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#in a little corner but nonetheless
ladespeinada · 1 year
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The Bear, S2E6, Fishes & The Bear, S2E9, Omelette // “Fall Out Boy Forever” from They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, Hanif Abdurraqib
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blu3b3rryj4mp1r3 · 2 years
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fluttershy... moodboard? thing? that I made with random stuff I had on my phone & computer :3 💗💗💗
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♡ sfw interaction only ♡
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march-harrigan · 5 months
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Wow, thanks for making me realize the crazy barber from Courage would have been a tumblr sexy man if the show was live today 🙃
See, I wanna argue with you because I’m almost(ALMOST) never attracted to what makes it into the Pantheon of Tumblr Sexymen but I can’t because he does fit the archetype.
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blujayonthewing · 1 year
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one thing that's fun for me every single year as a person on the internet is that 'depression and existential despair over having essentially wasted your favorite part of the year, again' season lines up exactly with 'everyone on earth absolutely tripping over each other to yell about how happy they are that this part of the year is almost over and how much they hate it and think it fucking sucks'
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aurallyaddison · 7 months
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hyperfixation got me thinkin
I can't look at the comments of so much System Of A Down content on YouTube, because if it's official, a lot of the fans in the comments lack so much political literacy it's not even funny.
I promise you with my whole heart, random man on the interwebs, that when Serj criticizes neoliberalism, he is not talking about the same ""liberals"" that you are. In fact, he is likely talking about people you agree with, and you are talking about people like him.
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a-dope-fiend · 2 years
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speaking from a place of privilege (doesn't use twitter or tiktok)
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only now realizing that by getting out of bed & going to play ffxiv for an hour i basically just handed my bed to my cat. whod been sleeping on it for like 4 hours.
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ickadori · 1 year
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++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘
[summary] wrio’s spouse winds up in prison. special treatment ensues.
[cws] gender neutral reader. fluff.
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“What you did was incredibly stupid.”
“I’d like to think it was very brave, actually.” You quip back, lips pursed as you turn up your chin. “You should be proud of me, really.”
“I should be proud that you got yourself thrown in prison?” You don’t have to look up to know that Wriothesley is sporting an incredulous expression. “Did they knock your head around a bit before bringing you down here?”
“You’re acting like I murdered someone.” You finally meet his gaze, and you resist the urge to sink down into your seat at the clear disapproval in his eyes. “All I did was—”
“Break into the Opera Epiclese and destroy government property.”
“That’s such a trumped-up charge!” You huff and roughly cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you think back on the charges that had been slapped down onto you by that damned archon. “You trip in the dark and accidentally fall into the oratrice and all of a sudden you’re a criminal. Hmph!”
“Yeah, exactly. It also doesn’t help that you broke in—”
“—I left my bracelet in there after the trial! Was I just supposed to leave it behind and potentially lose it forever? The condition of the lost and found in that place is downright terrible—the guards pocket all the good stuff.”
“You could have bought another one.”
“Not like this one.” You look down to the gray bracelet encircling your wrist, and a warmth spreads in your chest as you gently twist it around, finger rubbing over the messily written engraving on the inside of it. “This was a gift.”
“Hardly.” He sighs, and your eyes flick up to watch as he runs his hands through his already messy hair. “It’s just scrap metal I bent up and welded because I couldn’t buy you proper jewelry back when I was a prisoner.” It’s his turn to look at the bracelet.
“You were so creative back then.” You smile a bit wider. “I remember you used to have something new made every time I came to visit you. What was that one thing you made? The one that we painted together?”
“The ballerina music box.” He groaned, looking a bit embarrassed, and you snapped your fingers.
“The ballerina music box!” The ballerina was a bit oddly shaped, and the box had sharp corners on one side and rounded on the other, and the song the box played was distorted and sounded more creepy than relaxing due to some disfigured cogs, but you loved it nonetheless, and had even sobbed in thanks when he had first presented the gift to you. “I love that little box.”
“It looks like a child made it.”
“A child in the throes of eleazar, yes,” you nod, and his mouth opens a bit in surprise before he huffs out a laugh. “But I still love it… because you made it.” You give him a sweet smile, and you can see him soften up before your very own eyes; broad shoulders losing that rigidness, lids lowering, crease between his dark, thick brows disappearing.
“You’re tryin’ to butter me up.”
“Mhm,” you nod. “Is it working?”
“Not at all, jailbird.” He gives you a smile of his own, and despite the clear sarcasm in it, you can’t help the little flutter your heart does at the sight. “No special treatment for you.” So he says, yet he had placed a cup of tea down for you the moment you were brought to his office, and had even tried to inconspicuously nudge the basket of cookies in your direction, pretending not to notice when you reached for one. “Spouse or not.”
“What a mean man.” You slouch down in your seat. “I treasure the gifts that my lovely, amazing, strong, handsome, and so so so incredibly smart husband gives me and what do I get in return? A criminal record and unfair treatment! I’m suing the entire nation the moment I’m free!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand in the air as if fanning away the conversation, and now it’s your turn to huff. “For the few days that you’re here, you’ll be working directly with me in exchange for coupons.” He takes a slow sip of his tea, adams apple bobbing as he swallows, before gently setting the cup back down onto its small plate. “I’ll make your first job real easy to get you in the swing of things.”
“How kind of you.”
He just barely contains an amused smile. “Very. Now…” He shifts in his seat. “Give me a kiss.”
“I’m married, Your Grace.”
“I’m sure your husband won’t mind. Kiss. Now.” He taps a finger against his lips, and after a moment you stand up and round his desk, hands finding his shoulders as you bend at the waist so your noses brush.
“My husband is a very good fighter, by the way. When he finds out you twisted his spouses’s arm like this, he’ll pummel you.”
“I can handle him.” A hand snags you by the waist, forcing you down into his lap, and you only have time to let out a quiet yelp before Wriothesley’s lips are on yours. The kiss is slow, sensual, and it brings a warmth to your cheeks and covers you with a bashful cloak when he pulls back to let his eyes roam over your face. “I’ve gotta say… your husband is a real lucky guy to snatch up someone as cute as you.”
“Hmph. Seems like you’re trying to butter me up now.”
“Is it working?” He presses his face into your neck, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin, and you have to fight back one of your own.
“Not at all, jailbird.”
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horsefigureoftheday · 3 months
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Can you explain the "breyer horses are stylised" thing you said a while back? Not because I don't believe you but because I don't know enough about horses to see it (besides the mane and tail)
All artistic representations of a horse will be somewhat stylized. Humans can't help it, they imagine details, even when referencing photos or live animals. A swayed back gets exaggerated, sickle hocks are overlooked, the face becomes more expressive, because to a human who loves a horse, and who expresses their own emotions with their face, the horse's face just feels more expressive.
Take a look at this horse from Peter Paul Rubens' "Wolf and Fox Hunt" (1616) and how it compares to a photo of a horse
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The artist was clearly familiar with horses, and most likely referenced off a live horse. And yet its face is much more expressive than a real horse's face - it's neotenous and borderline anthropomorphic, with its huge sorrowful eyes, and the short muzzle that puts the mouth in closer proximity to its eyes (making its expression more readable).
I think a lot of people see what they want to see when they look at a horse, and they reflect that in their art. Is the horse an independent agent or a tool of its rider? Is the horse an unthinking animal or a soulful creature like yourself? Does the artist admire animals, in spite of painting them in terrible war-like scenarios? Does the artist paint animals in these scenarios because he admires them? Is the horse meant to elevate the status of its rider, by being depicted as a soulful creature that nonetheless submits to its rider? (You can probably guess my own opinion from these questions)
Earlier art saw horses almost an afterthought, depicted from memory while their rider was drawn reverently. All those art pieces of emperors and kings on horseback, where the horse looks like a cartoonish oaf, use the horse as a symbol of power, with no regard for the animal itself. Even when the horse is beautifully rendered, it's nothing more than a vehicle to carry its rider. The artist has depicted the horse as expressionless, beastly, and soulless.
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Even when you get into portraits of horses in the 17-/1800s, they are still stylized, though now you're just as likely to see a lithe and graceful companion, as you are a muscled working horse or a faithful old friend. Horse breeding really took off around this time, as did theories of animal minds, so adoration of horses-as-individuals became more widespread. Examples are "Lustre" (1762) by George Stubbs, "Mare and Foal in a Stable" (1854) by John Frederick Herring Senior, and "A Grey Horse in a Field" (1873) by Rosa Bonheur.
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All this is to say that horses will always be stylized in art. Humans can't not twist the horse the suit their own tastes, and that's fine. I actually think it's kinda beautiful. The way horses are stylized can give you insight into the artist's opinion of horses. An artist with a neotenic, expressive stylization probably has more respect for horses-as-individuals than an artist who depicts them as inexpressive, powerful, willing beasts of burden.
Breyer horses have an airy painterly quality to them. Even the draft horses seem almost weightless. Compare Breyer's "George" with the self-released resin horse "Gustav," both sculpted by Brigitte Eberl.
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George has much longer hooves and smoother curves in his legs - you could draw a near perfect curve from his hind knee to his toe -, giving him a flowing appearance with very little weight behind it. Gustav, on the other hand, has sharp edges and corners. He feels heavy. I'm a big fan of wrinkles and muscle on model horses, but the muscles on George seem like he's been through a rock tumbler. They're smooth and soft-looking, except for the extremely deep crevices between them, which are probably there to better catch paint and enhance the shading (an effect that's especially noticeable on George's thigh). Gustav, on the other hand, has very subtle muscling and virtually no wrinkles (he deserves neck wrinkles, give my boy neck wrinkles!!). He looks like a working horse with a solid layer of fat over his muscles. George's stylization is, for lack of a better word, smooth. Flawless. A bit too perfect for my liking. George is like the platonic ideal of a visually appealing draft horse. A horse like him can't exist.
I think resin horses by master craftsmen are the closest we'll get to depicting horses exactly as they are in life. The stylistic choices are extremely subtle, and seem more like a consequence of the medium than a deliberate goal on the artist's part (e.g., you can't make a realistic mane out of resin, so you have to compromise).
I love both the stylistic trappings that humans fall into when depicting horses and the endless quest for the perfect artistic representation of the horse. Both are beautiful. All horse art is beautiful.
(Obligatory disclaimer that I'm not an art historian or anthropologist, I literally studied bugs at university, so if you think I'm talking out of my ass you are MORE than welcome to add to this post!)
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lokissweater · 1 month
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hey! i really love your fics and i have a special request 4 my 19th birthday ( aug 16 ) . can you do inexperienced yuuta x inexperienced reader or frat boy/play boy yuuta x shy nerdy reader? I really luv u and it would mean alot 2 me if you did this,feel free to say no or ignore this if you want! no pressure!
OH MY GOODNESSS i could never ignore this! i can ABSOLUTELY cook this one up for you and i hope i met your expectations!! i wanted to release this right on your birthday, so here is my gift to you! <3 ILY you’re so sweet thank you for sending in a request!
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finally.
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{frat boy/playboy yuta okkotsu x nerdy f!reader}
summary: yuta okkotsu is a typical popular frat boy player who’s never been told no, but at one of his regular parties where he spots your pretty little self in the kitchen, and you turn him down? his entire existence resets as he then cannot stop thinking about you and tries his absolute hardest to change the impression you have on him.
warnings: college au, afab!reader, fluufff, mentions of alcohol and drinking, yuta LOVES you, he’s a little weenie at first, character development yuta, no smut in this one!, cursing, party fight, protective yuta, yuta fights someone lol, slight sexual themes but really nothing.
word count: 5k
authors note: OH HOW I LOVE THIS ONEEE!! i hope i’m feeding you guys well this week with these fics hehe!! IM WRITING A FREAKY ONE FOR THIS NEXT SO STAY TUNED!! love you love you <3
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yuta okkotsu was the biggest player and frat boy to ever plague your college campus— having parties literally every other night and trashing the absolute fuck out of his frat house after every single one, living in the privileges of popularity as he was without a doubt the hottest man there.
he absolutely relished in his reputation, loved the attention, loved the stares he got, and had a body count that absolutely shot through the roof in numbers.
and yuta was quite literally a typical frat boy. he was loud and obnoxious, the most stubborn hot headed man to ever exist on the face of the planet, passed the time playing beer pong for fun and drinking, and had girls practically at his feet, him never having to work for anything to get in his bed and fuck.
until he met you.
you had timidly walked into one of his frat parties one night, shy, cutely nerdy, a little scared and absolutely drop dead gorgeous, your energy an entirely different one from his own as he watched you a little too much throughout the night, rehearsing his perfected plan of getting girls into bed with him as he finally spotted you alone in the kitchen after a while, approaching you.
yuta flashed you an attractive polished smile as he leaned up against the kitchen counter, practically cornering you in as you eyed him alarmingly.
“hey,” he sipped at his beer. “what’s your name?”
you awkwardly shifted, wondering where the hell your best friend was as the biggest player you’ve ever heard of was talking to you.
“y-y/n…” you stammered, your gaze barely looking at him but giving a small smile through your nervousness nonetheless.
“pretty name for a pretty girl,” he hummed. “you’ve never come to my parties before, have you?”
you shook your head no, your doe eyes finally peering up at him.
“welcome then!” he chirped smoothly and leaned closer to you, his breath faintly smelling of alcohol. “you here by yourself?”
“no i’m with a friend, actually.” you laughed awkwardly, your cheeks red with embarrassment but smiling politely through your discomfort, not wanting to offend him in any way.
yuta nodded, his eyes scanning the crowd. “did you lose them?”
“i— i guess so—”
“you can stick with me then.” he shrugged, a sly smile on his face as he sweet talked you, it slightly faltering when he noticed how uncomfortable you looked, but carrying on anyways. “you wanna head upstairs? maybe we can—”
“no thank you.”
he paused.
no?
“no?”
he was yuta okkotsu. no girl has ever told him no before.
you shook your head at him and gave him a sugary smile, your tone kind and polite as you started to walk away from him. “i’m sorry, i think i see my friend over there though! thank you for keeping me company, i hope it wasn’t too much trouble!”
he watched you walk away then in your tiny little skirt, and he felt stupidly offended. absolutely stupidly offended as he slightly scoffed and shook his head, taking a swig of his beer, his body and mind literally glitching with the foreign feeling of rejection.
yuta tossed his empty beer bottle lazily in a black garbage bag and stuffed his hands into his pockets, his long legs already pulling him over to the beer pong table in the living room, opting to forgetting the entire encounter he had with you altogether and shaking it off.
except he couldn’t. he couldn’t shake it off.
his brain was buzzing and utterly reeling over the thought of your timid nature and soft spoken words and pretty pretty face from that point forward, thoughts that aggravated him to no end that bubbled up every time he ate, slept, was in class, and did basically anything.
he didn’t know why it was happening. he didn’t know why you took over his every fucking thought as he only interacted with you for like five minutes. but your aura was different. so poised, so shy and gentle, and it was like a red string was physically pulling him towards you everywhere you went.
yuta saw you around campus a lot more after that, you sticking out like a sore thumb and blinding his vision whenever you walked past him, your smile sweet and respectful towards him that lasted only a millisecond as you walked down further, his eyes watching you over his shoulder, soft.
you conversations with him were nothing but polite and casual as he tried to talk to you again and again, your body language guarded and careful, but your voice like silky honey, speaking to him with more kindness than he deserved.
yuta never seemed to be able to get past the invisible wall you built in front of him.
“a girl like her isn’t gonna go for a guy like you, yuta.” one of his frat brothers muttered to him, having been fed up with yuta’s moping and grumbling around the house ever since he saw you.
“and why not.” he gruffed, his arms tightly crossed over his chest as he leaned back on the couch.
“because she’s nothing like us.” he emphasized. “she’s a nerd, respects herself, is way too good for you, and would never let herself waste time with a guy of your reputation.”
his frat brother patted him heavily on the shoulder. “just go back to the ones you usually go for. they’re easy.”
yuta only rolled his eyes and stood, but he really couldn’t deny what he had said. you were too good for him, way too good for him, his life completely mismatched from yours— paths never meant to cross as he solemnly watched you from afar, wanting you to smile at him the way you smiled at others, wanting you to talk about your precious nerdy interests and your studies with him like you do with your friends, and wanting you to just simply look at him longer than the usual casual hello you gave him.
but you never did.
in an attempt to try and talk to you again without seeming like an absolute fucking stupid creep like last time (something he quickly realized), he started throwing parties at his frat literally every single night in hopes of you showing up, scanning the crowd and sulking in a corner when he couldn’t find you, the bags under his eyes growing darker and darker with every time you didnt make an appearance.
he tried to go back to his old ways and hook up with the girls he usually did, tried to bury you in the back of his mind and go back to before, but he just couldn’t, his mind foggy and preoccupied with thoughts of you that invaded his every neuron, making him kiss his hook ups back lazily or straight up just cancel on them— stopping all together in the end.
it had been months, and yuta sat bored out of his mind on the living room couch during another one of his parties, not a single drop of alcohol in his system as music pumped and drummed through the frat that made his headache ten times worse.
these everyday parties were pointless.
he sat up and trudged to the kitchen, pushing past his friends for a beer until he froze.
there you stood, finally, leaning against the kitchen counter all by yourself, just like how you were when he first saw you.
his eyes flew open and he quickly smoothed over his white t-shirt with his hands, heart hammering against his chest so hard that it traveled down to his ribcage as he approached you, internally freaking the fuck out.
“hey y/n,” he greeted quietly and calm, trying his absolute hardest to convey sincerity towards you. “how are you doing?”
your eyes snapped to his and you leaned back a bit, but smiled. “hi yuta! i’m doing okay. how are you?”
he could practically see the wall you had in front of him, your posture timid and cautious, and his eyes only grew more insecure.
“i’m good! do you— do you want a drink? or something? i could—”
“oh it’s okay yuta! i’m fine,” you answered shyly, a grin on your breathtaking face.
yuta gnawed on his thumb, looking around the kitchen for something, anything that could fix the image you had on him.
the fridge.
“do you um—” he walked over to the fridge, almost stumbling over his own shoes as he opened it. “do you want maybe apple juice? or— or i have chocolate milk? or sunny d i drink like an entire dozen a day but—”
you giggled.
his head snapped over to you and watched your pearly smile, shining just for him for a moment, his shoulders slowly relaxing.
yuta sheepishly scratched the back of his neck and laughed along with you.
“sunny d would be great!”
he stared blankly, and then quickly nodded. “o—okay! yes sunny d—”
he ransacked through his fridge, knocking over several cans of energy drinks and beers before he finally found the sunny d’s in the back, tearing one out from the pack and closing the fridge.
“here you go.”
your cheeks glowed pink as you shyly took the small bottle from his hands, a cute wobbly smile on your face that made yuta’s chest clench.
precious.
he wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans.
“i wanted to apologize—” he strained out. “for the way i spoke to you when we first met.”
you stared at him.
“it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable, and i acted like a complete dingbat with the things i said, so i just—” he scuffed his shoe against the kitchen floor. “i’m really sorry.”
you were quiet, big doe eyes blinking up at him in shock— until your frame gently deflated, eyes softening for him.
“you don’t have to apologize yuta honestly.” your soft voice soothed him, a sound he craved to hear everyday since the moment he met you. “i don’t think any less of you if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“you don’t?”
you shook your head cutely, beaming. “i don’t.”
he felt like he could breathe again.
your invisible wall slowly and gradually crumbled away the more you got to know yuta after that. he was still a little flirt, but only a little flirt with you, and he still did his frat boy job duties everyday, but he toned down the parties massively and stopped playing beer pong and drinking just for fun.
it would be a lie if you said you weren’t hesitant about yuta to begin with. you knew of his reputation and the risks you ran with befriending him the way you were— you well aware that he was trying to win you over, but you saw something different in him that he didn’t show to anyone else, and you trusted him, the goodness of your heart always giving people the benefit of the doubt.
he was trying his absolute hardest for you and changing his bad traits, wanting to become a person that deserved to be with you as he listened to you ramble on and on about your classes and your studies all of the time, him smiling adoringly at you because he genuinely loved so much hearing you talk to him and listen to anything you had to say— and yuta was falling practically head over heels over the way you gushed about your little nerdy interests, your eyes shimmering every time.
“and what’s this one called?” he asked softly.
you glanced over. “that’s the corpse flower! they only bloom for two to three days every two to three years.”
“only for two to three days?!” he whispered harshly, the ambiance in the botanical garden quiet and serene as you both observed the different kinds of breeds, flowers being your specialty of knowledge.
and he wanted to know all about it, even though he had a pamphlet in his hand that told him everything.
he wanted to hear it from you.
“and this one?”
he pointed to a vibrant scarlet red flower.
“that’s the cardinal flower. they attract little bees and hummingbirds!”
your words were gentle and polite, your eyes sparkling at all of the different flowers in front of you.
“oo! and this one—” you stopped suddenly, slowly retracting your hand and looking at him bashfully, your cheeks redder than ever.
yuta’s eyebrows furrowed. “what? why’d you stop?” he looked to where you had been staring. “what about this one?”
“sorry!” you sputtered. “i felt like i was getting carried away and talking way too much…”
you laughed it off, but yuta only shook his head.
“no you weren’t. you weren’t at all.”
you peered up at him shyly.
“you can talk about anything you want with me wherever we are, y/n. i like it when you explain to me these things, or anything you know really.” he ruffled your hair. “i like listening to you.”
your cheeks adorned a pinky shade as you took in what he said, and you smiled so so big then, nodding.
“so what’s this one?” he pressed again, lightly.
the bed contained a mix of white and purple flowers, small and dainty as they swayed to and fro a bit with every breeze.
“those are pansies,” you leaned over the railing. “i like these especially because it looks like they have another pair attached to them on the other side.”
“like a little buddy,” yuta commented.
you laughed softly, “yeah! like a little buddy.”
he pointed to a specific pansy that had one white flower and one purple flower on the opposite side.
“that’s you and me.”
“is it?” you grinned. “who’s who?”
“you’re the white one and i’m the purple one,” yuta absentmindedly turned and grabbed your hands gently, playing with your fingertips— and you let him. “because you’re pretty and really fucking smart and way too nice to me, and i’m a douchebag and sometimes i’m a mean and scary old fart.”
you giggled loudly at his joke, shaking your head. “nuh uh. i don’t agree.”
“you don’t?” he quirked an eyebrow, a silly smile on his face.
you shook your head again. “you’re genuine yuta. really genuine. and you’re funny, you never make me feel embarrassed for the things that i love, and you make others happy!… sometimes.”
yuta laughed, “sometimes?” he softly placed your hands back at your sides. “yeah, you’re not wrong.”
“but you make me happy, always.” you finished off.
his eyes lit up like a firework. “really? so does this mean you’ll finally say yes to going out with me and give me a little kiss?”
you snickered and covered your mouth, your cheeks flushed. “nuh uh.”
“aww mannn,” yuta groaned and leaned against the railing, but turned his head to the side after a few seconds and looked at you, giving a tender smile.
your eyes continued to sparkle over the flower beds in front of you, but yuta’s eyes only sparkled at the one flower in front of him.
that’s where he started calling you flower.
“that’s okay!” he leaned back up. “i’ll keep trying.”
and boy did he try. each and every single day yuta tried as he brought you little treats from the campus cafe, or helped carry your textbooks to wherever you went, brought you neatly packaged flowers or sometimes would even pull his car over when he saw pretty ones on the side of the road, getting off and running to pluck them, handing them to you through the window with a goofy grin.
everything was bliss between you two, and your world only got brighter as you hung out with him.
but for yuta, his world got a little complicated.
his former hookups only grew sour once they found out about you, the girl yuta seemed to spend every waking hour with, completely blind sighted to the fact as they thought he would’ve dumped you months ago already.
and his frat brothers were just bothered. yuta wasn’t managing the frat like he used to before, like he was supposed to as their leader, neglecting the collective reputation they all had with him not sweet talking the entire female student body, or their parties not running every single night anymore— and even when they did run, yuta wasn’t ever even there to begin with, he was with you, something they quickly realized.
“you have to cut it out man,” one of them said. “this frat is turning into a shit hole because you keep spending your time with that girl—“ he stopped. “who the fuck even is she? i mean if it was layla fine everybody knows layla but—”
“who she is is none of your fucking business?” yuta snapped. “and just because i’m not sending girls for you to jerk your dick with doesn’t mean this frat is turning into a ‘shit hole.’”
some of the boys snickered.
“you wanna run the maintenance on the house? you wanna call up the fucking board and ask for the ten thousand fucking permits we have to have for our parties every year? you think you can run that?”
“no—”
“then be my fucking guest.”
“okay fine, i’m sorry man.” he sighed. “we haven’t had a party in a week though, we have to throw one tomorrow and you have to be there. then ill call it even.”
yuta snorted. call it even? whatever.
he begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to be there whatsoever but softening up to the fact that maybe he was neglecting his frat a little too much.
so when he called you up that day for your nightly phone calls, yuta asked for your attendance.
“i know— i know parties aren’t really your thing…” he pursed his lips, staring up at the ceiling as he had you on speaker. “but i’d feel a lot better if you were there… and you won’t be alone! you’ll be with me the whole time so—”
yuta sighed. “…i have been neglecting the frat a little bit, and they’re pissed at me.”
you gasped softly, “they are?”
“yeah but i don’t give a fuck.”
you both giggled.
“but i do want to make them somewhat happy so that’s why i gotta throw this party… can you come? it’s okay if not flower don’t worry—”
“of course i can go yuta!” you spoke cutely over the speaker. “as long as you give me a sunny d i’ll be okay.”
he laughed.
“i feel like…” you struggled. “them being mad and what’s happening with your frat is partially my fault yuta… i’m sorry.”
your voice was so worrisome, you feeling tremendous guilt on the other line as you bit your lip.
“what?” his eyes narrowed. “no flower, absolutely not. why would you think that?”
“because i keep asking you to hang out with me,” you spoke softly. “and i feel like im hogging you from your frat boy duties.”
yuta chuckled and shook his head. “i would ten times rather spend time with you than hang out with these fucking dummies.” he sat up on his bed. “i love it when you ask for me flower. keep doing it please. whatever that’s happening with my frat strictly has to do with me okay? not you.”
you grinned on the other end, your heart giddy. “okay.”
so the night of the party, you showed up to his frat looking absolutely gorgeous in your tight little dress, his hands instantly clamming up and his throat closing at the scent of your strawberry perfume and lovely face alone.
yuta tried so hard to keep his eyes respectful and not drift down to your ass or the way your perfect tits squeezed out from the top, almost physically slapping himself when he accidentally touched you way lower than he should have when guiding you through the crowd.
everywhere he went people were greeting him or passing him shots, him quickly acknowledging everybody and downing whatever they gave him as you shyly and timidly stuck to his body (which he loved).
yuta taught you how to play beer pong that night and cheered like an absolute fucking idiot whenever you would make it in, drinking the cups for you instead as he knew you weren’t the biggest fan of alcohol, which made you a little weak in the knees that he catered to you so much.
the party was actually way more fun than the both of you expected, especially for yuta, because he proudly had you on his arm as you walked throughout the house, you trying your absolute hardest to ignore the stares you got from different girls and not uttering a single word about it to yuta, not wanting to burden him and take his focus away from rejuvenating the frat and his brothers.
all was bliss, until it wasn’t.
“is this her? the girl you’re always talking to?” one of his frat brothers stumbled through the crowd, the one that argued with him the day before, drunk off of his freaking mind as his eyes raked over your body like nothing.
yuta instantly picked up on that and stiffened, “yeah.”
he tried his best to swallow his annoyance and be civil as he gently placed a hand on your back and softly ushered you forward, you shy and clinging onto his shirt. “this is y/n.”
“h—hi.”
“i see why you abandoned us for a nerd man!” he slurred. “she’s fucking hot. never seen tits look so good—”
your breath hitched.
“the fuck you just say?” yuta tugged you behind him. “the hell is wrong with you man? don’t talk about her like that.”
you noticed several eyes looking over.
“what!” he hiccuped dumbly. “they do! why are you getting pissed—”
“i don’t give a shit!” yuta snapped. “don’t talk about her like that!”
he scoffed, swaying a little. “what, like you actually care about her anyways—”
“are you fucking serious?” yuta stepped forward and you tugged him back, your eyes frantic as they scanned over the crowd forming and back to him.
“no yuta, he’s drunk it’s okay—”
“she’s just another one for your body count, once you fuck her you’re gonna leave—”
yuta slipped from your grasp and lunged at him, tackling him and towering over him on the ground as he fisted his shirt and jerked him up, yuta landing punch after punch to his face as the crowd yelled, cheered and recorded around you.
“yuta please!” you tried to get his attention, your chest heaving in a panic as you watched the other guy land a hit on yuta, not wanting him to get hurt over you at all whatsoever.
yuta dodged another coming hit and beat the shit out of him, grueling him down to a mere pulp as everything around him went completely white and fuzzy, his body stinging with absolute rage.
he was furious.
finally, several other frat brothers broke through the crowd and pulled yuta off of him.
“that’s enough that’s enough!”
“guys stop!”
quickly, you grabbed yuta’s hand once they put him aside and tugged him away from the crowd, speed walking to the front door.
“you’re out of the fucking frat you piece of shit!” yuta practically roared behind him as you pulled him. “you’re out!”
your trembling fingers hurriedly turned the knob and opened the door, dragging him out down the steps to the porch and across the grass, not saying a single word to him yet as he kept breathing out desperate apologies to you with every step.
once you both were a safe distance away from the house and just a tiny bit down the street, you let go of his hand and turned to him.
“—fuck im sorry i’m sorry im so sorry—” yuta shoved the base of his palms into his eyes as he threw his head back, “i just fucked everything up between us i—”
yuta knew you would never want to be with a guy like him, especially one that couldn’t keep his shit together and resorted to violence the way he did minutes ago, right in front of you. a guy like that didn’t deserve you. you deserved way way fucking more. and as he tore his palms away from his face, eyes looking up at the night sky, he knew he completely messed up his chances with you for good.
his head snapped down to look at you, his eyebrows pinched and eyes contorted in absolute guilt and agony as he placed his bloody knuckled hands on your little cheeks.
“i’m so fucking sorry he said those things to you like that that was not okay flower,” he emphasized. “and i’m so sorry i beat him when you told me not to i— i just couldn’t stand there when he was talking to you like that man—”
he dropped his hands and cursed, his arms going up as he covered his eyes again.
“yuta it’s okay—”
“no,” he shook his head and looked at you. “no it’s not okay. you deserve way more than this and no matter how fucking hard i try to do better, the life i built before you just doesn’t let me.”
his eyes got so sad, saying words he didn’t want to say, but knew he had to. “you shouldn’t be around a guy like me flower, you really shouldn’t. fuck— i don’t want you around a guy like me. you’re too precious for that. i’m gonna end up screwing you over like i always do—”
“yuta stop.” you raised your voice a little, your tone one he’d never ever heard come out of your mouth, firm and serious in contrast to the sweetness you always gave him.
he shut right up.
“come sit down with me on the curb,” you pulled his arm. “please.”
he followed you and sat down next to you on the side walk with his head down, you taking in how yuta only had one little cut next to his eyebrow, pride funnily bubbling up in your chest as you realized how good he actually fought.
he did that. for you. he made a scene out of himself and protected your name.. for you. although you hated that he got into a fight, you knew he was trying so so hard for you, going above and beyond for a year now trying to fix himself to be a better man deserving of you, and you were immensely touched, no one having put even close to that amount of effort like he was in your life.
“you don’t get to decide what i deserve yuta.”
his eyes shot in your direction “but as a friend i’m telling you—”
you huffed as you grabbed his cheeks and kissed him.
you kissed him.
yuta’s eyes were blown astronomically wide as you did, his heart no longer beating as he could’ve sworn he was dead right now, not believing that you were actually kissing him.
him.
you pulled apart from his lips with a smack, your hands still on his red cheeks. “a guy who’s willing to literally change himself without me having to ask, trying to be better for me everyday without fault for literally a year, doing everything he can to make me happy? definitely deserves me yuta. you deserve me.”
you pecked his forehead softly and pulled back again, his body going numb when you did. “so what if you beat the shit out of him? i would do it too if someone was talking to you like that i don’t care. i’d lose but i’d do it,” you giggled. “i didn’t like the fight because i don’t want you getting hurt, ever, period. but you literally scrapped him up like it was nothing, so i don’t have anything to worry about.”
he shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes. “no flower that’s the thing you’re too sweet to me, i don’t want you justifying—”
“yuta be quiet!” you whispered harshly, giving him a silly grin. “you talk too much.”
you reached up and very very gently pecked the little cut on the side of his eyebrow, feeling a cool calming waterfall wash over his body at the feeling of your soft lips finally on him, something he’s wished upon every star for.
“you’re so good to me yuta, truly you are. and i’m sorry it’s taken me so long to say this because i’m always nervous but—” you smiled endearingly. “i do want to go out with you, and i do want to give you little kisses. all of the time.”
yuta slowly let his forehead fall against yours, feeling like he was in a dream as the only emotion he felt at the moment was bliss. pure honeyed bliss as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you to his chest, his face burying in your silky hair.
his hard work had finally paid off, and he had every fucking intention of keeping up that work until the day he dies, wanting you, his shy and timid precious little flower forever in his life— you changing him for the better so much that he finally feels like he’s properly healthy, in more ways than one.
“we’re going out tomorrow,” he mumbled into your hair. “bright and early. i’m gonna take you to get breakfast, and then we’re gonna go to that aquarium you’ve been wanting to go to for weeks now, and then i’m gonna buy you a souvenir, and then i’m gonna take you to get your nails done—”
“yu!” you pulled back and giggled happily. “you don’t have to buy me anything my goodness. just you is enough.”
he bit his lip, smiling like a fucking idiot.
“really?”
“really.”
“well too fucking bad i’m gonna do it anyways.”
he pulled you back in as you laughed and buried his face back into your hair, not wanting to break away at all, feeling like the richest douchebag in the world as he finally had you as his.
you scooted your face up then and nudged him, him pulling a part in response as you proceeded to plant another sugary kiss to his lips, yours lingering as they melted into a perfect mold against his mouth, yuta’s heart absolutely soaring, your red invisible strings close together at last.
he finally had you.
finally.
and he was never letting you go.
3K notes · View notes
syluss-littlecrow · 13 days
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better than the devil
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<sylus x fem!reader>
where you find out if Sylus really has horns, and why he avoids letting you touch them
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genre/warnings: smut, pwp, unprotected sex, size kink (i mean bro is PACKING), breeding kink, sylus’s horns are ✨sensitive✨, dirty talk, sexual tension, missionary, a fuck ton of horn play, horny horns, cumming untouched, orgams galore!, so much cum♡
w/c: 2.9K
a/n: gotta thank the loml @bro-atz for helping me with this a little ehehehe >:) I hope this destroyed yall as much as this destroyed me to write it!!🥹
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They say he takes the form of some dragon-like creature—with large black horns and wings. 
The first time you witnessed it with your own two eyes was when he choked out a serpent wanderer ten times his size before it got to you. You were semi-conscious at that point of time, the fatigue threatening to take over, but you had caught a glimpse of his silhouette—two thick appendages that curled proudly past his dirty silver hair, and large wings that hung off his back—before you blacked out. 
“Staring at me isn’t going to get any of your curiosities satisfied”, Sylus snaps you out of your thoughts. Your gaze flickers to his face, but Sylus has his eyes on his phone. 
Then his gaze shifts to you. 
“What are you thinking about, sweetie?”
Of course, you couldn’t just tell him outright that you wanted to see him magically grow his horns out of his head. You doubt even Luke and Kieran have seen it themselves. 
“Your horns.”
Sylus lowers his phone onto his lap, then he cocks an eyebrow, which turns to a furrow in seconds. 
“What gave you the idea that I grew horns?” He asks, his tone laced with mock and caution. His attention is fully on you now. 
Yeah, maybe that was not a good question to ask. Then again, being around someone as direct as Sylus had made you pick up his mannerisms quite a fair bit. 
“Nothing really”, you brush off, attempting to derail the conversation before something goes wrong. “I’m just curious.”
“Talk”, Sylus demands, albeit in a soft tone. “I’m listening.” 
His crimson eyes burn a hole into your head, and you now only realise the way he has you cornered on his couch, his large frame looming over yours. 
You sigh, realising he’s not about to let it go anytime soon. 
“A few weeks ago, during one of the battles we had, where I almost died-“
“Get to the point, sweetie”, Sylus cuts, seeing through your guise. 
You pout. “Right. Before I blacked out, I saw you appear right in front of me, with horns.”
Sylus raises his eyebrows, seemingly in amusement. “You sure you weren’t hallucinating?”
He earns a smack on his chest. You’re ready to let him disprove you further or whatever, but your body jolts when you feel Sylus snake his arms around your waist before he carries you effortlessly off the corner of the couch and onto his lap. 
You watch his eyes grow soft when he locks his gaze with yours. His expression is unreadable.
Your eyes widen in amazement when the thick pair of horns curl past his locks, the black a stark contrast with his white hair. He looks like he’s wearing bows in a funny, demonic type of way. Not that he has to know that. 
You continue to stare at his horns, visually taking in the rough yet smooth texture and patterns that run downwards as the horns grow thicker towards the base. 
“What are you really?” You wonder aloud, your fingers reaching out to feel the interesting texture of his horns, only for him to pull away quickly.
“It’s not the right time for you to know”, he replies curtly. You notice the glint of concern in his eyes, shrouded under the indifferent expression he wears. 
So you decide to leave it for now, at least. 
Nonetheless, it doesn’t stop you from annoying the ever-loving shit out of Sylus about his horns once you found out about it.
He would stare at you with his eyebrows furrowed, muttering that he should have never told you about his horns, only for you to bat your eyelashes at him, much to his annoyance. 
“At least let me touch them if you’re not gonna tell me more about them”, you would whine. With a frown, he would push your forehead with a finger, giving you his standard answer.
"No."
“Then could you at least tell me why you won’t let me touch your horns?”
He would rest his thumb and index finger on his chin, feigning a thinking stance before his expression drops deadpan and then the curt answer leaves his lips.
“No.”
You’re putting this right next to when you were fighting for your life to get that fucking brooch months ago. 
While the thought continues to eat into your curiosity, you mostly let Sylus off the hook after a while. For some reason, you’ve been noticing that Sylus has been walking around his mansion with his horns freely out. Maybe because he’s shown you his full horns once that’s why?
Or he’s just straight-up taunting you. 
You feign nonchalance, only stealing glances at the thick appendage that stood out against his pale locks from time to time, but never really bringing it up to him, for now at least.
You hear the raindrops patter against the large windows of Sylus's room one afternoon. At least the heavy clouds are hiding the sun on top of the dark curtains drawn, and it makes Sylus's rest a little more comfortable. 
He's sound asleep beside you on his bed, but you're seated up on your phone, the sound of the rain also slowly luring you to grow sleepy. You stretch a little, careful not to wake the male beside you. Sylus grunts softly, and you feel his hair tickle your thighs.
Through your peripherals, something catches your attention. The black on white is undoubtedly hard to miss.
Now that Sylus seems dead asleep, you're considering taking a chance to take a closer look at his horns, and maybe even touch them. 
Carefully, you shift your weight closer to Sylus, monitoring his expressions and movements. When the coast is clear, you lean closer, staring at his horns with much amazement. It's a lot different now that you're this up close to admire them. 
His horns aren't simply a simple shade of jet black–at different angles, you notice how the scales of his horns shimmer like an oil spill under the soft light. Close up, the base of his horns are thick, and as it extends, it curls, almost fully wrapping around his head. 
“So pretty”, you mutter to yourself. Your fingers are reached out as if by instinct, barely inches away from touching his pretty crown. 
You pause, weighing the risks of attempting to touch his horns. How fucked would you be if you actually did? 
Your eyes scan Sylus’s calm sleeping face. He doesn't seem to have even noticed his horns have grown out. 
“It’s just a little touch, he won't feel it anyways”, you convince yourself softly, your resolve firming as your curiosity begins to bubble over your rationale.
You let your fingers brush his horn, feeling the cold and scaly texture beneath your fingertips. Your eyes are sparkling in amazement even more, now that your curiosity has been satisfied. You press your fingertips onto the appendage, enjoying how nice and cool it feels to the touch.
Just then, you hear Sylus groan slightly. Your hand immediately retracts before you fully freeze, watching the way he presses his head against your leg, his eyebrows slightly scrunched before it returns back to relaxed. 
Close call. 
You obviously don’t learn your lesson, because your fingers are on his horns almost immediately once more. You grow more curious about the feeling of running your palm across his horns this round. 
So you do.
Your hand starts from the thick base, and you stroke it, following the horn's curl, enjoying the way the texture of the scales run smooth under your palm.
And then Sylus makes a sound beneath you. You squint in curiosity, wondering if you heard it right.
So you run your hand from his tip to the base this time. 
And this time, Sylus lets out another moan. You definitely did not hear wrong. 
Your cheeks are slowly flushing when you realise what you're doing to him. But for some reason, it makes you want to do it more.
So this is why he doesn't want you touching his horns? 
With a cheeky smile, you run your fingers along his horns in various ways and places, eliciting more pretty and erotic reactions from Sylus. 
You giggle to yourself, trying to ignore how he's making you aroused with all the noises he's making with every stroke you give his horns. 
You want to go for the next round, wondering how far you can take this.
Obviously not very far, because the next time you do, Sylus’s hand catches your wrist before you're about to touch his horns again.
He stares at you with half-lidded eyes, pink dusted on his cheeks and his breathing shallow.
“Are you having fun, kitten?” He asks with a frown.
Fuck.
You feign a smile, trying to wave your hand from his grip, of course, your attempts futile. 
Sylus’s other arm curls around your thighs, locking you from leaving the bed while Sylus lets his sleep leave his body from the rude interruption. 
“Denying me of satisfying my curiosity only makes it worse”, you shrug. Well, if only Sylus had just let you have a little touch…
The corner of Sylus’s lips pull up to a half smirk. 
“Right”, Sylus replies, a hint of annoyance and something else laced in his tone before he shifts above you in one swift motion, trapping you underneath him on his bed. 
“Then, I'm sure you don't have to be reminded that actions have consequences?”
You swallow hard. 
His hand that grabbed yours is placed on his chest, and he forces you to trail down his body, feeling his thick chest, then his abs under your touch, all the way down until he stops you right on his thick erection.
“You should take responsibility, don't you think?” Sylus asks with a raised eyebrow. 
You know it's pointless even attempt to escape when he’s devouring your lips like he hasn't eaten in days. It's so intoxicating. You would never admit your greed, but Sylus knows you well enough to feed you so good. You want to pull him so impossibly close.
In between breathless kisses, your warm hands trail from his biceps to his shoulders, to his neck, and right to his hair.
You test waters–letting your fingers rake through his hair, grazing the base of his horns. You get his green light when he doesn't swat you off, on the contrary, it makes Sylus grow more desperate in the kiss.
You confidently stroke his horn, from base to tip once more, and the moans that leave Sylus’s lips sound like fucking heaven. 
His crimson eyes finally meet yours, and he almost looks like he's in pain. 
“If you keep doing that–ngh–” Sylus trails off with another strained moan when the sensation of you stroking his horn buzzes right to his cock that he has shut his eyes to hold back. 
“This?” you tease, sliding your palm down to his base once more, rubbing the scaly appendage, watching him failing at trying to keep his composure. 
“Fuck”, he hisses, diving into your lips once more, eating you up. 
He pulls away briefly, pressing his lips just below your ear.
“You’re gonna be taking responsibility, kitten.”
He presses himself close onto you, so close that you feel his cock just pulsing against your pelvis, only separated by his black sweats. Sylus takes your chin in his fingers and steals your breath away once more, uncontrollably grunting with every stroke your hands play with his horns. You feel his cock twitch, then pulse before the feeling of warmth spreads across your skin, accompanied by a long, drawn out moan in your mouth.
It makes you dizzy with bliss, realising what you've done to him. 
Sylus pulls away once more, catching his breath, his eyes reflecting something more feral when you met his. 
But all you do is flash a cheeky smile at him, letting your fingers caress his cheek. 
His fingers tug at the waistband of your shorts and he yanks them off, almost growing feral for the second time when his eyes meet the sight of the way your pussy is glistening so much that a wet and thin string of arousal sticks itself in between your pussy and your soaked panties. 
Well, Sylus is holding the short end of the stick anyway, because when he tugs his sweats down, your heartbeat accelerates as your eyes land on his cock–thick, red and completely covered in white and thick cum, some staining his underwear, twitching slightly with dribbles of cum seeping past his cockhead when the fabric brushes past his balls. 
He looks so fucking delicious when he's messy like that. Shit.
“You seem to be enjoying yourself, staring at me like that”, he teases. He doesn't even look embarrassed.
“Maybe I should play with your horns more often”, you reply with a smile. Sylus narrows his eyes at you, his expression mixed with annoyance and affection. His fingers press against your soaking clit, enjoying the way the smile on your face gets wiped, replaced with a contorted expression of pleasure when he rubs it in slow circles. 
“I’m strongly against that idea, sweetie”, Sylus responds, leaning in to take in the expression of your mind slowly growing dumb and blank just from his slender fingers rubbing you out. “It’ll give you a little too much leverage over me.”
Through the hazy and building pleasure, you still manage to reply, “that's the whole point.”
Sylus only smiles at your reply, his fingers leaving your clit. You're about to protest, that is, until he grabs you by your hips, dragging you closer to him, then pressing your knees to your chest, before his wet cock slowly enters you from below. He watches your face contort in pleasure–your eyes rolling back and your eyebrows furrowed–while soaking in the fucking delicious feeling of your cunt warm and wrapped around his cock. 
“S-so good”, you whimper, his fullness knocking out any ounce of breath and sense out of you at a dangerous pace the his cock inches even deeper into you.
“Such a nice and warm pussy hole”, Sylus grits, pushing himself even deeper, his control slipping when he's buried himself all the way in. “Fuck, you're so good for me, kitten.”
You're clawing his pillows when Sylus starts fucking you, and you're looking at Sylus with such a glazed out expression–and you know it drives him fucking crazy. His palm rests on the bulge that his cock is pushing every time he enters you, and it makes your thighs shake. Your moans grow in pitch and tone on top of the sounds of lewd wet skin slapping. 
He lets you wrap your legs around his waist in return for letting him scatter love bites across your neck.
So you decide that it’s the perfect time to aim for his sensitive spots once more.
Your fingers tug against his scalp, then alternating to stroking his horns once more, throwing Sylus into another round of pleasured daze. 
You feel his cock fill you up even more, and it makes you greedy to how far you can push it.
“I really should make you regret this”, Sylus mutters, failing to suppress another groan when your fingers scratch against the base. 
His thrusts become more like ruts, his cockhead hitting your g-spot over and over as payback. Sylus sprouts a satisfied smirk as he watches you completely come undone on his cock. You throw your head back while stars flicker in and out of your vision. The pleasure is growing so fucking good that you're choking on your moans too. 
“Right there! Fuck, that feels so fucking good, Sylus”, you sob through wet lashes and heavy pants. 
Sylus is mesmerised by your pretty expressions and the pretty sounds you always make for him when he's breaking you apart. 
Maybe you finding out about his sensitive horns is his punishment for indulging in these sick pleasures. Nonetheless, he still wouldn't have any other way.
Your hands find his horns once more, and he falters for a split second. But he doesn't shake you off since he's much too focused on trying to force an orgasm out of you.
Your pussy squeezes him before it starts uncontrollably fluttering against his cock. Ah, his goal is slowly being fulfilled.
As your orgasm dangles above you, you react with periodical squeezes on his cock and his horns, which definitely draws a much larger reaction from Sylus. 
“So close”, you whine, your orgasm slowly filling the crevices of your brain, plunging you deep into pleasure. Your cunt clenches on his cock, and you unintentionally yank his horns.
Sylus fucking growls, pressing himself so fucking deep into you, his cum fucking spurting into you–so much that some is leaking out from your plugged pussy hole and onto the bed. 
He pulls his cock out momentarily, letting his cum ooze from his cockhead, his eyes darting to the loads seeping out of your hole, before he slides his cock into you once more. You gasp at the fullness, another squeeze to his horns, which only stimulates Sylus once more, and his cock fills you up with another warm and sticky load. 
He’s panting, but he musters his energy to meet your eyes. 
“Sweetie”, he calls out to you amidst his dick attempting to take over his brain. “If you don't get your hands off, your pussy won't be able to hold anymore, I guarantee.”
He's met with a fucked-out and sly grin from his partner. 
“And I thought you enjoyed challenges.”
Sylus scoffs at your comment, realising that he really has to teach his kitten a lesson to not touch things that aren't hers.
2K notes · View notes
suguann · 4 months
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LOVE IT WHEN YOU CALL ME LOVER—JJK MEN.
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✎. jjk men showing you how much they love you. | wc. 2k+
tags. fem!reader, window sex, possessive behavior, mirror sex, oral sex, public sex, pregnancy, fingering, praise kink, size kink
featuring. gojo, nanami, geto
masterlist
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↬ GOJO
He doesn’t think you’ve looked more breath-taking than you do right then, humming softly to the music on the radio while painting your toenails, the last stretch of daylight kissing your exposed knees through the window. You’re so lost in your own little world that you don’t notice him watching you.
The important emails on his phone go unanswered, saved for another day when you’re not there to distract him. You stretch your smooth legs to inspect your work and glance across the living room to give him one of those soft smiles that sends warmth through his middle.
“What do you think?” you ask, little sunflower yellow toes flexing on the coffee table. 
“They’re pretty, baby.”
Another smile stretches across your face, that full lower lip caught between your teeth. “You think so?”
“Positive.” His phone lies forgotten on the cushion beside him, and he leans back to make room for you. “Come here.”
His eyes make a lazy trail up from your delicate ankle bone to the soft slope of your collarbone that peeks out from one of his t-shirts as you walk towards him, getting his fill until his fingers itch to touch and retrace the invisible path. 
Gojo can’t help it. He’s struck by the sight of you.
He wishes he could trap the shocked and delighted sound you make when he pulls you into his lap, keep it tucked away in the untainted nooks and crannies for him to return to later. A little melody on repeat for the days he feels undeserving of such sweet things, how he treads the fine line of corrupting that wide-eyed innocence you have of the world.
Still. Still, the truth is, he’s a little greedy, and he doesn’t really care how bad of a person that makes him.
Everyone looks up to him in some way. Nobody ever called him a saint. 
Gojo works out more of those soft sounds—pressing you against the chilly, tall windows in the living room, fist in your hair, and his mouth attached to the long column of your throat—that make his mouth go dry. Your back arches to ease the way he fucks up into you, tits brushing up against the glass, and he loves how the distant city lights below shimmer around you like a halo.
A high-pitched whimper, sharp breaths fogging over the window. “‘Toru people can see.”
He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of how your soft and silky little cunt sucks him in—wrapped up all warm and wet around his cock—cursing under his breath when he tells you he doesn’t care. You’re his, anyway. 
“Let them see,” he grunts into your neck, teeth catching along your skin before licking at the vulnerable spot above your pulse. “Let them see how I fuck you because they can’t have you.”
Gojo can barely control himself at the mere idea that anyone would ever think they could. He’ll be the last and only one to know how you turn into a fucking vice when he hits particularly deep—how you shake like a leaf, legs coltish, after he makes you cum hard. 
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↬ GETO
It feels like the epitome of terrible days: from the tomato stain on your skirt to your boss forcing deadlines down your throat and surprising Suguru at work only to find a pretty, willowy brunette sitting on the corner of his desk, her hand resting on a stack of graded papers, and fluttering her long lashes at him. 
The final nail in the coffin (a stupid nail, but a hammered-down nail nonetheless) is how she laughs and touches his arm, and Suguru doesn’t brush her off. He actually laughs back, all perfectly straight teeth on display and eyes crinkling at the corners. One of those heart-stopping smiles stretching across his face that you foolishly thought were all yours. 
Suddenly, you wonder if it was out of obligation that made him compliment you that morning in your dress—look at you, a kiss to your cheek, I’m going to fucking ruin you—a perfunctory greeting after being together so long (like making coffee or picking out paint), to make you feel better, or if he meant it—
A tap with sticky fingers to your cheek. “C’mon, watch.” 
You feel like you’re looking from the outside in, a spectator with a front-row seat that has your breath catching in your throat at the sight of his spit-slick chin and cheeks resting against the crease where thigh meets hip. He gives you a syrupy grin that tightens something in your stomach like a screw. 
“Not me,” he says, words laced with amusement. 
Hesitantly, your gaze trails up from his to the floor-length mirror perched in front of the bed, and what you see has your fingers sinking into the sheets. 
You can hardly pull your eyes away from how your leg looks draped across his broad, muscular back, making you look so small even though you sit above him. And it’s like Suguru knows what you’re seeing because his grin grows wider. 
“See, look how perfect you are. That woman in the mirror is so fucking pretty, I can’t believe I get to tell everyone she’s mine.” His thumb parts you open for his mouth. “Why would you think you look otherwise, huh?”
“I…don’t know,” you whisper, head a fuzzy mess of weak excuses that evaporate before they even have a chance to make it onto your tongue.
“Hm, that’s not a good enough answer.” 
Your hips twitch when he noses at your clit. 
“Awe, I bet that feels good, huh? I’m gonna show you what happens when you talk bad about my pretty baby,” then he sucks it into his mouth, making you squeal.
He can’t blame you for squeezing your eyes shut at the slick, hot pressure dragging through your folds—shaky fingers tightening in Suguru’s long, dark hair. It feels equally like everything and not nearly enough until he suddenly pulls away, taking that jittery feeling in your belly with him.
“Why’d you—”
“If you look away, I stop.” He chuckles lightly at the little pout you give him before his lips suck at the tender spot near the crease of your thigh, “so watch.”
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↬ NANAMI
After lunch, he drags you across the street where there’s a park for him to set up a picnic blanket under a tree. Kento rests his head on your lap, slipping an arm around your waist and rubbing the sore spot in your lower back from being on your feet for too long. 
It’s all very innocent: him kissing your round pregnant belly, you running your fingers through his soft hair and talking about the latest work gossip. 
You hum when you feel his fingers crawl up your thigh, slowly at first and with no destination, just soft, aimless circles here and there, until the calloused pad of his thumb skirts over the front of your underwear, making you jerk with a small squeak.
“Kento,” you giggle, fingers tightening in his hair. 
He smiles at the scandalized look spreading across your face and leans forward to press another kiss against your stomach.
"Do you trust me?" he asks, hand pushing up your dress. 
You glance around the park to see if anyone is paying attention to the two of you—an elderly couple feeding the ducks frozen peas by the pond, a mother and father playing with their giggling daughter in the grass, college kids throwing a frisbee, all far enough away to be out of earshot (but that’s not the real problem here)—before you look back at your husband. 
“W-what?” you sputter, wide-eyed realization taking over.
He presses another open-mouthed kiss to your thigh. “Do you trust me?”
A soft whine slips past your teeth, the hand not in his hair curling into the blanket. “But everyone will notice because I’m—I’m—”
(A beached whale. An air balloon. A carnival-sized melon. You get the gist.)
“Gorgeous.” He smooths a hand over your bump, open-fondness radiating across his features, the subtle hint of possessiveness there making you shiver. “You look so fucking gorgeous with my baby growing inside you. Let me take care of you.”
“B-but—”
Everything else melts away to the pulsing heat between your legs and your husband groaning from the wetness he finds there. Your shaky thighs fall open wider when his fingers hook under the edge of your underwear (unflattering things worn for comfort over sexual appeal), pulling them aside to run his fingers through your slick seam. 
Pregnancy brain clouds your judgment, and before you can think twice about your actions, how you definitely shouldn’t let Kento eat you out in the middle of a public park, you nod your head. 
His lips ghost over the tender flesh of your upper thigh. "I need to hear you say it."
It’s a low and shaky yes that has his fingers finally sinking into you to the third knuckle, steadily pumping in and out of you. You buck down onto his hand, trying to bite back the moan threatening to alert everyone in the park of the head under your skirt.
“You’re going to cum for me, just like this,” Kento tells you, voice muffled by a layer of powder blue cotton. “Alright, darling?” 
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Text
ANIMALS- L. HOWLETT
Pairing: Boyfriend!Logan x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 636 (quick drabble lol)
Summary: You and Logan play a game of hide and seek while you have the manor to yourselves…
Warnings: Smut implied, fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, a little degrading, size kink, Logan being a dommmm, priminalish? Logan, swearing, teasing, grinding etc
“baby i’m prayin on you tonight, hunt you down and chew alive just like animals, animals like animals… baby you think that you can hide, i can smell your scent for miles…”- animals, maroon 5
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You counted your breaths, trying to steady them. A quick, sharp inhale.
One, two, three, four. Out.
You gripped the bannister of the oak headboard, squeezing yourself in a corner by the back of the bed. It wasn't long now before he found you.
It was a chase. A hunt, a hound sniffing out his prey.
You and Logan had made a deal- your agreement more a joke then anything, but nonetheless- you were here, in hiding.
“If I catch you, I get to fuck you.” He smirked , flipping his pocket knife in the air, fidgeting around between his fingers like the blade was nothing. You laughed, eyeing him up suspiciously.
“You get to fuck me, hm?”
“Yeah sweetheart. Anyway that I want.”
Well you had never backed down from a challenge, especially not from him. As your boyfriend it was his job to rile you up- and to get you going. You couldnt say you minded it though.
So now you were here, a hand gently held against your mouth, as you tried to slow your heartrate down. You knew he had heard you, there was no way he hadn’t. The manor was empty, everyone gone on either summer break, a mission or were just out for the day.
It was when you and Logan could have your fun. The real fun.
Your footsteps surely echoed down the grand hallways, bouncing off the oak furnishings and dozens of old paintings hung. It was only a matter of seconds now, before he found you.
You squeezed your thighs together in anticipation, wetness coating the apex of your thighs. Your skin turned hot to the touch, heart beating so loud you could hear it rattling as if it were a fly buzzing in your ear.
Sure enough, the clack of his boots stopped at the doorway, pushing it open slowly. It creaked so loudly you winced.
“Cmere pretty, pretty girl. Come to daddy.” he chuckled, tormenting you with his slow and stead stride.
You heard an armoir open, then slam shut. He was toying with you.
“I know you're in here baby. I can smell ya.”
One, two, three, four. One, tw-
You let out a loud yelp as two large arms caged you in, sweeping you off your feet as if you were a sack of potatoes. “Caught ya.” he whispered teasingly in your ear, throwing you on the bed.
You bounced with an oof, scrambling back as he pounced on you. “Mghm Lo-“ you whined as he tore your top off with such ferociously you feared his claws would come out.
“You like running from me baby? You like the chase hmm.?” You nodded, gasping as his denium clothed knee pushed your legs apart, leaving you to grind shamelessly on his knee “Yeah, yeah I know you do. Fuckin slut.”
“F-fuck..” you stuttered as he pinned your hands above your head, letting you ride him. “Such a needy girl.” he cooed at you, mocking your moans and whimpers as he tugged down your shorts.
“She’s so needy too. Should I give her what she wants?” he asked, eyes greedily taking in the wet patch on your underwear. You clenched at the mere sound of his voice, panties dripping wet. Soaked. “Please Lo- you have to-“
“I have to what hm? I don’t think I have to do anything. You’re not in control here, princess.” You sucked in a gasp as his hand slithered down your underwear, large fingers coaxing you as they lightly brushed your clit, pinching it.
“Pretty girl.” he cooed, sliding a finger down past your folds, to pump deep inside you, curling until he hit the spot that had you seeing stars. “Stretchin ya out baby, cause you’re too tight. Always so tight f’me. I’m gonna fill you up so good, just the way you like baby. Such a tiny lil thing, you just wanna get wrecked hm?”
You were beyond flustered, muscles tensing as he picked up the pace- your toes curling. “You’re doing so good princess. But you gotta take my cock now, m’kay?”
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Note
Maybe cnc with Pouge!sweetheart!reader? Where she's a bit oblivious to it?
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warnings: cnc, somnophilia (?), thigh fucking, unprotected sex, slight praise, creampie
a/n: ty anon 🤍 cnc is a little tricky for me to write but i hope you love it nonetheless <3
“not right now, rafe. m’really sleepy..” your eyes fluttered closed, your boyfriend’s hands roaming your body as you two laid under his sheets. “shhh, don’t worry baby, ‘just wanna feel you around me.” rafe watched you stir, your perfect ass peeking out of your pretty little night shorts. he was so hard right now, he couldn’t help but shamelessly rut against your backside. rafe knew you had a long day, having been baking all day for an event. “shit.” he groaned through gritted teeth, taking himself out of his boxers. “so tired..” you trailed off, cozying up to rafe as he held you in place.
cupping your breast from underneath your baby tee, rafe shuddered as he pushed his cock between your thighs, the warmth of your cunt driving him insane. “you feel so fucking good, baby.” you sighed, letting out a whine when you felt rafe nip at the sensitive skin of your neck. he thrusted slowly, the slick sound of his precum echoing throughout the room. “you’re so perfect, letting me use you like this.” you hummed, biting your lip as rafe pulled your underwears to the side. “gonna fill this pretty cunt and there’s nothing you could do about it.” you gasped when you felt him at your entrance.
rafe wasted no time, pushing into you, making you squirm. pulling your arm behind your back, he made it impossible for you to move away from him. now you were awake, your eyebrows knitting in pleasure as you looked back at rafe. “i told you no-” you moaned, batting your eyelashes at him. “and i told you there’s nothing you could do about it.” you melted when he reached around and put his hand in your shorts, his fingers stroking your clit. nothing beat the feeling of being inside you, especially when you were so pliant and let him bend you to his every will.
rafe could feel you squeezing around his length, your fingers intertwining with his, a silent indication of consent. “ah, shit,” rafe’s thrusts started faltering, your orgasm just peeking around the corner. he lifted your leg, both of you moaning as he was able to push even further. despite rafe’s room being pitch black, he swore he could see the pleasure filled look on your face. sure enough, you came with a cry, your boyfriend following suit shortly after. “don’t pull out!” you grabbed his arm, wanting to feel him spill into you. “i didn’t plan on it.” he groaned, pressing a kiss to your temple.
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hoshigray · 1 month
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꯳⃘꤫⃛✿ contents: soft dom! true form! Sukuna x afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - anal fingering - oral (f! receiving) - double penetration; anal & vaginal (2 dick! kuna) - missionary position - unprotected sex - pet names ([little] dove, human, pet) - soft sloppy kisses/make-out session.
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“Stay still, pet.”
"Yes, Sukuna..."
Let's be real: Sukuna going gentle on you is borderline imaginary – a fantasy that contrasts with the brutality and selfish-centeredness of the King of Curses. However, it’s a sensational moment on the rare nights he is.
The King has you propped below him, back to his futon, and his front facing his. Your lips quiver as you scan across the view, his broad torso engulfing you easily as his lower arms slide you lower. His bare cocks tower over your vulva, the twitch of your insides embarrassing to your notice.
His fingers in your ass have you gripping the sheets beneath, the thick digits stretching you in ways you could never. Fingertips scrape the texture of your insides, whimpers wishing to leave your chewed lips. A tongue on his palm flattens across your cunt, nestling between your inner labia to have every surface wet. It’s been a few minutes of this foreplay, having you accustomed to the thicker limbs he’d bury inside you shortly.
Sukuna then removes his fingers slowly before kissing the tip of the upper cock to your folds and the other to your anus. He catches the minuscule quirk of your thighs. “Don’t move, dove, or this will hurt.” Your eyes glimpse at him and nod — a hesitant gesture yet obedient nonetheless. He’s pleased; a curl to the corner lifts his lips. “Good, now take some breaths for me…”
Crimson orbs observe your stomach, watching the rise and fall of your tummy, assessing the right time. Then, he pushes both cockheads to the entrances simultaneously, another jerk of your body, but you keep breathing. The giant man grasps his dicks while pressing them, groaning at the sensation of your warmth greeting him. “Fuck…” he curses while you gasp, moving them deeper into you. Your hands find his marked pectorals to hold, your legs held up by his thighs almost wrapped together.
“Hooooh, God, Sukuna,” you mewl at the brush of your G-spot and the wholeness of both your holes. “So big…and, f-full…Ahhh!!” The poke of your cervix shuts your eyes immediately, turning your head away instinctively.
However, “Hmph, who told you to look away?” Sukuna’s lower left hand grabs your chin and have you look his way again. “Keep your eyes on me, human, understand?” Albeit the atmosphere is anything but hostile, his intense gaze halts your breath, and your cheeks heat up. You nod curtly, and the pink-haired man moves his hips again. 
Sukuna thrusts into you sluggishly; each pull of his cocks leaves you experiencing the stretch of his girths with every second,  and the push of him stirs your insides just as rapturously as the last. Your lips fall to an ‘o’ shape, and your moans more uncomplicated to fly out with your panted breath. The flex of his abdomen is marvelous to watch, the pleasure intensifying even when the mouth of his stomach licks your belly gently.
Your eyes continue to scan, taking in every detail of the dark tattoos on his skin and the quick tension of his upper arm muscles. How the sunset light is shielded from the shoji frames highlights his massive body, almost as if he came out of a painting. And then — dear God — his four deep scarlet eyes fixed on you, misty with wanton, and his sole human-like eye hooded gorgeously. Again, you turn away, the image too much to handle! And, of course, the behemoth laughs hoarsely with his stomach mouth.
“What did I just say?” He warns you, a smirk stuck on his face as he thrusts again harshly. “Too stubborn to follow a simple order.”
“I-I’m sorry,” you whine from another jab to your womb, and your anus contracts around his second girth. “You just…look too—Ahhaa!!”
He lowers down – the bands of his upper arms come to hold your head. “Too what?” A few more thrusts have your legs around his waist, and the man holding back a laugh that rumbles his stomach like a purr.
“Ohhnn, ‘Kunaa!!”
“Answer me, pet.” He forces you to look at him again. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”
You gulp thickly, the heat on your face worsening under his patronizing temperament. “Because…you look so good when you use me—shit—l-like this…”
He chortles again, and you wish to hide your ears from the sound. “What a stupid reason for disobeying me,” your breath hitches when he kisses your forehead and nose. “But I guess that explains why you’re squeezing me so hard…Hm? You get all shy when looking at how good I fuck you?”
Sukuna’s pace of the hips goes faster, and your hands frantically find his shoulders to purchase. Broken sobs fill the intimate space between you, his heavy balls smacking onto your taint as he drills his dicks so far into you that you can’t keep up. “Ohhhfuuck, oh fuck, fuck!!” You cry, Sukuna adding more weight by placing his substantial forehead onto yours. “Nmmm, ‘Kuna, I’m gonna cum—let me cum on you pleaseee…!”
The giant sighs heavily, groaning at your frequently puckered holes. “You wish to cum on me?” You nod frantically, and he purrs as he brushes his lips onto yours. “Fine, you may.” Before that, he claims your lips with his, and you mewl underneath him as he forces himself to kiss you patiently — in exchange for having you let loose on him.
You sink deeper into the kiss, swirling your tongue with his, exploring his canines, and meshing together with his tongue before he sucks on yours. Compared to the erratic cadence of his hips, the flex of his abs growing feverish, the kiss is comforting, smothering you to the point you’d be breathless, yet you don’t wish to hide the whimpers he’s causing you to make. It makes you wetter and tighter, and you soon fall into your orgasm.
The peak leaves you as a wailing mess, Sukuna drinking your screams and saliva even when your body is trembling uncontrollably. Eyes sewn shut but hiding the roll of your pupils; your brain undoubtedly turned to mush as it hurts to think outside of kissing the man above you and your vagina and asshole fluttering on the two massive lengths buried deep inside you. The tip of his cock grazes your delicate womb once more, his pelvis grinding down for deeper spots to rub on.
“Little dove,” Sukuna lifts his mouth from yours, licking your spit on his lips before you pepper his hot cheek with pecks of your own. “What should you be saying?”
“Mmmm…thank you, Sukuna,” you whisper between smooches. “You always treat me…Hahhh, so well…”
He scoffs faintly to your ear. “And don’t you forget that.”
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© HOSHIGRAY2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more.
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cimmanonrowl · 2 months
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Eat Your Young pt.1
Part Two | Masterlist
It was a blessing when you were offered a job to look after a kid named Jack. He is a good one– smart, funny, a little cheeky but obeys you nonetheless. His father was all the same— Mr. Hotchner. He pays really well and on time, and made sure that after his arrival from Pakistan, you finally learn to accept your hidden desires.
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Pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader
Theme: smut heaven
Contents: age gap, oral fixation, oral (f) receiving, cum play, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, unprotected, rough sex, dom!aaron, daddy kink, powerplay: boss/employee dynamic, pussy-eater bearded aaron.
You were supposed to find Jack in ten minutes. 
Ten minutes maximum, you told yourself. That is the only reason why you confidently agreed to play hide and seek with that hyperactive, sugar-high of a child. Just ten minutes.
Now you couldn’t breathe in panic.
“Jack!” your trembling voice echoed down the hallway as you peered through rooms you had ransacked just three minutes ago. “Jack, please. Where are you, honey?”
Nothing.
The heavy sound of your frantic steps pierced the silence as you bolted downstairs, feeling even more lightheaded as the gnawing anxiety grew harshly and clawed at your insides. The silence reverberating through every corner of the house felt extremely taunting. Yet, with the rush of worry you feel for the kid, you couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else.
Your chest hurts, your mind racing with every horrid scenario, each thud echoing in your ears as you rush to the kitchen. Shortly after you were hired and joined their little family, Jessica told you everything she felt you needed to be aware of. And you knew what Jack had to go through as a kid. He and his father had gone through terrible things you weren’t even sure it was possible to handle.
Warm tears now flooded your eyes as you desperately scanned every nook and cranny— he was not under the table, not inside the empty kitchen cabinet, nor behind the dining room curtains.
“Jack Hotchner!” you tried keeping the tremor out of your voice, making yourself sound assertive and annoyed as an attempt to scare him, yet your panic still found a way to lace at each word. “This isn’t funny anymore, Jack! I’m telling your dad!” 
You darted to the living room, ripping aside the couch cushions and peeking behind and under every piece of furniture. Now your breath comes in shallow gasps. With each movement, the very memory of his mischievous giggle haunted you, ringing inside your brain.
When you realized the kid wasn’t there, you sprinted again upstairs, taking two steps at a time. Your mind continuously raced with possibilities. Did he sneak out? Is he hiding in the attic? The basement? Jesus Christ, did you even lock the front door?
You throw open the closet in the hallway, pushing aside winter coats and a pile of boxes. “Jack! I’m serious! Come out!” 
Desperation edged even closer.
The bathroom door swung open with a creak as you pushed through the room. But to your horror, it was all empty, too.
You staggered back to his bedroom with quick steps. Your very last hope. You flung open the toy chest, rummaging through the chaos of plastic dinosaurs, action figures, and Lego blocks. Still nothing. It didn’t even cross your mind that a kid as old as Jack wouldn’t fit in a small wooden toy box; your mind was too frantic to think logically.
“Jack! Where are you?” you dropped to your knees, peering under his bed, your vision blurring with unshed tears. “Please, Jack, come out!” 
You stood by the window and started biting on your nails— a habit you developed when you’re too anxious to function. You clutched your phone tightly as you hugged yourself, fingers trembling, contemplating to finally dial for help. From the window you observed that the garden looked empty as always, the back shed had always been locked, and you couldn’t see anyone behind the bushes— Jack was nowhere to be found. 
The dread is almost paralyzing, a heavy weight pressing firmly on your chest.
And just as you made up your mind to go outside and check properly, your phone vibrated on your hand. Blood drained on your face as you glanced at the screen and read the familiar name on the caller’s I.D.
Mr. Hotchner.
Jack’s father. Your employer— who also happens to be a big shot FBI agent. If he learned that you lost his son in a hide-and-seek game, no matter how warmhearted, accommodating, and considerate that man is of your needs and well-being, you get this nagging feeling that you might end up floating on a river somewhere with no leads of any kind or prime suspect to consider.
You rubbed your eyes as you accepted the call, your doom at the same time. “H-hello?”
“Hey,” Aaron’s voice crackles through the line, distant yet filled with warmth. “Just wanted to check in. How’s Jack doing?”
Your throat tightened as you listened. 
“Mr. Hotchner…”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Hotchner…” your fingers gripped the phone tightly as you let out a strangled sob. “I... I can’t find Jack. We– we were playing hide and seek, and now he’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere,” warm tears flowed down your cheeks as you continued, your voice trembling. “I’m sorry. I’ve been l-looking… I swear. I’m really sorry.”
There’s a moment of silence on the other end, and you can almost hear Aaron’s heartbeat sync with your frantic pulse. You braced for the incoming screams, expecting him to ridicule your incompetence. After all, you’ve always thought of Mr. Hotchner as someone who never hesitates to pinpoint someone’s inefficiency. Maybe today you’ll have enough luck to prove your theory.
But in a calm voice, Aaron Hotchner said softly instead, “Alright, I need you to stay calm for me, sweetheart. Are you sure you checked everywhere?”
“Y-yes, sir,” you sniffed quietly in relief, rubbing your nose and the tears streaming down your face. “Everywhere. The cabinets, the cupboards, h-his toy box…”
A brief silence fell with that, and you bit your lip in embarrassment. “His toy box? You don’t suppose he’s gonna fit in there, do you?” Aaron sounded like he was trying not to laugh. What a silly, little girl.
“T-that’s not the point, sir!”
“Did you check the front door? Is the back door locked?”
“Yes. I always make sure to lock it.”
“Have you checked my office then?”
“N-no…” you drawled in confusion, frowning as you went back to biting the edge of your nail. “Should I?”
What kind of question is that? Why would you even go there? That’s the only room in his house that you don’t welcome yourself. Mr. Hotchner may have never told you so but you’re fully aware of all the confidential documents he’s storing inside. You can’t afford to be thrown in jail for obstructing a case because you have mistaken a case file as trash and thrown it out.
“It’s worth a look. Jack likes playing in there when I’m working,” Aaron’s tone suddenly shifted, his voice turning quiet as he started with his order. “There’s a wooden crate beside my desk, check that first.”
You hesitated. “But, I don—”
“Just check, sweetheart, please,” Aaron interrupted, gently but firmly as always. “I trust you.”
The sincerity in his words cut through your anxiety. Aaron trusts you. So you took a deep breath and nodded to yourself before stepping out of his son’s room.
“Jack, you really scared her. You know you’re supposed to come out when you’re called, right?” Aaron’s firm voice filled the kitchen moments later.
Jack glanced at you as if feigning confusion. As you know him well, he was obviously thrilled with the chaos he caused. You sat beside him at the kitchen table, eyeing the little devil while you prepare your own food, listening to his father’s reprimand. Jack’s legs swung back and forth under the table, excitedly munching on a sandwich wrap you made for his lunch.
“I was just hiding, Dad. It’s hide and seek, that’s what I’m supposed to do.” Jack’s small brows furrowed like his father’s as he looked down at his plate.
“Yes, I know, buddy,” A soft sigh rang audible through the line. “But it’s just a game, you can’t hide so well that no one can find you. It’s important to keep everyone safe, especially when I’m not there.”
Jack’s lower lip jutted out even further. “But that’s the point of the game, Dad. Players need to hide well.”
“Yes, buddy, but what I’m saying is…” Aaron sighed again, struggling to weave a perfect explanation for his son. “Everything fun should be done in moderation. You scared her, and me, because we thought something bad happened to you.”
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
“Thank you, buddy, but I don’t think I’m the one you should be apologizing to. You made her worry.”
“I...” Jack stopped chewing, looking at you with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to win.”
The scolding seemed to have hit its mark, and you reached over, ruffling the little guy’s hair. “It’s okay, honey. Just don’t hide so well next time, alright?”
Jack stared at you and nodded solemnly, but then his pout deepened. “Dad grew his beard. I don’t like it.”
You suppressed a smile, glancing at the phone where you could see Aaron’s face on the screen. Despite the grainy connection, you can see the dark shadow of a beard on his jawline. 
Aaron chuckled at what he heard, the sound of his deep voice humorous. “I had to, buddy. It’s hard to shave here every day.”
Jack shrugged as he took a big bite of his food. “You look like a bear.”
“What?!” Aaron said incredulously.
“You should shave, Dad. We’re gonna look like Masha and the Bear when you come home.”
You bit your lip to hold back a laugh, shaking your head.
Only if you were asked, you’d say how the full beard really absolutely suited Aaron. Now he looked rugged— a stark contrast to his usually neat and well-kept appearance. Regardless, he seemed to look even more handsome and manly. And God, he looks so fucking hot he should be put behind the bar.
But well, it’s a good thing no one bothered asking your opinion; how are you supposed to answer in front of a kid, anyway?  
You’ve always admired this man, that’s for sure. He and his neatly ironed suits, clean-cut hair, and authoritative nature had always been an incredible sight to look at— but this new look?
This.
This makes you think of lewd things in broad daylight.
“Well, buddy your best friend doesn’t seem to mind it,” Aaron caught your eye through the screen, a small smile playing on his lips. 
Crimson red dusted on your cheeks with the teasing, but you managed to smile back. “Uhuh, it’s not so bad, Jack. Maybe you’ll get used to it.”
Jack scrunched his nose but didn’t argue any further. Instead, he picked up his sandwich again and took a big bite. You shook your head in amusement, holding Aaron’s gaze on the screen briefly before you had to look away because...
That damn fucking beard.
“Alright, I also have to grab some dinner now,” Aaron said after a few beats of silence. “Jack, be good for her, okay? She might run away if you continue scaring her. We don’t want that, do we?”
Jack nodded, still chewing. “Okay, Dad. No more.”
“I love you, buddy.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
“And you,” Aaron’s voice softened even more as he addressed you, a soft crinkle present in his eyes. “Thank you. For everything.”
You could only nod, and smile, and look away as your heart pounded against your chest. “No worries. Keep safe, Mr. Hotchner.”
He gave you one last look, his eyes filled with warmth and something you couldn’t decipher, before the call disconnected. With a sigh, you looked back at Jack, who was already reaching for a second sandwich wrap, mumbling about how his father would soon end up like Hagrid.
The soft click echoed in the quiet house as you closed the door behind you. You slipped off your high heels, groaning and wincing in pain, before dropping your keys into the bowl on the console table. The house feels emptier than usual, with Jack spending the night at his Aunt Jessica’s. It was a setup that she and Aaron agreed on before; to let Jack stay overnight every Friday and go home by the afternoon the next day.
As you make your way down the hallway, it doesn’t escape your notice that the kitchen lights are open. You weren’t expecting anyone to be home, not at this late hour anyway, and the sight stopped you in your tracks. Burglar was your first thought.
So naturally, you took several tentative steps closer, peeking around the corner.
Surprise flickered across Aaron’s features as he noticed you, quickly masking it with a strained smile. He was standing by the kitchen island, a half-finished bottle of brandy open.
“Hey,” he greeted, his voice rougher than how you remembered months ago, “I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.”
“I should say the same to you.”
You had no idea he’s coming home today. His travel-worn face was illuminated by the warm kitchen light; a glass of amber liquid swirls in the rock glass in his hand. While his eyes were shadowed with something unreadable, never leaving yours. 
You manage a small smile in return, though it feels heavy. “But yeah, the date ended earlier than expected.”
Not just the date but your entire evening hadn’t gone as planned, and you can still feel the weight of disappointment tugging at your shoulders.
Aaron nodded but didn’t say anything about it.
Silence settled between the two of you. His eyes flickered to the drink in his hand, while he took a slow sip, as if buying time. You didn’t dare glance away as you stepped further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter in front of him.
“I didn’t know you’d be home today. How was your trip?” you asked, genuinely curious but also eager to fill the void.
He shrugged, setting the glass down with a soft clink. “Busy. Tiring. The usual.” His gaze returned to you, lingering a moment too long. “You okay?”
The concern in his voice was unmistakable. You nodded, but the gesture also felt hollow. “Yeah, just... you know, one of those nights.”
Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly, and he looked away, staring into his glass. “Want to talk about it?”
You hesitated, not sure if you’re ready to unpack the disappointment just yet, and also considering the fact that he must be tired from his flight. But there’s something in Aaron’s presence that you always found comforting, you just had to go on.
“Maybe later,” you said softly, wandering your eyes around until it landed on the wine shelf. “Can I join you?”
He nodded without hesitation, watching you in silence as you grab a bottle of wine from the rack. Aaron’s eyes met yours again as you settled back, and for a moment, something flickered in their depths— something that makes your heart skip a beat.
Aaron’s eyes were focused on you as you set the bottle on the counter and reach for the corkscrew. The maroon silk of your dress catches the light; it was a simple one, nothing too flashy nor revealing. Just enough to accentuate your figure and compliment your skin well. You don’t understand why heat licked your neck as you became aware of Aaron’s eyes lingering on you.
With a soft pop, the cork comes free, and you pour yourself a generous amount. You took your own seat on the barstool. And with your slow movements, the maroon dress clings to your form, highlighting your curves in a way that makes Aaron’s breath catch.
He tried to look away, but his apprehensive eyes kept returning to you.
“There’s a practice game this Sunday. Jack will be happy to know you’ll be watching,” you cleared your throat, eyes focused on the alcohol swirling around the clear glass.
Aaron took a slow sip of his drink, trying to collect his thoughts, but his gaze kept drifting back to you. The dress, with its silky sheen and soft drape, made you look not just elegant but breathtakingly sexy- a fact that Aaron is finding increasingly hard to ignore.
“Yeah, I’m planning to surprise him tomorrow. Maybe we can pick him up early from Jess? Then we can grab a lunch outside.”
You gave him a smile. “Sure, sounds nice.”
As you settled deeper into the conversation, your attention narrowed down to Aaron. He’s leaning against the marble counter, the soft kitchen light casting a warm glow on him. His beard was slightly thicker than you remember, giving him an almost roguish look that you couldn’t help but find incredibly attractive. And hot.
He’s so hot.
He was clad in one of his work shirts, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong forearms. The shirt fits him well, emphasizing his broad shoulders and the hint of muscle underneath. Even the veins running through the surface of his arm were visible. 
The sight makes your heart flutter, and you found yourself admiring the way he looked tonight, with a brandy glass cradled in his big, calloused hand. You wonder how it would feel to have those strong hands grip you tightly, his fingers playing with your pussy, his lips on your neck.
“So,” Aaron’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, “how was the date?”
You took a sip of your drink, the question making your chest tighten again, but you answered lightly. “It was... okay, I guess? Not what I anticipated, though.”
His eyes are on your face, but they keep flickering to your dress, tracing the line of your collarbone, the soft curve of your shoulder. “What happened?”
“He was nice and all… but I don’t know…” Aaron nodded as you struggled recalling the events of evening, and you can tell he wants more details. “It’s just awkward, as always.”
“Did you go anywhere special?”
“We went to that new Italian place downtown. Dave said the food was great so I wanted to try…” you swirl the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid catch the light. The movement makes the dress shimmer, and Aaron’s gaze follows the motion, almost mesmerized. “I just thought it’d be better, you know? It’s our third date, anyway.”
Aaron’s gaze softened, and he took a sip of his drink. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. Well, that’s what happens, I guess,” You smiled, feeling a bit more at ease.
“Yeah,” his eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips, then back to your eyes. “But it doesn’t make it any easier.”
You both fall into a comfortable silence, the tension from earlier slowly dissipating. Aaron’s eyes lingered on you before finally, he spoke again, his tone light but his curiosity evident. 
“Did he at least appreciate the dress? You look... incredible tonight.”
A blush warmed your cheeks, making you giggle to yourself. “He did compliment it, but I don’t think he noticed much beyond that.”
“He’s an idiot then,” Aaron said quickly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. Then he looked down, a hint of embarrassment coloring his features. “I mean, it’s a beautiful dress, and it suits you really well.”
The compliment made your smile grow wider.
“You’re looking pretty good yourself,” your cheeks heat up as quickly as you realize what you’ve just said, but you don’t think you have to take it back. “Pakistan’s that rough?”
“You could say that,” Aaron’s eyes flickered with surprise and a touch of pleasure. He straightened slightly, a small, almost bashful yet equally beautiful smile playing on his lips. “I’m pretty sure Jack will volunteer to shave this beard off.”
“But it suits you…” you murmured mostly to yourself, your eyes tracing the line of his jaw and the way the beard added a certain depth to his features. “He’s just teasing you.”
Aaron chuckled, running a hand through his hair, a gesture that draws your attention to the subtle flex of his muscle. “Yeah? I wasn’t sure if it was too much.”
“No, it’s perfect,” you replied, your voice softening. “Makes you look... distinguished.”
He took a slow sip of his brandy, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze makes your pulse quicken, and you find yourself caught in the moment, drowning in his presence and the wetness slowly pooling in between your thighs.
“So you like it?”
Oh, you love it. “Yes.”
Aaron stepped a little closer, settling beside you as you glanced up at him from your seat. The scent of his perfume, mixed with the subtle hint of brandy, filled your senses. His eyes flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes.
“Tell me about your date,” he said, his tone teasing, but there was an edge of something more in his eyes.
“There’s not much to tell,” you said with a laugh, your voice catching slightly. “It was just... dull and boring.”
“Dull? How so?”
“Just…” you bit your lip lightly, shaking your head as you smiled up at him. “You know.”
“I can’t say I know, doll. Use your words.”
Your heart raced but you didn’t look away. Instead, you stared back at him with the same intensity, blinking through your eyelashes almost innocently. “He… he doesn���t make me feel like you do.”
A beat.
Your heart drummed wildly against your ears.
And Aaron’s eyes darkened with the invitation.
“And how do I make you feel, angel?” he whispered softly.
“Like you actually want me.”
“Which I fucking do,” he leaned in, his breath slowly mingling with yours. “More than you know.”
Aaron’s hand moved to your waist, his touch light but possessive. Your heart pounded wildly as you stared into his eyes.
“Show me then,” you whispered back, your voice trembling with anticipation.
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” you breathed, your lips just a hair’s breadth away from his.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly slow and deliberately teasing way.
“Aaron...” you whined, your voice heavy with need. “Please...”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t k-know…”
His grip tightened on your hips, his voice rough and demanding. “I think you’re lying, pretty girl.”
“Aaron...”
“I said,” he asked again, gruffly this time. “What do you want?”
“Want your m-mouth on me, Aaron, please...”
A quick swipe of his tongue wetted his lower lip, and a satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good girl.”
His hand tightened on your waist, drawing you even closer. And all you knew from that second is the feeling of his hot breath against your skin.
“Aaron-” a low growl rumbled from his chest as your fingers tangled through his hair, pushing him even closer to your dripping cunt. “Tha- God, that feels good…”
Aaron hummed lightly, running the calloused pad of his palm on the soft surface of your thighs, feeling the bumps rising on your skin along with your pleasure. He darted his eyes to your face with his mouth still on your cunt, his lips nibbling your clit, watching you breathe heavily while containing the whine caught right in your throat.
When you propped onto your elbow and met his gaze, you could barely register the drunk look on his eyes.
“I’m c-close…” you whispered, pleadingly so. “Aaron… please…”
You didn’t have to say anything else. The contrast between the softness of his lips and the coarseness of his beard creates a heady, intoxicating burn. The rough graze of his beard against your inner thigh sent shivers down your spine, making you arch your back, forcing yourself closer to his mouth, to his touch; even closer to his heat.
You have never been treated this way– never had a partner who takes pleasure in pleasuring you. The warmth of Aaron’s breath fanned through your clit as he licked and prod his tongue on your entrance, feeling the burning scrape of his stubble with every movement. It’s both gentle and painful, enough to make your skin tingle and your heart race; chasing the heightening pleasure and your incoming orgasm.
“So good, doll…” he whispered roughly, encouragingly, his attention focused only at you. “Fuck, it’s so hot.”
He leaned away only for a moment, straightening his back as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt. In the blink of an eye, the sight of his muscular chest and soft stomach salivated you. You’ve known he’s hairy, but now that you saw the dark trail of hair on his abdomen down to his…
Aaron looked smug.
“Dirty girl, like what you’re seeing?”
You hummed hoarsely. “Want you, please. D-daddy?”
Aaron groaned at your words. And you noticed how his palm flew to the obvious bulge on his pants, squeezing his aching cock as if your words hurt him. Or pleased him, you don’t know. All you registered was the faint satisfaction in his smile and the glint of hunger in his piercing eyes.
He ran his palm on your thighs lovingly. “Cum on Daddy’s mouth first. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
Although he posed that as a question, you knew it was an order. And who are you to defy him when he generously licked through your folds and sucked on your clit like a starved man? He’s not devouring you like relinquishing his final meal; instead, like you are the very first meal he ever tasted and cannot get enough of. He eats you like someone will take you away from him. But even if they do, he wants to make sure it’s his mouth and big cock you’ll crawl back to.
The world seemed so far away as you let yourself drown in the pleasure, all while Aaron occasionally fucks his tongue in and out of your needy cunt.
“Close, angel?” he asked before spitting on your pussy and swirling his tongue on your clit. “You taste like heaven, baby.”
You nodded dumbly.
“You’ve no idea how many nights I fucked my fist to this thought.”
Your release inched closer, roused by his deep groans and heavy breathing. You were not even past the vulgar image of him spitting on your cunt when you felt one of his fingers gently swiping through your wetness, his touch light as a ghost, and you shuddered as you realized what will come next.
You gasped and moaned, and grabbed a fistful of his hair on both of your hands. “Need you n-now, please… enough…”
“Just one, angel. Just give me one on my tongue,” he demanded, his eyes dark with need. “You can do that for Daddy, right baby? I’ll fuck you good later, I promise.”
You clenched around his finger as he slowly slid into you, then out, slowly gaining rhythm and speed that reflected your racing heart. He thrust in and out, and in and out, until he decided you could take another finger, then another one. You’ve never felt so full, but good God if you say you didn’t fantasize about getting fingerfucked by your boss, you’d be sent to hell for lying.
He nibbled. He sucked. He licked. His fingers never once stopped assaulting your wet, squelching cunt. With every drag of his fingers and swipe of his tongue, you could hear a deep growl rumbling through his chest. And his eyes watched you, taking in the way you writhe in pleasure, the way your thighs tremble, and how your eyes welled in tears.
“Please… p-please…” you whimpered pathetically, your fingers tightening on his hair. “C-close, ‘m so close… daddy…”
“Cum for me, sweetheart. Come on, be a good girl.”
“D-daddy!” you screamed loudly when his teeth grazed your now sensitive clit.
“Fucking cum for me. Make me proud, angel.”
Your eyes rolled at the back of your head as your orgasm ripped through you. His words grew distant as it happened, showering you still with lewd praises: how good you taste, how warm and tight your cunt would be, and how he expects you to take his big cock.
“S-stop… A-” you trashed away from his grip. “Too m-much. D-daddy, no! Stop! S-stop! Too much!”
His fingers continued abusing the sensitive nerves deep inside you, groaning loudly as your walls tightened around him. “A little more, sweet girl. One more for Daddy…”
“N-no–” Tears slid down your cheeks in overstimulation, feeling the rough drag of his fingers inside your tight cunt and his lips on your clit. “Oh, g-god! I’m close again… D-daddy! Don’t s-stop, p-please!”
“Good girl, angel. Look at you... that’s it, baby.”
He trailed wet kisses along your skin as he moved upward, kneading your tits, lingering a bit longer on your hardened nipples. You haven’t gone down from your last orgasm when you already felt the tip of his cock prodding at your pulsating cunt.
You whimpered weakly, not fully aware of your surrounding anymore.
“Hey, hey…” you heard Aaron whisper, his voice soft and gentle, caressing your face lovingly as he observed your expression. “Good? Do you want to stop, sweetheart?”
You shook your head. “I will kill you if you stop.”
“Ah,” he let out a hoarse chuckle. “Yes, Ma’am.”
His pace was slow at first, achingly so and deliberate. But it didn’t last long. From laying on your back on the cold, marble kitchen counter, you found yourself bent over on the kitchen table, with Aaron’s girthy cock ramming in and out of your cunt. And all you could do was take it, moaning loudly to Aaron’s satisfaction.
“Fucking hell. Should’ve fucked this pussy long before–” he rambled deeply from behind, pistoling his hips at a brutal pace. “You like this, huh? You like Daddy fucking your tight pussy?”
You bit your thumb as your legs trembled, but you didn’t answer.
And that’s when you felt it.
A harsh slap on your ass.
“Answer me, you fucking slut,” he drawled in between heavy breaths. “Did I fuck you dumb, huh?”
“Y-yes–” you struggled to say, trying to keep your legs steady amidst the intense waves of pleasure. “G-good… so much…”
Aaron barked an amused laugh. “Fuck. You sound so cockdrunk.”
With each thrust, you felt the familiar coil tightening on your stomach. Your words were muffled as you tried to warn him, and all that came out of your lips was a high-pitched whimper. 
Aaron’s grip on your hips hardened. “I’m c-close. Where should I cum, angel? Inside? Should I cum inside?”
“C-close…” you echoed mindlessly, not understanding a word he said.
“Do you want me to fuck a baby inside you?”
“Yes… y-yes… inside, Daddy, please....”
Tears streamed down your cheeks when you felt Aaron’s hot cum spill inside you, his thick cock throbbing. You trembled against him as you reached your own climax, your lips drawn to a silent scream as he expertly rubbed your clit through your orgasm.
“One more. Can you give Daddy one more, sweet girl?” you heard him whisper encouragingly.
With a strained moan and eyes shut tight, you finally let out a gush of release. The force was so sudden Aaron had to pull out and watch his own cum drip down your thighs. His eyes widened a fraction as he stared at the pool of wetness glistening on his kitchen floor.
And fucking hell, that felt so good.
Aaron didn’t waste a second and quickly knelt behind you, separating your weak and trembling legs carefully before running his tongue on your spent and dripping cunt. You shivered at the feeling of his beard scratching the back of your thigh but you let him, enjoying the feeling of his tongue following the trail of his own release that drips down your legs.
“Too m-much, Aaron. Please…” you plead softly, sighing as you felt his fingers spread out your pussy.
“Just a taste, angel. Can you push out more of my cum?”
He keened and hummed as he gathered his own release on his tongue. And before you even know it, he was already kissing you, watching his own cum and spit reach your waiting tongue as you innocently glanced up at him, a far-gone look on your face.
“You’re such a sweet girl,” he whispered later on as he gently laid you down on his warm bed, now wrapped in his old, oversized t-shirt and newly bathed.
He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, and cheeks, then nose, before kissing you lovingly on the lips. “Rest now, sweetheart. I’ll take you on a proper date tomorrow.”
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Your girl finally got her energy back after taking 4 pills of Vitamin B. LOL. Sorry for the long wait! Anyway, as always, likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated. Hope you're having an incredible day and drink your water! (PS. Do you guys know I just realized I can reblog your reblogs with comments? I'm so dumb.)
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