#then you extend the same fucking courtesy to them

[cocobirde]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 | JOHN DORY

request. @Striped_Scheme on wattpad Requesting a JD x Reader where they've been dating since BroZone days but he kinda just left her with no goodbye and tries to reconcile and convince them to come help and save Floyd lol ("Technically we never really broke up"☝🤓) word count. 2.2k warnings. the word fuck lol. timeline. pre-trolls trilogy, pre-trolls band together. song. baby it's cold outside with some slight alterations (tell me he wouldnt. i DAREEE you.) a/n. honestly. idea was good, but my writing was not it so apologies but love u... thanks for reading lolz... probably rushed... (i do that alot in my writing how to not rush help me) no doubt ooc characters, characters will always be ooc.

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"He's gone? What do you mean gone?"

Floyd could sense your distress. Panicked voice squeaking and your eyes darting all over the small backstage area for your boyfriend, on how exactly he could've left without you catching him.

You were in front of the stage, courtesy of being the partner of a band member, which was amazing but also granted limited viewing if they went too far back. From what you did see, the expressions were a solemn mixture of embarrassment, anger, disappointment.

You barely paid attention to the fans, who were also attempting to go in the same direction as you. Getting caught up in them took a whole lot of convincing the security.

But still, you were just at the door, and you heard him through it. Where had he gone? Was he okay? He fell from a very tall place in front of a crowd of fans, which was probably more damaging to him compared to actually getting injured—but not for you.

You watched him stumble backstage, stumble.

Baby Branch hid behind Floyd, wrapping the little leaf-sewn vest around his body, looking from his older brother to you, worried.

Where's the rest of the band?

"He just left. Everyone did. The band's..." Floyd paused, sighing, "BroZone's over."

You stood confused, your brows furrowing at his words. Over? How could they be over? This was just the start of their world tour. The band couldn't just break up over one failure.

"Over?"

They weren't that fragile, were they?

You loved all the brothers; they were like your own family, but your worries were set on only one of them for the time being.

"Did J at least say where he was going?"

Floyd nodded his head but remained unsure of what your thoughts would be on his answer. He glanced down at baby Branch, who was huddled around his leg.

"He was upset, really upset," he explained. "Said he was going to go hiking to the Neverglades... alone."

The change in your face told him everything, and he was quick to extend his hands in front of him. "But John Dory always says crazy things like that, and he never goes through with them. I'm sure he probably just went up to The Point."

That did seem like a logical explanation, and it was. Floyd may not have been the oldest, but he always had reason and logic behind his smart words.

"You're right." You were still stressed, no doubt, but that calmed your fears down. "Are you guys gonna be okay?"

Floyd spared another guilty glance at Branch and nodded, offering a soft smile and urging you to go look for your lover.

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The troll tree was huge, and even with its large size, it was hard to find any area that wasn't already occupied. Trolls made sure to take advantage of all their space; it was their home, and they made the most of it.

But even with every taken, there was one place that was free from everyone else.

A special spot reserved for you and your lover.

The Point.

Little knew about the spot, and those who did ensured it remained private.

Hidden in the leaves was a branch sticking out high enough to conceal the ugly Bergen town that surrounded them and gave them access to the beautiful night sky.

You and John Dory liked to go there a lot. Whether it be dates or to blow off steam (not like that for the weirdos), if he'd go anywhere after an accident like today, he'd go there.

He was very athletic and made a show of it whenever you'd go together, carrying you up. Bridal style or pulling you up with his strong locks—the point was, you had trouble going up on your own.

It took a while—a hard struggle—but it'd be worth it to see your boy up there and cheer him up.

They couldn't just break up; they just needed their leader to see that.

"John Dory?"

You called upon reaching the top, pushing the heavy leaves out of your way, careful not to slip off the branch.

"Baby, are you here?" Your voice was soft; you didn't want to alarm him. He could be really sensitive sometimes.

That thought brought a faint smile to your face. A smile fell upon the realization that he wasn't up here. If not up here, where could he have gone?

Home?

Knowing JD, you doubted it. If this was as serious as Floyd had put it, as serious as he looked, he wouldn't have just gone home.

And so your search ensued.

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You spent days looking for him. Not a spot in the tree was untouched or unsearched by you. Somehow, the troll had just disappeared. No signs. No letters. No goodbyes.

He left you alone to suffer. Wondering where he'd gone, if he was okay, and if you guys were okay.

It was a coincidence, truly.

How on the day you reminisce when he left you without even a word explaining his sudden disappearance all those years ago was the same day you'd find John Dory on your doorstep.

"Come on, baby, could you let me in?"

"Baby?" you scoffed, remaining with your back slammed against the door in exasperation. "You lost the right to call me that a very long time ago."

One moment you were having a nice day, reading a nice book by your fireplace, enjoying the pitter-patter of rain outside, and the thunder struck, shaking you in the best way possible.

And the next...

"It's cooold..."

He whined, banging on the door desperately.

You couldn't bear to look at him; the second you already spent doing so when you opened the door was enough. He had a face that you'd never forget.

How'd he even find you?

"Go. Away." you growled.

"But it's cold outside."

You clenched your jaw, glaring at the door handle as he shook it. JD used little effort to push at the door; by the weight of it, he could tell you were against it. Not that it mattered.

He was strong; he could easily open it if he wanted to.

"You simply must go."

"Baby, it's cold outside."

If John Dory thinks a little singing is enough to serenade you, he is more of an idiot than you are already aware he is. You weren't a teenager helplessly in love with a silly musician from next door, you were grown.

Mature.

His tricks weren't going to work on you.

"The answer is no."

"But baby, it's cold outside."

He put more pressure, pushing, and you cursed for the lack of a lock on your door.

Trolls don't do locks! They don't have anything to worry about!

Except ex-boyfriend's trying to come in and ruin your life all over again.

"The welcome has been-."

"You should feel so lucky I dropped in."

You rolled your eyes, sarcasm dripping with your words, "So nice and warm."

He pushed the door, slipping a leg in to stop it from shutting completely, peeking a crack. You groaned and peered through it at him.

Sharp glares were directed at him, and gosh, if only looks could kill, he would've dropped dead right now.

He looked stupid.

Stupid puppy eyes with his stupid goggles and a stupid pout on his stupid face. He was soaked from head to toe, the rain falling on him more and more every second he stood outside.

My, did he look pathetic?

BANG!

He shrieked, desperation on his face and voice, jumping at the loud crash of thunder, lighting up the dark sky.

He turned back to you, singing rapidly.

"Look out the window at that storm!"

"Ugh, okay! Come in!"

His face lit up, the door swinging open, and he rushed in, soaking your carpet with rain as you shut the door behind him, slamming it hard enough that the whole house shook with force.

He glanced at you in surprise, getting a glare in return.

JD opened his mouth to speak, obviously nothing nice with the smug look on his face, and you were quick to shut him down.

"Don't."

He clamped his mouth shut, smirking and holding his hands up in defense. "I wasn't gonna say anything."

"Stay."

You urged with a pointed finger, walking off to your bathroom in search of a towel.

"Yes, your majesty."

You hated him with every fiber of your being, but you weren't cruel. He might've been, but you weren't. Any troll would do the same as you; offer him some refuge from the storm outside.

Returning with a towel, you didn't bother passing it to him, tossing it and smacking him right in the face.

Maybe you were a little cruel.

He reacted with a huff, taking it and wrapping it around himself, not bothering to dry himself like ordered, but more like a shelter from the cold.

"Is that how you treat your boyfriend after all these years?"

John Dory tutted, shaking his head in disappointment as he took a single step in your direction.

"Boyfriend?" you scoffed.

"I mean, technically, we never broke up."

Oh, you wanted to punch his little ugly face so bad.

"You disappearing without saying anything was us "technically" breaking up." You did air quotations with another roll of your eyes, speaking before he did, exasperated.

"Why are you even here, John Dory?"

He stayed silent for a few moments, pondering what exactly to say. What could he say? He knew it was stupid of him to even come in the first place. He knew you'd be angry, upset, but not like this.

You didn't look the slightest bit happy to see him.

His smugness dropped along with his shoulders, and he took a breath.

"I need your help."

He looked dead serious. So serious.

You shook your head, your lips curling up in disbelief. "You need my help. Right." your arms crossed, "You leave, disappear off to who knows where, say nothing, suddenly come back after 20 years, and you decide you want my help?"

A short and dry laugh left you.

John Dory really was unbelievable.

"I knew you wouldn't want to see me..."

"I don't want to see you." You cut him off with a grimace, ready to say more-

He had that same desperate look.

Honestly, it brought you back. It brought you back to all those years ago, when both of you were young.

John Dory was always a terrible boyfriend, cocky and arrogant, bossy, too busy with BroZone to give you the time you needed. It hurt you. You loved him so much, and he didn't seem to always reciprocate those feelings. And each time you guys would argue and break up, he would be the first to return with a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

"Leave me alone, John. You can't just come back and expect me to accept you. That's not how life works! If you wanna be in a relationship, you have to commit-..."

"Can you please just listen?"

He stared at you with a small pout, furrowed brows, eyes pleading into yours for you to give him a second chance. His stupid, loving eyes knew exactly how you worked. How exactly to work you.

The only difference right now was that he came empty-handed.

Nevertheless, it effectively shut you up.

"I fucked up all those years ago, I know. I fucked up leaving you. That's the biggest mistake I've ever made. I should've said goodbye, apologized, invited you to come with me- I should've done something!" He ranted, "But I didn't. And I just left..."

John Dory expected you to say something. One of your snarky remarks and cut him off, tell him he's wrong or right, and degrade him on what a terrible person he is because he is well aware of it.

But he's trying.

"Baby, you of all trolls know how terrible I am at apologies," he sighed.

And you didn't bother to correct him on your name; looking at him up and down, eyes still narrowed. You were still angry, you'd probably be angry for a very long time, but for the moment... you'd put it aside.

"What do you need help with?"

His face lit up, beaming at you at your acceptance, not denying him completely, not shunning the troll out, and kicking him back into the rain. You were hearing him out.

You noticed the look and huffed, "Just because I'm asking does not mean I'm going to say yes."

"Floyd's been kidnapped."

Your expression softened, and your mouth fell open in a quiet gasp.

"Kidnapped?"

"I got a letter from him saying he got kidnapped by popstars Velvet and Veneer." He went on and explained the story about how he went to see him and help him escape, only to fail: "-The only way to free him is by singing the perfect family harmony."

You loved Floyd to this day. It'd been years since you'd last talked to him, heard of him at all, but the same amount of affection you felt for the troll remained.

"I need to get the band back together. And... I really can't do it on my own. I'm not sure if they want to see me any more than you did-."

You cut him off a lot.

"I'll help," he grinned. "But not for you. For Floyd. Don't think I've forgiven you yet."

"Yet?"

"Shut up."

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#trolls band together #brozone #trolls #trolls x reader #john dory x reader #jd x reader #brozone x reader #hes soo ugughhh #cocowrites🖊 #what other tags do i put #trolls john dory #trolls brozone #trolls jd

[basicinstnct]

fairytale / leon kennedy

word count: 3323

tags: possessive behavior, abo dynamics, rut/heat cycles, knotting, breeding, hints at yandere, mentions of rape and abuse, alcohol, hazing, smut, fake dating, intimidation

ao3 link: here

summary: you and leon happen to be in the same training squadron. further events pull you even closer.

When you’re told alphas, betas, and omegas train indiscriminately, you wonder whether they’re toughening you up or throwing you to the wolves. But you don’t falter, like you maybe think you should. Ignoring your instincts is something you’ve had to learn, because most of the time they just tell you to run.

They at least do you the favor of rooming you with another omega, one of the few others in your camp. Mostly the training squad consists of alphas, not even closely followed by betas, and both those populations dwarf yours. Nothing close to what it’s like if you walk down the street.

You quickly learn the ropes, courtesy of said roommate, and there’s plenty to know. Don’t go off alone with any alphas. Keep your scent blockers on, maybe even double up. Basically, keep your fucking head down and know your place, but sometimes things feel so tough that you wonder why they put you you here at all.

“And if all that isn’t enough to scare you,” she says after she’s given you the lay of the land, “just watch what happens to the ones who aren’t as smart.”

…

Her words prove true just a few days later. It’s the weekend, and there’s a kickback a few miles off base. You don’t know whose house it is, or even whose party, but a chance to unwind is worth all of that stupidity. Even your roommate agrees.

“Be cautious, yes,” she’d said, eyes locked on her own as she applied her mascara, “but social ostracization isn’t great either.”

When you’re handed a drink, you’re told to keep an eye on it. Not that she needed to say so, but there’s a weird sense of irony keeping your guard up among people you sweat and bleed with every day.

Some of the other cadets are determined to get as fucked as possible, so before midnight hits there’s a drinking game taking place in the middle of the living room. It’s mostly organized by two alphas you recognize to be pretty important in your squadron. In between them is a girl, an omega. Both of the boys have one arm on her, a strong suggestion.

You can’t imagine what they’d smell like that close. It must be suffocating.

“Does this happen often?” You ask your roommate.

“All the time,” she says.

There’s some chatter to explain the stupid rules, beers and sodas and liquors are put in cups, and then it begins. The drinks are thrown back like water, and you can’t help but notice how many of them go down the throat of the young omega, whose face is getting redder and redder as she tries to keep up with people two times her size.

Despite her effort, she still loses the game. Nobody objects as they put her into position for her punishment, an extended keg stand. The handstand drains all color to her face, even as the beer begins to spill from her cheeks, down her face to fall towards the floor. And when it’s over, it’s no surprise that she pukes everything back up.

What is surprising is that when she’s done, they just leave her there, in her vomit. You’re smart enough not to do anything; you’re as bad as everyone else. It’s a smart way to assert dominance in an overarching way. You’re aware that this could easily be you, next weekend or the weekend after that. Your second gender makes it so easy to fall prey to almost anything.

Later on, like everyone else, you watch in silence as the omega runs out the door, until she’s entirely out of view and you can’t hear her cry anymore. You have a strong feeling you won’t be seeing her again. 8 out of every 10 dropouts are omegas, or at least, that’s what they say.

The party doesn’t go on for long after that, the mood tanked by the lingering smell of vomit and pheromones of distress. You end up catching a ride with an older cadet, who your roommate sits across from. When you open the door to get in the backseat you’re a little surprised to see the back of a man’s blond’s head.

You quickly recognize him from training: Leon, an alpha. You also quickly recognize that you don’t know much about him other than that. It isn’t quite obvious that he’d be an alpha either, at least to you.

He doesn’t say anything, other than a noncommittal grunt, but you’re not offended. As much as he tries to mask it, you can smell that he’s somewhat distressed. The alpha behind the wheel must be able to tell too, as he rolls down the windows once you’re on the open road.

“See,” your roommate yells at you over the sound of the wind, before taking another sip of warm beer, “I told you so. Everything I said… the rules…”

“You did,” you reply, but you’re fixed on Leon’s expression. You can’t get the troubledness of it out of your mind. You want to fix it, desperately.

…

Even following all the rules, it doesn’t take long for trouble to find you.

A lot of people hate your Major Krauser, but in particular you hate the way he sounds. An alpha, naturally he has no issue throwing his weight or his power or anything else in his arsenal. He’s got commanding blood running through his body, apparent in his voice when he speaks, but it’s never been aimed at you before, not like this, not at you.

“Do I have to say it again, omega?” You swear you can feel the spittle. “My office, ten minutes.”

It’s not unusual for commanding officers to request the presence of subordinates, but there have been rumors surrounding Krauser that don’t exactly have you wanting to be alone with him. Talk of him requesting favors, forced affection, omegas coming back to the barracks on shaky legs.

You know what a visit to his office means, and you’d rather be a willing lamb to the slaughter than embarrass yourself by fighting.

The corridor to Krauser’s is endless, almost comically so. It feels like fate is a door away, but the feeling seems to disappear as you hear a grunt from a couple yards away. A sound you swear isn’t new to you.

“Krauser, sir.” It’s Leon. Looking at him, hearing him, makes it finally register. He’s an alpha, no different than Krauser.

“Yes, Kennedy?” He seems to be amused, and even with just a throwaway glance you realize something that has your stomach curdling. You’re kind of expected to keep your mouth shut.

Leon’s eyes glance at you, and you find that you understand exactly what he’s trying to do.

Krauser’s buying whatever Leon’s doing. He looks between the two of you, brow arching slightly. “Oh,” he drags out. “I see. She’s yours.” The venom on the last word pulls a shake out of you.

You can feel the sweat on your temples, and your hands twitch with the urge to wipe it away. You bet you look pathetic. You’ve got someone looking out for you and you can’t even speak up to confirm his story.

Krauser tilts his head like he’s pondering fucking Leon over and just taking you anyway. “Have her then, if she’s really yours,” he says finally, suddenly bored with the whole situation like he wasn’t about to knot you over a desk. He gives you a firm pat on the shoulder before shoving you in Kennedy’s direction.

You can’t deny that walking over to Leon feels like crossing a bridge to a better place. Just by the smell of him.

“You should probably let me… y’know, scent you from now on.” Leon says later, when you’re alone. He sounds like he’s asking, but there’s something that in his eyes, intense, determined. It’s in his smell too… Does protection have a smell?

You agree without much argument. It feels right. And some part of you is happy to have someone looking after you. When he moves to touch you you can feel it lighting up, synapses in your brain, and when he lets you go you find you feel a bit woozy. You wonder if he feels it too, this gravitational pull.

“I’ll take care of you,” he says, and you agree. It must be the best option.

…

You’ve never been to the rut barracks before, and they certainly don’t have anything like that for you, but when the officer told you he was in rut, and asked if you wanted to do anything about it, you felt obligated. His tone was crooked when he said it, when he teased you about your “nice little relationship, your fairytale.” Did everyone know? He wanted to keep you protected, but how much did he say?

He’s told you stories about how hard training was, that in the beginning it was nothing he would have been able to even dream of before Raccoon City.

Knowing you has helped, you’ll remember the warmth that spread through your body at those words forever, but you try not to think about it too much, because you don’t remember talking to Leon all that much during his early out of training, at all really until he started pretending like you were his.

When you open the door, you can almost feel the heat of Leon’s lust. He’s awake despite the time, in a lounge chair he’s put in the corner in the room. You can tell he’s been sitting in it for hours. Muscled hands cling to the armrests like they’re a lifeline. His eyes are glazed, obviously from the rut, and he makes no attempt to hide the obvious boner he’s sporting. The sight of him like this distracts you from any hesitation you had before, from anything outside the room.

You take just one step, and his eyes lock onto yours impossibly fast. His spine shifts, and he looks somewhat like he does when he’s ready for combat. Leon tries to speak first, but you’re holding your hand up to stop him from getting a word in.

“Shhh,” you feel yourself purr, like you’re approaching a feral animal, which might as well be true. “I know you don’t feel good,” you tell him, “but I can make you feel better. You know I can.”

Your ears feel like they’re underwater but can make out that he’s protesting. He’s saying something about not wanting you to get hurt but you know deep down you won’t feel bad about it, about doing this with him. You have to force his walls away, so you do your best to put out a disarming smell.

“Leon,” you say, holding out your hand.

“You came,” he gasps. He’s warm around you, and his face in your neck feels natural (or maybe more like instinct). He’s trying to be careful with you, barely even moving, but you want him closer. You know he wants to be closer. You wrap your arms around him, and for once allow yourself to really feel his body.

Leon’s form is strong, and this isn’t really much of a surprise to you, but touching it is something else: a different way to know his strength. You drag your hands across every muscle and you know you’ll remember the warmth that spreads through your body for a long time. You feel him sigh, deeply, before his hands grip you a bit tighter and pull you more towards him. “This is ok?” He’s suddenly asking, with a raw voice. But you get the feeling he won’t be asking for long.

“You came to take care of me?” He’s asking, but his eyes are so lidded they seem closed, and his nostrils are flaring like crazy. He’s so worked up, and you haven’t even been with him for five minutes.

You mutter back a shy affirmation, and just to really drive, you pull at his belt. The shudder that goes through him is a reward all its own.

“Ohhh?” He’s almost all over you instantly. He’s warm around you, and his face in your neck feels natural (or maybe more like instinct). He’s still him, still so careful with you, but you want him closer. You bet he always wants to be closer. You wrap your arms around him, and for once allow yourself to really feel his body, like he makes you do when you’re under him.

Leon’s form is strong, and this isn’t really much of a surprise to you, but touching it is something else: a different way to know his strength. You drag your hands across every muscle.

Meanwhile, he’s panting, almost to the point where you can feel his wet saliva. And he’s slurring something you can’t understand, and until two huge hands cup your face and put your forehead to his.

“Ohhh,” he moans shamelessly. “Where are your blockers? I-I’ve never… I always knew you were—but I never got to smell you. But you took them off now, huh? Did you do it for me?”

His pupils are so black, the ice blue ring around them half as piercing, but worse than that is his cock you can feel pressed up against your stomach, almost letting you know how bad he’ll stretch you, before he even gets his knot in. It’s getting you wet, needy.

“Yess,” you hiss as you feel his incisors draw lines down your neck, “for youuuu.”

“You’re gonna let me take care of you? Let me give you my knot, huh?” His words make you buzz. You feel like you’re going to fall into something you can’t get out of.

“I wanna take it, I will,” you’re murmuring like you have a fever. It occurs to you: it’s a strong possibility that his rut will trigger your heat. But that doesn’t seem so bad.

“I heard he was taking you,” Leon’s saying, teeth gritted with the effort not to snarl. You realize the he in question is Krauser, that he’s talking about that day. “I couldn’t let him. Didn’t want him to have you. And he won’t. I’ll take care of you, you’re mine.”

His scent is so strong you feel sick on it. Even when you’ve been with other people you could always smell yourself, but he’s wiped you out.

“How’d you know?” Leon asks, with what seems like his last grain of sanity.

“They told me.”

He laughs but there’s a pain in it, “‘course they did.” He pulls gently at you, leading you towards the bed he’s so far left untouched.

You can tell he wants you badly but he’s trying to be gentle. It crosses your mind to give yourself up to him completely, tell Leon he can do whatever he wants with you. But you aren’t quite sure how that’ll turn out with him so turnt up like this. You still have your guard up, but there’s a part of you that lives to serve.

You do so by ridding him of his clothes, his vest and his cargo pants, and then his briefs, where you can see his cock, leaking and throbbing. You can see hints of the knot he’s gonna make you take.

The sheets are engulfed in his smell. You find out as your body sinks into them with Leon’s weight over you. His eyes seemingly follow every part of you at once. His hands grab at you, at your ass and hips. Before long, he’s undressed you as well.

“Just take me,” you tell him, “I can handle it. I know you need me.” You hope he can feel how you ache for him in return.

Leon hums to himself, but doesn’t obey your request. Instead his fingers prod over to your opening and he moves them through the slick of you. He doesn’t dip them in, and seems content to just play with you, get you even wetter, even with his dick weeping pre onto your thigh. He lets you stir in his arms until you start to beg.

“Leon,” you say, for both of your sake’s, “please.”

“Wait,” he hisses, “just give me a second. You smell so good I could…” he trails off, like he’s not supposed to say it, but you’re not interested in should or shouldn'ts. You need his knot.

“Please,” you beg again, not even aware you’re baring your neck.

Blue eyes lock onto yours for confirmation, and when he finds it he slides his dick in slowly, maybe less so you can get used to it and more so he can see you shake and writhe as you feel just how deep he goes. Without preparing you you’d think it’d feel worse, but you must just want it that badly.

“God, your pussy feels so good,” he says into your ear, when he’s worked himself all the way in. You can feel his balls as he rocks his hips against you before he begins to fuck you. You welcome every part of him, his lips on yours, his hands, and you can feel the base of him getting thicker.

“Can I have it,” you’re shocked at the sound of your whining, “your knot?”

He huffs, “no.”

“What? Why?” You’re desperate for him. He’s warming you from the inside out and he smells so good when he’s close and you feel like you were nothing before this, like the memories of before he made you his will slip away when he makes you come.

“Because,” he gasps as he goes deeper, like he’s shocked it can even feel any better, “I wanna feel you come, please. What do you need? You need it harder?”

Rather than wait for your answer he just tries it, gripping your hips just to pull you back into his cock. Using you because he’s strong enough and you’re letting him and he can. Something in that makes your brain fuzzy, makes you clench around his cock until he’s growling into your neck, giving it to you even harder.

It works, it does make you come, but you still feel needy. You pull Leon closer into all you can feel is him. Your’s mouth’s to his ear.

“Give me it,” you whine. “I know you’re close. I want it.”

“Yeah,” he says like he’s realizing it too. That he’s getting too thick there to keep fucking you like this. “Please, say you want it again.”

“Please,” you cry, “Leon, knot me, please. It’s too much if you don’t.”

He looks at you for a long moment before licking every one of your tears away. Then he fucks you he feels it.

All of you seems to soften when Leon gets caught in your pussy and comes. You can feel him filling you up, warming you from the inside out. Even better than that is the pleasure on his face. His teeth are clenched. You wonder if he’s grinding them so they don’t end up in your neck.

He cuddles you until his knot goes down, and then he bathes you (you didn’t even know there was a full on bathroom), dries you, redresses you. His cock leaks the entire time, but he ignores it in favor of you. You’re scared to say anything about it. You love the way he looks after you.

Later in bed though, you can’t help but ask him. “Why?” you say without naming anything explicitly.

“It feels natural,” Leon says, and you can tell he’s thought about it. “Feels good to give you what you need.” In all this misery it must feel good for him to save someone, rescue someone, and that someone is you.

“And you know what that is?” You can’t help but ponder. It feels uncharacteristic to say, but it also feels like the last chance for either of you to turn back from whatever this is.

“I have to,” it’s the voice of your alpha replying.

#resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #smut #my writing #dark content cw

[grimesgirll]

rick has to be the most possessive man you know.

you love him, but you also love daryl.

so that complicates things. it confuses you even more the number of times both of the men managed to have you bent over between them. being as jealous as rick is, it’s hard to believe that he could even think to share you. daryl’s his brother however, and you’re an individual, you can make your own decisions, rick guesses.

he can’t fault you for your obsession with his best friend. daryl’s a moral man, a provider, good looking enough that you can’t help but run your hands through his hair every chance you get. sometimes it takes rick some deep breaths and a moment of grounding to contain his jealousy. he loves you too much to not see red every time you’re swooning for someone who isn’t him. he even loves daryl but he can’t help it, not when it’s you.

so rick will never stand between you and daryl, not when you show no signs of ever dropping your infatuation with either man, especially not the sheriff. everyday when he comes home and plops down on the sofa after a day of his enduring constable’s duties, you’re on top of him in his lap. you don’t even have to be horny to make yourself at home with your head against his chest.

adoring his deep blue eyes, you straddle him every opportunity you get for the time to lock eyes, hands on his shoulders and his on your hips as you talk about your days. after a long day out in the community, it doesn’t take long for rick’s dick to tent in his jeans and you to feel a pressure against your clothed slit.

it isn’t uncommon for daryl or rick to come home and find you curled up with the other on the sofa. so rick has to endure the empathy exercise that is not dragging you from the sofa, tossing you over his shoulder and retiring to the bedroom for the night.

plush lips parted with only your breath coming through, you just melt into them whenever you have the opportunity. one look and you’re a puddle.

how can he not be jealous when you’re this fucking sweet?

he tries to extend daryl the same courtesy of enjoying you without the drama but rick is still getting used to the dynamic - more than the group is at this point.

the three of you were an unusual case but the group had gotten used to it after long enough. it only took a few weeks for them not to take a second glance at rick’s hands on your waist or how daryl’s crossbow could almost always be found somewhere around your sleeping situation.

that’s why it’s not awkward when carl knocks on the door in the mornings to hand judith off to his father and you and daryl are snoozing away in the background. you do your best to keep the pda to a minimum but the neighborhood doesn’t mind, so rick often doesn’t.

you think back to gabriel's church in georgia; you'd been hiding with the members of your group that had stayed while the others went out to do in the cannibals once and for all. your plan had went off without a hitch but that didn't mean that the event hadn't shaken you to the core.

one of the savages whose name you couldn't be bothered to remember had graphically described how specifically delicious your parts would be.

rick slashed his throat.

the entire series of events had rick on edge but even after the bloodbath, rick couldn’t stand to have you out of his sight.

“what’re you doin’ all the way over here?”

you tensed up.

“rick, i-,”

“why the fuck were you wandering off?”

you paused, recognizing the ire in rick’s voice when you hear it. you almost wanted to say nothing to avoid what you know will be a fight regardless but you know you’ll be accused of not speaking up.

“i didn’t mean to. i was stretching my legs. i’ll stay closer.”

“yeah, you will.”

the group’s known about how rick feels for you for a while.

it’s why you’re wrapped up in rick’s arms while you watch your newly assimilated group and the alexandrians trying their hands at the compound bows hanging around the makeshift archery range.

daryl’s leaving everyone in the dust of course.

“show off,” you whisper to rick who snickers in agreement.

this is nice; quaint and tranquil, just like the suburbs out to be. you never imagined ending up essentially married with two husbands and two children, shacked up in a gated community in a nearly million dollar house with the dead being a greater issue than a mortgage or getting the kids into college but you’re content with it.

you’d rather watch as daryl does trick shots - going as far to pull out the old splitting the arrow in half trick, which you almost whistle at. are they going to put an apple on the windmill next? you chuckle at the thought.

“when are you going up?” maggie calling your name snaps you out of your musings about daryl.

you scoff at her playfully. “you know i’m a bad shot, maggie.”

the redhead shrugs. “don’t think you’re as bad as you say you are. c’mon, even the kids are trying it.”

she’s not wrong - even sam is picking up a bow and giving it a try with some encouraging from ron.

“sure,” accepting the challenge, you untwist yourself from rick; not before indulging in one last full lipped kiss, a “good luck” on rick’s lips as you head to the picnic table to gear up.

you select a familiar looking compound bow and join daryl at the shooting line. he frowns when he catches sight of your arm.

“wait, baby, you’re not even wearin’ your armband right.”

you shrug. “it’s been a while.”

he’s in you; fixing the nearly sideways arm shield. muttering about you never taking safety too seriously. you’d beg to differ but you’re too bewitched by his striking blue eyes up close. the man slides the band in place before dropping his hand back to your rear, letting a hand fall down your cargos as he gently shoves you towards the cylinder full of arrows at the spray painted shooting line.

the delight is all over your face when you knock your arrow with no notes from the bowman observing your practice.

archery isn’t your strong suit but you’d come into contact with it at summer camps in your youth and in gym class. your form is fantastic - or at least it always starts that way. the arrow that flies flies flawlessly and suddenly you’re beaming at the cheers once you notice your arrow a mere inch from where a bullseye should be.

maggie’s awestruck face and rick’s grin are enough for you to start knocking another arrow, sending daryl a cocky look.

the problems start when you reload and tilt your bow upright. you’re drawing your arrow back like your boyfriend showed you all of those times before, but something makes the auburn haired man stop and correct your form, saying, “here,” softly and moving your left arm long.

he steadies a hand on your hip as he helps to steady your aim. despite being momentarily tucked in daryl’s steel embrace, you feel eyes boring into it.

rick is striding over, not caring about glenn approaching the other end of the shooting line to give it a go or even your almost perfect bullseye.

“i think you would’ve gotten that one is daryl would’ve given you some space.”

an eye roll is sneaking out of daryl and rick still has his arms crossed. you shake your head to signify that it’s all a misunderstanding. “rick, i’m shit at archery because i’m shit at archery - not because daryl has his hands on me.”

rick grunts. “that’s not what i saw.”

you smile sweetly at the constable. “he’s just helping me learn to shoot, babe.”

“yeah, let her learn. might come a day when we’re out of bullets,” daryl backs you up, citing an obvious concern now that scavenging was growing riskier and riskier.

“might come a day when you stop drooling over every touch.” rick jabs.

an eyebrow shoots up. “you don’t seem to have a problem with me drooling over you.” you counter. “just wait until later. you’ll be changing your tune about all of this,” you gesture to daryl.

rick’s eyes are alight with something stronger than irritation, more personal than just being annoyed. he looks like he almost wants to bend you over his lap and you’re sure he’s about to say something just as embarrassing until a voice interrupts his thought before it comes out.

you and daryl seize your getaway when rick is summoned up onto deanna’s porch to try some of her famous peanut butter buckeyes. “proudly from ohio,” she’d proclaimed of the recipe.

midwestern sweets are the perfect cover for you and your archer to stowaway in the barn, somewhere it would take rick a long time to look. daryl has you next to him on a hay bale in an empty horse stall before you can even count how many horses are actually around. not that it matters with the stall dividers giving you more than enough cover.

the finger screwing you open has you screaming your face with pleasure. this is what you’d been wanting rick to do at the archery range. you would’ve done whatever he said for him to whisk you away and take care of that specific need right there and then.

“real quick? just to hold you over until later?” he’s massaging your worked up insides like he’s aware of every tension that’s been brewing in you all day long.

“dare’,” your ability to keep it together is slipping.

“you want me to fill you up with a finger now, baby?” daryl toys, middle finger joining his pointer in your pulsing cunt.

you say everything but no when daryl embarks between your thighs.

deanna’s buckeyes were delicious.

not as great as his mom’s peach cobbler but enough of a sign that this place is where the group should lay down there roots. where you three should put down your roots.

rick doesn’t want to be the overbearing boyfriend, not when you and daryl are on the other end of it. the idea of sharing you is still just so foreign. in bed, it mostly goes off without a hitch but during the daytime is another story.

jealousy manifests in all kinds of inappropriate ways - like spoiling your moment with daryl after you shot so well, rusty as you were not having picked up a bow in god knows how long. rick wants to apologize. the thought’s on his mind but the way his body moves, searching for you and his friend, he’s more of a predator than a man. moved almost as if by the primal need to be close to you. to know where you are.

so when he finally finds and daryl in the stable, he thinks his head might explode.

“the fuck are you two doin’ in this stall?”

your climax is put on pause as daryl freezes his tongue over your clit. despite your frivolous wrenching of his auburn waves, your efforts to at least enjoy a release before rick starts on his lecture prove to be futile. daryl’s not just abandoning ship but pulling up your underwear.

“and the fuck are you whimperin’ about?”

you stop; a deer in the headlights. “what?” you mumble through swollen lips.

“move the fuck over, daryl,” before you know it, rick is doing the unexpected and taking your lover’s spot sucking your clit.

rick doesn’t give you anytime at all to mentally or physically adjust to him just jumping in and slurping you up.

the lack of warning has you coming on his tongue and daryl’s eyes widening. none of you can be surprised by the fact that rick isn’t stopping. you’re fine with that; you can’t face his “i told you so” looks right now anyways.

rick rarely gets to eat you out as often as he wants to. usually it’s daryl torturing your sensitive cunt without abandon. the scene before you: rick, with a tongue treating you like the last popsicle in the hell, tongue fucking you even as you grip as his hair.

“rick,” you say starry eyed.

“he’s busy, baby,” daryl explains and settles into the spot next to you against the hay bale.

“rick, rick!” you’re stirring up straw around you as rick adds a finger to his artful invasion of your pussy. the tongue isn’t enough, no, he needs to penetrate you with a finger as well. it doesn’t matter that his nose is shiny with your slick or that you’re begging for a break. you’re gonna overload all over his face like the good little slut he knows you are for him.

at least that’s what he tells you after he holds you down and tag teams you with daryl to incur a whirlwind of pleasure from your sensitive pebbled flesh to your slippery entrance. your kicking legs don’t phase him, much less than tsunami of pleasure that washes over you and coats his mouth.

the intense breakdown from inside your core has your mind completely wiped. you’re so fucked out, you’re begging for rick to do the dirtiest things to you on this hay strewn floor.

“you need me to smack your pussy baby?”

“yes, rick!”

the light sting that flushes your cunt has you gasping into daryl’s mouth when he leans over to lock puffy lips with you. another swat or two is more than enough to have you even wetter than you were when rick interrupted you and daryl. the stretch you’re expecting comes more as a squelch for the first few inches.

rick has gotten used to you over time but as daryl props you up on his lap, you grit your teeth. the older man is hitting that marianna trench deep angle with his horsecock fitting for the stable that’s on the verge of battering your cervix.

kudos to daryl, you think. how supportive of your fucking antics. you know why that is.

daryl will let rick go as far as he does because he knows it’ll end up with the three of you right here. right on top of each other, gliding into position wordlessly. the tent in his pants has been freed and by the way he’s palming himself, you can tell he’s not saving that thing for your mouth.

the massive cock splitting you up and imprinting some kind of shape, begins to pulse. you’re ready to come all over him when you feel an intrusion at your sopping hole.

“what the-,”

“relax, it’s a finger.”

“you’re cutting in here already?”

daryl raises an eyebrow at his brother. “you’re tellin’ me that you don’t wanna double stuff her?”

you clench around rick at the younger man’s words.

rick laughs, wrapping his arms around you before starting to roll over, “well, when you put it that way.”

and he sends his tongue down your throat as soon as the second dexterous finger struggles inside of you. the pressure ebbs and flows from pain to pleasure. regardless, the pain is dull enough that the hold rick’s maintaining on your sides is enough to distract you.

you’re draped on top of rick, snug against him but he still starts to run his cocky mouth.

“i thought the bigger dude’s supposed to be on top. isn’t that what that magazine you guys found said?”

daryl raises a tawny eyebrow, not bothering to slow the pace of his fingers. “you’re really gonna brag about your dick right now?”

rick pistons his hips upwards, squeezing a cry out of you and proving his point.

“you’re an asshole,” you’re muttering as you endure another pointed thrust.

rick gets his recompense when daryl finally feeds his own impressive cock, centimeter by centimeter at first - eyeballing it and checking in on you and rick as you both start to squirm.

daryl’s struggling to not give it one heroic thrust and dive balls deep but he knows that would probably tear you in two. theres no way you can handle anything other than slow right now. rick is the same with a matching flustered expression. he accepts your hand when you grasp his much larger palm in yours.

the once cocky constable is now absolutely being shut up by your all encompassing, air tight walls and daryl’s cock edging you two as he edges further inside of you.

daryl’s fingers were pipe cleaners in comparison to his meaty cock cramming into you as if you weren’t meant for only one. it doesn’t matter though. no one would hear you complaining. this isn’t the first one they’ve stretched you on both of their cocks and it won’t be the last - not if you have anything to do with it.

once the man above you is a bit more firmly entrapped in your tight warmth, you start to move your hips back. rick is smirking beneath you when daryl warns you with a spank not to squirm too much - not if you want both of them to come in you. the conditions have you settling your hips and clinging onto rick, stilling with the close contact as daryl sandwiches you into him.

rick has no reason to complain, not with the sunlight coming through just the right panes of the barn’s skylights and painting your face and your hair a delicious shade of golden hour. daryl’s disposition is made only more chiseled and picturesque with the waning daylight.

neither of them are lasting long with the way the day’s gone.

you don’t make it a piece of cake holding on regardless. wound up since rick first pulled you into his arms back at the range, you have no patience for the men overfilling your walls. your hips can’t wait to thrash and jerk just like daryl’s. the archer is rasping in your ear to calm down but with the blush bringing, brain fogging pressure that two cocks in your entrance brings, you barely listen.

your constable comes first of course. he’s the one that sets off the real showstopper of a release that wrings a cry so loud out of you that one of the horses sighs in the background.

the warmth of his come fills you from his position buried deep in your pussy. it’s slipping out of you with each erratic propel of daryl into you, fucking the two of you straight through your orgasms.

come floods from your womb and out of your entrance, spilling down your thighs once daryl finally pulls out. he whistles and gestures for rick to check it out but the man is too worn out to look between your sticky thighs. instead, you’re flush against his chest and he’s calling daryl down with the two of you.

tangled together in the hay, you can’t think of a better way to spend this idyllic day.

#the walking dead #rickyl #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon #rick grimes #twd #twd imagine #twd smut #rickyl x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick x reader #rick grimes x reader x daryl dixon #not beta read #threes0me #f/m/m #p in v sex #blowy #reader has rick rabies #dvp #good old fashioned haybale f*cking #big dick rick grimes #rick the prick #angst #still getting the hang of writing smut #this is my longest fic to date 😳 #grimesgirll

[brotherblaze]

quicksand —gojo satoru + geto suguru

summary: Five months after exiling yourself from jujutsu society and fleeing Japan, Gojō and Getō finally track you down. And they’re not going to let you slip through their fingers for a second time.

word count: ~3,5k

warnings: n/a

The evening breeze is cool.

You’re sitting on the grassy area, just in front of the small strip of sand on the shore, legs outstretched in front of you, heels digging into the sand. There are cows grazing a stone’s throw away from you, fenced in and kept up by the city council. The newspaper said they’re here annually, every summer from April to late September. Waves lap at the shore.

The hair on the back of your neck rises on its ends. Familiar cursed energy wraps around you like a vice. You don’t look back to meet their eyes, instead you look at the cows. There are a few calves amongst the herd, fluffier than the fully grown cows.

Footsteps approach and a warm body stops right behind you. Warmth emits from him like he’s a furnace and his cursed energy is all too familiar, almost suffocating, and oh, the irony of forgetting how formidable a person the Gojō Satoru is.

“Get up,” he says. His voice is stern. Cold, even. What a contrast. He’s like a siren, luring you in with body heat to chill you to the bone with his words. You ignore him at first, and instead, take a long breath in, hold it for a few moments, then exhale. It does little to soothe the buzzing in your veins and stop the thoughts racing through your head. Too many to keep count of — all of them centered around them. There’s a headache blooming, too.

Slowly, you unfold your legs and stand, dusting the sand off your pants. You turn to him, keeping one foot rooted on the corner of the yellow picnic blanket to keep it from flying off with a gust of wind. You raise your eyes to Gojō, then over his shoulder to where Getō stands, just a few strides away. The bitter taste of shame crawls up your esophagus as your eyes meet for a moment and you quickly avert yours to stare at the Jujutsu High button on Gojō’s uniform. Uniform. Straight from a mission, then. But it’s hard to tell; they have an uncanny ability to evade the blows of the opponent, never looking disheveled — no, not uncanny, a testament to their prowess, of their ranks as Special Grades. The créme de la créme of the jujutsu world.

“Well?” Gojō’s head is cocked to the side ever so slightly, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes obscured by bandages. Still, the feeling of being watched overwhelms you. You level your gaze with his and attempt not to get spooked by the intensity of his gaze and yet you’re unsuccessful. He definitely notices the subtle flinch of your shoulders. So, you raise your eyes to the treeline behind both of them. He calls out your name and you ignore the instinct to look, to give him the satisfaction of yet another flinch.

“I was a danger to everyone around me. So, I ran.” Cool wind from the sea caresses the back of your neck. You grind your foot deeper into the sand as the edges of the picnic blanket curl up. “It doesn't concern you, by the way, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“It does concern us when you disappear for months!” Gojō argues, swinging his hand to the side.

“How’d you find me, anyway?”

“You took my credit card,” he says, “three, actually.”

You swear under your breath. That fucking donut shop in town, right. Great donuts, no way to pay in cash.

“So you had to run over here? I’m fine, I was fine, everything was fine. You should’ve just moved on with your lives.”

“I think we have a right to know what’s going on, no?” Getō speaks up. Your eyes meet again but this time it’s harder to look away. In fact, you can’t force yourself to avert your eyes. “We tried to do right by Amanai and we’ll extend the same courtesy to you.”

Unlike Gojō, Getō’s voice is soft. It curls around you invitingly, like it wants you to spill all the secrets you keep close to your heart.

“No,” you say. The word is so bitter in your mouth you almost want to drink down handfuls of salty ocean water to taste anything, anything other than that. You ignore the intensity of Gojō’s gaze, ignore the twinge in your body that’s pulling you back towards them but that ache somewhere deep in your bones, the one that wants you to step closer to chase the warmth of human intimacy you’ve deprived yourself of for the past five months — that crawls up your spine and you almost take a step closer. “Just… leave.”

Gojō grabs the collar of your jacket and yanks you up to face him. You hiss a ‘no’, one hand clawing at his bare wrist, toes barely scraping the ground to kick up a clump of grass and dirt. You expect not to reach him, only Infinity, yet you do, and sink your nails into his flesh. He doesn’t even flinch. This is Gojō Satoru, the very peak of everything, he doesn’t skirt around the subject and he doesn’t accept any efforts at skirting around the subject.

“What do I have to do to make you trust us—”

His right hand collides with your left, already reaching for his throat, and fire licks up the length of your forearm. The distinct sound of metal snapping under immense pressure bounces against your eardrums. The next moment, the glint of the evening sun off metal shards, and the next, a piercing pain in your left cheek. Your knees give in.

Three of your fingers are lying on the pasture grass, glowing blue liquid seeping out of each one.

He seems to realize when you do because his grip on you goes slack and your knees collide with the ground. Your vision is blurring with tears as you reach out to gather the pieces of metal that were your fingers only moments ago and stuff them into your jacket pocket because they were organic once. They can be slotted back, right? They’ll be fine, right?

You reach around yourself for the yellow picnic blanket, shake it free of the stray grains of sand, and sloppily wrap it around your left hand. The bright blue liquid begins to seep through the layers almost immediately.

When you stand, you pointedly ignore both Getō and Gojō, sidestep them both without even glancing at them, and begin the trek back to civilization down the forest trail that leads to the daycare at the edge of the woods. Their footsteps, so silent you almost miss them, follow. They don’t speak, either, as if that will make you forget about their presence and the suffocating force of their jujutsu. Your headache is now fully present and making itself known, wrapping around your brain like barbed wire.

The forest trail melts away abruptly into a stone-paved road. It runs along the perimeter of the daycare and diverges in two up ahead: on the left, the daycare itself and its adjacent indoor swimming pool, on the right, more woods and the parking lot.

You continue ignoring your shadows and climb into the passenger seat of your car. Something vaguely human-shaped is sitting in the driver’s seat, its body littered with eyes. It just stares at you as you pull the car door closed.

YOUR DIVINE MAJESTY…

“What now?” You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut to clear your vision.

APOLOGIES FOR MY INTRUSION, BUT WOULD IT NOT BE BEST TO HAVE THEM ON HAND? It tightens its grip on the steering wheel for a moment as if it's forming a nervous habit. Maybe. You’re not sure if they can even feel human emotions.

You glance at the side mirror. They’re still standing there, a few feet from the car. They don’t have any intention to move, either, you think.

THEIR DIVINE MAJESTY NEED NOT WASTE TIME OR ENERGY ON COOKING AND CLEANING. THEY CAN FOCUS ON REVERSING THE BARRIER.

“What barrie—”

You bury your face into your free hand with a loud swear. The headache pulses behind your eyes and your vision blurs with tears. Fuck. You push the car door open and slide out—

“You!” A few long strides are all it takes to reach Gojō and you rear your fist back for a swing at his blurry face. Something catches it and you yank yourself out of Getō’s hold, yank yourself away from both of them, and take two steps back. Gravel crunches under your feet. “I told you to leave, but no, you’re Gojō Satoru and you know better than everyone, right?”

“How is any of this my fault?”

“I asked you to leave! If you’d just left, we could’ve all left and gone our separate ways but no, of course not!” You turn on your heel and stomp back to the car, pulling the back door open. “Shut up and get in the car.”

You don’t wait for their answer and climb into the front seat.

They’re willing to hear you out, you’ll give them that. The curse in the driver’s seat growls from its throat when Gojō and Getō sit and buckle in.

“I need a driver, not a dog,” you remind it. It spits a swear under its breath and puts the car into drive. It jostles as it drives over the speedbump at the entrance of the parking lot and you lay your left hand onto your knee.

Blue bleeds through the picnic blanket and stains your pants and fuck, does this mystery liquid even come out of clothes? Can you even throw it into the washing machine or will it carry the disease onto the washing machine? You groan, imagining a washing machine with a sonic cannon mounted on it. What if this thing is corrosive instead, and by the time you arrive home to wash it out, it’s eaten through both fabric and skin, maybe even muscle, or bone? Will it spread there, too? It shouldn’t, it should be non-viral by now, but maybe its virality only applies if it’s hopping host organisms and won’t spread in its’ first host even if it is viral. And fuck if you have to quarantine yourself in Limbo again—

“Hey.”

A hand lands on the junction between your shoulder and neck, digging into it with just enough force to feel relaxing. Getō presses down on the muscle knot and you place your free hand in front of your mouth to stifle the groan that wants to escape. You lean your head to the left, temple resting against the seat headrest to give Getō’s hand more room to work. Human contact is one hell of a drug.

“You’re panicking.”

You make a noncommittal sound in the back of your throat.

“Breathe.”

“We’re trapped here.” The hand that’s moved on to pull the knot out of your shoulder abruptly stops its administrations. “I read the Book of the Damned, I set a boundary spell. It triggered when you grabbed me.” You turn your head slightly to find Gojō in the corner of your eye. “And I have no idea how to undo it.”

“How’d you put it up?” Gojō asks. His voice is even, but it’s missing the edge it had earlier. More than anything, he sounds tired. You shake your head slowly.

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Satoru,” Getō says.

“What does the barrier do?” Gojō ignores Getō’s warning and leans forward in his seat. He’s fully in your field of vision now, all-encompassing. There’s something about him that draws the eye.

“Loser dies, winner gets out.” You shrug your shoulders. “I panicked and the Book gave me a spell; ‘s how it works.”

“Stop reading that cursed thing,” Gojō says, falling back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. You blink once, twice, then turn straight in your seat, too, and pull away from Getō’s warm hand.

The rest of the drive is silent. Street lights are flickering on the farther you drive. Stores are long closed by now, neon, and lit brand signs hanging on the front of the passing buildings. Dusk paints the sky in a soft lavender. June is nice here.

Eventually, the curse behind the wheel parks the car in the half-finished garage adjacent to a small blue house. Silence lingers in the car as it’s shut off, and the key is deposited in your open palm. The drenched rag that was once a yellow picnic blanket squelches in your lap as you adjust your hand and fire licks up your left arm. You stifle the sound of pain that wants to escape, and turn to the curse. It stares at you with the array of eyes littered throughout its entire body.

“Get lost.”

The figure blinks at you with its many eyes and then slowly, like a sandcastle destroyed by the waves, it melts away.

You climb out of the car, digging into your jacket pocket for the house key and spare a moment to curse under your breath. If the barrier really is impenetrable, you’re all stuck here. They will probably refuse a hotel or whatever to keep an eye on you. That means two more copies of the key, more food, more cooking and cleaning, and more reasons for your shitty neighbors to spy on you. All that on top of trying to piece your fingers back onto your hand — a very, very not human hand — maybe you’ll get lucky and your body will reject the repairs and kill you of lead poisoning or something. You stare at the now-dripping ball of fabric. Is there even lead in this?

Pain twinges again when you forget and try to grab the handle with that hand. You pull away with a hiss but the door cracks open nonetheless and you finish the job with the nudge of your foot. They’re so close you can feel the heat of their breaths on the back of your neck and you hurry inside, teeth gritting together to keep yourself from making a stupid comment that will earn you their hovering for the rest of eternity. The door creaks when Gojō pulls it shut behind him and you wince at the sound. You toe your sneakers off and wander into the house. The flowers strung along every interior wall of the house bloom when you approach. They cast just the right amount of illumination without melting your brain into soup.

Gojō and Getō are still lingering in the open hallway, taking in the interior of the house. It’s more spacious than it looks on the outside. There are two doors to their right, one up ahead, right next to the brick oven, and an open kitchen and a living room to their left. The glass coffee table you seat yourself behind is well within their line of sight.

The fingers clink when they hit the glass table. You slowly unwrap the blue-soaked picnic blanket and place it on the farthest end of the coffee table. It leaves a dribble of blue liquid on the glass.

There is movement in the corner of your eye. You ignore it to stare dumbly at the fingers. You place your metal hand on the glass and attempt to align the fingers to their respective stumps. The movement sloshes the blue dribble around and smears it along the glass surface. Can glass be corroded? It would be a pain in the ass to have another glass table delivered.

Getō gathers your hair and ties it back. You fight to keep a sigh from leaving your lips and instead, swallow around the lump in your throat. His touch is soft and doesn’t tug on any strands and you tilt your face down the moment he’s done, ignoring the lurch in your heart when his warm hands leave your skin. A few strands of hair fall in front of your eyes and you huff. The hair dangles back and forth as if it’s mocking you and you narrow your eyes at it.

“You got a headband somewhere?”

“Shelf next to the bathroom sink.” You jerk your chin forward. “Straight across from the front door.”

You watch him until he disappears behind the brick oven and turn back to the table. Your heart shoots into your throat when Gojō’s face appears in front of yours and you realize he’s crouched down on the other side of the table. He moves quietly, you remind yourself. Be aware of your surroundings, you remind yourself.

Gojō picks up one of the fingers lined up on the glass and slowly turns it between his own. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, his attention solely on the metal digit in his hand.

There are hands on your head and you jump again. Getō makes a soothing hush as he fits the headband over your head and then pulls it up over your bangs. He brushes a few stray baby hairs back with his fingers but they spring up again almost immediately.

“Thanks,” you say stiffly and reach to pluck your finger from Gojō.

“What happened?” He asks and you glance up at him just as he’s pulling the bandages over his head. His hair falls down over his eyes. Beautiful eyes — terrifying eyes. You think you might get lost in the depth behind them if you don’t look away immediately. So, you do, and clear your throat.

“Some piece of shit curse user infected me with some sort of transmutation virus; anything organic becomes animate technology.” You wipe away more of the pooling blue liquid, and line the fingers up again. It seems off somehow. You swap the middle and ring fingers. Still off; it’s hard to tell which finger belongs where and you grit your teeth together and swallow the taste of tears in your mouth.

Gojō leans in and carefully swaps the pointer and ring finger. You want to argue, tell him that you know your own body better than he does but this thing buried into your flesh is new and confusing. Inhuman. Maybe his Six Eyes allows him more knowledge than you will ever have.

In the corner of your eye, Getō moves to the space between you and Gojō, and sits down on the rug, too.

This might be the most people this house has seen since you moved in. Something about it feels right, something about it tears a gaping hole into your heart.

The headache pulses behind your eyes again and you squeeze them shut. When you open them, the world is swimming again. You force down the discomfort of Gojō and Getō’s silhouettes fraying at the edges and return your attention to your hand. Where there once was muscle, hidden by layers and layers of blood vessels and skin, there is a layer of softly illuminated cables hidden under a layer of thin metal with grooves and dents that adjusts itself as you move your arm. You take a breath in and wait for your vision to focus again before you pick up a finger and press it against its corresponding stump.

The cables underneath the metal plating mold together with a low hiss. blue liquid dribbles onto the glass tabletop. You repeat the action once, then once more.

Slowly, you crook one finger, then the other, and the third one. It’s not quite the same as your still-human hand, but it’s a feeling of sorts. It even emits warmth. The luminescent cables bend under the movement.

Gojō lets his impulsive thoughts win and reaches out to press a finger against the soft tissue with his finger.

“Do you go around shoving your dick into people’s gunshot wounds, too?” You slap his hand softly and he pulls back.

“How far does it reach?” Getō asks. You purse your lips and shrug your jacket off, and fold it onto your lap. The metal runs all the way up to about mid-bicep, where it burrows under the scarred skin.

Getō’s hand jerks on his thigh, as if he wants to reach out to you. Instead, he balls his hand into a fist around the fabric of his pants until his knuckles turn white. You don’t want to look up to face him, so you pointedly ignore his eyes as you shimmy closer and raise your arm towards him. There’s a moment of hesitation from his end before his fingers uncurl and ghost over your skin. His touch is gentle, like he’s terrified you’ll shatter if he exerts the smallest amount of pressure.

“Did it hurt?” He asks, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the scar tissue.

“Worse than the sorcerer killer.”

His fingers trace the metal plates of your arm, over the exposed cables in the crook of your elbow, all the way down to your hand and the newly re-attached fingers.

“Satoru, have you seen anything like this before?”

Gojō leans in and takes your left hand in his. He turns it one way and then the other, silent all the while. You glance at Getō who shrugs his shoulder minutely.

“Never,” Gojō says finally. He turns your palm to face him and laces his fingers between yours. He gives your hand a squeeze. “But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

part two.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines

[psychwxrdd]

as someone who loves yorgos lanthimos and lars von trier nothing's ever too dark for me girl you can send whatever! and ok let me tell you i got way too hot thinking about this

shy neighbour

warnings: 18+, heavy non con, drug use, dark! donnie, dark themes, don't read if any of those triggers you!

There she goes, again. My neighbor. My illness. The girl I've been dreaming about every day since the first time I saw her. We go to the same school, we study in the same class, we are neighbors and yet, she doesn't even know who I am. I mean, she knows who I am, but she doesn't give a fuck about my existence.

She's wearing her school uniform, she's heading home, I didn't go today. I've been waiting all morning for her, and the little slut doesn't even look my way. That will change today.

"Y/n?"

She looks at me in surprise, due to my sudden presence. God, she's even more beautiful up close. Her smell is so good.

"Hey!" She says, smiling.

"We're from the same class, my name is Donnie." I extended my hand to shake her. I would use this hand to masturbate later.

"I know! I always see you, but we never really talk" She says in a friendly way. My hands tingle.

"My little sister is selling lemonade and I'm helping her, but as I saw that you've just arrived home from school and you must be thirsty, I wanted to give you one as a courtesy" I smiled, kindly.

Her eyes sparkled. Gotcha.

"That's so sweet, Donnie, thank you. I have a tip here to help your sister, take it" She said sweetly, opening her backpack. This is being much easier than I thought.

I handed her the glass and she innocently took it, with a good expression of surprise.

"God, that's great! Is your little sister a professional?" I laughed.

"Not as far as I know" I replied, unable to take my eyes off her. Sweet little thing. "Do you want another glass?"

"I don't have any tips on me anymore"

"No need, that would really be a courtesy, come on" I said in a friendly enough way to persuade her.

She didn't hesitate much, just followed me into the house. I was alone, I would be home alone all day.

As soon as she entered, it wasn't long before I noticed her yawning.

"Was school tiring today?"

"Yes... By the way, why you didn't came today?" I could tell the "juice" was taking effect by the sleepy way she tried to start a conversation, and I had to adjust my pants due to the excitement this caused me.

"I wasn't feeling well this morning"

She was going to say something more, but her eyes kept closing more and more.

"Do you want to go home? Take a nap?" I asked, with false politeness.

"No, I just..." Was all she said before laying her head down and blacking out. I smiled to myself.

Carefully, I carried her to my room. I couldn't believe how easy this was, I planned so much, if I had known she was so stupid and innocent I would have planned less. My sweet dumb little girl.

I placed her on the bed and admired the peace in her expression, she was a princess in real life. So beautiful...

It would be a pleasure to destroy her.

I caressed her face, her hair, every part of her body... I smelled her up close. Her hair smelled like a french candy, she was the physical embodyment of a cupcake. Delicious. I kissed and licked her neck, enjoying the sweet taste of her soft skin.

I kissed and licked her soft lips, sucking on them.

I caressed her breasts, her belly, all the parts of her body that i were dying of desire. Her round, soft ass, so hot. Her legs, her feet.

I ripped off her uniform blouse, admiring her pink bow bra and how beautiful it looked on her skin, on her breasts. I took them off and my dick throbbed at the sight of her hardened nipples, so beautiful, pointy.

I wasted no time in sucking voraciously. I was crazy, I wanted to suck her boobs all the time, for so long. I thought about it at school, in daydreams. I masturbated like hell thinking about it.

I sucked so much until they were completely wrinkled.

I went down to her belly, licking, sucking, delighting myself, and going further down, I stopped in front of her little flower. I squeezed my dick over my pants.

I lifted her skirt, massaging her thighs, kissing her panties and pulling them down. I took it from her body, smelling it and delighting in its sweet and addictive aroma. The sight I saw when I looked down almost made me cum in my underwear.

Her pussy was so wet that even her legs were wet, it was so beautiful, it must be so tight... Damn.

I placed each of her legs on my shoulders and kissed her clitoris with my tongue.

I sucked, licked, fucked her pussy with my tongue. I was crazy with lust for her sweet taste, that delicious smell, that fucking sight. If I could, I would spend days just eating her out, but I needed to get my dick in there, otherwise I would definitely die from so much desire.

I positioned her in a missionary way, she looked like a fuck doll. My fuck doll. Slowly, I inserted the head of my cock there, I swear I almost passed out from the sensation. I didn't knew if she was a virgin or not, but she was so tight, I didn't wanted to hurt her at all but I couldn't hold back.

And as much as I loved her, she deserved to be punished for not loving me. For all the suffering she caused me by seeing myself as just the nice boy who is in her class and also happens to be her neighbor.

I thrust my cock, rolling my eyes when I reached all the way inside. It squeezed me so tightly, it was so soft and comfortable, warm, it tickled my body. Fuck.

I started pounding hard, without stopping. I couldn't stop. Not even when I was about to cum, I was going to do it inside her.

I teased her for so long that I found it surprising that she hadn't woken up.

I bended her over, I fucked her all over and over again. I put it in her ass too, in her mouth. I rubbed my dick on her boobs, on her clitoris. I came inside her pussy and on her pretty face, on her breasts, on her ass. I had as much fun as I could. I cleaned her up as best I could and put her back on the couch, waiting for her to wake up, I would simply say that she slept heavily and was probably having nightmares, as she was complaining about something hurting her while she slept.

#donnie x reader #dark! donnie #donnie darko #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x yn #donnie darko x yn #donnie darko x reader

[royallygray]

@periwinklepaint

Here is a scene I wrote for an au (that I really need a name for bc it dominates my thoughts).

Bit (a lot) of background on this AU: It's supposed to be a superhero/urban fantasy/soulmate au. Everyone has some degree of magic, they just have to learn to harness it. All soulmate pairs are the canon ones from Double Life.

Scar (Hotguy) and Gem (Fauna) are heroes. Grian (Chaos Sparrow) is a vigilante. Pearl (Scarlet) is a villain. Jimmy is just a civilian, but he's a victim of the prophecy (basically just the Canary Curse).

It was supposed to be Scarian mild annoyance to lovers and Gempearl enemies to lovers, but it has gotten more focused on the:

Scar & Gem besties relationship,

the Grian & Pearl chaos skyblings relationship,

the Grian & Pearl & Jimmy & Lizzie skybling/seabling relationship,

the Scar & Pearl depression villain arc relationship,

and Gem & Grian's sibling dynamic.

At this point in the story, our four main characters (Gem, Scar, Grian, and Pearl) have made a deal. The higher-ups at the Hero Corp want to interrogate Scarlet (Pearl) for information because she's not only the primary villain of the city, she's also the leader of the underground, who are presumably the people who want to assassinate Jimmy (if he dies, it's basically Ragnarok). Pearl does not have control over individual people or groups in the underground, she just runs the system.

The Hero Corp wants Gem and Scar to retrieve Pearl and bring her to them. So Gem and Scar set up a meeting, since there is mutual trust between the four of them.

The conclusion was that they could take Pearl, but Grian would take one of the heroes as collateral so that he could ultimately get her back. They decided to exchange Gem rather than Scar because they knew that Gem is the Hero Corp's precious baby and they'd be desperate to get her back, which ensures Pearl's release. Additionally, Scar's magic is incredibly strong since he's a fae. He has a natural advantage that bypasses some of Pearl's talent in magic.

So he places a curse on her that can only be broken if Scar chooses to break it. Basically it prevents her from flying (she's got wings, so does Grian), getting out of range of Scar, and the curse includes the ability to control whether the person the curse is placed on can talk or not, but Scar refuses to utilize it.

Also since Scar is a fae, he can't lie. But he does have a silver tongue that easily gets around the lying factor. Also he doesn't know that he and Grian are soulbound. Also Gem doesn't have a soulbound. Also I'm really insecure about posting this like I think it's cool but maybe other people won't think it's cool but an IRL friend really liked it but idk and I did write this all on discord because I needed to explain the scene to said friend and it was going to be easier to just write it and AAAAAA

okay here are some words of scar being a badass byeeeee

-- --

The Hero Corp keeps insinuating that Scar is working with the villains. They keep insisting that he break more and more of his morals to find more stuff.

And finally, he just goes "Do you want a villain? Because I can give you one.”

And it's dead silent.

No one says shit.

Gem's apprentice, Guqqie, is there with their jaw dropped.

Scar's usually green eyes are glowing red.

He's angry.

"It seems to me that you want a villain," Scar says, his voice echoing in the silent room. "I can give you one. Isn't that what you want?”

No one says anything.

Scar's red eyes burn into the side of [boss]'s skull. "I thought you wanted a villain.”

Some people are staring at him. Some are trying to get out of this room. Some are trying to ignore what's happening.

"Did you not want a villain?" Scar asks. "I don't appreciate lying.

"I can't lie," Scar says. "I'm not sure if you know this, but I cannot lie. I feel like maybe you'd extend the same courtesy for me.”

"Do you want a fucking villain?" Scar snaps. "Or are you just unsatisfied with me having boundaries? Not liking how you compare me to Fauna and wish I got taken instead? Realizing that Villains are people too?”

It wouldn't've been terrible to be taken by Sparrow (Grian, Scar thought with mild wonder. A beautiful name. His heart fluttered, despite the situation), but the thought still stood. [boss] didn't know that Sparrow wouldn't hurt him.

"Don't you want a villain?" Scar asks, quietest yet. "Don't you?" More silence. The clock on the wall ticks. Scar can hear his heavy breath in time with his heartbeat. "Well, I'll give you one." He rips his hero badge from around his neck and lays it on the table. "I resign.”

And he stalks away, the explosion of "no!"s and "why?"s and "HOTGUY GET BACK HERE!"s blocked out by his mind.

And he walks up to his apartment, his mild haven here, and sees Pearl and Jimmy. He snaps his fingers, lifting Pearl's curse. She looks up in alarm, and Jimmy follows suit.

"We're leaving." Scar tells them, leaving no room for argument. "And we're not coming back.”

#mcyt #life series #traffic life series #traffic smp #trafficblr #traffic life #trafficshipping #mcyt fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic writing #life series fanfic #goodtimeswithscar #scarian

[thehighladywrites]

I had to come off of anon to say this bc I’m so angry so for every hateful anon out there here’s what CANONICALLY happened between Eris and Mor as far as we know in a little bulleted list so everyone can understand-

-Eris and Mor are engaged to be married (Mor is unwilling we have no idea if Eris wanted/didn’t want the marriage)

-Mor not wanting this marriage CONSENSUALLY sleeps with Cassian to get rid of her virginity so Eris calls of the marriage bc “she holds no value to him anymore” shitty thing to say but again it’s stated that Eris has to put on a mask in his court (kinda like someone else we know *cough* Rhysand *cough*)

-Keir finds out Mor did this and KEIR drives the stake into her stomach/womb saying that she was Eris’s problem

-Eris sees her bleeding with a group of soldiers at the border and leaves her there claiming that they can’t touch her

-We get a small snippet of what happened in ACOFAS from MOR’S Pov

Here are some quotes for that:

-“Don’t touch her.” Those steps stopped. It was not a warning to protect her. Defend her.

“No one touches her,” he said. Eris. “The moment we do, she’s our responsibility.”

- “I take it you do not wish to live here, Morrigan.”

He must have read it in her eyes. A small smile curved his lips. “I thought so.”

Also about the situation in ACOWAR (quotes from Eris from Feyre’s Pov)

-Eris looked between them, smiling faintly. Secretly. As if he knew something that Azriel didn’t. “I wouldn’t have touched you,” he said to Mor, who blanched again. “But when you fucked that other bastard—” A snarl ripped from Rhys’s throat at that. And my own. “I knew why you did it.” Again that secret smile that had Mor shrinking. Shrinking. “So I gave you your freedom, ending the betrothal in no uncertain terms.”

“And what happened next,” Azriel growled.

A shadow crossed Eris’s face. “There are few things I regret. That is one of them. But … perhaps one day, now that we are allies, I shall tell you why. What it cost me.”

-So basically none of the IC was there to witness what actually happened. Azriel rescued Mor from autumn a few days later, and that’s all we know about the situation.

Eris never RAPED anyone, he shouldn’t have left Mor in the woods, but my literary analysis (this is just my opinion) is that if Eris would have helped Mor she would’ve had to have married him and been trapped in Autumn. I’m not saying what Eris did is excusable-it was awful but

THIS IS THE CANONICAL EVIDENCE WE HAVE OF THE SITUATION

could Eris have alerted Tamlin or Rhys or someone? yes but it’s heavily implied throughout the series that Eris has to play by the rules of his court and if we can all forgive Rhys for that then I don’t see why Eris can’t be extended the same courtesy.

Anyway I’m sorry this is long but I feel like it needed to be said because there’s so much hate going around and I’m not here for it so I’m bringing in the receipts❤️

I hope you have a great day love and keep writing professor Eris bc I know I go feral for it ❤️‍🔥

phoenix you’re so right, i literally have nothing else to add, this is perfection thank you babes!!

also professor eris is coming out tomorrow 👀👀

#talkswithamara #acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar imagine #eris vanserra acotar #eris #eris supremacy #eris vanserra

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Just popping my head back in to say I hope everyone is doing well.

But also, I won’t be responding to any further asks about that situation - good or bad, or the group of people that have been publicly dragging me.

I don’t hate them. I hope they find their peace and learn to ignore me. I think their refusal to talk about personal issues of mine that have been brought up is very admirable. I hope they know I would extend the same courtesy to them.

Thank you to everyone who has DM’ed and sent asks with sweet words of support, I love you all. But I don’t want to contribute anything to this little corner of the internet that isn’t supportive, positive or creative. I don’t want people to log on to Tumblr to have fun and come away feeling anxious and tense. I am not here to wage war in fandom. I just want to create, and encourage others to do the same.

I’ve had my time to feel sad about it, now it’s time to pull on my big girl pants, suck it up, and get the fuck on with it.

I’m dipping again, to focus on writing. Hoping to return to post something new by the end of the weekend, if things have calmed down.

See you soon 💕

#fandom rambles

[minastras]

prev • masterlist • next

10: slow down, romeo

words: 1.9k

warnings: swearing

——————————

Taehyun made himself comfortable on the sofa, propped his laptop up on his knees, and checked for the third time that his webcam was off. He couldn’t believe he ever thought he could do this on his own.

He felt like your almost-kiss that night the surge protector blew had been a sign that you liked him back, but the second your friend Soobin walked through the door he started to doubt that.

You’d taken the time to introduce him, which was a courtesy Taehyun didn’t expect people like you to extend to people like him before he met you. His disappointment kicked right back in when you and Soobin headed straight for your bedroom.

He swiftly gave up on the paper he was writing and moved to the kitchen, meal prepping for the rest of the week. You made fun of him for that frequently, for his bland meals of chicken breast and broccoli and protein supplements. If this was what having feelings was like, he’d rather not have them at all.

That was where he was when Soobin left. You walked your friend to the door, hugged him goodbye, and he whispered something into your ear. Taehyun set his knife down on the chopping board and texted the love whisperer.

That’s how he got here — caught red-handed when you walked out of your room with your phone pressed to your ear. When you started talking, asking can you hear me okay?, your voice began coming out of his laptop speakers.

He left the Zoom meeting as quickly as humanly possible and slammed his laptop shut hard enough to damage it, but it was too late. You were the fucking love whisperer. That somehow made total and no sense at the same time.

As his world crumbled around him he sat rigidly on the sofa, for the first time in his life completely lost as to what to do. You sat down next to him and called his name, but he kept his face buried in his hands, refusing to look at you.

“God. Fuck,” he muttered, bouncing his leg so vigorously the entire sofa shook.  You knew, of course you did. You knew he liked you. “How did you not figure out it was me? I said such specific things,” he wondered aloud, lost in thought.

“Because you’re the last person I would expect to text the love whisperer? You hate love,” you replied, defensive. “I mean, I did know. But I- it’s complicated.”

He took that to mean you were so repulsed by the thought of him liking you that you couldn’t bear to entertain it for even a moment. Neither could he.

“Why would you do that for free? Where’s the ROI?” he asked, changing the topic. The heater was broken as usual, but he felt unbearably warm. 

“That’s your next question?” you said, incredulous, throwing your head back and laughing. He swore he had never believed in magic until he heard you laugh. “You’re such a business major. Love is the ultimate return on investment.”

“Ew. Gross. Fuck love,” he answered, wrinkling his nose and not meaning any of it.

“So you don’t love me?” you asked, shoulders falling, voice softening, eyes turning down at the corners.

“No, of course not. I’ve known you for two months.”

Why did you give a fuck if he loved you or not? For you, he was just your weird loner roommate who’d poured his heart and soul out to you without knowing it. You, who had most of the student body wrapped around their finger, cared about what he thought of you. A nobody.

He scoffed, deflecting yet again, hoping you wouldn’t steer the conversation back to him basically admitting outright he had feelings for you. “What’s so great about love, anyway?”

Whether you were just mercifully humouring his diversions because you could see how embarrassed he was or you had genuinely forgotten what led you into this situation, he wasn’t sure. But either way, you dropped the love whisperer thing.

“It’s so hard to get just right,” you answered. “It’s rare enough to love someone, let alone have them love you back at the same time. The sheer improbability of love is what makes it special when two people come together and build something beautiful out of it,” you said wistfully.

It must be nice to think like that, he mused. Your eyes seemed to sparkle as you spoke, and he was transfixed.

“Look, Soobin likes Chungmi, Chungmi likes Yeonjun, Yeonjun likes me, or so he says, I like-” you cut yourself off, and his heart sank.

It was Soobin, it had to be.

You continued, “Anyway, my point is that love is a fucked up food chain. So when it does work, it-”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“What about you?” he blurted out, interrupting you.

“What about me?” you echoed, confused.

It was so embarrassing to want.

“The food chain. I have feelings for you,” he declared. “Do you have feelings for someone else?”

You already knew that, but to lay all his cards on the table so openly was another round of humiliation. From how hard his heart was beating he could understand why he usually chose to avoid torturous shit like this.

He couldn’t deliver grand romantic declarations of his undying affection for you, the types of confessions you swooned over in your black and white films. He wasn’t good with words. He couldn’t give you what you wanted apart from hope you were good at reading eyes.

“I do have feelings for someone,” you answered after a short silence, holding his gaze. You usually didn’t; you were much flightier than he was.

“Oh. Alright.” He nodded, holding back a sigh. He should have expected that, but his heart collapsed in on itself anyway. When he next spoke, he sounded disinterested again. “Well, good talk.”

You reached out and put your hand on his forearm to stop him as he stood up, ready to crawl back to his room and never leave. Just that simple touch made him nervous all over again.

“Don’t you want to know who it is?” you pushed.

Why would he? To listen to you go on and on about the person you liked after he’d been exposed and rejected in all but name? But he did sit back down.

“Not particularly-”

It was your turn to interrupt him. The kiss was so quick. Your lips were on his for less than a second, not even enough time for him to close his eyes. Or register what had happened. He stared at you, eyes wide and unblinking, frozen in shock.

“What-”

“It’s you, Taehyun,” you smiled, now seeming slightly bashful. “I like you.”

His eyes widened even more, which he didn’t think was possible. This had to be a bit, surely.

“Say it again,” he said, dazed, reaching for your hand.

“Kang Taehyun, I like you,” you repeated, enunciating each word with the utmost care.

He grinned, feeling like his entire body had come alive as he cupped your face and held you close. Time stopped as he kissed you and you folded instantly under his touch, your lips moving with his so naturally it was as if you’d kissed him dozens of times before.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you mumbled against his mouth, playing with his hair. He preened at the sensation, breaking the kiss to give you his full attention. “You were my favourite client.”

“Really?” he asked, feeling the blush return to his cheeks. God, he couldn’t believe he’d said all of those things to you.

“Yeah. I fell for you twice, you know? Once as Kang Taehyun and once as TH,” you told him, smiling. “The way you talked about your crush was so sweet, and you were so loving.”

It was you; you were the one you’d made him act and feel that way. Only you.

“How bad were your other clients?” he joked, diffusing the emotional weight of the moment. But even as he was trying to lighten the mood he was holding onto your hand tightly and brushing his thumb over your cheek, staring into your eyes. He could look at you forever.

“You’d be surprised. A lot of them were terrible,” you answered. “Talking about their crushes like objects, trying to break up relationships, telling me all their sexual fetishes completely unprompted-”

He laughed. “Maybe stop worrying about everyone else’s love lives for a second, yeah? Just focus on me.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time, feeling you smile against his lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Slow down, Romeo. When did you get so suave?” you said when you pulled apart.

“I learnt from the best.”

——————————

Sitting on the sofa with your boyfriend Kang Taehyun was infinitely better than sitting on the sofa with your roommate Kang Taehyun. You were half-lying on his chest with his arm wrapped around your shoulder and chin resting on your head, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, snuggling together under some blankets.

“Did you really think Soobin and I were dating?” you asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he mumbled, a blush already blooming on his cheeks again. “Please erase my client records from your memory.”

“Then I’d forget all the sweet things you said about me!” you teased. He groaned in embarrassment and scrunched his nose. “You call yourself a cynic, but I don’t think you are. I think you secretly love love,” you continued, giggling at his flushed cheeks.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he said, rolling his eyes, but you could hear the smile in his words without needing to see him.

With the warmth radiating off his body, his arm holding you tight to his chest, and the soothing vibrations of his low voice, you were fairly sure you could fall asleep right then and there.

You lifted your chin to give him a peck on his jaw, just under his ear. He shivered at that, although he tried to hide it. Cute.

“Humour me just this once, Taehyun. What does love mean to you?” you asked, laying your head back down on his chest and closing your eyes.

He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. “Love is eternal. It has been the strongest motivation for human actions throughout history,” he recited. “Love is stronger than life. It reaches beyond the dark shadow of death.”

You raised your head again, staring at him in confusion. If he was annoyed by how much you were moving around, he made no indication of it.

“How do you know that?” you asked.

“Laura, 1944, directed by Otto Preminger,” he said with a proud grin. “I watched it the other day because you said you liked it.”

You could fall in love with someone in two months, you decided. But you’d keep that to yourself for now. You weren’t in a hurry or anything.

“The character who says that is the murderer,” you told him.

His face fell. “Oh. Well, I couldn’t finish it,” he admitted with a shrug.

You gasped in faux offence and sat up. “It’s critically acclaimed! How could you not finish it?”

He laughed and pulled you back into his embrace, kissing your cheek.

“Don’t need to. I’ve got the real thing right here.”

——————————

thanks for reading!

-minastras <3

#tomorrow x together #txt #txt smau #taehyun #kang taehyun #taehyun smau #txt x reader #txt fluff #taehyun x reader #taehyun fluff

[romanarose]

Awakening: Caffeine

Santiago Garcia X fem!Reader X William Miller

Awakening Series masterlist

Summary: You spend some time with just Santi and Will and like after cup of coffee on a sleepy morning, you, Santi and Will feel more awake than ever.

Warnings and content: threesome, piv sex, blowjob, oral f and m receiving, 69, upside down sloppy blowjob, degradation, praise, self slut shaming for realsies, lots of talking and aftercare, Santi being a switch lol, why do I talk about cum so much etc, THIS WASN'T EVEN GONNA BE GAY WHEN I FIRST STARTED THE SERIES BUT I CANT STOP!!! THE BISEXUAL GODS TOOK CONTROL!!! Romance?? brewing??? We'll see. Where are benny and frankie? not talking rn sadly :( dont worry they’re next. you know i love my FishBen

***************

You never felt safer than in your husband's arms. No matter the dirty things he called you, no matter the impact play, and no matter the vulnerable positions he put your body in with him or his friends, you trusted him completely to protect you, to keep you safe. You could communicate your needs, wants and concerns, and you’d like to think you extended the same courtesy to him. Santiago always protected you, inside and outside of the bedroom, he protected your body and your spirit, and in his arms, you were safe.

Even as you stood naked with Will Miller in front of you, stroking himself as he watched Santi’s hands roam all over you.

“Isn’t she pretty, Will?” Santi spoke into your ear, showing you off. Santi had slowly stripped you naked in front of Will, describing in detail the features of your body as if you were a car he was bragging about. Despite the feminist in you, you loved when Santi objectified you in bed; because it was only ever in bed. In the rest of your life together, he treated you like someone to be worshiped. Right now, however, he treated you as a toy to be played with, and you loved every second.

And now, here you stood as Santi felt you up, playing with your body like it existed solely for his hands to touch, grabbing and squeezing and slapping.

Will, however, looked at you with a reverence, adoration, like he was just blessed to be in your presence. “Fucking beautiful.” 

“You wanna touch her, Will? She’ll let you. Dirty little whore just wants to be touched, doesn’t matter by who.” Santi shoves you forward and you stumble the two feet into Will’s strong arms where he catches you. Will’s body is broad and warm, firm against you but comforting. He wraps his arms around you, turning you back to Santi and one arm wrapped tight around your waist, his other hand trailing fingers down your sides.

“No, nooo” Will coo’s, kissing your neck. “She’s just a good girl, she just wants to behave, she just want to make us happy” Less harsh than Santi, he pushes you back into your husbands arms.

“She wants to get filled up, Will. Wants to have us in all her holes, she just wants to cum again, and again, and again.” You were tossed back to Will.

“That’s not true, is it baby?” Will’s words flutter in hot breaths against your ear, the contrast between the two becoming dizzying. “You want to make us happy, you want to be a good wife, good wives get shared.” 

You assume you’re in Santi’s grasp now, but you can hardly tell anymore by the way they toss your body like a ball back and forth between them, Santi continuing to call you a myriad of names and groping you, whereas Will praised you and caressed your body; it was dizzying, the back and forth, back and forth, degradation and praise, slaps and soothing touches.

Once again in Will’s hold, he tells your you’re doing so good, how good girls get to cum, how they’ll make sure everything is taken care of as long as you do as you’re told, before you finally land with Santiago again, a strong arm snaking up to hold your throat with his other hand tightly gripped your hands behind your back, prominently displaying your whole chest, primarily your breasts, to Will.

“She’s just a slut, Ironhead, see? She’s wetter than the ocean, it’s fucking dripping down her legs and all we’ve done is toy with her like a little doll.” Santi turned his attention to you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. “Is that what you are, baby? Our little fuck doll to play with whenever we want? Our little free-use toy?”

You nod frantically, you want to be his doll, you want to be his toy, and you wanted him to share his toys.

“Lucky for Will, I was taught how to share.” Santi looked back to his friend. “Wanna play with her?”

Without so much as a reply, Will was all up on you, his bare chest to yours, keeping you pressed between his and Santiago’s bodies, sandwiched between the two men you loved most on this planet. You adored your husband with everything in you and sex with just him fulfill every need and desire you could have with one person, and sex with all the boys together was hot, adventurous, sexy and loving, but there was something special with Santi and Will together, a chemistry in the air and a magic in the way they worked together. Will’s mouth was breathy, kissing your lips but quickly continuing on to touch all the skin exposed; down the neck, groping and licking and sucking softly against your skin, careful not to leave marks per Santiago’s request. As his arms wrapped around you, his fingers wedged between you and where Santi was pressed up against you, and Santi’s hands slipped between your legs, gathering up the slick before rubbing on your clit teasingly slow, matching his slow kisses on your neck.

You could feel Will’s fingers fidgeting between yours and Santi’s skin, and you held your breath, wondering if, just maybe, something would…

Santi inhaled the smell of your shampoo as he buried his face in your hair. He loved this, he loved you, he loved Wi- he loved his friends, he corrected himself, and he loved sharing you. There was something special about just sharing you with Will, however. Frankie and Ben absolutely showered you in the praise and affection, they were nothing but respectful to you, men he trusted you with completely, but William John Miller worshiped you. He’s seen it in his eyes for years as you got to know his friends, the way Will’s eyes would follow you, then quickly look away for fear of being caught, the shame in his face when he looked to long or at your breasts or ass, the way that Santi could feel him pushing down his desire for you because friends don’t want their friends girlfriend, fiance, wife… Except Santi wanted him to, and seeing Will treat you with the reverence you deserved, the reverence he hoped he too showered you in… well that was as much a turn on as anything.

Feeling Will’s rough hands between your bodies as Santi kissed into you, tasting your skin as Will moved his way back up from your breasts, Will’s fingers, moving, inching… 

You feel Will’s hand stray from the small of your back and move to grip Santi’s hip and your breath hitches as Will comes face to face with Santi and for a moment, you wonder what will happen… since when was Will gay? Well, you supposed you could ask that about most of them…

You held your breath, and in the end it was Santi who kissed Will, right in front of where you had turned. Their mouths mouths melded together and when you moan at the sight, both of their attention turns to you, and your are sucked into the flurry of tongues and lips and spit, kissing, licking and sucking with such desperation, that all you could register with a sloppy mess of wet skin; but it didn’t matter whose tongue was in your mouth, whose hands slid between your legs, and whose lips you bit, because they were both your boys, and you were their girl… and they were each others.

Predictably, Will breaks the make out session to drop to his knees before you, hiking one leg over his vast shoulder to give him access, where he watches in awe at how wet you were. “You’re right, Pope,” Will spoke hungrily as he licked his lips. “She’s dripping”

Gripping Will's blonde hair, Santi leaned around you to watch Will get to work, Santi pulled Will’s head to your inner thighs. “Clean her up, then, Ironhead.”

You whimper, watching Will as Santi slowly pulled him up to your folds, cleaning you of your slick before Santiago shoved his head between your legs and Will was able to do what he did best; give you all the pleasure you could take from his mouth. As you begin panting, your right leg begins to weaken from holding all your body weight, and you tremble from the pressure building up in your lower stomach so Santi let go of his control on Will to help hold you up. Will was, as they say, tongue fucking you. Santi was amazing at eating you out, he could make you cum again and again and again, but Will? Will was a pussy eating champ.

“Fuck, FUCK fucking hell, Will” You pant heavily.

Santiago kissed your neck. “You like that, baby? You like when Will suffocats himself between your legs”

“Uh-uh-uhuh” You try to answer, and you know damn well Santi isn’t going to let that go, he really likes you too-

“Use your words, hermosa” Santi’s voice, low in your ear.

“Yes, god yes, fucking love your face in pussy Will.”

“What do you say to Will?” 

“T-thank you, Will”

You were getting close, Will devouring you ravenously and Santi’s hands holding you up and playing with your nipples. Then, you feel Will’s hand shift and Santi’s breath hitches, and from the repetitive movement you felt on your skin, you realize Will has begun jerking off Santi from between your legs.

Will comes out and looks at Santi “This okay?”

Santi nods frantically. “Y-es, yes, don’t stop.”

“What do you say?” Will teased his friend.

Santi was unable to correctly form words, the heat of the moment clouding his brain, but he had enough forethought to wrap his hand around you to play with your clit. “Mmmmhm” Was all he could reply.

You continue teasing him, mirroring his previous words back to him. “Use your words, Santiago?”

“Thank you, Will”

Smiling, Will went back to work on you and Sant, Santi sucking into your neck with a fever that you knew signaled he was close, just like you, so you reach back your hand and entangle it in Santiago’s dark curls tugging about, everything growing hot the pressure in your stomach rising, rising, rising-

Will pulls away from you, and wraps his hand tightly at the base of Santi’s cock, effectively stopping both of your orgasms.

“Fuck!” You whine, slumping against your husband.

“God dammit, Ironhead!” Santi shouted, but Will’s wet face only grinned. “That’s what you get for trying to run this show, Pope.”

You grumble. “What did I do?”

Will kisses your puffy pussy, smiling up at you. “I know, princess, you’re being so good. You’re just collateral.” He scoops you up over his shoulder as he stands, making you squeal, and pats your thigh. “Santi, lie down on the bed.” and started walking around the bed with you in tow

Santi considers the path this has taken, and where this might go. He liked what he had with Will, this little power play, and plotted his next move. Go with it, or see how he reacts if he doesn’t? But when Will looked behind him and saw Santi hadn’t obeyed, he raised and eyebrow at him, and Santi promptly scrambled onto the bed.

“Now, you’re gonna make her cum on your face, and then I’ll let you come.”

Santi laughed at that, like a fucking brat. “Oh yeah, how you gonna do that, you gay now too?”

“Relax, Santi” He began to set you on top of him. “This ain’t the first dick I’ve sucked.”

With your legs spread over Santi, you lowered yourself onto Santi’s waiting mouth as Will situated himself over Santi. You brace yourself on Santi’s firm chest as he quickly licks into you, rocking yourself over his face as you lock eyes with Will.

“He feel good, Princess?” Will rubbed Santi’s thighs.

“So good, Will”

He spit into his fist, jerking off Santi (which made Santi’s grip on your hips tighten).“Want to watch me suck off your husband?”

“Yes” you whine “Will, please, wanna see him in your mouth, bet you look so good like that.”

“Oh, I know I do” With that, Will expertly sunk his mouth over Santi’s length, Santi groaning loudly into your dripping cunt.

“Oh FUCK, fuck Will, he likes that, he likes that a lot”

You watch the scene before you, content to sit pretty on Santi’s face and watch Will pleasure him with the same enthusiasm he ate you out with; William Miller, it seems, loved to give pleasure. You knew Santiago was in fucking heaven, happy to lick and suck away, wanting to bring you your orgasm you were denied, and god, it was coming.

“Fuck, Fuck Santi, baby, I’m close, don’t stop, making me feel so- AH!” You shout as you finally cum, pleasure ripping through you in warm waved as you road it out on his face.

Will looked up, still stroking Santi “Good job princess, I told you good girls get to come, keep fucking his face, get it all out, oh look at you, looking for pretty after being denied… Santi, you can-”

But Santi wasn’t ready to give up all his power. One hand he pushed Will down to his balls, and the other pulled you to suck his cock, your pussy doing fuck all to muffle the loud groan from him, nor the cry from his mouth as he came into yours.

When he was finished, you giggle and collapse onto the mattress, propping your legs over Santi. “Boys, that was incredible.”

Santi rubbed your legs. “You good to keep going, baby?”

Will laid down beside you.

You smile, replying “Can we take a breath first?”

“Absolutly, sweetheart” Will brushed the sweaty hair out of your face. 

“You guys stay there” Santi got up and went to the living room.

Will teased. “Yes sir”

While Santi braided your hair out of your face, Santi you and Will checked in about what happened. Will and Santi confirming that yes, they were more than okay with being with each other sexually, and you confirming that you were okay sharing both, even though the original intention had been them focusing on you. After water and some fruit snacks, Santi got you situated in your next position; head hanging off the bed as Will fucked your throat and Santi fucked your pussy.

Will marveled at the way your throat opened to him, the way his cock bulged with every thrust. “Jesus christ, baby…”

Santi pounded into you, his thick cock stretching you open. “Isn’t she something? Told you she was a slut for cock”

Gently, Will caressed your cheek. “Maybe you’re right, she’s a good little slut” He pulls out for a moment. “Are you a good little slut, princess?”

Gasping for air, you reply as Will daps your face clean from drool with the towel. “Yes, I’m a good cock slut.”

“I know you are” Will plunges back into you, looking up at a grinning Santi

Santi continues fucking you, hands moving up and down the expanse of your body, smiling back at Will, this all just felt so damn right. You felt completely full, satiated, with Will and Santi’s hands on your body, toying with it, seeing what what the pretties moans, and what combinations made you body jolt, and before you knew it, while Santi played with your clit and Will played with both nipples, you came once again.

“Oh fuck, are you coming princess? Already?” Will watches your limbs shake, pulling out of you and pushing you back a bit on the bed to allow you your orgasm in comfort.

“Just like like that baby, juuuust like that, look at you, coming on my cock, Will’s right, you’re such a good girl, such a fucking g-good girl, FUCK!” Santi’s thrusts became erratic but hard, the slap of skin loud as he unloaded his cum into you. “You’re fucking perfect, hermosa, perfecta chica.”

Santi folded himself onto you, fingers trailing up your sides and over your spread out arms where his hands held yours. “What do you think, got one more in you? Gonna let Will finally feel what it’s like inside you? How tight you squeeze when you cum?”

“Please, please baby, want Will to cum inside me, I need it”

“You heard the lady” Will playfully pushed a smiling Santi aside and settled between your legs, eyeing your puffy pussy dripping with Santi’s cum. “Oh, sweet little thing…” He murmurs, mesmerized by the sight before him. “Can you even take it? Hm? I don’t know if you’re fucked out little hole can take another round…” He was mostly playing with you, but he also genuinely wanted to offer you a chance to back out if needed; he never wanted to hurt you. 

“Will please, please Will, I can’t take it, I need to know what you feel like…”

Santi was laid beside you on his stomach nuzzling contently into you sweaty skin and Will was absolutely peaking at his naked ass when Santi spoke up, voice soft. “She ever tell you she has sex dreams about you? Used to hear her moaning your name in her sleep…”

Will leaned over to smack Santi’s asscheek. “You gonna help me make her feel good, Pope?”

Cupping a breast with right hand and kissing the soft skin of your stomach, Santiago affirms. “I’ll always make her feel good.”

“I know you will, baby” The pet name Will spoke to Santi took all of them by surprise, but that was quickly erased by their grins as you moaned, Will stretching you open again. Will wasn’t as big as Santi, but he was impossibly thick.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight” He massages your thighs, relaxing you.

You feel you eyes roll back as he bottoms out and begins fucking you, a steady pace that makes your tits bounce until Santi’s hand and mouth take them sucking and playing with the peaks.

“You dreamed of me, princess?” Will sped up his movements.

“Y-yes, yes Will, wanted you for so long”

“In your dreams, did I fuck you like this?”

“This is better, so much better” You’re panting again, the combination of theirhands and cock making you unable to focus, fuck they felt good together. You wrap your arms around Santiago to stabilize you, and he kisses his way up your chest to your neck

“In your dreams, did I suck your husband's cock?”

Of all the times to cum, this was certainly something. With a death grip on Santi’s sweaty, firm shoulders you came with a start, your body jolting in the grasp of the two men, Santi whispering sweet praises in your ears and Will pinning your hips to the mattress in his large hands as he pulls out of you, marking both your stomach and Santi’s back in his cum. You are two busy riding out your orgasm to think much on it, Santi slipping his fingers inside you to replace Will’s dick to pump out the last bits of your pressure he can get and to scoop up and push his cum back inside you. 

After it all subsides, and you register Santi is still telling you how much he loves you, the heat of sex begins to cool down, leaving the damp sheen of sweat and you shiver slightly.

“Oh sweetheart, let me get you cleaned up, then we can rest, okay?” Santi kisses you, and you wonder how he doesn’t find you disgusting, sweaty and full of bodily fluids from yourself, him and another man. Was he really okay with sharing you like this? For the first time, little seeds of doubt spread in your head. Did he think less of you, now that multiple men had been inside you in a variety of ways? Did he mean it when he called you a slut?

You realize you can’t see Will. “Mhm. Where’s Will?”

“I’m right here, princess, got a bath going for you” Will walked in wearing his boxers again.

You smile as you focus on the tall blonde in front of you. Amazing, you think, they somehow know exactly what you need. 

Will used a baby wipe that Santi had in the box he had from the group sex and cleaned Santi’s back of his cum, gently kissing Santi’s neck, making the man smile, then picked you up bridal style to carry you into the steamy hot tub, Santi trailing after you, pulling up his sweats.

“I’ll give you guys a minute, make something to drink” Will leaves you two alone as husband and wife.

“How do you feel, princesa?” Santi spoke softly as he began cleaning you.

You smile dopily up at him. “I feel great, sweetheart. But I think Princess is Will’s name for me, now”

“You’re right, you’re right. Guess I’ll have to stick with carino” he kisses your temple. “Muneca” he kisses your neck. “El amor de mi vida” Your nose

You giggle at that. “Somehow, I think you’ll manage”

Taking out your hair tie of one of the two braids, Santi continues. “Are you sure everything is okay? You seemed a little distant after you came down from your last orgasm.”

You make eye contact with him, and know you could leave it, Santi wouldn’t push the subject for now, and you could avoid it, pushing your feelings down and deal with it later, or never… but you trusted Santi, and Santi trusted you to be honest, you couldn’t break his trust any more than he could break yours, the whole thing would fall apart. You could ask him if you could talk later, if you weren’t ready… but you decided to be honest. His face already betrayed that he knew your extended silence was hiding something.

You answer him honestly. “”You don’t actually think I’m a slut, do you?”

Horror spreads across Santi’s face, even as he tries to school his expressions to not create a big reaction. He knew it was important to make sure you felt safe speaking to him, especially because you tended to enjoy rougher sex, but he couldn’t help immediately feelings bad for letting you feel this way, even for a second. Santi wasn’t exactly a hugger; he was touchy, for sure, but not a big hug person. Right now, however, with his eyes wide in horror, he hugged you.

“Oh baby, my sweet girl, no, no absolutely not” 

You tear up a little bit, the high of emotions surrounding everything getting you to. “Really, because I’ve just fucked your friends multiple times”

“Well so did I!” Santi says, a slight joke in his tone but sincerity none the less.

You giggle in his arms at that. “Fair point”

Santi pulls back, smiling fondly at you, thumbing away the single tear. “Oh sweetheart, did you do anything today or in all this that you didn’t want to do? Or didn’t love, even? Anything with me sharing you, or me with Ben or Will?” he says with worry.

Shaking your head, you quickly reassure him. “No, Santi, I wanted it all”

His arms were still around you. “Do you want me to stop degrading you in bed? We can stop, around the guys, when it’s just us, all of it. I’ll never call you another name again.”

“No!” You say a little too fast, making Santi smile. “No, sweetie, I like that. It’s just, it’s just been a lot of emotions. A lot has been happening with everyone.”

“I know this has probably been a lot for you too, I know it has for me, discovering new parts of ourselves” He takes your face in his hands. “I know things are changing, right now, everyone's relationships and dynamics and… it’s a lot, but no matter what else happens, know that I am yours and you are mine, and nothing will change that.”

Full content and relaxed, you kiss his perfect nose. “Thank you, baby. I am yours and you are mine”

When Will came back with some iced tea lemonades, he sat on the opposite side of the bath and watched fondly as Santi took care of you.

You had asked Will to stay the night, and after the bath you found yourself cuddled up under the sheets between your boys.

“Are we going to talk about what happened?” You say, referencing not only Will and Santi’s sexual acts, but the clear dynamic change that had been occurring between the three of you.

Will answered. “That can wait until tomorrow”

“You sure we’ll actually talk about it?” Santi countered, a little nervous. “I don’t want us to end up like whatever the fuck is going on with Ben and Fish”

“They didn’t end up like anything” Will defended his brother and his friend. “They’ll figure it out, so will we”

“Yeah” you say, stifled by a yawn. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow” You wrap your arm around Santi, spooning your husband.

Santi curls into you. “Yeah, tomorrow”

“Tomorrow” Will confirms, wrapping his arm around you. “We’ll all figure it out.”

******************

AAHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH TO EVERYONE SHARING MY WORK!!!! If you're new here, HIIIIII if this interests you, please consider checking out the rest of this series! it v bisexual lmfao

Remember, reblogs are the best way to spread my work around, but comments mean SO MUCH REREAD THEM ALL THE TIME comment to give 1000 happies to me

Anyway, two chapters left! FishBen chapter next, then another chapters thats gonna be like. impssible to write lol but its all of them, all the bisexuality, everyone fucking, Ben is literally a whore for everyoe (EXCEPT WILL IM NOT WRITING INCEST) Santi lowkey is a whore for everyone tho lmfao but thats just canon.

Thank you so much everyone!!!! I adore you and than you for your love on this series

Last chapter got community guidelined after 38 minutes so Santi x benny got NO WHERE so hopfully this does better.

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[lunar1an]

thinking a lot about wildbow's early works (worm, pact) and his more recent moralistic works (ward, pale) and the sheer difference in narrative empathy

in worm and pact you have characters who do fucked up things but it feels like a lot of effort is put into understanding the people behind them and where they're coming from. rachel's dogs maul people but there's a whole Arc of taylor learning to vibe with her and befriend her and of rachel getting what she needs (a place alone with her dogs where she can let other people in at her own pace) and growing as a person. all from the angle of 'this is genuinely good for rachel and helpful'. we want her to succeed because we care about her.

in pact we see how sandra duchamp grew up, how she's just as much a victim of her family as she is someone who perpetuates that harm, and while she's an antagonist the story doesn't spoonfeed it to us--we're allowed to see her human and sympathetic moments and we're allowed to feel bad for her while also wanting her stopped.

it felt. i don't know. like the story in general respected these characters, respected the reader's ability to empathize with those characters while also knowing Murder Bad or whatever.

but then the major worm fandom interpretations shifted. you had reddit and other popular sources going on about how taylor was actually horrible and an unreliable narrator, and how the undersiders were actually ~super fucked up and evil criminals~. pact and twig were spared this for the most part by virtue of being less popular with those crowds.

and i'm not sure if the morality discourse got baked into wildbow's brain by osmosis or if he felt like he wouldn't be appeasing his fandom if he didn't address it or what.

but by ward suddenly that narrative empathy, for the most part, is missing. it becomes conditional -- the protagonist and others do not extend empathy towards others until they Properly Recognize What They've Done Wrong. any improvement, any attempt to do better isn't legitimate unless the Bad Deeds are addressed and atoned for by whatever inconsistent standards the narrative adheres to. what matters isn't riley being in a healthier place and making connections--ward thinks that we should be rooting for riley because she recognizes she messed up and is constantly making up for the atrocities she committed.

i think it's kind of reached its peak in post arc 13 pale though. every time empathy is extended it's near-always accompanied by a patronizing little reminder of "mmmm, well you did Bad Things too".

you aren't allowed to just say "well damn i sympathize with charles", for example, because the narrative constantly reminds you that actually he is Still Doing Bad and therefore you aren't allowed to feel for him. it doesn't help that the story continually one-ups itself on thinking of ways to make charles over the top evil either.

but either way it's just. bleak. in a story purportedly about community building it's shockingly uncaring. you can't just sympathize with a morally grey character or take them As They Are without the story casting judgment and constantly reminding you of their verdict. it's just exhausting and makes any positive message the story tries to send feel hollow

OBLIGATORY NOTE: this essay does not mean "actually all fallen and e88 and etc should be empathized with". what it does mean is that in a moralistic work it becomes telling when ex-nazi rune gets her own interlude and a bunch of pagetime to show how she's 'doing better' while that same courtesy isn't extended to many villains who are traumatized and might have, say, legitimate reasons to not want to be arrested or feel like they have no other option, or legitimate reason to not support the heroes, but oh. they do Crimes so actually none of that matters as long as they're still Doing Crimes.

#parahumans #wildbow #uhhh this discusses every web serial except for twig p much so general spoiler warnings ig #also keep in mind this is about characters who werent created from the get go to be pure antagonists #its fine to just have characters who are evil. sometimes people just suck #but theres a difference between that and the story going 'actually your circumstances and any nuance doesn't matter because you suck'

[sexisdisgusting]

the way u respond to TRAs is so refreshing to see. i’ve seen so many radfems say we should be nice and patient with them even though they never extend that same courtesy to us. more responding to TRAs nastiness with even more nastiness!!! 🫡

OMG THANK U SSMMMMM im gonna be honest i dont even consider how i respond to be aggressive... its just Me. but i guess to them its sssoooOOOoooo aggressive that they constantly point it out

id like to be even nastier, honestly because why the fuck are they so comfortable coming into the ask boxes of random women to tell them to kill themselves or some shit?

u think we're just gonna take that shit? watch THIS *uno reverse card* how about YOU kill yourself!!!!

ily anonita thank u for the ask and i agree

gyns dont take their shit, dont let them walk all over you

#asks #anon asks

[mrs-monaghan]

What makes you think jikook are boyfriends and not friends with benefits ??

Oh wow. Why such an easy question anon? Honestly, easiest question I've ever go10. Let's fucking do this

Exhibit a)

Would a fck buddy almost break their neck just to check out their fck buddy's abs and hot bod????

Oh. You know what? NVM this one. You're right. This is definitely something a FWB would do. Its just sex so of course they will admire the abs they're licking on the reg every chance they get. So scratch that one. Sorry

Exhibit a) again.

Would fck buddies stand this close to each other during multiple times on official content?? I mean, if JK was any closer he'd be inside Mimi 👀 Like, JK, please, back up a little bit.

Ahh shit. I just realised. You're right. A fck buddy would totally do something like this. I mean if you spend a good chunk of time with your naked dick inside against the Jibooty you wouldn't think twice about being that close. So again, anon I apologise. I'll find something else.

Exhibit a) for the 3rd time. My bad 🙌🏽

Would FWBs behave like this??

I mean, JK can't get his hands off the Jibooty and look at him bite his damn lip. Are you kidding me???? He is enjoying that way too damn much!

Aish. You're right. You're totally right. A fck buddy would absolutely be obsessed with his FWB's ass. This doesn't prove they're boyfriends either. Damn anon, maybe I shouldn't have gloated about how easy this question was.

Exhibit a) again. Sorry.

If they were not in a rlship, would JK be obsessed with Jimin's lips?

God dammit. Of course he would. If its all about xes and he enjoys kissing them lips, of course he will stare. 🤦🏽‍♀️

Okay, I got it. Let's start again. Exhibit a)

Does this count? JK looking at Jimin like he wants to eat him?

I mean, tbf Jimin did admit he likes to be eaten by JK....

Or like my good friend @lovelysmyleyes put it, he likes being on the MENU 🤭🤭🤭

It doesn't count? Right. I see it. Too sexual. Dangit. Why is all my evidence so sexually charged? I swear I thought this would be a walk in the park.

Okay...okay,. I got it. I got it! Be quiet and just give me a sec. I got this. Jimin and JK are boyfriends. They are more than just sex buddies and I can prove it. Alright?

Exhibit a) for the 6th and last time.

If Jikook were just fck buddies, we shouldn't be able to tell the difference in how they look at eo Vs how they look at other people. Take for example here. Look at Yoonmin. There is a clear difference on how Jimin is looking at JK Vs how Suga is looking at JK

Then we have here JK looking at V Vs how he looks at Jimin

Jimin looking at JK

This is love, anon. This kind of soft staring shows that its not just xes. Feelings seeped in there and they never left... there are feelings involved. Thus the adoring looks.

Then we have the following:

JK calling Jimin and only Jimin pet names.

Them spending all their birthdays with eo. Fck buddies wouldn't bother with something like this

Their families KNOW about them and seem to love the other which proves Jikook are most probably in a very serious relationship

Their exclusivity. This is how JK has never taken another member on an all paid trip and continued to make a romantic Vlog about them. This is how Jimin has never travelled miles for another member just to make it for their birthday. This is how JK has never sucked another member's ear

This is how Jimin only ever tries to kiss JK.

All attempted kisses here.

The special treatment they both seem to give eo. Like JK mostly reacting to Jimin stuff or buying him gifts no problem. And how Jimin lets JK get away with everything but refuses to extend the other members the same courtesy.

It's satellite Jeon/Jikook anon. Fck buddies are not usually this attached to eo. If you're just there for sevening, you have sex and once that's done you're on your way. You don't follow your FWB. You don't try to be next to them all the time. You don't cheat to be on the same team as them. You don't make sure to be next to them no matter what. That's boyfriend behavior anon.

It's the way they always find excuses to hold hands. That is NOT fck buddy behaviour. Not even a little bit.

This list is endless anon. Jimin and Jungkook are more than just sex partners. They are boyfriends and they are in love. There is no two ways about it. It is what it is.

I did it! I answered your question!

Fuck yeah, we got there in the end! I thought we'd never get there. But yeah, as you can see, these are 2 men in love. Phew!

Edit! Found a thread.

Thanks for ask! 😁😁😁

#ask shaz #bts ask #jikook is real #If Jikook isn't real then neither I'm I #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin and jungkook #bts #jimin #jungkook #park jimin #jeon jungkook

[kittycat-in-the-dark]

Can I be a little bitch for a second and complain about something...

(Also because I haven't written a post in a while, lol)

People that hate Damian Wayne's character are weird.

Like, let me make something clear first: people are obviously allowed to dislike Damian as a character for wtv reason (although, it is better when the reasons that people dislike him for come from actual canon and not fanon, and it's not because of, ya know, stuff like racism...).

However, it's really hilarious (in a dumb way, sorry not sorry) when I see fans of Jason and Tim specifically (which is funny, considering I'm one as well) shit on Damian as if he is like a little monster that did the most horrible shit imaginable just because in the stories he first appeared in, in main canon, he did some questionable actions, such as cutting Tim's line. But most of the time these same people almost never talk about what were Damian's reasons to do this and some even say stuff like "Jason was justified in shooting Damian that one time./It was satisfying to see the brat being shot by Jason." or something else like that.

And I sit here like: excuse me but WHAT THE FUCK??

Look, I get the argument "these are fictional characters written by adults, so it doesn't matter that Damian is a kid, he still did messed up things" to a certain degree. However, it still doesn't change that they are still writting a child. And just because some of you people don't like Damian because he is a brat, that doesn't mean you can completely ignore (or outright make up/change) the context surrounding Damian's character, while at the same time giving characters like Jason Todd, that at the time Damian was introduced in Post-Crisis did way way more messed up shit, justifications such as "it's bad writing", "it's classist", "Jason has trauma".

WHEN THE SAME/SIMILAR FREAKING REASONS APPLY TO DAMIAN'S CHARACTER AND WRITING AS WELL!!! Aka, "bad writing" (that can be everywhere for any character, not just for Jason, duh), "racist writing" (unfortunately), "Damian has trauma" (yes, yes he was. And he came with some fucked up baggage of it when he first met his father, just like Jason did, why do some people ignore this just because of Damian's heritage or something).

ALSO: some people sure love to forget that there is a big ass difference between "Damian is a 9-year-old that grew up in an assasssins cult, and thus he isn't familiar/adjusted with his dad's world and rules" and "Jason is a grown ass man that keeps hurting other people because of his trauma, including people that have nothing to do with his trauma to begin with" (*cough* Mia Dearden *cough*, *cough* The Titans *cough*; also, opposite to Damian, he didn't grow up being taught to kill people, lmao). So, like, idk dude, they all have messed-up trauma and you don't see all of them going on killing sprees and torturing innnocent people because of it...

Like, I love Jason, I love Tim. But I don't hate Damian, Dick and/or Bruce, just because in certain situations they wronged my faves. Also, it's good to recognize that the faves messed up too. That they hurt other people. I mean, why the fuck do some of you people justify Jason (especially him) and Tim's wrong actions to the moon and back, but don't extend the same courtesy to other characters in similar situations... like, it doesn't seem fair or make that much sense to me...

Like,, really, I'm sorry but people saying in the same breath that "Jason deserves to be understood on his violence because of his trauma" and "Damian is evil because he tried to hurt people" (also because of trauma, btw) are kinda hypocritical, sorry (not sorry actually).

(Also, why tf do some people make "who is the most traumatized Batboy" type competitions that usually downplay the trauma of the Batboys/Batfamily members they don't care about or like?? The point of the Batfamily is that they all are messed up people that came together by chance and because they share similar trauma and desire to help others, while at the same time being a dysfuncional mess of a family. Like, that's the fun part. And ya, that also means they have to have moments where they get along and recognise when they fucked up. And all of them had situations where they fucked up and hurt others. There is no "100% innocent/justified" member in the Batfam. All of them fucked up big time at some point, okay?? And that is part of what makes them interesting characters. Like, sorry for ranting so much but I don't understand people that act as if their favourite characters can never do any wrong or did any wrong when they actually did...)

#damian wayne #batfam #dc #fandom critical #alexa talks here #like seriously i understand that for some people Damian can be unlikable but some people talk about him like he is the devil incarnate #when he is just a kid born into an ASSASSINS CULT - like did some people forget that or what? #and a kid trying his best at being a good person & at following his dad's code in order to belong to a family

[georgiapeach30513]

Underneath the City Lights, Part 1

Summary:   When your father dies, and the Dirty Martini is ran by your brother, all hell breaks lose.  And the one person who knows the secret to the newest mafia family in town is you.  Forced to perform, and bought by August Walker.  Who knew it was going to take an old family friend to save you?  Hiding you away from the families is where the two of you start to fall....

Pairings:  Ari Levinson X Reader

Rating:  explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, nipple pumps, forced dancing, forced nudity, dry humping, teasing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count:  3.2K

Series Masterlist

Ari clears his throat, standing up from his table as he looks amongst his closest and most trusted members of the family.  Smiling with a curt nod, and ready to go home for a drink.  This business could be draining at the best of times, and at the worst it was miserable, and right now was one of those times.  Acquiring businesses was his least favorite part.  He massages the bridge of his nose, waiting on the room to clear out when someone still remains.

“Sir?”

“What do you need Jonathan?” The bookkeeper and Ari’s personal assistant was loyal and efficient if not annoying most of the time.

“The Dirty Martini, it could be time to cut this loss.”

“Fine, you have my blessing to do what needs to be done,” he closes his book, ready to stand, but the other man doesn’t leave.

“It’s just that…well, Calvin and his family have a long standing with our…business,” Jonathan was getting better at not calling this a mafia, or worse, the mob.  He was learning.  

“Oh, The Dirty Martini, that burlesque club?  Calvin.  This is the Newton family’s business?” Jonathan nods his head, and Ari taps his finger on the table.  “We can’t get rid of it.”

“Sir?”

“Let me check it out.  That family has old standings with us.  Maybe they just need an update.  We’ll give them a business loan, come up with a plan on how to engage their audience,” Jonathan’s mouth starts to open, but with a hand raise from Ari it closes even quicker.  Snapping his teeth together, because you don’t argue with him.  “My family has a long standing relationship with theirs.  They have a year to improve.  Then we cut ties.  I’m going tonight, and you can join.”

“Yes, sir.  But this business…if I’m to believe their numbers should be much more profitable.  They’re also debuting a new girl.”

“Good.  I love some fresh meat.  See you in an hour.  Dress like you’re going to a cocktail party,” with Ari’s head held high, he struts out of this office.  It had been many years since he had met with the Newton’s, even though the families were quite close.  His father had always taken special interest in them, and also the business, so Ari would extend the same courtesy.

“No!” You scream, throwing a glass over towards August.  “Get away!”

“Candy,” he says your name through gritted teeth, holding up those stupid cylinders.  “Be a good girl, and let me put these on!”

“No!” This time a vase is hauled towards him and your handler Rita walks into the room, groaning more at August than yourself.  “I’m not wearing those!”

“Rita!” Rita looks at your costume, smoothing everything out.  “She needs to wear the nipple pumps for thirty minutes.  Tell her that.”

“She’s right there, sir.  Can you not tell her?”

“I’m not taking my top off!”

“You insufferable little brat!  Your fucking nipples will be pumped, because you’re body is all you have to offer this world.  You’re also being put up for private dances.  Get used to your nipples being swollen and engorged.  Just the way clients like them.  Rita,” random bits and pieces from your vanity get thrown at August, as he tries and remains calm.  “One of these days, you’ll get what you have coming to you.”

“Rita, you calm her down,” he slams three pumps into her hand, looking towards you with a sneer, “You either put on the pumps, or I’ll tie you up and pump your clit as well.  You’ll be doing more than just dancing.  Why don’t you ask Cassie or Jezabel what goes on behind the curtains.  We’ll turn you out like the rest of the girls.  You get pity because you have a voice and you’re a Newton.  Don’t think your brother won’t sell your cunt for a buck.  Get her fucking ready, Rita!  She’s the star tonight.”

He walks out, slamming the door shut when Rita looks at you regrettably.  “You really know how to piss him off.  Almost got your costume for the night dirty.  Now, help me clean up.”

“No,” you stub up, crossing your arms over your chest.  

“Help me clean up, now,” she never raises her voice, but the look she shot at you meant that you should help.  You bend down, trying to collect the larger pieces.  Grabbing a broom for the smaller glass.  “What is your reason for not wanting the pumps?”

“Why do my nipples need to be larger?”

“Oh they’re getting makeup on them, too,” you groan.  You wanted to sing.  That was all.  “Your top will come off.  They’ll look at your titties, and the ones further away can see just how perky they are because your nipples are swollen and darker.  Should you give a private show, you’ll have to put them on again.”

“This is stupid.”

“With the right person, they’re quite nice.  Makes the nipples more sensitive,” you roll your eyes, flopping yourself into a chair.  “No, up up.  Time for you to get laced up.  At least, your tits aren’t in this corset.”

“That makes it better,” you stand up, turning your back towards her as she wraps the beautiful white corset around you.  “The diamond,” it was a curse for you.  Pretending to be something special because your father built the theater.  But to August and your brother, you were just like the rest of them.  Meat.

“Spin,” you turn around towards her, your tits just hanging out, you don't care anymore.  “Lick it,” she holds up the pump to your mouth, and your snarl.

“Ew.”

“It needs lubrication.”

“Can I just do it myself?”

“Are you going to?” You lick the mechanism while she pushes it up against your nipple.  Turning the knob, and you stare horrified at your nipple being sucked up into it.  “It’s normal.  That’s the point.  Swell the nipples, so they’re nice and hard for your performance.”

“Ow!  That’s too much.  Oh my god, look at it,” you lick the other one, while Rita spins it on you.  “They’re just sticking out.  And not moving,” you flick the one a couple of times before Rita slaps at your hand.

“Find you a man that will do this, and put a tiny bullet in one or a vibrator on it,” you stare at her with your mouth opened up in a wide smile.  “Don’t be such a prude.  Your ass and tits are about to be hanging out in front of tons of people.  Having it on your clit is quite nice, too.”

“How long do they have to stay on there?”

“August said thirty minutes,” you shimmy your shoulders, watching them flap around.  “Maybe forty minutes is a better time frame.”

“No!  This is just weird, and slightly uncomfortable.”

“It’s a constant suck.  Have you never had anyone suck on your nipples?” You shake your head no, watching as she gathers the rest of your costume.  “Has…have you had sex?”

“Yeah.  No one sucked on anything though.”

“Such a pity.  Go on, step into the bottoms, so you can cover your twat up.  How come you act like this with me, but when it’s August…”

“He makes me uncomfortable, okay?  Told me the other day he could get a free performance anytime he wanted to.  I just want to sing.”

“Burlesque, sweetheart, you can’t go up there with jeans and a t-shirt.  Look at it as the art it is.  Celebrating the woman’s body.  It won’t be men just out there.  It won’t just be singles out there.  Couples come here to enjoy this.  Watch as a woman moves, her curves on full display.  Completely in touch with their sexual prowess.  Sing, but perform.  You have more to offer than your body, so prove it.”

“Can I take these off now?”

“Has it been thirty minutes?”

Ari runs his finger over the table at The Dirty Martini, taking a sip of the house drink, and looks over at Jonathan, “Cheap liquor, and not enough.  Let’s hope the entertainment is better.  Are you writing this down?”

“Yes, sir.  On the menu tonight is a new performer.  Their Diamond.  Goes by the name of Candy Jane.”

Ari leans back with a belly laugh, “What could they possibly have to offer as their Diamond?  This is her debut performance, correct?”

“Yes, the talk in the bathroom is that she's going to be put on auction for a private show.”

“Oh, they’re that confident, huh?  Where is she on the lineup?”

“She’s the first one out.  Very cliche, but she’s singing Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend,” Ari rolls his eyes, trying to sit back comfortably.  “The seats need updating.”

“I agree.  They have not put any of their money back into this dump.  They have to be making some form of a profit.  I doubt these girls are being paid staggering amounts.  Lights, props, costumes, and…” he stops his talking as the curtains start to draw.  Only you are holding feathers around your body.  Looking down to see your removable piece was still covering your breasts when you start a slow singing of the song.

Letting the feathers drop as Ari sits up straighter in his seat, “Is she going to take the mask off?”

“Are you interested?” Jonathan looks at his boss who was leaning so far forward.  “I’ll go put in a bid for the private show.”

“Whatever the cost,” he gulps when the flap is removed and you're left topless with your swollen and tinted nipples, a roar of the crowd has you getting more into the routine, “Remind them of who is asking, and that they owe quite a large sum to the family.  They’d be making quite a profit.”

“Yes, sir,” between the corset framing your tits perfectly, and the barely there panties, Ari was entranced.  You were not like the usual performers, you were something special entirely.  A bit nervous, and definitely new to this life.  He wanted to kick himself for being too far away from the stage, but also didn’t want to alert anyone that he was here.  He needed to see how much the club had fallen, but you were perfect.

He takes a sip of the disgusting house martini, enjoying the show.  You would definitely look better without the mask, completely naked, and in his bed.  Letting him spoil every inch of you.  

“Sir, you can go ahead to the room.”

“I will finish this first.  I want her to stay in white.”

“Oh…I’ll let them know.”

“I want her without the mask.”

“Yes, of course.  I’ll send an usher to lead you to the room after she’s finished,” Ari nods his head, watching as you shimmy your shoulders, letting your tits recoil perfectly.  You deserved much more than this club.  You deserved to be put on a pedestal, worshiped, spoiled, and in return, you would spoil him.

“I don’t want to wear those again.  They’re sensitive,” Rita tightens the pump on your nipple, as August smirks in the corner, turning back to find you a different outfit.  “I thought I said I didn’t want to give a private show.”

“Yeah, well, the cost was much too great to refuse.  You have a fan,” he hands Rita the lingerie set, making sure that there was nothing to cover your tits.  “They certainly do look pretty all big and juicy on that stage.  You were a natural.”

“Can you leave?” Rita shoos you behind a partition, handing you the lingerie instead of helping you.  

“No, I need to make sure the club’s asset makes it to the room.  He’s waiting.  Keep the mask on, until you get there.  Let him take it off,” Rita looks back at August, giving him a questioning look.  “He was entranced.  Obsessed.  We may end up getting him on the regular.  I could tell when your top came off that he would bid for you.  Been watching him the moment he walked in,” that was odd for August to follow someone around the club.  You figured he must have been a pretty important client.

“No.  I can’t see someone regularly.  They were still big.  Can I not just…take them off, and cover myself with a robe?”

“You will have them on for less time, Candy,” you hated that name, but understood why the need to be anonymous there.  “We don’t want to bruise your tits.  Not like that anyways.  He’s going to be wearing a mask as well.”

“Why?”

“You can take it off.  Why do you ask so many questions?” You don’t answer.  There wasn’t a point with August.  Calvin’s friend and business partner was one of your least favorite people.  But sending him in for these occasions was less weird than your brother coming in here.  “Go ahead and pull them off.”

“Break the seal.”

“I said to pull them off.  Give them an extra suck.  I can help if you like,” you do as Rita asked, she seemed to know more about this than August.  “Alright, let me see.”

“She’s fine.  They were still swollen from before.  They’re plenty big.  Robe on, sweetheart.  August is going to lead you to the room.”

You step from behind the partition, and August’s eyes linger on your chest for a bit too long, spinning to lead you down to the private room.  Stopping at the door when he smirks at you, “Don’t get attached Candy.  And do everything he says.  I’ll be watching,” he gives you a wink, reminding you there were cameras in the room, for ‘the girl's safety’.  But everything he said was a warning.  This man could ask you to do anything.

Gulping you walk into the room.  The man was comfortably sitting on the center of the couch, his legs spread as wide as they could go while his hand rubs up and down his thigh, “Lose the robe.  But let it fall down slowly.”

You give the silk robe a bit of a push, letting it drift down your body, pooling at your feet, “Well, come on.  Have a seat,” both his hands move over his thigh, and you try to keep eye contact, but fail.

“Wouldn’t you like a dance?”

“I would like for you to sit in my lap while we get to know each other better,” with a deep inhale, you move closer.  One step at a time. Painfully slow, “I don't need a performance for you to sit in my lap, Candy Jane.  Sit in my lap.”

Finishing up the distance, he guides you to straddle him.  Shoving you down onto his covered hard cock, “Your little song did that to me,” he removes your mask, giving you an odd look as you take his off.  Gasping up at him.

“Ari?”

“Who are you?”

“You and your dad always called me Dulce.  Said I was as sweet as candy.”

“Oh my god,” he looks down at your chest, unbelievingly at what just transpired.  When did you grow up?  When did you get these perfect tits?  When did this happen?  “Oh my god.  You’re…you’re Scott’s daughter?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you end up in a dump like this?  Surely your father wouldn’t have you doing…doing this,” he starts shoving you off him a moment, but your eyes flick to the corner.  “There’s cameras?”

“Yes.”

“Sound?” You shake your head no.  “What’s going on?”

“My dad died.  Calvin took over.  He needs the money.”

“He?  Not the business?” You nod your head, and Ari’s hands slide up your thighs, pulling you completely flush to his body.  “Start grinding,” you move your hips over him, and Ari can’t help but to moan.  He needed some relief, and while this felt wrong, it definitely was feeling so right.  Looking down at your perfect tits, he takes a deep breath.  “What do you know?  My personal assistant brought this place to my attention.”

“I can’t talk here.”

“Why?” Ari moves his thumb, and it grazes over your nipple, and you whimper, “You’re sensitive,” smirks up at you, doing it again.  “Keep moving,” he pushes himself further down onto the couch, moaning when your nipple is touched again.  “This feels…”

“Good,” you answer for him.  It was wrong that he was formerly in business with your father.  That you had known him since you both were quite young, and he was just learning the business.  But it felt good.  Ari had grown up and filled out, and still was attractive as when you had a school girl crush on him.  And even more attractive.

“Yes,” he moans out, his eyes moving all over your body and face.  “Very very good.  What else?”

“Ari, you gotta get me out if I tell you.”

“Why?”

“Promise me,” you move even faster over him.  Your mother had told you before her untimely death, men make stupid decisions during sex.  I mean, Ari wasn’t inside of you, but his cock was throbbing.  “Promise me, you’ll get me out.”

“Promise.”

“Oh!” Arching your back, you bring your tits right to his face, and he captures one with his mouth, holding it with his hand as he sucks on the swollen bud.  His tongue flicks over it, and he smiles at you over your tits.

“Keep moving,” he says as he moves to the other one.  Giving the abandoned nipple a hard pinch as you race for the two of your finishes.  Ari stares up at you like you seriously were this precious diamond.  Moving between your tits, before pinching both of them hard, and giving your breasts a shake.

“Ari!” You whine out, working your hips over him.  “A-A-A-Ari!” Stuttering out his name as his cum soaks through his jeans, and you allow yourself to let go.  Resting your head on his shoulder.  And he trembles at your heated breath on his neck.

“I can’t take you out for a while.”

“Why?”

“It’ll become too suspicious.”

“You’re a liar,” you lift up off him, and he gives you a smile.  “You lied.”

“I haven’t.  You haven’t given me any information.  I will take you from this place.  And until then, I will come to your shows, and will keep you from having to whore yourself out to disgusting men by buying out your room for the evening.”

“So, we’re staying in here all night?” He shakes his head no, looking down at your tits.  “Quit looking.  August is watching.  He makes me wear these pumps until they’re swollen and sensitive.  Now that he knows you can’t keep your eyes off my tits, he’ll make me wear them longer.”

“It’s a good look,” he smirks, cupping both your breasts in his hand, letting his thumb rub over the overstimulated peaks.  “Don’t change whatever you’re doing.  Everything has to be just like tonight.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a way for you to eventually fuck me?”

“Believe me, I won’t pay for sex.  If I wanted sex from you, I could get it.  We’re in a business agreement.  Go on, let these pretty nipples calm down.  Fuck a pillow, fuck a dildo, I really don’t care.  I paid for you for the whole night, but you might be better served getting some rest and self care.”

“What makes you think I want sex?” His hand goes to cup your barely covered mound, smiling, “I came.  And some of that is your cum.”

“You’re still throbbing, and…is that clenching of your pussy I feel?” Ari chuckles, removing his hand, lifting it up to show the strings from your arousal stretch between his fingers, “Is it me or just the fact you were getting off?  Has it been a long time?”

“No,” you stand, grabbing your robe, and start to head out.

“Have fun, Dulce,” he smiles, lifting his hand to look at it again.  It was incredible.  You were responsive.  His fingers were coated in your sticky slick.  He takes a moment to lick off your honey, moaning at the taste before he stands.  Wearing the wet spot on his pants with pride.

Giving a nod to Jonathan as the two of them head out of the club, and in the safety of his car.  “Just like you thought.  There’s more going on.  Looks like a former business partner’s daughter is giving us all the information.”

“I take it the private show went well?” Jonathan cocks up an eyebrow looking at the soaked jeans.  “Who was she?”

“An old friend.  She’ll be Calvin’s undoing.  You were right this time, buddy.  Calvin Newton and August Walker are not to be trusted.  But I also need the Diamond out safely in less than a month's time.  But, I’ll need to make regular visits to make sure she’s safe.”

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with getting your dick wet.”

“It didn’t get wet.  It stayed in the jeans.  She’s got a sloppy cunt.”

“How delightful.  Is she going to become one of your toys?” Ari smiles, starting the car.  Oh, he could definitely play with you alright.  But he wanted something more than just a warm body for the night.  Your father had been too good to his family for you to become disposable.

“She’s going to become my Diamond.  She’ll need my protection at any cost.  It’s time she realizes her value is far more than what’s in between her legs.”

“Or bouncing on her chest,” Jonathan looks over towards Ari, grinning so big.  He knew Ari had a soft spot for a good set of boobs.  “So what you’re saying is we need to get her a passport.”

“Exactly.  A month’s time, she will be out.  She will divulge exactly what is going on in that club.  I want her to have respectable clothes.  Bathing suits, dresses, jewelry.  Have it all waiting at the Italy house.”

“Sir?”

“Have it all waiting at the Italy house.  Don’t question my process.  She’s not a toy.  She is valuable.”

“Yes, sir,” and Ari meant it.  Your father was a good man.  Calvin was trash.  Anyone that made August Walker be around their sister was trash.  Anyone that offered their sister up for men to ogle at, and grope, and even shove themselves into her was disgusting.  Sex work was admirable when it was their choice.  This wasn’t.  He would get you out.  And you would have his complete protection.

Next

Masterlist

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#underneath the city lights #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x fem!reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson x you #mafia!ari levinson #mafia au #fanfiction #chris evans #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson fics #ari levinson fic #ari levinson fanfic #red sea diving resort #rsdr #burlesque!reader #burlesque au

[shirohige-pirates]

Hey Doll

CisFem Reader x Thatch

CW: toxic parents, manipulation, The Plan™, smut, mdni, I'll add as we go I'm kind of fly by the seat of my pants on this one.

tag list: @mfreedomstuff @harahettania

Chapter 3: No Plan Survives

The Edward estate was far larger than you had expected. Larger than you think even your parents had expected. Your father had been grumbling about the driveway being so long and twisty, but once the tree line was cleared and you all saw the house he nearly drove off the path.

House wasn’t even the right word for it. It was a mansion, an estate, a manor, some kind of castle made modern and attempting to look less intimidating. You were all dressed well, but you might as well have been in potato sacks and rags for all the distance between your family’s income and his.

Income wasn’t always a factor when matches were being made. According to statistics it was one of the least impactful metrics in the entire process. Stipends were provided to couples who had an income below a certain threshold to assist with ceremony costs and natal care, and sometimes temporary income was provided if a match caused one person in the pairing to need to move any great distance.

You were not going to be in need of any such assistance.

The vast difference in wealth made you feel a little more at ease, however. No matter whatever the The Plan was, there was no way your parents could ruin this family. They could probably make some sort of useless social fuss about any number of things and Edward Newgate would write them a check for his pocket change and they’d be satisfied.

If they pushed things too far you were certain that would be the outcome before anything got out of hand.

“We’re going to have to reconsider a few things.” Ralf says, recovering from the shock and continuing down the drive.

“The backup plan might be the better choice.” Mellanny agrees. “But don’t think about any of that right now, just focus on the meeting.

“Yeah. You okay, Doll?”

You nod a little even if neither of them are looking at you. “I’m good, father.”

“Good. Don’t mention their wealth in any capacity.” He reiterates.

“Unless directly questioned, I will not.” You answer.

“I doubt these rich fucks are going to boast.” Mellanny’s voice slides through the car like oil, thick and greasy. “And I’ll watch my damn tongue once we’re out of the car, but, fuck.”

Ralf grunts, and you don’t react.

When you pull up to the gates just before the house proper, someone’s already outside. A young man who looks to be about the same age as you and Thatch is already opening the gate for you. He’s tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and waves to your father to come in. Given that he’s in shorts, sandals, and a t-shirt, you’re pretty sure he’s not going to be at the first meeting. Regardless of the size of a family, they’re often kept as small as possible.

Ralf rolls the window down and the man smiles brightly at all of you.

“Welcome, I’m glad you found the place without any trouble, yoi. I’m Marco, you can park right over there.” He says, pointing to an area not far from the front door, just off to the side of a large fountain that’s easily the center piece of the main entrance. “Don’t wait for me, yoi, Izou’s just inside to escort you to where Thatch and Pops are.”

“Certainly, thank you young man.” Ralf responds, following where Marco had pointed and parking the car.

Getting out of the car your father took the lead, and you stayed a step behind your mother. When you approached the front door it opened ahead of you, and a well-dressed man with long black hair that was done up quite elegantly greeted you.

“Welcome,” He says in a voice that reminds you a little of your own. Reserved, practiced, controlled - he’s not giving away anything, not even an abundance of joy, in his tone. It’s almost professional, as though he’s extending basic courtesy and nothing else. “Thatch and Pops are waiting in the tea room. I’ll escort you there.”

“Thank you, you must be Izou,” Ralf says, stepping inside.

“Indeed,” he replies with a soft smile. “This way please.”

Your father did his best to keep his eyes forward as he was right next to Izou, but your mother’s gaze was wandering all over the place. You mostly watched her. The manor was lovely, clean, neat and spacious without feeling empty. It was certainly lived in, there were pictures and art and signs of life everywhere, but it was also well-maintained and organized.

Izou knocked on the door to the tea room, announcing your arrival before opening the door and letting you inside. The soft shuffle of heavy chairs against wooden floors caught your attention before you entered the room and you stepped in to see two men at a table.

One was massive in his presence alone. Only a little taller than Thatch in terms of objective height, Edward Newgate was almost unnerving in how big he seemed. His presence had nothing to do with his wealth, and you were momentarily struck with the notion that he would kill your parents before he would write them a check for anything he didn’t want to.

Marco had been tall, and kind of willowy. Izou seemed to be the shortest, and slender as well, but of those you had met so far Thatch seemed to take after his father the most. He had to be over seven feet tall, if not right on the line. Broad shouldered, barrel-chested. Both men wore suits, but even the well-tailored suits couldn’t hide their sheer size.

Thatch had the same pompadour now that he had in most of his pictures. Unusual as the hair style was, it did suit him.

Your parents took a step back as you stepped toward the table, smiling softly up at Thatch.

“Edward Thatch,” he says. There’s tinges of pink on his face that make it easier for you to smile.

“Kakusho (Y/N),” you say in return, bowing just a little.

“It’s nice to meet you.” Thatch says, nearly sighing the words. His father clears his throat and he starts. “Oh, right, excuse me. Let me get that for you.” He says coming over to your side of the table and pulling out your chair for you. “If you would.”

You nod, seating yourself in the offered chair. “Thank you.”

Thatch pushes your seat in before returning to the other side of the table. After he seats himself, his father and your parents also sit, your father across from Newgate and your mother beside him. They handled introductions amongst themselves and Mr. Edward started things off.

“Eighty-five percent is the minimum threshold for compatibility between two matches.” His voice deep and clear, but not loud and overwhelming. “In such cases it is usually wise for the parents, or close friends of each match, to help smooth over their first meeting. However,” he looks away from your parents and catches your gaze for a brief second before looking to Thatch. His gaze returns to your parents and frankly you’re impressed the two have kept their composure in his presence.

“These two have a compatibility of 97%. It’s not unheard of, but it is uniquely high.” A wide smile split the old man’s face, genuine enough that it put a twinkle in his eyes. “I would like to suggest that I give the two of you a tour of the manor, and we let these two talk in private for a while.”

Shock widens your eyes for a split second, but you’re back in control when your father turns to you. You can almost feel him practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of getting a guided tour of the manor.

“Will you be okay, Doll?” He speaks in the form of a question, but you know the words for what they are. You can’t see your mother’s face, but you’re certain they’re of the same mind at this point.

“Yes, father. I’m certain Thatch will be a proper gentleman.”

“Of course!” Thatch says, maybe a little more loudly than he meant to. There’s no anger or indignation on his face or his tone, but he looks happy that you would get to speak more privately.

“If he is anything less, Izou will be just outside.” Newgate assures you, standing up and prompting your parents to stand as well, and the three of them leave without further ado.

The soft click of the door pulls your gaze back to Thatch.

“I, heh, I don’t know where to start,” he admits after a moment of silence.  Years of acting, and you know well the signs of genuine emotion, and he’s truly flustered. It’s cute.

“Tell me about yourself.” You prompt, and you can see a brief quizzical look cross his face. “I let my parents read the book,” you clear your throat lightly and look away. “I saw a picture of you, but I didn’t look at anything else.”

“Oh? May I ask why?” He questions, putting an elbow on the table and resting his chin against his knuckles. Relaxed and curious, it makes you pause a little before you can answer.

“It just happened so suddenly.” It’s hard to meet his gaze, and you keep looking away. You can’t remember the last time someone was honestly interested in you. Usually you received just enough regard in order to allow someone to speak about themselves. “I think I’m still trying to process it all.”

Concern furrows his brows. “We, I mean, I would’ve been fine waiting until tomorrow to meet.”

“Oh no, no I don’t mean it like that.” You insist, shaking your head. “I’m glad, um, glad we’re meeting now. I just mean that I,” you put your hand over your face a little, before peeking at him. “Those books are embarrassing, and I couldn’t stop wondering what you were seeing.”

He makes a strange sound, trying to hold back a laugh, and bites his lower lip to keep himself composed. “Sorry,” he manages, looking away for a second before turning back toward you. “Sorry, that was just … really cute.”

You’re both silent for a moment, and while there’s some awkwardness in the air between you both, it’s not all that uncomfortable. There’s something comforting about it.

“Your pictures,” he begins, eyes shifting to yours as he smiles. “Were good. Ah, you’re prettier in person, but, I mean, they didn’t use a picture of you sneezing or something like that.”

“That’s… good.”

“I’m glad though.” He starts and you tilt your head a little. “All your pictures were so perfect, like you’d inadvertently posed for all of them. I was worried you were going to be too good to be real.”

But I’m not real. I’m no more real than a doll, it’s just that they taught me how to move and speak.

“Mother and I considered pageants and modeling when I was younger,” you answer evenly, trying not to sound as hollow as the words are. “I think some of the lessons just stuck with me.”

“Is that why your dad calls you doll?”

You nod. “Yeah. Well, no, I think it was just an endearing term that stuck.”

“Would it be wrong for me to call you that?”

The sound of his question is almost timid, the tone kind, the sentiment pure. Still, the words themselves sink into your back like daggers. You let them fall away, ignoring the pain, especially since you know it was completely unintended on his part.

“Not at all, it’s very fitting.” You answer, smiling sweetly. “Do you have any nicknames?”

“Ah, none I think anyone else should be using. My brothers call me Thatchy-boy sometimes, and Pops calls me Elvis, but please, please don’t call me those names.” He begs, hand over his face.

“Then, for now, just Thatch.” You say, and see him smile from behind his hand.

“That works.” He agrees, clearing his throat lightly before straightening up.

The conversation slips along more comfortable lines. Thatch tells you about his business, how he went from cooking for his brothers and his father - almost all of them are adopted you discover, something you don’t think your parents are aware of - and how those skills had carried him through culinary school.

While he enjoyed cooking foods of all kinds, he really enjoyed making pastries and the artistic freedom that came with decorating.

“So do you really have all those hobbies?” Thatch prompts.

“Pardon?”

“The book said you enjoyed cooking, organizing, sewing, knitting, drawing, reading, hiking, and swimming.” He explains. “I think two more things as well.”

You nod. “Embroidery, and flower arranging.”

“Right, yeah. Flower arranging, huh?”

You shake your head a little. “I was lucky to have the chance to learn and experiment with a lot of different things, but I don’t know if I’d call them hobbies. They’re just things I learned how to do.”

“Do you enjoy them?”

You barely muster a shrug. “I’m good at them.”

Thatch hums and you tilt your head questioningly.

“Will you forgive me if I say something that could be rude?” His tone is playful, so you smile and nod.

“Perhaps.”

“I’m good at washing my dad’s car, it doesn’t mean I enjoy it.” He points out, and your smile widens before you concede his point. “You don’t enjoy cooking though?”

You let slip a small, and slightly nervous laugh. “Seems rude to answer that when you’re a chef by trade.”

“Nah,” he grins, his cheeks turning red. “I… would love to try your cooking, but if you don’t enjoy it, I don’t want you to think you have to.”

“I assumed I would be handling cooking when we moved in together.” You admit flatly. Thatch looks up at you and you continue. “I… could look for a job if you’d prefer, but, perhaps incorrectly, I assumed I would look after our home.”

“Oh, I, that’s.” He clears his throat. “I’ve got a service, to keep the apartment clean since my work hours can be so long, I was going to keep it. If you want to take over stuff like that you can, but only if you’ll enjoy it. Otherwise, just take some time to adjust. You’ve been living with your parents this whole time, right?”

You nod.

“You haven’t lived on your own at all. Moving in with me is a big change, and I just want you to be able to adjust without worryin’… that’s all.” He clarifies, scratching the back of his head idly. “I can’t push back the deadline for getting hitched, but I don’t want you to feel forced into anything else.”

“I don’t feel forced into - into anything.” You insist, voice cracking a little. You can’t look at him, you can’t get your heart to settle. You’re almost angry, but you don’t understand why you’d feel angry right now, and more than that you know you cannot appear angry no matter what. “I mean, I’ve known, we’ve known, about the program since we were kids, and… that is…”

Wear this, Doll.I’ve set up your class schedule, these electives will serve us best.The recipe for dinner is laid out, get to cooking.Clean the bathroom again, you missed the corners. I swear you’re more of a rag doll.

“I’ve never felt forced…”

Don’t cry, it’ll ruin the makeup.You’ll do as you’re told, you’ve already ruined enough!It didn’t hurt that bad, stop sniveling.You get that vacant look and it’s creepy, like one of those old porcelain dolls.You owe us! You’ll see this plan goes smoothly or I’ll make your life hell.

“I’ve -.”

What the hell is that? You’re not wearing that!What do you mean you want to learn karate? Are you kidding me?They let you shoot a bow?! Absolutely not! You’re not going to get matched properly with a horrid hobby like that!Don’t read that, no man’s going to appreciate someone over educated. Read this.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” You look over and see Thatch is knelt by your chair. One hand on the arm rest, one on the table, he’s gotten down low enough that you have to look down to meet his eyes. You got so lost in your own memories that you hadn’t seen him move.

“It’s okay.” He repeats softly. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t-.” He puts a hand up and you stop talking.

“It doesn’t matter if I meant to or not. It’s okay, yeah?” The expression on his face calms your heart, but something about it still makes you angry and you still don’t know why.

But you shove that aside, more forcefully this time and give him a soft smile, nodding.

“Maybe it was a little more sudden than I thought.” You say, trying to smooth things over.

Thatch’s smile still has concern in it, and he tilts his head, looking up at you. “Marco says I jump in like a hyperactive Leonberger when I like someone. Not very gentlemanly of me.”

“It’s okay.” You say giving him a warm smile.

You can’t tell him that he doesn’t like you. That he doesn’t know you, because whoever it was that was neatly packed into that Match Book wasn’t you. There’s not even a ghost of you in the pages, or if there is, you wouldn’t know where she was.

“Alright.” He stands up, taking a few steps back. “You want something to drink? There might be some left over dessert in the kitchen I can put together if you’re hungry? It’s dark out, so I don’t think you’d want to walk in the garden.”

“… You have a garden?”

Thatch smiles. “Yeah.”

“I… would love to see it, but it is late.” You press your lips together for second. “Tea would be wonderful, if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Hm… How’s ginger chamomile sound?”

“Delicious.”

Thatch leads you out of the room, letting Izou know that he’s going to make some tea. Izou offers to join you, looking forward to Thatch’s tea himself. He fills the short walk from the tea room to the kitchen with small talk, talking about his own job, and mentioning how Marco mostly worked nights, so you wouldn’t be meeting him yet.

“Pops and your parents went out into the garden earlier,” Izou explains as you and he sit at the breakfast bar while Thatch makes tea. “They’ll come through here on the way back in, so don’t worry.”

“May I ask, why do you call him pops?” You question and both of them shrug.

“We just do.” Izou answers. “Why do you call your parents what you do?”

“They -.”

There was a loud bang and clash of voices all yelling at one another. You couldn’t make out what was being said, but you could hear your parents voices, and Edward Newgate’s as well. His voice was booming over everything, enough that your parents stopped yelling back.

“OUT!” He bellows clearly, practically herding your parents through the manor. “LEAVE IMMEDIATELY, AND DO NOT RETURN!” His tone, presence, and expression are all furious. You’re actually surprised to see your parents almost falling over themselves to leave. You’re so scared you don’t think you could move if you wanted to.

Newgate points in your direction, probably at you, but his gaze is still watching your parents as they continue to scramble out the front door.

“Thatch, Izou, Miss Kakusho stays.”

Neither of your parents so much as looked at you on their way out.

#x reader #reader insert #thatch one piece #modern au #Hey Doll #mdni