension that if you wore anything else in this fucking dressing room, he’d fall to his knees just the same.

And then you speak and somehow you bring sharpness back into his reality. 

“The socks go well with the dress, don’t you think?” 

Jungkook glances at your feet and what he sees makes him pinch his eyes and let out a rumble of laughter. There’s a fucking Pikachu on your socks, grinning up at him, mocking him for getting hard for you for the third time. 

He can’t look back up and be a witness to the magnificence of your body. If he allows himself to do so, he will combust. Bring the whole building down—

A set of footsteps sound behind him and, with a racing heart, Jungkook steps inside the dressing room, shrouding you with his body without touching you, pulling the curtain shut. You startle, backing away until your spine leans against the mirror and there’s no space, none whatsoever, for him to run from you because when he turns back around, it’s your eyes he meets first. Nose to nose, breath to breath. 

When did they start making dressing rooms so fucking small? 

His breath picks up speed. He wants to pretend he doesn’t see the thick veil of your feminine carnality shunning out the light in your irises, because he can’t afford this, not when you’re sad, not when you need a friend, not when he needs to be stable for you. But the more you look at him, the more you draw him in and he has very little strength to fight against it. 

Averting his gaze, he props a hand on the wall beside your mirror. Notices your clothes, untidy, sprawled on the bench. Finds no traces of you taking off your underwear, which means only one thing.

His heart nearly skips a beat. 

“Where’s your underwear?”

Your grin forms into a smirk and you latch both of your hands onto the sides of his jacket. Danger mingles into that carnality in your eyes and Jungkook knows, right at this instant, that he’s fucked. “Didn’t take any.” 

His cock hardens even more in his hand. A brief flashback of the way he ripped your panties off at his cabin when you disobeyed him fills his mind, and he grows weak. It’s still a private pleasure of his, one that he likes recollecting, no matter the events that took place after. And the whole escapade has caused him to form a certain attachment to your underwear—or lack thereof. Knowing you didn’t take any on your first, secret night out with him suffuses him with delectation, one that intertwines with a rising question in him. 

Did you choose not to wear it for the sake of the old time or did you choose not to wear it because you’re expecting something from him? 

He yearns to know. Needs to. 

“Why?” 

Your fists bunch up his T-shirt underneath the jacket, tip of the tongue darting out to lick across your top lip. Your eyes follow the way you squeeze the fabric and Jungkook catches your long lashes quivering at your discovery of his quite prominent problem. A blush scatters along your nose and cheekbones and he doesn’t have to look down to know that his hand scarcely conceals his imprint. He’s grown harder for you in this close proximity and, peculiarly, light pervades him now that you know about his arousal, even though he doesn’t expect you, nor demand from you, to do anything about it. 

“Oh, you know.” Palms flat, you drift them down his stomach. Jungkook stiffens, a forest burned by you. “It would only get in the way.” 

He sucks in a breath, pressing his other hand beside your head, caging you in, his cock in full clothed glory for you. His head spins, but paradoxically, he feels himself gaining strength, as if you managed to rejuvenate him by laying out your cards on the table in such a filthy, electrifying manner. 

“Get in the way of what?”

You mirror him, sucking in a breath of your own. “Get in the way of you fucking my brains out?” 

A quirk of his brow. A twitch of his cock. He can’t breathe—you’ve taken all of the remaining oxygen in his lungs when you sucked in that breath and uttered those dirty, dirty words. How are you capable of this? What has Yoongi done to you? Jungkook drags his teeth up his bottom lip, although it attenuates close to nothing. His arousal only blossoms, the bush of roses in his gut thickening, so akin to your little, feigned tattoos. He yearns to feel them under his palm. 

A dead man, for the fourth time. 

His knees might give out. His hands are clammy.

Though his mouth acts on its own. “Have you forgotten what I’m capable of doing?” 

He watches the flashback swim past your irises and it connects to your mouth, expanding it into a coy smile. “I guess I have.” 

Bad, bad girl. It’s you who’s fucking his brains out, trembling like a little leaf, longing for his touch, calling out for his hands. He feels them buzz, interwoven with your senses and your desires. Even if you didn’t move an inch, if you remained still as a sculpture, his hands would still know you want them and it drives him to the peak of insanity—enough for him to consider taking you right here and there, in all seriousness. In spite of the fact he still has a mind of his own and is aware that he shouldn’t. For Yoongi’s sake, yes—but mostly for your sake. 

The tips of his fingers tingle with the craving to rip that flimsy fabric off of you and make you remember what he did to you, even though you fully remember. Something about that fills him with an onrush of vigorous energy, one that needs a release. It whispers, most intensely, its plea for it within his skin. 

“Do I really need to remind you?” Jungkook asks, playing your little game after all, digits clenched into fists on either side of your head. You nod, briefly, seemingly becoming smaller in his captivity, hands drifting lower, rooting by his hips. He’s surprised he’s letting you touch him like this, but then he’d let you do anything you want. He sweeps a glance at your form, just once, before he bores his gaze back into yours. It did something to you and he draws closer, senses you squeezing your thighs together. Such a cute, bad girl. “It would be a pity to rip this dress off of you. What would they think, hm? If you walked out of this dressing room and had to explain to them what happened?” 

Jungkook drags a finger down your neck and at the first physical contact, you release a breath that wafts over him, deepens his heat. He traces the line of your strap until he reaches the frilly bud of the rose and tugs at it, just once. 

He’s about to continue taunting you, but you catch him off guard. 

“I dunno, I’d tell them I wanted you to do it. That I needed the reminder,” you whisper and your low tone of voice curls unfathomably somewhere within his gut, forcing him to double over. You hook your fingers around his belt loops and Jungkook brims with gladness that he didn’t wear a belt. “What was it that you did to me?” 

He nearly, nearly rolls his eyes back. The effect you have on him—he craves to bunch your hair in his fist, teach you a lesson regarding what you’re doing to him. 

And he just might. Take full responsibility while he’s at it. 

Two responses swirl on his tongue, however. 

One to scold you for provoking him in public, but he knows it would stall the aroused energy and back it away into a corner. The other to keep going and drive you to his level of insanity. 

It’s a crossroad and he’s standing in the middle, a man in charge, his morals questioned and at absolute fucking risk. His blood pumps at full speed and sweat lines his forehead. He’s on the verge of bursting. Time and tension presses against him and with all that energy and strength pulsating in him, it’s scarcely the one he needs to put a stop to this all. It all leads into a far different direction, leading him away from the clearness of his morals. 

Fuck. 

Then, your chest lifts in desperate staccatos and that’s it for him. That’s the breaking point. 

No way out. 

Only way in. 

For you. 

Jungkook wets his lips. “How well can you keep a secret?” 

In the same trembling staccatos, you exhale in relief and he’s ready to give you everything. Absolutely fucking everything. “I’m the best in the game.” 

A flash of light in his being. He’s immensely pleased with your answer, growing hotter and hotter. He inches closer to you, flush to your body, lips by your ear. Feels your little nubs pressing against his upper abdominal muscles. Craves to sink his teeth into the delicious flesh of your ear. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” he starts, mimicking your low tone, speaking of the evident elephant in the room, hoping you catch onto it. “And if they ask, you have to come up with something else. Can you do that?” 

He pulls away a tiny bit, just to study your reaction. Your hold tightens on his belt loops while your mouth parts and your head nods in agreement, ever so needy but patient for his next move. He wants to lick you all over just for that, reward you until you lose your voice. 

“You teased me with your words, with your little bratty mouth, and even though you listened well when I told you to lick your finger for me, you disobeyed me when I instructed you to not wear panties at my place,” he starts, lips mouthing your ear and he feels the need of your body to stabilize at the memory. Offering you his own, he presses closer to you until he pins you against the mirror, until both pairs of lungs sync in movement, his fingers skimming, barely, over the sides of your hips. Though something resistant takes place in the middle of that entwinement. Something that gives his mouth the aftertaste of copper. “And when I found out, I ripped them off of you. Fingered you so fast you came in seconds and made a mess on my hand. And then…” he pauses, an inkling regarding how to get rid of his uneasiness plaguing his mind. “Then I made you apologize and you did. You did it so sweetly that I made you come so many times until you lost count,” he alters the memory, concluding the reminder finding the aftertaste rapidly increasing, transmitting down to his heart, burdening it with a heavy load that he doesn’t know the contents of. 

“Can you show me what you did? I think I might remember better if you do.” 

He almost sinks to his knees, but the resistance, the coppery aftertaste in his mouth immobilizes him, keeps him glued on his spot and his hands begin to tremble. An image of Yoongi blazes in the back of his mind and, fleetingly, Jungkook sees a swift movement, a memory of getting hit. If his hyung is in as bad a mental state as he is, it’s inevitable that history will repeat itself. You haven’t received his blessing. Neither has he. 

But at this very moment, he thinks knuckles to his cheek will simulate the act of a kiss. 

Secrets are secrets and he’s weak.

Awfully, awfully weak. 

“Is this what you want me to do?” he asks, looking you dead in the eye, lifting his chin, hoping you see his frailty—hoping you see that he’s hanging by the thread. “Finger you in this dressing room until you ruin that pretty dress?” 

A smile. “Well, you didn’t get me a dildo, so your fingers will have to do.” 

A sharp inhale of breath. “What about this cock, huh? You don’t want it?” 

You drag a finger along his jean-clad length, barely touching him. Jungkook twitches all over. 

“It’s too big for me, you know I can’t take it.” 

A deep chuckle. He’ll ruin his jeans himself. “If my mind serves me well, you’ve always taken it well. Came around it a lot of times.” 

You whine. This, this is your breaking point and all of Jungkook’s muscles tighten at the recognition. He’s gonna give it to you. Say fuck it to it all—his life was damned the moment he set his eyes on you. Knew he was going to die prematurely. Thinks dying in Yoongi’s hands is quite merciful. It’s his best friend after all. 

“Please, Jungkook, I—”

He grabs your waist, tightly. His thumbs touch and his stomach drops. “You what?” He’s going to make you say it, he doesn’t care. He needs it. He craves it. 

A mewl, one that coils around his length. “I’m so wet. I need you. Please, do something. Anything. Let’s get out of here.” 

He turns you around and because you didn’t expect it, you gasp—loudly. Angels must be by his side, for your sounds get instantly swallowed by the blasting music. You can be as loud as you want, as he wants and he makes a mental note to remind you that when the time asks for it. 

His fingers gather the flimsy fabric, bunching it at your waist. In the sharp light, shining down at you most perfectly, he has a splendid view of your drenched thighs and swollen clit. He presses you against him, needs you to feel how hard you made him, how rock solid his cock is at the sight of your mouth-watering filthiness. He needs you in his mouth, he needs you. 

“Where?” Jungkook asks, staring you down in the mirror, brows furrowed, head tipped to yours, lips in a tight line, parting with every hardened exhale. “Where do you need me? Show me.” 

You moan, ever so softly and he can’t help but grind against your ass, fingertips making dents in the flesh of your waist. You take your hand and drift it down to your sweet little cunt and Jungkook holds his breath. You rub your center, your adorable lips wrapping around your small fingers and you show him the thick sheen of your arousal, glistening in the light. Just like you did the first time he set his eyes on you, even though the paradisiacal sight wasn’t meant for him. 

Now it is—and he’s nearly about to weep in joy. Such spiritual experience, swathed with gratitude and mercy, healing him through and through. This is for him. You’re willingly giving it to him. He never thought he was ever deserving of it, but now in your hands, at your service, it feels too good to be true. His eyes wet, his arousal taking a new form, becoming something bigger, more profound, something that will change him, cling to him for the rest of his life. 

“Here. I want your fingers.” 

He takes your palm in his, planning something with it. “Just my fingers?” 

You lean your head back against his chest. “All of you, please, please.” 

At your service. 

Jungkook wraps his lips around your fingers, sucking your dew, swallowing it, needing more. You grow more desperate, watching him in the mirror, and your little index finger grazes his lip ring, smiling sweetly, pleased with yourself. He coos at the sight, but then you turn around, pressing yourself against him, your cunt against his thigh, his cock against your tummy, and you grab the back of his neck and pull him in, harshly, for a kiss. 

You eat his mouth. He’s barely able to reciprocate your hungry kisses, the roll of your tongue, your moans at your own taste and he decides he will simply slow you down. 

Reaching behind you, his fingers tease your entrance. In response, you lift your ass for him, arching your spine as much as you can. He knows that if he were to pull away, he’d see your juices in the mirror, in the stark light, but your starvation and your craving tastes too good and he physically can’t. 

Gathering your slick, he drags his fingers past your parted lips towards your clit and you swirl your hips for him, outrunning him—making the tip of his digit give you the circles you want. He groans into your mouth, out of breath and it isn’t until he rubs your bud rapidly, with deep pressure, and you moan so loud that it alerts him enough to pull away. 

The music did not, in fact, swallow that sound. 

Jungkook clamps your mouth shut.

Without stopping his movement. Watches your eyes roll back. And he’s greedy, unfortunately so. 

Turning you around, he props your leg on the bench and he looks at your pretty cunt. Swollen red clit, like your feigned tattoos, parted lips, dripping hole and equally soaked folds, glistening in the direct light. He swears, can’t help it, fondling your femininity, all four of his fingers gliding with ease, back and forth, everywhere. Down to your other hole, to your inner thighs, back up to your seashell, to your mound and lower tummy. He cakes you with your arousal, one he’s the creator of, bunching your dress higher until he’s holding you right underneath your breasts that spill over his forearm. So full and perky—he’s unhinged. Utterly, utterly unhinged. 

He wants to smear your slick over those clothed nipples as well. 

Fuck. 

Jungkook rubs your clit again, with the same speed as before. Your eyes lid, but keep the eye contact in the mirror, ravaging him through and through. He submits to it, even though he has the upper hand, even though he has the capability to make those eyes go cross. And they do—when he sinks his fingers inside of you, middle and ring, stuffing you full. Your walls suck him in so hard that he almost loses his footing, squeezing you so hard against him that he’s sure he will leave bruises on your tender skin. He silently promises he will kiss them later. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He lifts your leg, hoists it up in the air and begins to fuck you speedily, fingers curling in your spot every once in a while. He doesn’t want to make you come fast, but then time is pressing against him and he knows the mall will be closing soon. He still has to fill that belly. Would prefer if you came around his cock. “My fingers fucking your needy little princess parts, hm?” 

You moan his name and Jungkook shushes you in your ear, rewarding you regardless by abusing your clit with circles, alternating between those and swiftly fucking you in your tight hole. 

“I’m gonna come, Jungkook, I’m gonna come.” 

He withdraws his fingers. All of them—even those wrapped around your leg. You sway on your feet, heady, panting, and he stabilizes you with a hand on your arm. He smirks at you in the mirror, fingers in his mouth and you give him a dirty look. 

Before you can tell him off, he explains himself. “You’re coming around my cock, I don’t give a fuck, sweetheart.” 

His words wipe your face off of that scowl and you smile at him. A sunshine personified. Jungkook chuckles, pushing you against the mirror with his hand on your sternum and getting on his knees. 

He places your leg on his shoulder. “Hold your dress for me.” 

You listen right away, ever so eager. One hand clutches the hem, the other sneaks to his hair. Jungkook likes it so much that he doesn’t waste a second and envelops his mouth around your little clit. 

Just briefly. He has your dew to drink. 

He swipes his tongue along your slit. Over and over, until his sweat drips in pearls down his temples and he makes new bruises on the sides of your hips. Even goes one step further and fucks you with his tongue, letting out short little breaths and soft moans against you, gone feral by your taste and your fleshiness. He takes your lips in his mouth, plays with them with his tongue. Pulls away, stares lovingly at them and spits on your clit, sucking it inside his mouth and rubbing his face in your dripping juices, licking up everything you’re giving to him. 

And when your knee gives out, he catches you in time, standing to his feet. Doesn’t kiss you. Is selfish. Wants your taste perpetually on his tongue. Your eyes sink to his wet chin and you lick your lips, a feral look on your own gracing your features. You resemble a horny little animal, one that he craves to own and make his. But he can’t burden his heart with that thought. Doesn’t have the strength for it, not when he’s still hanging by the thread. 

“How do you want my cock?” he asks, his own eyes lidded, darkness consuming him. “Like this or from behind? You decide. I’m giving it to you. It’s yours.” 

You’re left speechless. He taps your cheek, gently, to make you talk. If you don’t, it will be his ruination and he will die. At your Pikachu-clad feet. A sweet, sweet death. Ideal. 

“I—I can’t take it from behind.” A deer in the headlights, terribly cute. 

He chuckles, caressing your hair. “But you have.” He grins, but it’s an answer for him. He’ll take you from behind in the safe confines of your home. “Like this, then. It’s more than perfect, sweetheart.” He kisses you, deeply, but he doesn’t give you his tongue. His heart expands, his affection crawling all around the kiss. He wonders if you can feel it. 

Pulling away, he unbuttons his pants and takes out his length. He’s soaked his underwear, but he doesn’t mind. His arousal drips down and he rubs it along his tip to make it as painless for you as he can when he enters you. 

And once he does, your eyes roll back and you break into whines, ones that fuck with his brain. Your leg is wrapped around his torso, but he joins the other one, holding you by your splendid little cheeks. Like his fingers, you suck him in, even though he hasn’t given you all of it yet. He’s already losing it. Doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him once he’s balls deep. He won’t last. He physically can’t. 

Jungkook bites your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. “You want all of it?” 

You tug at his hair. “Yes, all of you.” 

At your fucking service. 

He sinks deeper into you, hissing, furrowing his brows, sweat dripping down every perimeter of his body. Your mouth latches onto his neck and he’s gone. Even more so, when you graze your teeth upon his skin before you suck it—like he sucked your lip. He fucks you hard for it, making you let go of his neck and moan against the column. It pleases him so much that he does it again, a warm pressure coiling in his lower belly. It creates a cacophonous sound, your body colliding into the mirror and it mingles, beautifully, with the music playing. As well as the squeaky noises of your slick gliding along his cock every time he draws out. 

“Who do you belong to tonight, huh?” Jungkook rasps, filling you balls-deep just like you wanted, driving into you slowly until his pelvis kisses yours. “You can be as loud as you want, sweetheart. Nobody’s gonna hear you but me.” 

Rapid, whiny moans. He mimics their speed while maintaining eye contact with you and he groans when your eyes go unfocused, mouth parted. You’re just as gone as him. He pecks you for it, so terribly pleased. His orgasm inches closer, enveloping him with even deeper, thicker darkness. 

“To you, Daddy,” you cry out and because you called him by the title, he maneuvers you. Hoists you higher on his cock, with your legs now dangling from his forearms. And like this, he drags you up and down his length, his own moans breaking at the feeling of you tightening around him. He’s gonna come now and it’s your fault. 

“No, sweetheart, you can’t call me that when we’re here,” he scolds, shaking his head, brushing his lips against yours. “I can’t ruin you the way I’d like. They’d kick us out.” He kisses you, slowing down his tempo, stalling his orgasm. “Now apologize or you’re not coming.” 

“I’m so sorry. I won’t call you that in—in public.” 

A rewarding kiss to your neck. A hard stroke. One that blankets his vision with colorful stars. “Good girl,” he praises, looks down at you and kisses you without breaking the stare. “Now you need to be the best girl and come around my cock. I can’t fill you up—you didn’t wear your panties. I’d ruin your leggings for everyone to see.” You cry out again, the idea dizzying your mind as much as his and you tug at his hair, scratching your fingernails down his neck, touching him all over. “Can you do that for me? Can you come for me and not make a mess like the last time, hm?” 

He pounds into you, the strokes so hard that the sound of skin slapping turns disturbing and he holds his orgasm for your sake, all of his muscles clenched, stars dancing across his vision, pecking your features. And that’s it for you. 

You come so hard around him—and you are the bestest girl in the world because you manage to keep your eyes on him throughout the entirety of the wave of your orgasm washing over you, licking up at your body. Mouth parted, his name slipping past, a deep tinge of red, deeper than your dress, flushing your cheeks, eyes dazed, so gone, so fucked out, dark and alluring, so akin to his.

His bestest girl. His sweetheart. 

He needs to pull away. He needs to come. 

“Sweetheart, I know you’re tired but I need you to take off your dress and get on your knees.” 

You do it so quickly, without talking back, that even his own flush finds its way to his cheeks, his heart growing even larger and hotter, winged fuckers zapping his stomach. He fucks his fist in your face, loving the way you’re watching what he’s doing for a little while with a lingering hunger before you flick your eyes to his, beckoning his orgasm out of him. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, muscles straining, movement quickening. White clothes the colorful stars, the warmth in his stomach on the very brink of exploding. “Open your mouth.” 

And he paints your mouth in the same shade of white. You’re so good that you wrap your lips around him, sucking him softly, making popping sounds that prolong his orgasm and he grasps your hair in his fist, gently, despite the violence of his release. He’s not just giving you his cum; he’s giving you all of his affection and when you swallow and smile at him in such a kind, beautiful manner, it wets his eyes in a way that he can’t explain. 

He helps you get on your feet and you worsen his state of emotions. Like earlier, you fold into his form, hugging him skin to skin, squeezing him so hard that he stops breathing altogether. And when you begin to weep and smear his chest with your precious tears, he weeps with you. 

Never in his life before has he experienced such embrace, such love unraveling in the form of tears and quiet sobs. And he doesn’t want to absolve this again. With you, it’s perfect. And right now, he could die with the utmost certainty that you’re both crying for the same reason. 

Love unable to be real, to be fulfilled. 

He senses it. Senses it in the way he cradles your head and wipes your tears away. In the way your lips wrap around his, kissing him as if this was the very last time. You don’t have to say a word. He knows. And it’s enough. 

Jungkook dresses you. Runs his fingers through your hair in effort to fix it and make it look as nice as it did before he ruined it. And his eyes drench again when you zip him up in the meantime. No one has ever done that for him. 

The warmth in his heart heightens. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible. 

Taking your hand, purse and your dress, he leads you to check out. Pays for it. Carries the bag. Pretends you’re his; pretends his duties are nonexistent and his morals have different colors—just for this night. Doesn’t let go of your hand, even as he orders a good bowl of soup for you and himself, even as you sit down together and wait for your food. Even as you look at him deep in thought. 

“You saved me,” you unravel, a soft, tender, drowsy mien gracing your face and his heart thuds against his ribcage, gratitude surrounding it, eyes wetting again. “Thank you. And for the dress. I’ll only wear it for you.” 

The thuds halt. And it’s the only thing that does—a tear rolls down his cheek and he can’t truly believe he’s baring his feelings like that for you, in front of you. He feels as though he was dreaming and he fears he’s going to stir to awakening any moment now. 

A waiter brings your food. None of you pay him any kind of attention, though you don’t forget to say your thank you’s. 

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, despite the fact no words rise on his tongue, but something interrupts him. 

His phone rings. 

And it’s none other than his hyung himself. 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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#jungkook x oc #yoongi smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot #yoongi x oc #yoongi x reader #yoongi imagine

[scoonsalicious]

2.1 Bucky

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntire, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, pick-mes, internalized misogyny.

Word Count: 2.7k

Previously On...: You asked Bucky to dance.

A/N: Guys, I know it's moving fast, but next part is smut <3

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As soon as the opening bars of the saxophone began, Bucky found himself feeling at ease. It wasn’t exactly like the big band tunes he used to cut it up to back in the day, but the beat was similar, and the horns were familiar. He was delighted to find the rhythm of the song was perfect for the Lindy Hop, and in no time, he was moving Major along the floor like he would have if he’d met her in 1943. 

And the look on her face as he spun her, twisted her in his arms? It was fucking priceless. Major’s smile was huge, her laugh infectious, and in no time at all, Bucky found himself laughing, too. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun with a dame. 

He was surprised to find himself thinking of Major in those terms, as a dame. Yeah, he’d dated since he’d woken up from cryo for the last time, even had a couple of relationships that never seemed to go anywhere, but those had all been with girls, occasionally women. Not a single one of them had made him feel the same electric rush he’d felt in his youth; not the way he’d felt dancing with Major tonight, and that made her a dame. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

The song was over far too soon for Bucky’s liking, and even though the next one was one he didn’t know how to move to, he found he didn’t want to let go of her, didn’t want to move off the floor.

“That was great,” he said, slightly panting from the dancing and laughing. “What was that?”

“Bleachers,” Major said. “Modern Girl. They’re one of my favorite bands. I’m so glad you liked it.”

“I loved it,” Bucky smiled. “I haven’t danced like that in nearly a century. It felt fucking amazing; thank you.” 

Major ducked her face behind her hair, bashful at his thanks, and Bucky thought it was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “Are all their songs like that?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted, “but they’re still fantastic.”

“I’ll give them a listen, then,” he said, “if you like them so much.”

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, blushing. God. How Bucky wanted to bite the apples of her cheeks!

“I want to,” he said, earnestly. Without a thought, he found himself reaching up to tuck a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. She was so beautiful; he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to even be talking to her, let alone having gotten to share a dance.

“What?” Major asked, sounding self conscious, and Bucky realized he’d been staring at her for a little longer than was probably considered politely normal.

“I was just thinking about how beautiful you are,” he told her honestly, and was rewarded when she ducked her face down again. He tucked his hand under her chin and tilted her head back up so she was looking at him. “What?” he asked with a soft smile. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Major chuckled softly. “No,” she said. “I guess… I’m just not used to getting compliments.”

“Well, that’s a damned shame,” Bucky tsked. “You should be getting them multiple times a day.”

She licked her lips. She looked so fucking kissable, he thought. “I was in a relationship for a long time,” Major told him. “Got a lot more insults than compliments, unfortunately, toward the end. Guess I just got accustomed to them.”

Bucky frowned, having a hard time believing any straight man with eyes and blood in his cock would ever consider insulting her. “Your ex-boyfriend sounds like a dumbass piece of shit,” he offered.

Major shrugged. “Ex-husband, actually.”

That took Bucky aback. “Oh,” he said. “Shit. I’m sorry–”

“No, it’s okay,” she rushed to reassure him. “I married young and dumb. Military housing is a big perk, you know.” Bucky nodded. “It was… nice for a few years, but between the stress of deployments, and the fact I was getting promoted more often than he was… we weren’t happy for a while.”

“How long since you split?” he asked. He was nervous– based on what he’d experienced of Major so far, he saw her as someone he could really end up liking, and he didn’t want to come trampling in if she wasn’t emotionally ready. The idea of just being a rebound to her didn’t sit well with him. At all.

“Oh, like, five years ago,” Major said, waving her hand as if dismissing her entire marriage. “He cheated on me during his last deployment. Cliche, I know, but I ended up being grateful for it. It was the kick in the ass I needed to finally get out of a dead relationship. In fact, I fueled all the anger I felt at him into building the first WarZone. So, in a weird, roundabout way, I have him to thank for where I am today. Just think; if he had been able to keep his dick in his pants, we might not be standing here right now.”

Bucky laughed at that, and he suddenly found himself wanting to send her ex a thank you card. “Do you still see him?” he asked. 

“Not if I can help it,” Major told him, an upward tic to her lips. “We still have some mutual friends, and I’m fond of his mother, so we run into each other socially, here and there, a couple of times a year. I don’t look forward to seeing him or anything like that, but I stopped caring enough to let it really bother me a long time ago.”

“That seems like a pretty healthy outlook to have,” Bucky offered.

“It took a lot of work to get to this point,” she laughed. “I mean, why’d you think I had to start a rage room, of all things, to help me deal?”

Bucky laughed, and as he did so, he realized he was still holding both of her hands in his; neither of them had made a move to pull away from one another since the dance ended. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, looking up from where the two of them were joined.

“Yeah,” she said, offering him the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. “I’d like that.”

They both returned to the booth a few minutes later, Bucky with a beer and Major with another frozen margarita. In their absence, Peter, Thor, and Wanda had left, leaving just Bucky and Major, Nat, Steve, Sam, and Lily. 

“They wanted me to tell you goodbye, and that they loved meeting you,” Nat told Major as she and Bucky both sat back down. “They wish they could have stayed, but Thor and Wanda have an early mission tomorrow, and Peter’s got a school project. You and Barnes seemed to be having a deep discussion, so they didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I’m sorry to have missed them,” Major said, “but hopefully I’ll see them again?” She looked to Nat with a question on her face.

“Of course you will,” Bucky said before Nat could reply. “You think I’m– er, we’re gonna let you get away from us that easily?”

“Oh, Bucky,” Lily said, reaching for his arm. “Did you get me a drink from the bar, love?”

Bucky frowned. It was their usual routine to get the other a refill each time one of them went to the bar, but he’d been so smitten by Major’s presence, he’d entirely forgotten. “No, Lil, I’m sorry,” he said, knowing she’d rightfully start pouting.

“You can share mine with me, if you’d like,” Major offered, holding out her margarita. “I’ve probably already had enough alcohol for one night.”

“Ew, gross,” Lily said, sneering at the proffered drink. “I don’t touch that fruity shit. They’re just so… girly.” She spat out the word like it was an insult. “I mean, if you can’t take beer or straight up liquor, what’s the point of even drinking?” She leaned over and picked up Bucky’s beer. “I’ll just share with Jamie. You don’t mind, right, love?” Smiling, she took a long swig before placing the bottle down in front of him.

“Well, since my drink’s been commandeered,” Bucky said, looking to Major with big, soulful puppy dog eyes, “will you share yours with me?”

“Of course,” she said, handing him her glass. Bucky took a sip.

“Oh, shit,” he moaned, then leaned down to take a larger swig; it was tastier than he’d ever imagined, not to mention her lips had been on the glass, just where his were now. “Lil, you’re missing out! This fruity shit is delicious! Thanks, doll!” 

“I’m just curious,” Major started, seemingly apprehensive, as though she were wondering if she should say what she was actually thinking, “why you say ‘girly’ like it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with being a girl?”

Nat raised an eyebrow in surprise, and Bucky was sure he heard Sam cough “oh shit” into his fist. 

Lily rolled her eyes. “Nothing’s wrong with being a girl, obviously,” she said. “But, like, you have to admit, all the stuff that’s catered to women is just so… stupid, childish. No self-respecting, serious person is into all that kind of stuff. It’s weak.” She shook her head. “No, if it comes down between being a girl and being a badass, I’m going to choose badass every day of the week.”

“Uh oh,” Major said, leaning back and giving Lily a scrutinizing look. “Sounds to me like the misogyny is coming from inside the house.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Lily asked, planting both hands on the table. “Lil, calm down,” Bucky said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure Major didn’t mean anything insulting by it.”

“I said,” Major reiterated slowly, “that the misogyny is coming from inside the house. You’re acting as though anything that’s considered inherently feminine is less than anything masculine. And when you look to build yourself up by bringing other women down by rejecting femininity, that’s internalized misogyny.”

“How dare you?” Lily seethed. “You don’t fucking know a thing about me! Bucky, tell her I’m not like that!”

“If I made an error in judgment, I apologize,” Major said, before Bucky could come to Lily’s defense. Though, if he really thought about it, Major had a point– Lily always did seem to irrationally hate anything she deemed girly. “I’m simply responding to the implications of your own words.” Major took a sip of her margarita and smacked her lips. “I mean, I like girly things. I like makeup and dressing up and fruity drinks, but I’ve also been in combat. I’ve fought in a war. I’m both girly and a badass. So is Nat. The two can co-exist, and neither one has to be better than the other.”

“You are now officially my best friend,” Natasha said, looking at Major with wonderment and a newfound respect. “Finally, someone else who actually gets it!”

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Lily said, standing up and walking off without waiting for a response from anyone.

“I like you, New Girl,” Sam said, holding out his fist for Major to bump, which she did with an embarrassed smile. “I want you around all the damn time.” 

She turned to Bucky. “I’m sorry if I made your friend upset,” she said, “but after all those years of dealing with the shit that comes from being a woman with authority in the military, misogyny of any kind is a giant no go for me; particularly when it’s from another woman. We should all be propping each other up, not trying to tear one another down.”

“No, I completely understand. She was out of line,” Bucky said. She had been. There was no excuse for that kind of behavior, and if an old fogey from the ‘40s like him could realize that, she should have, too. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

Major smiled at him, seemingly pleased with the way he responded, and Bucky felt his heart swell. He was overcome with the idea that he wanted to make her happy all the time. Slow down! He told himself. You’ve only just met her!

Major glanced down at her watch, her expression falling. “Shit,” she said, picking up her leather jacket. “It’s getting late. I should probably head back if I’m going to catch the last train back into the city tonight.” She slid out of the booth and put her jacket on. “It was so great meeting you guys,” she said. “Please tell Lily again that I apologize if what I said offended her. Nat, thanks so much for the invite; I had a great time.” She leaned in to hug the redhead. “I’ll see you on Tuesday?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Nat said, smiling. “I’m so glad you made it out; get home safe, yeah?”

Major nodded. “Will do. Goodnight” She looked back as she started to walk away, catching Bucky’s eye one last time, and his heart dropped in his chest; he didn’t want to– couldn’t– let her walk out of his life just yet.

“Major,” he said, standing up and sliding out of the booth to join her. “Why don’t you let me give you a ride back to your place? It’s late, and the train’s not the safest this time of night.”

He heard Nat, Sam, and Steve all cough-laugh into their hands in the booth behind them, but didn’t pay them any mind. “That’s so sweet of you,” Major said, “but I would feel awful for inconveniencing you like that.”

Bucky shook his head. “No inconvenience at all, I swear,” he told her. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t genuinely want to.”

Major chewed on her lip for a moment, considering his offer. “Okay,” she said eventually. “Yeah, you can give me a ride home.” Bucky thought his heart was going to soar out of his chest.

“While that’s real chivalrous of you and all, Bucket,” Sam said, “what are you gonna do about Lily? You drove her here. How you expect her to get home if you’re taking New Girl?”

Bucky turned and flashed Sam a Look. “Since you’re all going back to the Compound,” he said, “it shouldn’t be a problem for the three of you to drop her off at home on the way, right?” he asked pointedly. Come on, Sam, he thought, trying to silently communicate to his friend with his eyes. You said you’d be my wingman here!

Sam and Nat exchanged an annoyed look while Steve just looked resigned. “Yeah, alright,” Sam said after a minute. “We’ll make sure McIntyre gets home safe and sound. But you owe me one for this.”

Bucky put his hand to the small of Major’s back and led her out of the bar, waving to Steve, Nat and Sam as they went. His fingers brushed gently against hers as he led her to where he parked his motorcycle.

“Oh,” Major said. “I didn’t realize we’d be taking a bike.”

Bucky frowned. “Is that a problem? I can drive up to the Compound and get a car if–”

“No,” she smiled at him. “This is great. I haven’t been on a motorcycle in ages.”

Bucky unlocked the helmets and took his extra one, gently placing it on Major’s head and adjusting the straps so it was nice and snug. “There you go,” he said with a grin. He hopped onto the bike and waited for her to get on behind him. “Where’re we headed, doll?” he asked, typing the address of her SoHo condo into his GPS once she’d given it to him.

Once she’d gotten situated on the back of the bike, Major wrapped her arms around Bucky’s middle, and he immediately felt all his blood drain to his cock at her touch. “Uh, make sure you hold on tight,” he said, barely managing to choke out the words over the effect she was having on him. She squeezed him a little bit harder in acknowledgement, and Bucky knew that he was in for it.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

[aireia]

The night I fell in love with you. — Gojo Satoru

tw/cw: gn! reader, fluff. not proofread. ooc.

note: I wanna know how I've been sick for 2 weeks —masterlist

Social events are common amongst clans. They help strengthen the bonds and relationships between clans, which makes it easier for them to come to agreements on matters.

For all he can remember, Satoru hates social events. He can’t remember how many he’s been to since he was a child, but he can remember the whispers among the crowds and the feeling of eyes on him. He can’t differentiate whether it was admiration, jealousy, hatred, or some other emotion. 

But he has to go. He’s the head of the Gojo clan, one of the most expected people at these private events. He doesn’t really see the point in him showing up, anyway. He doesn’t agree with the views and opinions of any other person there. 

It’s by the time he’s eighteen, maybe a decade after he started attending these parties, that he finally goes to an event that’s worth remembering, because he met you. Someone who agreed that these excuses of events were a bore. The both of you ended up laughing with each other over small talk, completely unrelated to the other people talking about ways to get rid of dangerous sorcerers.

The both of you had a lot in common. For example, your hatred towards the way the elders choose to do things. Satoru didn’t take long to realise this wouldn’t be the last time he would see you at these places, and jokingly asked if you wanted to meet up at these events and go to some corner of the room to talk shit about everyone there. You accepted. 

Maybe that’s when you fell for him. You kept each other company during these times, and laughed together so much anyone would mistake the both of you for friends that hadn’t seen each other for years catching up with each other.

About a year, or two after you met, there was a gathering that required everyone to have a partner to dance with. Now this was becoming ridiculous. Who organises these?! Because he sure as hell didn’t. Satoru groaned  loudly into his pillow when he first received the notice, and reached for his phone on his nightstand to text you about it. 

“We can be each other’s partners.” “I’m sure it won’t take too long.”

He stared at the screen for too long after that. The thought of dancing with you made heat rise to his cheeks. 

“...Satoru? Are you still there?” 

-

On the day of the actual event, he finds himself looking forward to dancing. He has to stop himself from straight up dragging you towards the centre of the room as the music began.

Have you ever seen a rose bloom? Watched the way the petals slowly unfolded? 

Satoru has.

Because that’s what Satoru Gojo saw in front of him when you were dancing together. The vibrance of the petals paled in comparison to your smile, and suddenly, he felt as if he were the thorns that pricked anyone who dared to touch them, for he never wanted this moment to end. His mind flashed back to one of the texts you sent as he got drunk off the sweet scent of your perfume. 

“I’m sure it won’t take too long.” 

No. He hopes the song is a hundred, a million times longer than it is. He never wants this to end. He doesn’t wish for this to become a memory, for he wishes to live in it forever. 

He can see the flames dancing in your eyes, and he feels liquid with the way your bodies move together.

Each step you took was lighter than any falling feather, and in his mind he thinks that maybe he’d have to describe you as a free bird. And he thinks about it, over and over, all the way until the final note of the piece. 

By that time, you’re everything. You’re a rose, you’re a dove… From what he sees through his cerulean eyes, you’re the sun that lights up the sky, yet at the same time the moon that grants dreams through slumber. You’re the waves of the ocean, and you’re the calmness that resides in the deep sea. 

You are his everything.

-

“Satoru?” you walk up to him on the balcony, where he seems to be lost in thought. “It’s getting late. We should go to b– Satoru!” you yelped when he suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you close to him. 

You know exactly what he’s thinking about, and you can’t help but smile and sigh. 

“May I have this dance?”

by user @ aireia, do not plagiarize and/or translate.

#signed by aireia! #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #jujutsu gojo

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

I don't want to hear thoughts... Unless they're yours.

Chapter 11: Let me help you relax Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count: 2.8k Warning: A lot of fluffy moments and slight teasing. Maybe some anxiety and stress, but nothing heavy. Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: After some stressful days, Wanda wants to help you relax. And what better way than flirting and meditation. Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8 ; Part 9; Part 10; Part 11; Series materlist                                     Masterlist of all my works

After coming home that Sunday night, Wanda was exhilarated. She had gotten a taste of you, all willing and ready for her. Your cute little moans, the needy way you scratched at her back, the way you pulled her closer, your sweet taste, the pliable, easy way in which you accepted her dominance… It was all perfect. But as the days of the week started to pass by, Wanda found herself regretting that she didn’t secure that date with you when she had the chance. Every day the two of you saw each-other, shared small conversations and sweet little moments, you talked about your days and about your plans, she learned more about you, through short afternoon conversations on her porch, where she got to hold your hand, but she couldn’t muster up the courage to ask you out and it seemed that even though you thought about it too, you felt just as nervous. It was only through your thoughts that she found comfort during that time. She was in your mind more and more often, drawn to your ideas. You saw yourself sharing meals with her at night, you sent her recipes you thought she might like, while you were at the office, you imagined cute date ideas for the two of you, that she found simply adorable, making her heart flutter with joy. You were such a romantic soul, a sweet, delicate, sensitive one and as she got lost in your ideas, she couldn’t help but think on all the little dates she wanted to take you on. She just knew that you would melt if she took you to the big bookstore on main street, the one full of Paperblanks notebooks and gorgeous ceramic tea mugs. She would let you roam the shelves, telling her about your favorite books and letting you pick new ones, perhaps even picking a few together and she’d slip in a few notebooks and a nice fountain pen for you, before you reached the cash register. She would spoil you with everything you wanted there, knowing you would probably refuse to let her pay… But she had her ways of convincing you. She’d also love to take you to the lake, just outside of town, the two of you watching the sunset together. She’d kiss you slowly to the sound of the crickets and she’ll hold your hand as you walked. She’d take you to her favorite farmers market, buying you honey and cheeses and a bag of delicious apples, and she’ll invite you over to her house, so the two of you could bake a pie together, while the boys played. She’d take you to her favorite restaurant, of course, treat you to dinner and flirting with you, while she pretended that she didn’t undress you with her eyes. Perhaps she’ll start with that one. She wanted to set the right tone. Show you that she wasn’t just homely. Yes, it was better to start with a night out. But she’ll build up to all the rest as well.

By Wednesday night, after a particularly hard day at the office, the thought of Wanda seemed to be your biggest comfort too. You liked the domestic and kind approach the two of you had with each-other, you liked the afternoons you shared, the little kisses she left on your cheeks, liked making her laugh, even if you were telling the stupidest joke. You liked her casual teasing too, the way her voice would get low, when she flirted with you shamelessly, the lingering touches, the smouldering looks. It was driving you crazy in the best way possible, but even that couldn’t save you from the stress of the day. You were late this morning, having to rush out of your house and even that didn’t help. You couldn’t stop for coffee on your way, having to drink whatever they made in the office, you were swamped with work, you had to make last minute changes to key processes, meaning you’d have to document it all and honestly, it was driving you crazy. And yes, some of it was little things, but in the end, it all piled together. You knew that new projects are like this, you expected it, but this Wednesday it bothered you and you couldn’t shake that thought away when you got home 3 hours after the end of your regulated work hours. You were exhausted, yet you couldn’t switch your brain off and even the thoughts of Wanda couldn’t quite calm you down. You were seated near the pool again, a glass of wine next to you and your fingers frantically typing on your laptop, when a voice pulled you from your thoughts and you looked towards the source to see Wanda standing near your fence, her hands resting on it gently. “Good evening, Y/N.” She smiled gently, tentatively, as if unsure if she should be here. “I hope I’m not interrupting.” She looked away for a second, her voice unusually quiet and small. “Hi Wanda.” You smiled, putting your laptop away and approaching her, your hands landing on top of hers. “Is everything ok?” You asked, concerned. “Yes.” She nodded, even if her answer didn’t seem completely sincere. She had heard your frantic thoughts when you came home, followed them throughout the night as they continued to swirl around in your head, feeling your anxiety and stress as if they were her own, yet unable to pull away from you. She couldn’t just disentangle herself from you and leave you to face your inner turmoil and she couldn’t fight the way it affected her either. It was frightening how intertwined the two of you were, how deeply she felt your emotions, as if they were her own. Perhaps that fear didn’t help the way she felt either.

“Late night working?” She asked, trying to break the tension of the moment. “Yes. I couldn’t stop thinking about work, so I thought it’s best if I just help myself and actually do the work.” You admit. “Does it help?” She asks, already knowing the answer. “No. I’m still stressed. But I’m closer to meeting my deadlines.” You admit with a small, dry chuckle. “Perhaps I can help you relax?” Wanda offers boldly and watches the thought of the double meaning behind her words flash behind your eyes for a moment. “How forward of you, Miss Maximoff!” You joke, knowing very well that it’s not what she meant. “Well, what can I say. I can’t help myself. I see something I want and I just have to go after it.” She jokes back, happy to see some of the tension drain from your shoulders and instantly feeling relieved as well. “No, but honestly, have you ever tried meditating?” She asks, changing the subject. “I have.” You nod. “It never really worked for me, though.” You admit. “Well, perhaps I can teach you.” Wanda offers. “Oh really?” You raise a brow at her. You can’t help but notice that you already feel better, simply because she is here with you. “You have so many hidden skills, I see.” You comment as you walk to the nearby door and open it, so Wanda could enter, a small smile appearing on your lips. “You have no idea.” The older woman teases, walking into your yard. She makes a small pause, looking at you, before she speaks again. “It’s good to see you smiling.” She admits, her voice gentle and soft, just like her features. “Thank you.” Her words make you blush, your smile growing wider. Wanda can’t help but think that it’s one of the most beautiful things in the world. She’s tempted to kiss you right then and there, to sweep you off your feet and carry you into the house, so she can lay you down and kiss you, until your lips are swollen and your head is empty. She supposes that it’s a form of relaxation as well. “Can I offer you something to drink?” You ask, trying to distract yourself from the intensity in her gaze. “Whatever you’re having.” Wanda smiles as she follows you.

                                              *             *             * The two of you sit at the edge of the pool, feet dipped inside the warm water, a couple of glasses filled with wine near you as you talked. Wanda’s presence was enough to anchor you in the present, all your worries melting away, like they never existed. “Thank you for coming over.” You said to her, as you looked into her green eyes. “You always seem to have the best timing.” “I wanted to see you.” Wanda said with a shrug, but her attentive eyes didn’t miss the way you blushed again. “Speaking of which…” She continued. “I also want to ask you out on a proper date.” She tells you, her hand reaching out to take yours, your fingers touching playfully. “Let me take you out to dinner. I know a lovely restaurant in town.” She offers. “Let me spoil you for a night.” She continues, her voice starting to give away her hopeful eagerness. “Let me show you how well I can treat you.” “I’d like that very much.” You nodded, suddenly feeling shy at the woman’s intensity. You’d never met a woman like Wanda before. Someone so sure of themselves, someone who wanted you and wasn’t afraid to show it. “Then I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.” Wanda decided, hiding her smirk behind her glass as she took a small sip of the wine you had poured her. She already made plans in her head, thinking about every small detail about your date tomorrow, delighted that she’ll finally get to have what she had longed for, since you’d moved in.                                           *             *             * After the two of you finished your wine, Wanda could tell that you were feeling the pleasant buzz of alcohol, your thoughts slowing down, your eyes sparkling more, as you looked at her. She could tell that you wanted her, even without reading your thoughts and she did her best not to find out where those particular ideas were taking you, knowing that the temptation would be too great to resist. Instead, she suggested to step away from the pool, taking your hand and guiding you inside the house, so she’d finally give you that lesson on meditation that she had first offered you. You were sceptical at first, but when she sat down on the couch and spread her legs, leaving room for you to sit between them, you couldn’t help but smirk and do as you’re told. You would have to be crazy to refuse her closeness after all.

You felt a little uncomfortable to sit like that with her, but the moment you felt the warmth of her body envelop you, felt her sure hands secure you in place, all your doubts disappeared. “Close your eyes.” Wanda said softly, almost a whisper in your ear, while her hands guided you closer to her, your back pressed against her front. “Just listen to my voice.” The older woman continued, hands landing on your shoulders. “Let it carry you away, to a place where you feel safe and calm.” She said in an even tone. “Can you picture such a place for me?” Wanda asked, watching you nod slowly. Unbeknownst to you, she was slowly making her way into your mind, eyes swirling with red. She helped you to control your thoughts, breathing evening out, while she kept any of them from reaching you, allowing only that safe place to remain in your mind’s eye. “Try to hold that picture in your mind.” She instructed. Wanda could feel the tension of the day melting away, she could feel your muscles relax under her palms, she could see the image of a river, its clear water racing past you, as you lay on a field of grass, surrounded by treas. You were at peace there, she could tell and she amplified that image, making the colours brighter and more vibrant. She allowed the details to develop, until she hardly had to help you anymore, your mind settling in that place of perfect peace. You felt like you were in a dream. Your head was swimming, surrounded by thoughts, but none could reach you. Even the sounds felt distant, your senses dull. It was almost an out of body experience. A deep sense of calm had taken hold of you, the rest of the world melting away. There was only you and that beautiful place. Even Wanda’s voice felt like a far-away echo, your ears unable to distinguish the words she spoke. Once she felt that your mind had calmed, the redhead pulled away her powers as well, choosing to give you some privacy. She didn’t want to take too much advantage of the trust you placed in her, instead deciding to bask in the wonderful feeling of holding you into her arms.

                                          *             *             * You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, the warmth of her body enveloping you and your mind staying in its little paradise. You just know that the image eventually started to fade away, Wanda’s words coming into focus again as she coaxed you back into a more aware state of mind. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, after she gave you some time to fully come back to your senses. “Really well rested.” You admitted. “Thank you, Wanda.” “Wait till you get some sleep. You’ll wake up feeling even better tomorrow.” Wanda said with a smile, her eyes wandering over your face, a look of genuine affection clearly showing in her eyes. She had allowed you to sit on your own. Barely. But she was still seated close by. She didn’t want to miss this rare chance to look at you, to touch you and admire you, without having to worry about being seen or interrupted. She wanted to soak up your presence as much as she could. “Oh, I can’t wait for the weekend!” You answered slowly, groggily, like a person half-asleep already. “Sleeping in would be just magical.” Wanda only laughed at that statement. You looked so adorable like this. All sleepy and buzzed from the wine and completely boneless after she’d helped you relax. You were too cute for your own good. At another time, in another life, she wouldn’t hesitate to take you like this. You’d cling to her helplessly, whining for her attention, begging wordlessly for her to stop teasing you and just take you. Perhaps a part of her would still find pleasure in that… “Perhaps I should let you go to bed then.” She says instead, disappointment evident in her eyes, that she has to pull away from you. “You don’t have to go straight away…” You said hopefully, not even sure what you were offering the woman. You just knew that you missed the way she had held you earlier, missed her warmth and her gentleness, missed the way she made you feel safe in her arms. “I should though. I want you well rested for tomorrow.” Wanda winked. She studied your face again at her words, amusement flashing across your face at her teasing, before it was replaced with disappointment to see her go. The evidence was in your eyes and she paused for just a moment, before she lunged forward, her lips landing on yours and giving you a brief, small kiss. A warning of sorts, before another, more sensual kiss came. This time you were prepared. Lips parting for her and kissing her fully, allowing yourself to be guided by her, without a moment of hesitation. When you parted, it took everything in Wanda not to lean back and kiss you again. You were so damn tempting to her. So irresistible. From the first day she heard your thoughts, from that day she met you at your front door, she just couldn’t get enough. “If you want me to rest, you shouldn’t tease me, Wanda.” You said playfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “I can’t help myself.” The redhead admitted. “Are you always such a sweet-talker?” You asked, your hand reaching out to touch hers, fingers playing together softly. “I haven’t said anything that’s not true.” Wanda retorted, leaning so close she could feel your breath on her skin, she could smell your perfume… Without thinking, she kissed you again. This time she pressed her body against you too, she cradled the back of your head and tangled her fingers in your hair. She kissed you deeply, pouring her passion in every brush of her lips against yours. Each time her tongue glided against yours she felt little jolts of pleasure spreading through her, tempting her to do it again and again, until you were both breathless and panting. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days.” Wanda admitted, straightening herself, even if everything inside her told her to stay, to pull you even closer. “And is it everything you pictured?” You asked playfully. “That and so much more…” Wanda smiled, her lips spreading into a grin, before she was leaning into yet another kiss.

#lesbian #writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #top!wanda #bottom!reader #i don't want to hear thoughts... #scarlet witch

[barrenclan]

Can’t stop thinking of a Have You Seen My Sister Evelyn AMV/MAP of Pinepaw and Daffodilpaw looking for their sister. It starts out silly- cartoon art style, Pine and Daff asking various Clanmates on where they saw Asphodel last, lots of hijinks and slapstick, etc. Over the course of the song, the landscape gets progressively darker and more realistic, with occasional realistic shots, until at the very end the gleeful illusion is broken and it’s just BarrenClan standing over a child’s corpse

Okay, I have got to address this. This is the - fourth? fifth? - time that this song has been suggested to me with this exact idea for it. I answered the first one some time ago, and haven't answered the succeeding ones for that reason, but I cannot ignore it any longer. PATFW fans psychically communicating to each other.

I see you sliding a DreamSMP song in here, I was there. You ain't slick.

Where will you be When the sun goes dark

Where will you be When death comes knocking Oh no, where will you be

I'm always surprised how many people write songs about empty, forsaken lands! It's more popular than I thought.

There's nothing left of this day There's nothing left of this town Our time has ceased with such sorrow There's no one left here to mourn

Outside they cry, wolves in the night <- arooo.... Dark with their howls all around We'll just lie here, clothed in our sheepskin And trying to pretend there's no harm

I am going to put my two cents in and say DarkProwl.

You called, I answered Open the door, I enter The glow, the candor A feeling like no other

I wanna climb inside Be someone impolite Wanna eat you alive Should I, should I, should I?

AHHH HELP... you're not. Wrong??

This sounds like a super cute idea, with Blacknose being the singer and the bridge between Egret and Mallow.

It could be weird, but I think I'm into it You know I'm one for the overly passionate I like you, and I loved him We could all be the best kind of friends

You've got so much in common Talk about your taste in women I'll be in the middle While you two get along

Heartaches, heartaches My loving you, they're only heartaches Your kiss was such a sacred thing to me I can't believe it's just a burning memory

Heartaches, heartaches What does it matter how my heart breaks? I should be happy with someone new But my heart aches for you

Wailing... sobbing... my boys.......

Please, please be here for me dear 'Cause I've never needed a friend more And I can't stress enough How much it means to me that you're trying And I don't mind if you can't hold me like you used to 'Cause I've never hated myself more And this is just a bump in the road and I promise I'm trying

I'm trying to tear the wool from your eyes But a part of me wants to let you be 'Cause then you wouldn't see what I've become

Yes I think it would be!

Follow my moves Don't make a sound We will get past and we'll never be found Darker than blue Darker than black We will escape and we'll never come back

I can see it! Something about lost childhoods, and homes that used to be full but are now empty.

Standing in the yard, dressed like a kid The house is white and the lawn is dead The lawn is dead, the lawn is dead

Illinois toll road, Indiana plain Roll the windows down, shoot at the change Half return, half return Honey in your mouth when you gave me my name Tears in your eyes when you pull it like a chain

#ask #anon #music #pinepaw #darkprowl #blacknose #egrettail #mallowstar #cormorantpaw

[starlightrosa]

Spa Days in Hell

And here it is, everyone! The meaty fic I warned everyone about! (I lost the ask, but this was anon request anyway <3)

Summary: Lucifer's wings need cleaning after he spent so long neglecting them. Charlie has to do it herself, despite knowing how sensitive he is there. Seems like Lucifer's in for one ticklish as hell spa day.

Word Count: 3k words... goddamn lmao.

Warnings: kinda intense tickles in some parts, Lucifer has six wings, swearing too, Angel Dust and his unique humour. Still SFW though :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer nervously straightened his top hat and fiddled with his cane as he tried to look presentable in his room, in his castle on the edge of the Pride Ring. He was on the way to see his darling daughter Charlie, after so long of not seeing her or the new venture she had set up. To the king’s knowledge, it was supposed to be some kind of hotel to redeem wayward Sinners and send them to Heaven.

Lucifer knew what Heaven was really like. It was nice that Charlie was a dreamer, just like he used to be, but he just didn’t want to see his daughter get her dreams crushed by the angels above, much like they had crushed his dreams for humanity long ago.

“Okay, Lucifer. You got this. You’re seeing your daughter and what she’s been up to. Don’t fuck it up, Luci. Don’t fuck this up.” he repeated, his shoulders rolling back as he checked his wings. On any of the lucky days when he actually gave a shit, Lucifer would have refused to leave the house if his wings were anything less than pristine. But today, he just didn’t care how they looked.

Lucifer had his good days, and his bad days. Since landing in Hell, the bad days outweighed the good sometimes. Being cast out of Heaven and into Hell had sent Lucifer into a depression for a good while. While the sadness gnawed at his mind every day, he had gotten better at hiding it. But his wings had suffered as a result. Some feathers were broken, some were tangled, others were sharper than they should be and dug into the king’s back. To think some angels had only two to clean and take care of. But Lucifer had six fluffy appendages, all of them not being taken care of for perhaps longer than they should have been.

Well, he didn’t have time anyway. He just wouldn’t show anyone the wings. He couldn’t care less about his wings right now. Lucifer steeled himself and put on that confident smirk of his, as he grabbed his cane and took a deep breath, teleporting to the hotel address Charlie had given him.

The world shifted under his feet as Lucifer’s boots made contact with the streets of Pride. Overlooking Pentagram City was Charlie’s hotel. The “Hazbin” Hotel. Huh. What a weird name. Charlie was normally much better about naming stuff.

Well, Lucifer kept that thought to himself as he crossed over and knocked thrice on the door with his cane. Knock, knock, knock!

The door opened at once. Lucifer brought his cane down, resting both of his hands upon the top of the cane.

“Dad?” Charlie asked, looking a bit confused at his early arrival. Lucifer suspected she was expecting him to come a lot later. Oh no. For his daughter, he was determined to make up for all the stuff he had missed. Even if that meant arriving absurdly early before an agreed time.

“Ahh, there she is! There’s my Char-Char! How have you been doing? Good? Good, me too!” Lucifer cheered, giving Charlie a big kiss on the cheek, as he stepped into the hotel. It was… less than presentable, to put it nicely.

Lucifer felt that sharp pain in his back again, and he winced a little as he walked around.

“Are you alright, Dad?” Charlie asked, noticing her father’s movement. Lucifer looked back at his daughter, before he forced himself to smile, acting like his wings weren’t in utter agony from being neglected for so long.

“Oh, I’m fine, Charlie. Anyway, so how’s the business venture? Anyone important I need to meet? Got to make sure my daughter is being treated right by her patrons. Kindness and love and all that stuff.”

“Oh yeah. This way, Dad!” Charlie said, taking him off to see the others. “So the first one I want you to meet is Vaggie, my girlfriend. Vaggie, this is my father, Lucifer.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” Vaggie smiled, though Lucifer noticed the ‘X’ over her eye and indeed the angelic spear. If his wings were out right now, they would have puffed up to sense danger. Vaggie was an angel? A former Exorcist, no less. And they were dating? An Exorcist, COURTING his daughter?! The very idea felt absurd. But Lucifer smiled.

“Oh, you like girls! Why, I like them too! Glad to see we have so much in common! Put ‘er there, Maggie!” Lucifer smiled, not seeming to notice that he had gotten her name wrong as he swept Vaggie into a hug. His hidden wings twinged again, a painful reminder to Lucifer that he had to take care of them at some point. He grimaced, but buried his face into Vaggie’s shoulder.

Vaggie chuckled as she awkwardly patted Lucifer on the back before the king disengaged from the hug. Lucifer cleared his throat, and hummed.

“Who else?”

“Oh! So we have Husk, the bartender.” Charlie then said. Husk just grumbled a little, as was true to his character.

“Hello, your Royal Majesty.” Husk muttered, before drinking from a bottle of whiskey.

“The smiling demon over there is Alastor, who’s my business partner.” Charlie next said. Alastor had that trademark smile, but his eyes told a different story. He didn’t like the look of a being more powerful than him, sharing a room together.

“Good to put a face to the name. You are much shorter in real life. I would call you by your royal name, but ‘Your Highness’ seems woefully ironic, I’m sure you’ll agree. Your height just doesn’t justify such a regal way of recognition.” Alastor stated.

“Don’t go any further. Don’t want to say something that you’ll regret, Bambi.” Lucifer shot back, smiling smugly when Alastor’s deer ears flattened briefly, a soft growl leaving his eternally grinning mouth.

“Bambi? BAMBI? Why, you little-!” Alastor growled, his pupils briefly flickering into radio dials, before Charlie grabbed his arm.

“Calm down, Alastor. Dad, please don’t disrespect my business partner like that.” Charlie cut in, her eyes narrowing the slightest amount. Lucifer felt a little guilty, but he scoffed and continued on as Charlie continued the introductions.

“The spider demon is Angel Dust, a famous… actor.” Charlie said. “And the smaller woman running around is Niffty, our maid.”

Niffty waved playfully at Lucifer. “Hello, your Majesty!” she chirped, before seeing a bug scuttle past. The maid got a rather hungry look in her eye as she giggled manically, racing after the bug.

“Angel, come say hi to my father.”

“Your father, eh? Well, well. Hello, Daddy Morningstar~” Angel cooed, before flopping down on one of the lobby chairs and scrolling on his phone, flicking his white and pink hair. Lucifer coughed awkwardly.

“Okay… a charming character.” Lucifer murmured, before his wings twinged yet again, but the pain was sharp enough to make Lucifer turn away from Angel, and bite the back of his hand to stifle the pain. Charlie noticed her father’s pained expression.

“Dad? Are you okay?” Charlie asked, placing a hand upon her father’s back. Lucifer straightened up the best he could.

“Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, little apple. I’m okay.”

Charlie didn’t believe a single word that ran from her father’s mouth. She didn’t use her wings very much, but as a young girl, she had seen Lilith tending to Lucifer’s wings before. He only reacted this way if his wings needed care. Come to think of it, when had they last done that? When Lilith disappeared, Charlie had to step up and take care of Lucifer’s wings when he asked. She was more than happy to, but it had been a while.

“Dad, did you clean your wings up before you came out?” Charlie asked quietly, not wanting to embarrass her father in front of her patrons. Lucifer cleared his throat awkwardly again.

“Oh yes, Char-Char.” Lucifer lied. But the light eyebrow raise from Charlie indicated that she didn’t believe him.

“Dad, don’t lie to me.” Charlie stated. Vaggie looked worried. As a former angel, she knew that their wings being neglected would only serve to hurt.

“Your Majesty, would you like me to take care of your wings? I’ll be quick.” Vaggie offered.

“NO! I-I mean, um… no. Thank you, though.” Lucifer stammered, backing away from Vaggie. Charlie followed him, Alastor by her side while the others remained in the lobby.

“Dad, I insist you let me help. I can’t have you in pain and-” Charlie attempted to reason. But she was cut off as Lucifer’s fight or flight response triggered. Lucifer ran as fast as he could and up the steps to the second floor of the hotel.

But Charlie wasn’t about to accept that. “Alastor, help me catch him!”

“With pleasure, Princess.” Alastor shot back, grinning as the two gave chase.

Lucifer ran, hearing the footsteps of Charlie and Alastor not too far behind. Lucifer was a nervous giggler, and sure enough, bubbly giggles slipped past his lips as he ran away from his daughter and her business partner. He needed a place to hide.

But that thought was cut off as Alastor’s tentacles wrapped around him and pulled him back to where Charlie was. Lucifer attempted to break out of the grip, but there was no give as Alastor pulled Lucifer back to where he and Charlie stood.

“Your Royal Highness, it’s most rude to run away, you know. Rather cowardly, too.” Alastor mused.

“Now that is the pot calling the kettle black. Haven’t you been gone for like seven years, Bambi?” Lucifer snarked back, but while he was busy sassing, Charlie grabbed her father’s shoulders and rolled them back. Lucifer gasped sharply as his wings popped out, letting his daughter and Alastor see the damage.

“Oh my God… Dad, how long have you left these?” Charlie murmured.

“Quite a while, it seems.” Alastor mused.

“Charlie… don’t.” Lucifer pleaded. But Charlie shook her head.

“Dad, I have to help you. Please?”

“I-It hurts, little apple. But you’re so busy already. I can… I can do it myself.” Lucifer said.

“Clearly, you can’t.” Alastor interrupted, but he silenced himself when Charlie shot Alastor quite the angry look.

“Not helping, Alastor. Dad, please let me help you.” Charlie implored.

Lucifer really wanted to say no. But his wings were hurting so much. He had no choice, so begrudgingly, he agreed. Charlie grabbed her father’s hand and guided him to the lobby, pushing Lucifer to lie down on the sofa and helping him roll his shoulders back to get at his wings, as the patrons of the hotel watched this take place.

Charlie plunged her hands into Lucifer’s wings and began plucking the broken feathers. Lucifer sighed as she worked, allowing himself to relax a smidge. But then he began feeling it. As Charlie’s hands ghosted over his wings, the fluffy appendages began to tingle in a way that could only be… ticklish.

Lucifer pushed his head into his arms immediately, refusing to even look at anyone. And then Charlie’s hands ghosted into his shoulder blades and he gasped, tensing up even more as the tiniest giggle worked past his lips.

“Dad?” Charlie asked. “Are you-?” she began to say, only for a deep chuckle from Angel. He fluffed his hair back and smirked.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Seems the King of Hell is ticklish~!” Angel teased, smirking widely at Lucifer, who looked like a deer caught in headlights. Well, he was not getting out of this one.

“For once, Angel seems to say something that makes sense.” Alastor mused.

“I heard that!” Angel called, looking a bit put out.

“You were meant to, my dear.” Alastor fired back. Now Vaggie chuckled, as she slowly approached Charlie, who still had her hands in Lucifer’s neglected wings.

“I agree with Angel, and Alastor. Charlie, you can do the actual wing care. I’ll hold him, and everyone else can enjoy this kinda show. Sound fun, hon?” she asked, leaving no room for discussion as she sat on the sofa and got a good hold on Lucifer. No amount of wriggling could push the former Exorcist off of the King.

“A-All of you shut uhuhup!” Lucifer suddenly piped up, muffled giggles sinking into the plush red cushions of the sofa which he laid upon. Alastor chuckled, twirling his microphone.

“You know, everyone. I believe the King needs to get his temperament in check. Quite unbecoming for a ruler. Angel, get his sides, I’ll get his hips.”

“You got it, Smiles~” Angel cooed, before he grabbed Lucifer’s sides and squeezed rapidly. Lucifer was thrown into snorting giggles immediately as he kicked his legs behind him, laying on his front still. Charlie had clearly gotten stronger then he remembered, and Vaggie had him in a tight grip too. Double whammy.

“AAH! A-AHAHAHANGEL!” Lucifer cried out, squirming. He was then thrown into cackles as Alastor joined the fray, compressing Lucifer’s tender hipbones. “STOP THAHAHAT AT ONCE!” Lucifer tried demanding.

“Sorry, your Ticklishness~ oh, oops. I meant to say, Your Majesty.” Angel chuckled, pulling his hands away at once for a bit. Despite the playful mood, Lucifer was still the King, and he could probably snap his fingers and kill Angel in a damn heartbeat.

“Who knew the King of Hell was ticklish?” Vaggie chuckled, a soft smile on her face as she joined in the barrage of teasing, tickling under Lucifer’s chin lightly. Charlie grinned, her hands still buried in Lucifer’s wings as she took care of each one. Admittedly, slower than she would normally have done them, but it had been a good while since she had seen her father happy.

“CHAHAHAHARLIE!” Lucifer yelped, wiggling like a worm on the cushions, his wings flapping from her precise (and very fucking ticklish) touches. Most in the lobby were lost in laughter, whether that was Lucifer’s tickle-induced giggles, or everyone else giggling along with Lucifer.

“I forgot how ticklish you were, Dad.” Charlie laughed. Alastor chuckled and approached now.

“Now, now. Your Royal Ticklish Majesty, don’t be hiding your face. Let us see the laughter worthy of his Highness~” Alastor coaxed, using his voodoo tentacles to tickle Lucifer under the arms. A loud snort from the king immediately and his hands fell away from his face.

“HAHAHAHA! B-BEHEHEHELLHOP, CEASE THIHIHIS!” Lucifer squealed.

“Budge over, Smiles. I wanna see if I can make his wings flap~” Angel drawled, the spider demon moving. Alastor graciously fell back and allowed Angel access immediately. The gloves were off, quite literally, as Angel peeled off his gloves and shoved them into the king’s wings, and Lucifer was thrown into cackles as he felt Angel’s spider fuzz right on his newly groomed top set of wings, while Charlie was working at the middle set now.

“T-TOO TIHIHICKLY, CHARLIE!” Lucifer shrieked, squirming for all he was worth. Charlie chuckled and allowed her father a quick break.

“I know, Dad. But you left your wings so long. I have to set everything back in order.” Charlie reasoned as she finished the middle set. Lucifer groaned through his giggles as he settled his very red face on the top of his arms.

“Alright, Dad. Just the lowermost set to do now. But I know you’re wiggly with those ones. Alastor, do me a favour and hold his wings still.” Charlie said. Alastor chuckled lowly, the lowest radio feedback noise coming from him.

“Of course, Princess.” Alastor said, placing his microphone safely out of the way as he reached forward and snagged Lucifer’s wings, stretching out the lowermost set to allow Charlie to get at them. Vaggie adjusted her hold on Lucifer too, as Charlie dived in.

“AAH! SHIHIHIHIT!!!” Lucifer screeched, falling into hysterical laughter as he tried twisting as much as he could, his body trying to escape from the tickles, but ultimately getting nowhere due to both Vaggie and Alastor’s grips on him, and Charlie sitting upon his legs wasn’t helping either.

“Tickle tickle, Your Highness~” Vaggie teased, snickering. He sounded less terrifying when she saw him like this. Who knew her girlfriend’s father could be so… strangely adorable?

“SHUHUHUT UP!” Lucifer barked, cackling louder as Charlie gasped above him.

“Hey! Don’t you talk to my girlfriend like that, Dad!” she responded, vibrating her fingers into Lucifer’s wings to be mean for a little. Lucifer wheezed loudly, falling into near-silent, open mouthed cackles.

“I’M SOHOHOHORRY! I’M SOHO SOHOHORRY!” Lucifer shrieked. “EHEHEHENOUGH, LIHITTLE AHAHAPPLE! ENOUGH, PLEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAN’T!”

The wing tickles ceased as a gentler hand replaced the ticklish touches, working quickly enough for Lucifer to not register the tickling. His wings were buzzing with sensitivity and the leftover giggles from Lucifer littered the room.

“So damn cute.” Angel murmured, smirking lightly. Alastor gave a silent nod, in agreement to Angel as Charlie finally finished cleaning up her father’s wings after about what had to be a total of ten minutes and climbed off of him. But to Lucifer, it felt like hours as he was finally allowed to close his wings. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, feeling tears within them.

“T-That was so bad…” Lucifer murmured, shivering from ticklishness briefly. His wings were finally taken care of, and they had regained their glossy sheen on every set.

“Dad, please take care of your wings next time.” Charlie smiled, grinning at her father’s ticklish grin. He definitely looked like he had been tickled silly.

“I’d hate to see this happen again to you, Your Ticklishness~” Alastor said, in a tone that Lucifer could tell that Alastor wanted this to happen again very much.

“Once I get my strehehength back, ahall of you are goddamned dehehead.” Lucifer responded, even as he ascended to a spare room in the hotel. “You will be first, Bambi.” Lucifer muttered, as he all but fell into bed.

As sleep took him away to dreamland, Lucifer’s grin never melted off of his face as his wings fluttered softly in his slumber. Deserved after all that very mean tickling, and even in his dreams, Lucifer couldn’t recall the last time he had smiled so freely. Maybe he could tangle his wings on purpose next time, after he was done exacting some sweet revenge. And the bellhop would be first.

The End!

#hazbin tickles #hazbin hotel tickle #lee!lucifer #ler!charlie #ler!alastor #ler!vaggie #ler!angeldust #rosa writes #holy hell this took forever

[whatwewrotepodcast]

Equestrian Writing Resource

Hi everyone,

I've seen some how to write horses posts going around recently that contain some . . very not true things about horses. As a Certified Horse Girl TM I thought I might clarify a few things for any one out there wanting to write anything that includes horses.

My credentials are that I've been riding for as long as I remember, have owned horses for 15 years and currently compete at a state and national level in dressage.

Facts below the cut!

Travelling by horseback

Horses cannot gallop or even canter endlessly. This is something I see a lot of in movies and games and media like that. Even an extremely fit horse can only really gallop flat out for 10-15 minutes. A steady canter they can go for longer, but if you watch endurance races (where horses are ridden for 100s of kms over sometimes several days), the riders will mix periods of walk and trot to let the horses catch their breath and recover.

There are a couple of reasons for this. Horses do not have strong enough diaphragms to inflate their lungs fully. There are some cursed interior nonsenses going on here, but essentially at a gallop, a horse can only breathe once per stride. This means there is only a matter of time before they are no longer able to get enough oxygen to their muscles.

Which leads into the next thing . . .

Horses get hot easily and can struggle to cool down

Horses sweat, just like humans, but because of their mass, their interior temp can get very high and may need assistance to be brought down. That's why at the end of a cross country course (where horses are galloping for anywhere between 5-12 minutes and jumping fences) they often have buckets of water thrown on them to help them cool down.

A well trained horse can be ridden by anyone

I've seen some posts around recently that said that horses will try and throw off unfamiliar riders and that you can't ride a horse who doesn't know you. This is . . . ridiculous. If your horse has been trained properly anyone can get on and ride it. Ride it well? Maybe not, but if the person is a good rider they'll be able to do the basics. I've ridden my friends horses, and they've ridden my horse. I've put an 8 year old on my horse and let her walk around. If you horse is so insane it tosses anyone other than you, you've done a terrible job training it.

However, if a horse has not been broken to saddle, then yes, if you try and hop on it, it will probably try and get rid of you. If you just try and get on a horse bareback in the paddock, it will probably go poorly. A lot of horses don't take well to being ridden bareback initially, but they can all get used to it in time.

Horses are sensitive but you can just let them graze

It's a common joke amongst horse people that horses will drop dead of anything and this is true to an extent, but they would be entirely unviable lifeforms if you had to inspect every patch of grass before you let them eat it. In general, horses won't eat toxic plants if they have a choice. I'm not sure how people thing mustangs and other feral horses survive in the wild if every paddock needs to be check for toxic plants because horses can't tell what will kill them and what won't. It's usually perfectly fine to let your horse graze outside their paddock. On that note - if you horse breaks into the feed shed, it *can* cause colic, and depending what they eat, it can be an extremely serious circumstance, but also many horses break into feed sheds, gorge themselves, and walk away fine. Mine has done it more than once.

Horse riding IS hard

One thing other posts have gotten correct is that riding a horse is hard. It's not something you can do well from the get go no matter how amazing you are. Riding a horse the first few times will make muscles hurt you didn't even know you had. Riding a dressage test gets my heart rate nearly as high as going for a run.

Horses are kinda smart . . and kinda stupid

Yes horses all have personalities and they can be really clever, but they can also be extremely stupid and this is because they are flight animals. Some are braver, some are smarter, some are stupid, some are flighty. But a horse is generally not as smart as a dog, and some of them are as dumb as a bag of rocks.

Riding bareback is hard and not good for your horse's back

There's a reason we invented saddles and it's to help distribute a rider's weight more evenly over the horse's back. Horse spines are suspended like a cable between their hips and shoulders. There is nothing in the middle to hold it up but muscle, and you sit right on that thing. Riding bareback puts a lot of weight and pressure on their spine and the muscles around it. Riding with a (well fitted) saddle will help distribute the weight. However, well fitted is the key thing here. You can't just put any saddle on any horse. If the saddle doesn't fit, it can cause rubbing, pain, and eventually long term damage. It's best practice to get a saddle fitted every 12 months at least.

Sweat doesn't really make your horse more slippery though and if you saddle slides right off, your girth wasn't done up tight enough or some part of your tack failed.

Horses should be tied up while you tack and untack

Horses are flight animals and they will piss off if something scares them, which can be dangerous if they're half-tacked or untacked. However, if your horse tries to bite you just because you haven't tied them up then you are doing something that is causing them discomfort or you haven't trained them properly. For the love of god don't let your horse bite you?? What is wrong with you?? The girth should not be painful or uncomfortable for the horse. You don't need to do it as tightly as possible, just enough that it won't slide. Most horses have what is called a "girth groove" which is where the girth sits in front of their ribcage. Because their shoulder is in front and their rib cage widens out behind, the girth sitting in the groove stops the saddle moving.

Training a horse does take a while . . . but them liking you doesn't really factor

Training or breaking a horse to take a saddle and accept a bit and aids does take a long time. You can't just jump on a feral horse and expect them to listen to you. Horses are usually backed (sat on) at between 4-6 years old but they may have had a saddle and bit on for short periods before hand. Horses don't accept tack because they care about whether it helps their rider not fall off, they do it because they have been trained to do it.

Crops and spurs

Crops (whips) and spurs are both aids that, when used properly, cue horses to perform certain movements. Both are more than capable of being abused. You can hurt a horse with a whip just as easily as with a spur, however, used properly, a spur allows you to make smaller, more finnessed aids with your leg than using your heel. A whip or crop can be used in a similar way, especially with horses who like to swing their shoulders or hips one way or the other - the whip just extends your reach.

English vs western

English and western are the two main styles of riding that are most common these days.

English riding includes dressage, jumping, and eventing. These sports are complicated so I won't go into them, but generally the saddles are lighter and allow for a closer connection to the horse, and more ability to move in the saddle - to stand in the stirrups, to get deeper into the saddle, etc.

Western riding is more ranch style riding, and include disciplines like reining, barrel racing, cutting and other sports involving cows. Western saddles are what you see in cowboy movies, and tend to be much heavier and more restrictive - they down allow you to move around so much.

Horses can be affectionate

It does depend a bit on the horse, but horses can absolutely be affectionate. They do this by calling out to you, coming over to you in the paddock, and sniffing and nuzzling at you. They do think with their stomach though, and a great way to get your horse to be excited to see you is to always bring them food.

Horses don't neigh that much

This is a big bug bear in movies. Horses really really really don't usually neigh that much. In fact, they don't make a lot of noise at all in general. They will call to their friends sometimes, and they make a range of whuffling, nickering, snuffling sounds, snorts and grunts, but the way movies show horses screaming their heads off all the time is totally false. They're usually pretty quiet.

That's it for now, but feel free to reach out if you have any other questions. I hope this post spreads as far as the other one did because. . .yikes there was a lot of wrong information in there!

#writeblr #writing #writers of tumblr #am writing #writer #write #writers #writing tips #horses #horsblr #horses of tumblr #dressage #equestrian

[wihellib]

12 Wants For WHB

Disclaimer: This is completely my opinion and you are free to disagree. I am also not a game dev, so I do not know how easy or difficult these things would be to implement in game. Though, I have played a lot of gacha games, and many of the things I want do feature in other games, so I don’t think anything I say here is too unrealistic.

With that out of the way, here are some things that I want added or changed in WHB in no particular order. This is not an exhaustive list, but still ended up being way longer than I initially thought it would be.

Text Messages

I would like the bug that makes chats disappear to be fixed.

Chat replayability. You can already replay L Card chats, so I don’t think it would be too hard to implement that for regular chats.

Change chat time gate so that it works when the app is closed. Currently, you can only get a new text message after you spend 30 minutes in the app. I find this very annoying. I’m fine with waiting 30 minutes but I want to be able to close the app in the meantime. So, my idea is, once you log in for the day, the countdown starts even if you close the app, then once you open the app after 30 min you can read the chat, then the next countdown starts and so on and so forth.

Voice Calls

We don’t have these currently in the game, but I think any gacha game with a phone feature should have them included. This could implemented in a few ways. They could tie them to L Cards. Or it could be we get a new call like once a month or something. Then, maybe, some calls for special occasions like your birthday, his birthday, the launch anniversary, etc.

Home Page

It would be nice if we could change the expression on the demon’s face that we put on the home page. We can unlock expressions as we increase likability for the demons, so I’d like to be able to see those expressions on the home page.

They said at one point they’ll allow us to change the Satan icon on the Secret Club to different demons, which will be nice and I hope they implement that soon.

Artifacts

Better organization. I want to be able to organize by the same artifact, so I can easily see how many I have of each specific artifact.

Increased storage. Let us store more than 200 artifacts. I like to have lots of artifacts for fodder for other artifacts.

Weekly achievement. I think the achievement of raising artifacts by 20 levels each week is excessive. I keep having to raise artifacts that I’ll never use just to complete this achievement and it’s wasteful. Either reduce the number of levels needed or get rid of the achievement and replace it by an achievement for playing panty party or something like that.

Gacha

They recently changed it so you have a slightly increased rate for the demon that you pick on the gacha screen. This is nice, but I would prefer it if the increased rate was like 5% because the current 1% really is a negligible difference.

I would like banners of general pool L cards that use red keys, not solomon seals. Maybe they last a week twice a month or something like that. For example, Attacker Levi could be featured at the start of the month. That card and his artifact are the only L items that can be pulled from that banner. Using red keys, after 110 total pulls, you are guaranteed his artifact and, after 220 total pulls, you are guaranteed his card. This banner lasts a week. Then there is no banner for a week. Then, for example, Attacker Beel has a banner the third week. Then no banner, etc. I would also like the pity to carry over between these theoretical red key banners.

Currently, we can skip the entire gacha animation and pulled character showcase, if we didn’t pull an S rank or above. I want to be able skip it no matter what, unless I pull an L character.

Currently, the gacha animation flashes gold when you get an L Card or L artifact. I would prefer for the L artifact to flash a different colour, like pink for example. I’ve gotten my hopes up too many times seeing gold, thinking I got an L card, and then being disappointed as I instead got Satan’s hair for the 20th time.

Action Power

I would like to be able to come back at certain times of the day, for example, 12pm and 6pm, and get like 50 AP each time. This is a feature in many other gacha games.

I would also like the ability to watch ads for more AP. I know some people are against this type of thing, but I really don’t mind it as long as it’s not mandatory and is non-intrusive.

Translation

The translation is very poor compared to most other gacha games. There’s odd English syntax, a lot of typos, and seemingly missing words. I don’t even know what the characters are trying to convey at times and it really takes me out of the story. So I want them to hire some good English translators. If I could only get one thing on this list implemented into the game, it would be this.

Also I want them to do better about making sure to use the correct pronouns for the MC.

Panty Party

I feel like this feature could be improved a lot. Bring back gold panties in every level. Remove gold from the item list. Gold panties can give you advanced candy choice chest, whole pie choice chest, red keys, or solomon seals. Normal panties can give you beginners / intermediate candy choice chest, slice pie choice chest, pretzels, and gold keys. Also if you fail a level, you can choose to watch an ad to continue from that level if you want.

Events

I’m glad that they added quick plays to events.

The event tab needs to be separated from all other tabs, to always be easily able to select it. It was cumbersome when the Leraye event tab was combined with the limited achievement tab, lucifer gacha tab, and event replay tab. It would constantly switch between each tab, and you’d have to take extra time to switch back to the event tab.

For event replays, currently they cost a small amount to buy to replay. But as more and more events are added, that will be unsustainable. I think if you play an event, then for a certain amount of event currency you can purchase an event replay ticket to be redeemed later. If you didn’t play the event, then there can be other ways to get event replay tickets.

I do think it is a good idea to use events to flesh out the universe and tell important stories pre-MC to not bog down the main story. However, I would like it if some of the events were MC focused. I would love to know more about how we’re adapting to Hell and interacting with others when we’re not being constantly forced to keep moving forward by the main story.

Pies

We need to have a way to farm pie slices and whole pies. I’m surprised the game has been out this long and they still haven’t introduced a way for us to get them more easily.

The amount of pie slices we need to increase a characters skills from level 4 to level 5 is 60, which is beyond excessive. I also don’t get why the jump between the amount of pies needed is so large. Going from needing 0 pies at level 4 to 60 pies at level 5 is odd game design. So, I think it should be reduced to 30 pies slices at most. For level 8, it should be 60 whole pies at most, not 160.

Characters

Another odd game choice is that the S characters need the exact same amount of materials to level up as the L characters. This doesn’t make sense as the S characters are generally less valuable gameplay-wise than the L ones. So why would I waste my precious resources on them, when for the same amount I could raise a much better L unit. Having S characters cost less than the L ones gives incentive to level them up.

This one is the least likely to ever happen, but I’d like for the A+ characters to have likeability rewards. It’s really nice being able to hear voice lines, change the expressions, and get some info on the S/L characters. I’d like to be able to do that for the A+ characters. Yes, it has been confirmed that A+ characters can get L versions, so then they would have expressions/voice lines available in that case. However, there’s no guarantee every single A+ rank will get an L version, and even if they did that could be years in the future. So I would like A+ characters to have a likeability section, but, to balance it out, the item rewards you get from them could be half of the S/L characters. For example, instead of 50 gold keys for a node, you get 25.

Miscellaneous

When they conduct maintenance, I’d like for them to give us more than just some AP. As an example, if they did maintenance for 2 hours, they should compensate us with 2 red keys, or 20 solomon seals.

I’d like to be able to quick play battles in the story chapters. If not unlimited, then at least 5 quick plays a day.

There’s a bug that places me at the beginning of a story chapter instead of where I should be at the end (the node to farm the candy chests). Then I have to scroll all the way to the end which actually takes quite a bit of time. I don’t know if this is affecting anyone else but it is affecting me and it’s annoying so I want it fixed.

When promoting a character or levelling up their skills above level 4 or completing a node on the unholy board that requires Solomons tears, pies or candies, I would like a window that pops up that asks if we’re sure that we want to consume those materials. I misclicked a few times, and that is a lot of resources to waste by accident. So I would like a pop up window to help prevent this.

With all that said, I truly like the premise of this game, the character designs, the VA performances, the art by Nori and the fact that this is an 18+ game aimed at men-loving people, which is a very rare thing. So I am glad it exists and hope that it succeeds. The wants I’ve listed here are just things that would increase my enjoyment even more.

#what in hell is bad #whb #what in “hell” is bad? #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad? #prettybusy what in hell is bad #what in hell is bad?