#so i spent way too long on my break WHILE BEING FULLY AWARE THAT I WAS TAKING TOO LONG

[le-velo-pour-dru]

hi dru!!! i'm sorry you're not feelin it right now :( i'm here if you need me ^^

Thank you Jaye, that's so kind of youuuuuu 😊🩷 I wish I'd seen this before I went to bed, but at least I've gotten over it by now :) I'll absolutely keep this in mind next time I'm worked up over something though ^^ 💖

Thank you so much for reaching out, that was so nice of you and I really do appreciate it 😊❤️

[cimmanonrowl]

dbf!hotch where you have to be quick n quiet bc your parents are next door, and he's only staying for one night. heavy w the smut and tension 🤭

So It Goes...

It was summer break from University and you were home to spend time with your parents. And maybe Aaron was just as clingy as you because you woke up one morning with him in your room, admiring you in your sleep. And the night you spent together didn’t disappoint either.

Pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner x bfd!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Contents: age gap, secret relationship, sweet dom!aaron, sneaky, unprotected sex, cowgirl, creampie, gagging, oral (f) receiving.

The soft, feather-like touch on your cheek pulled you from the depths of sleep. The caress was gentle, almost ghostly, yet enough to rouse you even if you were unconscious.

“There she is…” you heard someone say; a familiar deep voice, soft and whispery. “Good morning, baby.”

Your eyes fluttered open, groaning lightly to yourself, while the hazy remnants of sleep gave way to early morning light filtering through your bedroom drapes. Someone’s warm hand still rested lightly on your face, occasionally rubbing your cheek with the back of their fingers. And your heart skipped a beat as you became fully aware of the presence, with the uncanny feeling of being watched.

“Aaron?” you grumbled, confusion threading through your voice. 

Blinking away the blur of sleep, you slowly whipped your head to the side. Only to be greeted by a sight that almost instantly knocked a breath out of your chest.

You rubbed your eyes quickly, half expecting him to vanish, a figment of your frail imagination. But he was still there, smiling softly at you, his eyes crinkling at the very corner. His affectionate gaze narrowed down on your face alone, full of tenderness that melted away any lingering drowsiness in your brain.

“Aaron? W-what— what?”

“Hey…” he murmured, chuckling a little as he saw your baffled reaction, his voice deep and soothing as always. “I’m sorry, I just... I couldn’t wait to see you."

Your heart warmed with a mix of joy and confusion, but also a pang of worry. How did he even manage to sneak into your room, you don’t know. But here he was, tucking the stray strand of hair behind your ear, staring back at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. It feels surreal, like a dream you’re afraid to wake up from.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice still groggy and croaky from sleep.

You know for sure that you look like a mess. Maybe with a drool at the corner of your mouth, or a trace of sleep in your eyes. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Aaron was looking at you like this, not when all you see is love and longing, not with the fact that your parents must be somewhere downstairs waiting for you both to come down and join them for breakfast.

Aaron chuckled softly, the sound of a sweet melody to your ears. “I missed you,” was all he said, as if that explains everything. 

And knowing your boyfriend, maybe it does.

You reached up, your hand covering his on your cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. “I missed you too,” you admitted, “But how? Where’s Dad? Mom? How did you get here?”

You kept glancing towards the door after your question, imagining it to burst open at any moment; your father with a rifle in his hands, your mother crying behind him. You shuddered at the image; it was surely exaggerated, and not exactly how you planned for them to know your relationship with Aaron.

“They went out to the local market,” he explained shortly, frowning as he noticed the worry lines on your face. “They’re buying meat and groceries for their anniversary party later. Your Mom told me to get some rest instead of helping them; saw my chance and sneaked in.”

Just with what you heard, relief and excitement coursed through your veins. So you’re here all alone with Aaron, and the house is silent and empty. You can’t help but feel a thrill at the audacity of it all. “We still have to be careful,” you said, although your voice carried a hint of anticipation.

Aaron’s smile turned a bit more mischievous, his fingers tracing a gentle line along your jaw. “I know, princess,” he replied, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “But right now, it’s just you and me.”

“Oh?” your eyebrows perked as you picked up the insinuation. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

The smirk on his face grew at the challenge. And his touch lingered, the warmth of his hand spreading through you. His eyes darkened with desire, and you feel a similar heat rising within you.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is not to touch you while you sleep?”

You snorted. “Oh, shut up. Bet I look like a troll.”

“Hey, don’t speak to my girlfriend like that,” he scolded lightheartedly, pinching the side of your stomach. “You always look like an angel.”

You tried hiding your blush with an eye roll.

There he is again with his confessions; sweet, little words dripping like honey in this early morning. With Aaron, those words never felt forced, never felt like an empty expression. Maybe it has to do with the way he says it, or the way he never tore his imploring gaze away from you, or maybe you trust him so much that you willingly listen to everything he says. With no complaints. No doubts.

Aaron leaned in slowly, “I’ve missed you so much, baby. My bed feels empty without you.”

“It’s only been two weeks, Aaron.”

He frowned as if that insulted him, his thick eyebrows tugging together. “Your point being?”

“You’re clingy,” you laughed in amusement, tipping your face away from him, avoiding his lips that kept chasing yours.

A firm grip on your hip stopped you from moving.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, a confused frown still plastered on his face. “I’m trying to kiss you.”

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“And do I look like I care?”

“Ew,” you scrunched your nose to feign disgust. “Really, love?”

“Sweetheart, I eat my own cum as it drip down your ass. Do you think—”

You slapped both of your palms on your face, groaning at his words. What the hell. You expected a different response. Not these dirty, crude words. Why would he even say that?

“Aaron!”

“What?” he only laughed– he always does, he always enjoyed seeing you blush like a tomato. “It’s true, sweetheart. What do you think will stop me from tasting you?”

Just as he said, it’s true. Nothing has ever stopped him from showing you love and pleasuring you. He’s always got to have his hand on your body, on your waist, on your thighs; his lips on yours, or your skin; his head buried at the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, and most of the time, in between your legs, eating your cunt.

“Whatever, old man. Come here,” you giggled, pulling his neck, his lips brushing against yours in a tantalizingly soft kiss. The softness of the contact sent a shiver all over your body, awakening a hunger that has been building up ever since the summer break began.

Aaron’s hand slipped from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, and deepening the kiss.

The house was wrapped in silence, yet the idea of doing something so illicit and dangerous under your parent’s roof made you tremble in anxiety– or was it pleasure? You don’t know. You can’t seem to know. Not with Aaron’s hand kneading your breasts, not with his lips trailing down to your pulsing cunt.

Your discarded underwear lay forgotten on the floor. And Aaron’s head finally nestled between your thighs, his breath hot against your wet and throbbing pussy. His calloused hands rested firmly on your hips, and the first flick of his tongue against your clit sent shivers rising from the soft surface of your skin.

“Fuck, baby. You taste so good,” Aaron murmured, his voice deep and raspy as he glanced up.

His words crumbled your resolution, with Aaron’s expert lips and tongue moving with a tenderness that bordered on reverence, exploring every inch of your cunt as if he had it all memorized– which he does. Every flick and twirl of his tongue, the vibration of his pleasured groans against your wetness, the desperate pleas that escaped your lips— he knows it all.

“Aaron…” you breathed, your voice trembling in a brimful of desire and need. “Don’t stop.”

Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling through the soft strands as you guided him closer, deeper. You bucked your hips abstractedly, creating an even more delicious friction. It was all overwhelming, full of ecstasy after two weeks of spending time away from each other. Aaron’s gaze flicked up to meet yours, watching you fall into pieces, a drunk look present in his eyes.

“I won’t, angel...” he promised. “I want you to feel everything.”

The secrecy almost felt sacred. The early morning light painted everything in a soft, dreamy glow, blurring the lines between your reality and both of your desires.

You watched him lick two of his fingers before slowly prodding them inside of your wet, dripping cunt. Aaron took your heavy moan and the satisfaction in your face as a signal to assault your pussy just the way he knows you like it, reaching spots that made you see stars behind your eyelids.

“God, I missed this… missed you...” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you felt your orgasm rising, building fast and deliberately. “A-Aaron… faster… please…”

The firmness of his touch, his caresses, his very presence; as the sensations built within you, you knew nothing could ever make you give up this moment.

All the while, his eyes held yours, tender and full of desire. “Whatever you want, baby,” his voice even softer as he said, “I’ll give you everything.”

The heavy smell of grilled meat and the sound of laughter filled the air as you stepped into the garden, wearing only a short, breezy dress that fluttered around your thighs with each step. The barbecue party is in full swing, with your family and some other neighbors gathered around, chatting and enjoying the warm afternoon. Your parents are busy at the grill, flipping burgers and ribs, chatting with each other, and laughing.

You quickly scanned the garden and spotted Aaron. He’s engaged in conversation with a small crowd of men, but as if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes quickly found yours. A warm, secretive smile spreads across his face, sending a flutter through your chest.

As you move through the crowd, greeting some of your neighbors and grabbing a plate of food, you can’t help but feel Aaron’s eyes on you. Oh, you knew that his eyes were on you. The dress you chose wasn’t just for comfort in the summer heat; it was an attempt to catch his attention, to feel his gaze, to make sure he was on the tip of his toes.

You found a seat at one of the picnic tables under the shade of an old tree. Aaron casually made his way over, each of his steps languid, his movements seemingly unhurried. And when he took the seat across from you, his leg brushed against yours under the table, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

“Everything looks delicious,” you tried keeping your voice steady, your eyes flicking to his with a knowing look. “Have you eaten yet?”

“Hmm…” he nodded, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. His foot nudges yours playfully, hidden from the view of the others.

“Stop,” you chuckled, shaking your head at his childishness.

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks. I know.”

He raised an eyebrow, smiling. “How cocky.”

Throughout the small gathering, the two of you stole clandestine glances. There isn’t a moment where you felt Aaron wasn’t paying attention to you. Occasionally, Aaron’s hand would graze yours when reaching for the salad bowl or the pitcher of lemonade, each touch brief and only for a lingering moment.

At one point, you excused yourself to grab yourself a drink. As you walked past by Aaron, you felt his hand subtly brush the small of your back, a fleeting touch that sent a thrill through your pulsing cunt. You can feel your underwear slowly getting soaked in anticipation for tonight, as you already know he’s staying.

You glanced over your shoulder and met his eyes, and saw the same spark of desire mirroring in there.

The afternoon crawled excruciatingly slow, and as the sun began to set, the sky a pale hue of salmon and lilac, the guests started to gather around the fire pit. You took a seat on a wooden bench, with Aaron joining you shortly after. 

He sat beside you.

A bold move.

You became hyperaware of everything: the closeness of his body next to yours, the occasional brush of his hairy arm, the deep rumble of his laughter as he chimed in the conversations of others. Nobody seemed to mind why Aaron chose to sit beside you of all places. Nobody even batted an eye. But for some reason, it made your toes tingle in anxiety.

Your parents are nearby, laughing and sharing stories with their other friends, blissfully unaware of the castle of dirty thoughts you built in honor of your father’s dear best friend. God, it feels so wrong. But you’d let the whole world crumble to dust than let go of this feeling.

As the sky darkened, you found a moment when the two of you were left alone. Aaron leaned in, his voice a low murmur meant only for your ears.

“You okay, baby? You’re quiet,” he observed, his eyes scanning your face with worry.

“I’m fine...” a shy smile played on your lips. “Enough with the beer now, please. You look red.”

A smile rose on his lips as he nodded, setting down the half-finished bottle on the ground to follow your order. When his attention landed on you again, you mirrored the smile tugging on his lips.

His hand found yours under the bench, fingers intertwining in a gesture that’s both innocent and intimate. “I wish we could be together openly,” he whispered, his thumb gently rubbing soft circles on your knuckles.

“Someday, yeah?” you whispered back, squeezing his hand. “Are you tired of this?”

“No, Jesus Christ,” he whispered, almost to himself, voice quiet and absentminded. “But it reminds me you’re graduating in a few months.”

“Right, can’t wait to escape that hell.”

Aaron snorted, throwing you a glance. “You wanted to enter law school, remember?”

“Because I wanted to impress my now boyfriend, remember?”

His eyes softened, and you could see amusement and affection filtering through them. “You didn’t have to impress me, baby, you’ve got me at the palm of your hand,” was what he said, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

The party went on until the evening. The faint sounds of the gathering still lingered in your mind— all the laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the stolen glances between you and Aaron. Your heart fluttered as you recalled his eyes meeting yours across the crowded yard, his piercing eyes observing you from afar.

You laid in bed, feeling your pulse quicken as you waited, the anticipation almost too much to bear. Then, you heard it— a gentle knock on your door. 

You rose quietly, wincing at the sound of your bedsheet rustling upon your movements. In quick strides, you crossed the room and swung the door carefully, so softly, until there he was again. In front of you.

“Hi,” you whispered, a smile spreading across your face. “Come in.”

Aaron locked the door behind him, and the room felt suddenly warmer, his presence filling the space with a palpable energy. You stepped closer, and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“What a torture...” Aaron murmured lazily, his lips brushing against your ear. “Wanted to be near you every second.”

“Huh,” you said teasingly, poking the side of his ribs. “And you dare say I’m the clingy one in this relationship?”

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both gentle and intense. The heat made you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss, letting yourself lose your mind in his warmth and touch.

Aaron’s hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that?”

“Oh, please, baby. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

He led you to the bed with guided steps. Aaron’s touch was tender, the fingers trailing over your skin made your heart ache, and your cunt pulse in hot desire.

You looked into his eyes, finding a reflection of your own need. His gaze was affectionate yet filled with an intensity that made blood rush to your cheeks.

“Need you...” your voice was barely audible in the stillness. “Fuck me good, baby.”

He smiled, a slow, intimate curve of his lips that made you catch your breath. “With your parents next door? Sound dangerous…” he replied softly, leaning in to brush his lips against yours in a sweet kiss.

You could feel the tension of the day melting away. Aaron’s hands moved slowly as if he was savoring every moment, every touch. He kissed a trail from your lips to your jaw, and down to your neck, his breath warm against your skin, leaving a wet path in its wake.

As his kisses grew more insistent, you felt a wildfire ignite within you, the desire that had simmered all day finally threatening to spill. You pulled him closer, even more closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, deepening the kiss with a pace that matched his own.

While Aaron’s hands roamed around your body with such possessiveness, the only sounds in your room were the soft rustle of sheets and your quiet whining. He explored every inch of your skin with a silent plan to conquer. To take. To remind you how you and your body are his and his alone.

“Be quiet, little girl, or I’ll gag you,” his eyes darkened with warning. “Can’t have your parents know their good girl is a dirty slut, can we?” he mumbled hotly in your ears.

“Y-yes, sir...”

You lifted your hips as you felt his hands playing with the waistband of your underwear. And you couldn’t do anything when he said “Open up wide,” and slipped the crumpled fabric of your soaked underwear inside your mouth.

“Be a good girl and stay quiet for me, hm?” he whispered again, his voice soft yet taunting.

And you could only nod because your words were caught right in your throat. Literally.

Aaron moved swiftly and with urgency this time, as he was aware of the risk of what you were doing. It was exhilarating; sharing this secret, him forcing you to keep quiet— you’ve never been quiet, not when his big, girthy cock stretched you wide, ramming in and out of your tight pussy.

“Fuck, baby, so warm…” Aaron grumbled lowly, biting on his hand as you sank deeper into his cock.

You kneaded on your tits, rubbed your nipples as you stared back at Aaron, lowering yourself to ride his hard cock. A low whimper rumbled in your chest as you felt the burn of the stretch, your moans muffled by the fabric serving as your gag for tonight.

“That’s it, angel, move your hips like that. Fuck,” Aaron closed his eyes as he felt your cunt tighten with your slow movements. “Fucking hell, baby. You’ll kill me one day.”

You started bouncing on his cock in no time, fast and hard, feeling his hands on your thighs tighten in restraint. Your air flow was restricted by the gag on your mouth, making you breathe heavily, noisily, accompanied by the quiet flapping of sweaty skin and Aaron’s pleasured grunts.

“Fuck. Fucking hell, angel…” he groaned as he spread his knees and started fucking into you.

Your eyes rolled at the back of your head as he prodded the spots only he could reach. With bleary eyes, you watched how Aaron bit his lower lip and how his hips fucked into you with vigor, with the same need, struggling so hard to contain his noises.

Your eyes lingered on the solid plains of his hairy chest and rested your palm on the soft surface of his stomach, moving your hips to meet his desperate thrusts. Warm tears streamed down your cheeks with pleasure, with the nagging voice at the back of your head warning you not to make a mistake. To be quiet. To not ruin the moment.

Yet it’s all too much.

“You’re doing good for me, baby. You’re so gorgeous…” Aaron cooed as he noticed your tears. “You’re so tight. Fuck, you’re close already?”

You nodded dumbly, too fucked to even understand everything he just said.

“Go on then. Cum for me, baby,” Aaron smiled, slapping your thighs lightly. “That’s it, good girl. Ride my cock like that. Fucking hell, what a slut.”

You tried warning him. You wanted to tell him you’re close. To go faster. Harder. To let you come. To give you everything. To beg. But your quiet pleas were muffled, leaving a deep rumble of amused laughter on Aaron’s chest.

“What’s that, slut? Can’t hear you,” he taunted softly. “What do you think your parents would think if they saw you like this, hmm?”

You whined and whimpered as your thighs burned from the effort, finally letting Aaron take the control.

“I’m so close, baby... fuck, feels so good...” he too was breathing heavily. “Come for me, come on. Good girl. Tighten the cunt even more– like that, fuck!”

White hot pleasure blurred your vision as you felt your orgasm coursed through you. You felt Aaron tremble beneath your body, his hot load flooding your insides, his warm hand exploring your sweaty skin with a devotion that left you breathless.

“My jaw hurts…” you pouted as he gently took out the fabric on your mouth and tucked your face in the crook of his neck. “I love it, though.”

Aaron chuckled at your whiny voice. “I know it’s wrong but that’s so hot, darling.”

“I know…” you giggled weakly, feeling the palm of his hands roam at the surface of your back. “Can we do it again? I wanna... ride your stomach. Please, sir, can I? Didn’t you say I’m your good girl?”

Sorry for the long wait but thank you to Anon who requested this! As always, your replies, reblogs, and reactions are very much appreciated. See you on the next ones!

[argisthebulwark]

Pretty Please?

summary: Asking them to let you tie a bow around their bicep💕 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Vilkas, Brynjolf, Miraak, Mercer warnings: some swearing, unserious threats (Mercer) masterlist

"Oh hell yeah." Farkas isn't ashamed to admit that he flexes just a little when you wrap the cute ribbon around his bicep. He loves the excited gleam in your eye and the shameless way your hands linger on his muscles even when the task is complete. "Now what?" He laughs, enjoying the satisfied smile on your face. "You keep it there." "For how long?" "Until it falls off, I guess." You shrug, allowing his arms to wrap around you. Farkas can't help himself from drawing closer to you, there's something magnetic about being in your presence. Any silly little joke is worth seeing you smile. "What if it breaks?" "How would it break?" Oh, you've played right into his game. Farkas flexes his triceps, feeling the flimsy ribbon strain and snap around his muscles. He adores the pout you force to cover up the clear amusement when you pluck the pink fabric from his arm. "You just wanted to show off." "C'mon, tie another one. I promise to leave it all day." Of course he's true to his word. Farkas double checks your knot on the second bow, strangely invested in this one staying as long as possible. He's thrilled to talk to the new recruits about his lovely partner who'd placed it there, fingers brushing the soft fabric sentimentally each time he thinks of you.

Vilkas grumbles something under his breath, eyes never straying from his book. Behind the locks of dark hair you spot his expression, noting the lack of real annoyance. Fighting back a grin you play along with his obligatory protests. "It's just a cute little bow." "What purpose does it serve?" "I can ask someone else." You sigh theatrically, turning on your heel. Right on queue Vilkas huffs, a strong hand closing around your wrist and tugging you closer. "Just put it on." He growls just as you'd expected. He thinks he's so scary, but Vilkas sits eerily still and allows you to tie a pretty pink ribbon around his bicep. Despite his protests it remains there all day. One sharp glare shuts down the giggling from a group of whelps resting in the main hall, though the older Companions are harder to quiet. Farkas nearly combusts when Vilkas breezes past him without saying a word, his gleeful expression matched only by yours. After a few boring meetings you scurry down to the marketplace in search of your partner, thrilled at the sight of him pawing through bits of armor while merchants and civilians stare pointedly at your ribbon. It had started as a funny suggestion but seeing him now makes your heart melt. Fully aware that you're killing his tough persona, you skip closer until Vilkas' large hand instinctively reaches for you. He continues haggling with the merchant, seemingly unaware of the pink ribbon flapping in the gentle afternoon breeze. "You doin' this for all the lads?" Brynjolf smirks, holding his arm out to you. "Why?" You hum, so carefully tying a perfect bow over his muscled arm. He isn't sure why you've chosen to add a pink ribbon to his armor but for you he'd do anything. "Would that make you jealous?" "Oh, desperately." He deadpans, enveloping you in his arms. Brynjolf relaxes when you brush through his hair, grateful for the distraction from the endless stacks of paperwork towering on his desk. "Just you, Bryn." You assure him, adjusting the bow until it's perfect. "Thank the gods for that - but did ya have to choose such a bright color, love?" "Some of the recruits have been eyeing you a bit too much for my liking." You admit, sinking deeper into his touch. "Had to stake my claim." "I live and breathe for you, love." From a man who's spent decades lying and stealing, those are the truest words he's ever spoken. Brynjolf loves the excited way you fuss at his bow, ensuring it will stay in place. "What if I get called on a job? This frilly pink'll surely get me caught." "Good thing you're the best there is." "Aye, love. Got that right."

"Absolutely not." Miraak lies, resolve already cracking. He can never say to no to you for long. "Why not?" "Why should I allow this?" "I think you'll look cute." He groans at your words, fully aware that he can not resist that sweet tone of your voice. Dropping whatever tome he'd been reading for far too long he allows you to crawl into his lap. It's painfully difficult to not just give in to you. Miraak knows that his intimidating persona is all but shattered in your presence but that does not stop him from grasping at its last remaining shreds when he can. "I have slain thousands. I could end you with a word. I am not cute." "Fine." You huff, still clutching the frilly piece of ribbon. "You're pretty, is that better?" "It is not." He grumbles, putting up no fight when your fingers dance up his arm. "Would this please you?" "Greatly." His heart swells at that smile, the one you've only shown him. To the rest of Tamriel you are a being of myth, the Last Dragonborn, the only one who holds the world's fate in the palm of your hands. You could save or condemn continents with a word. Yet here you sit, face cupped in Miraak's gloved hands and pouting over a cute pink ribbon. He sighs, unable to maintain the act any longer. "As you wish, my Dragon."

"Try it and I'll gut you." Mercer grunts, content to ignore your request - until he sees the disappointment shimmering in your eyes. That excited smile fades and your hands fall to your sides and oh, the guilt kicks his ass. He turns behind the desk, disgusted by how badly be wants to please you. Wordlessly, he raises his left arm. He glares down at the list of recently recovered oddities without absorbing any information when you happily bounce closer, touch featherlight as you tie the scrap of fabric around his arm. "You markin' me for some sort of hit?" He snarks, attempting to distance himself from the sheer pleasure of you leaning so close to him. "There's easier ways to kill you, honey." Your voice is light, unaffected by his refusal. "I'm goin' away on a job for a while, I just figured you'd think of me when you saw this." Mercer grunts noncommittally once more, swallowing the words threatening to escape - you think he requires a silly bow to think of you? Every moment you're away from the Cistern he's worrying over your safety, counting the hours the job should take until his chest is tight. He doesn't mention it again, though after your departure he catches a few other thieves snickering behind their hands. He strides through the Flagon without looking at them, summoning the most cutting voice he can before speaking. "Say another word and you won't live to see sunrise."

[01zfan]

your birthday | s. es

boyfriend!eunseok x reader | 6.0k words

two posts in two days but this is a little treat for eunseok’s birthday! kinda based off a request i received about eunseok and the reader in an igaf war (LMFAO)…inspired by the feeling i get when i listen to in a week by hozier.

contains: having cake (and eating it too if you catch my drift)

your birthday: one | two

when eunseok first became a teen, nothing changed. 

he spent his prepubescent life yearning to become one of the big kids that seemed to have so much fun. he would kick rocks past the park when leaving school, stealing glances at the teenagers that passed around a brown paper bag by the skating ramps. eunseok would look at them through through the chainlink fence when they decided to hang out on eunseok’s path home from school. when he was feeling extra bold, eunseok let his body lean against the fence, fingers in the gaps of wire while he observed them. 

eunseok memorized how they moved their bodies carelessly and walked with a relaxed nature, how they were oblivious to the world around them. eunseok didn’t know if their benevolence was by design, he was so acutely aware of everything he thought it was an innate part of being human. but here he stood, less than a yell away and they didn’t acknowledge his presence. but eunseok was still meek at that age, a small boy who had barely graduated from his velcro sneakers to laced shoes. the teenagers wore clothes that hung loosely on their bodies, dressed in fashion that would make anyone think they were delinquents. they may have been that very thing, what else do you call teenagers that skipped school to spend time at the park day drinking?

no matter what they were, it didn’t matter to eunseok. he thought they were cool and he was determined to become just like them. so when he stood underneath the sun on his sixteenth birthday instead of only staring at them through the fence he called out to them. eunseok was a different person now, he skipped class and retired the circle frame glasses he got called a nerd for wearing. the best part was that the group of kids drinking in the park changed each year and they had finally become his age. eunseok called out the name of a kid that shared class with him waving a pack of stolen cigarettes in the air like an offering. eunseok had stolen the pack from his parents a long time ago in preparation. he hated the smell and the way it made his throat burn, but he didn’t judge. he knew the delinquents loved to smoke, and they easily accepted eunseok into their group after he took a swig of hard liquor without grimacing. 

when he turned eighteen, the first thing he did was buy a lottery ticket. he didn’t know how to decipher the icons on the scratch off, he had to ask a very uninterested worker to tell him if he won or not. he left the gas station with a pack of cigarettes, poorer than when he walked in. eighteen wasn’t too different for eunseok. he didn’t have to worry about skipping school anymore, he had graduated and could fully dedicate his time to hanging out all day doing nothing with his friends. his group had moved on from the adolescence of a kids playground to an abandoned pool. they would spend all day there and be the first ones when the rest of the towns delinquents arrived at night. 

the night of his eighteenth birthday was when eunseok first saw you. eunseok was embarrassed to admit to his friends that knew you were not new to the scene. your older brother was one of the teenagers eunseok looked at when he was younger. your brother came and went, his mind was focused on things outside of drinking and breaking minor laws. he was one of the only ones that left the city quickly after graduation. he was shrouded in mystery and you were no different. when eunseok saw you walking towards the side of the pool his feet dangled off of he didn’t know what to do. eunseok had become so used to ignoring the world around him that when you came into it he was sheepish. he forgot how to form a bond with anyone outside of shared love for misbehaving and making bad decisions. 

you were already so mature for your age, and you knew who you were. you spoke to eunseok about having a job and how excited you were for college to broaden your horizons. eunseok felt like he was that nerdy meek boy again standing on the other side of a chainlink fence—this time he was admiring you through the wired frame. eunseok wanted to be like you, he wanted to go after what he wanted in life like you did.

eunseok didn’t have to spend three years changing himself to be let inside. you welcomed him into your arms without stolen cigarettes and alcohol hidden in paper bags. he felt like he had found a new side of himself, and eunseok couldn’t stop telling people about it. no one could blame eunseok for his discovery; he didn’t know that life could be so sweet, or that love was something greater than partying all night. 

eunseok took responsibility for not telling you early on that you had changed his life. talking about you to anyone that would listen wasn’t enough. the summer came to a close quicker than he expected. the season usually droned on when he spent his time hanging around abandoned places and playing video games in his friend’s basement. but it flew by, and spending every waking moment with you didn’t help the feeling of an impeding end subside. the final grains of sand went through the hourglass while there was a party at the abandoned pool house. it was one of the few nights of the summer where everyone was able to beat the sticky heat, and for the first time in eunseok’s teenage life, he wasn’t there. 

he chose to get drunk off you instead, and inhale your perfume while you whispered in his ear. the two of you decided to make heat of your own, the type that had your bodies drenched in sweat underneath thin covers. your bodies molded together and glistened, reflecting the light of the illegal fireworks that exploded outside. eunseok gave you what little he had left to give you that night. he made a silent vow that he would be a better person when you held him tight and let out cries of euphoria into his neck.

eunseok turned twenty-one while you were still away. he went back to the same gas station that gave him the worthless scratch off lottery ticket to buy his first legal alcoholic beverage. eunseok waited until he settled into his apartment, leaning deep into his couch before reading the label and taking a quick sip. it tasted no different, maybe even worse than the drinks he had snuck and illegally tasted all these years. eunseok didn’t have too much of a taste for alcohol now, even less of a taste for the sickly sweet drinks you preferred. but he drank every drop for some reason, acting like you were the one that brought it for him. 

eunseok was twenty-one when he rented his first car to come and see you. he took off work responsibly and drove through the night until he made it to your campus. he caught you just as you were leaving, planning a secret roadtrip back home to surprise her boyfriend who had just turned twenty-one. eunseok saw you nearly drop the bottle of the shitty vodka wrapped in a bow when you opened the door to him. he spent the night with you in your dorm and you two split the potable hand sanitizer with no chaser like you guys were teenagers again. 

you two barely made it through half the bottle when eunseok felt you lean over and whisper into the rosy shell of his ear that your roommate very obviously wasn’t coming back. she had gone home for spring break, just like everyone else on your floor. eunseok still pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your moans, and stuck fingers in your mouth to stop you from crying out. he let out grunts into the crook of your neck, and both of you muttered strings of incoherent words while you kissed. eunseok spent the rest of the night making up for lost time through rushed touches fueled by alcohol and desperation.

the next morning eunseok was hungover for the first time in so long he forgot how to operate. he had to wear your cat-eye sunglasses while you walked around the area surrounding your campus. again, eunseok fell victim to terrible timing. but he couldn’t stop himself from saying he wants to move to the city, and he would get the two of you an apartment off campus with the money he had saved up. he quickly talked about a future on the sidewalk, not noticing that he was next to a park. he was only focused on you, the way you were still glowing even through the tint of his shades. eunseok was afraid that the ridiculous sunglasses on his face made his words seem unserious, but the way you leaped into his arms and screamed with joy told eunseok you were taking him serious.

eunseok was twenty-three now, and he was nothing like the person he was in his hometown. after leaving, eunseok realized the world was alot bigger and there were more places to be than playgrounds and underneath bridges. he also realized that proximity was the only thing that made his friends stick around. he missed all of his friends from back home, and he wished distance didn’t keep them apart. eunseok came home to the small apartment he shared with you to see a single trail of confetti lead him to the kitchen. eunseok set his things down, and hung up his coat on the rack next to the door. he blew warm air into his hands, he didn’t know why it was still so cold in the middle of march. eunseok looked for you on the couch, where you normally sat relaxed after your shift until eunseok got home. 

when he didn’t see you, he tried holding back a smile as he slowly followed the trail. he turned three large steps to get to the kitchen into fifteen tiny ones.

“i thought we weren’t celebrating birthdays.” eunseok said loudly into the empty space of your apartment.

the walls were thin, and eunseok barely had to raise his voice for it to echo in every room of the tiny layout. but eunseok imagined the yelling and the tiny steps increased the anticipation and excitement for your big reveal. he would talk to you about the finances later, and how important it was to not waste money on meaningless celebrations.

when he finally rounds the corner eunseok is surprised to see seven familiar faces looking back at him. his jaw drops open when everyone immediately launches into singing him happy birthday. it still hangs when it’s time to blow out his candles. after it’s all said and done, everyone in his kitchen looks back at him waiting for eunseok to say something back. he is still shocked, and he sounds confused when he asks how did everyone fit in the tiny space of his kitchen laughter. booms in his apartment, but eunseok is still confused.

while eunseok caught up with his friends, he can’t help but be confused why they are all here. birthdays were never significant in his friend group, the closest thing they got to a celebration was first pick on what to buy with the pocket change everyone was able to scrounge up. but eunseok’s friends talked about how you got them together, how you planned everything while you stood in the kitchen shaking your head bashfully. eunseok made his friends thank you repeatedly, until you had to sneak into your shared bedroom to get away from the endless praise. eunseok didn’t let it end when you were out of the room. he spoke of you highly in between topics of his friends and how good his life was. his friends were congratulating him, and they spoke of their own lives. everyone from his friend group were going on to do things of their own, outside the limits they were almost fenced into. 

eunseok could talk to his friends for hours and he was grateful that you let him have alone time with the people he hadn’t seen in so long. but he couldn’t stop himself from occasionally peaking towards the closed door of the bedroom. eunseok wanted nothing more than to thank you for the planning and the effort that went into celebrating his birthday. twenty-three such an insignificant age to turn, but you put in effort like it wasn’t just a normal day. 

by the time he was done catching up and promising to visit soon, it was dark outside. he took the time to sincerely thank all of his friends, and to tell them how grateful he was to have them in his life. expressing gratitude came easily to eunseok now, and he knew it caught all of his friends off guard. they jokes about how sweet eunseok was now during the final hug. eunseok only shrugged his shoulders before telling them to get home safe.

no matter how soft he closed the door, the tired hinges still creaked. eunseok joked about all the flaws in your apartment, and you two both made it a game to find the positive in the defects. the squeaky hinges were your first line of security, letting you know that someone was walking into your home. the creaky floorboards made a precious melody, the loud cast iron radiator was white noise. eunseok realized the leak in your ceiling by the couch that counted time was gone. the metal bucket that sat directly underneath the leak was gone too. 

eunseok goes underneath it, smiling at the slightly discolored blotch that covers the hole.

“crafty.” eunseok says underneath his breath.

“is everyone gone?” you say. 

your voice is gentler than eunseok’s. he can make his boom throuhg your apartment, but yours almost gets lost behind walls and closed doors. eunseok hears you regardless, letting you know it’s just you and him in the sanctuary you two built together. 

eunseok clears the space between the living room and the door quickly, turning the knob to see you.

“can you bring me a piece of cake?” you quickly ask, much quieter than your previous sentence.

“sure baby.” eunseok says into the open crack of the door.

eunseok immediately turns towards the kitchen, walking to the counter where his half eaten cake sits. eunseok cuts you a piece of the cake using the butter knife that’s caked in frosting. he watches as it slices through each meticulous layer, acknowledging the fact it probably took you forever to make it. eunseok imagines about you in your cheesy apron, rereading the instructions on your phone a million times while he puts the slice on a tiny paper plate. the blue frosting matches the trim on the edges of the paper dish, and eunseok smiles again.

he heads for his bedroom door again, sucking the frosting off of his thumb before opening the door gently. he has to keep an eye on the plate, careful to not let the slice tip over the edge

“you patched the leak in the kitchen?” eunseok asks.

when eunseok looks up from the slice, he sees lit candles on the bedside table. eunseok sees you read your book in the center of the bed, trying so hard to be nonchalant about the cami top lingerie set you wear. you made sure to wear his favorite color, but whatever you decided to wear would’ve been his favorite. he nearly drops the piece as you set your book down and sit up against the headboard of the bed. you two look at eachother through the candlelit dimness and the the quickly building tension. 

eunseok walks to the side of the bed closest to him. he’s so fast that the slice of cake falls on it’s side. eunseok is only paying attention to it enough to catch a chunk that detaches from it before it hits the floor. 

eunseok wonders what’s going on inside of your mind as your eyes float between the piece of cake and his eyes. he watches you get on your knees, and bend over as your slow hand brushes past his leg to grab the handle of the bedside table. both your chests rise in anticipation as you open the drawer. you let eunseok see the assortment of toys he’s never seen before and a pair of cuffs that reflect light before you grab a lone candle.

eunseok comes closer when you beckon to him after lighting the candle on the small burning fire. he holds the leaning piece of cake between your two bodies and you use your other hand to manipulate the piece to sit upright. you’re messy on purpose, getting the blue and gray frosting on your fingers. he watches you clean the mess you made, sucking the frosting off of your index and middle finger after getting some on your lips. you hold his eye contact while you do this, and eunseok can see your cheeks hollow before you pull your fingers from your mouth.

“make a wish.” you say.

your words confuse him, and eunseok has to be reminded by your pointed eyes. his mind is still blank when he closes his eyes and blows out the candle quickly. you only laugh as you crawl to the edge of the bed on your knees. he comes closer to you, so close that you have to tilt your head to see his face.

“what’d you wish for?” you ask innocently.

eunseok looks past the specks and smudges of blue frosting on your face, and how it matching your cami top. the silk cami is smooth on your body, absent of ruffles or wrinkles except where your erect nipples protrude outwards. its so subtle eunseok think he would miss it if the candlelight didn’t bounce off the shiny fabric.

“i forgot.” eunseok says absentmindedly.

“already?” you ask playfully.

eunseok nods his head obediently. something comes over him looking at you like this. the candlelight ignites your dewy skin, and catches on your glossy puckered lips. eunseok bends down to get closer to you mindlessly, like a moth to a flame.

eunseok lets you pull him in by the hands you have on his face. he feels your thumb that still had frosting paint his cheekbones. you bring him so close that he cant stop the edges of the cake from pressing to the bare skin of your chest. eunseok knows you can feel the cold frosting on your hot skin, but you pull away from him slowly before looking down. the perfect amount is smudged on your chest, directly above the valley of your breasts. 

the view brings eunseok to his knees, and he carelessly puts the cake on the floor to free his hands. now it’s his turn to tilt his head up to look at you. you rest on your haunches and let your arms rest on eunseok’s shoulders. both of you stare at the smudge on your skin. when eunseok blows on the chilling frosting it causes goosebumps to erupt on your chest. you tilt your head to the side, and a hand reaches up to gently grab a handful of his hair.

“can you clean it up for me?” you ask. 

your voice already sounds hoarse and eunseok is no better. he can only nod, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to form a coherent sentence. without wasting another second, eunseok brings his lips to your chest. his tongue comes out first, pressing it flat to your skin before licking up a majority of it. when you sigh and lean your head back it drives eunseok further. he turns his head to get a better angle and attaches his lips to your chest. he sucks harshly, even after the he no longer tastes the sweet frosting. his hands also creeped up your chest and kneads your breasts over the thin silk material of your camisole. 

even when eunseok’s lips detach front your chest, his hands stay on your chest. he managed to move your top down just enough that the pigmented skin of your areola peaks out. eunseok looks up to you for permission, and when you nod your head, he attaches his lips to your exposed skin. he’s careful to not get spit or to stain your power blue camisole. your sighs are broken, and end with high-pitched whines. your grip on his hair tightens before you slightly tug. eunseok reluctantly lets go of your nipple, letting his tongue graze the skin before he’s out of reach.

eunseok is brought back to make eye contact with you. your eyes flicker quickly to his shirt, and eunseok sees that the slice of cake had smudged against his shirt. you pull your arms from his shoulder and walk backwards on the bed by your knees.

“take your shirt off.” you say once you make it to the center of the bed. 

eunseok stands to take off his shirt, not caring if frosting gets in his hair from his haste. his shirt is followed by his pants and socks after your instructions. he’s left in his boxers while you stay in your lingerie. eunseok watches your hands rest on your thighs, how you rub your skin the same way he always does. 

eunseok crawls on the bed until his nose touches yours. he doesn’t know why he’s waiting for you first, but he ignores it when your lips move forward. 

he takes his time kissing you, situating himself on the bed while a hand on the small of your back brings you closer. you give in and eunseok smiles against your lips before slipping his tongue past your lips. he keeps leaning you forward and tilts his head while he guides your movements. when you moan into his moan eunseok’s dick jumps in his boxers. he can feel his tip press against the cotton fabric and how the fabric becomes cold when the air chills his precum. 

before eunseok can lead you to lay your back on the bed, you exert physical and mental strength to break apart from him.

“lay down.” you say.

eunseok can’t stop his eyebrows from raising. the authority in your voice causes his dick to twitch in his pants. he’s hesitant at first, but lays back on the bed in the position he usually puts you in. you stay in your spot, letting your eyes rake down eunseok’s body. his muscles move underneath his skin, and his abs twitch each time the tent in his boxers move. 

you quickly suck the remaining frosting off your thumb and eunseok has to manually blink. before he opens his eyes, he can feel three of your fingers trail down his body. it started on eunseok’s chest, the same spot where he left a forming bruise and ends at his waistline. he thinks for a moment you’ll pull down the waistband, but before he can lift his hips to help your eager hand reaches for him through his fly.

eunseok can’t stop himself from groaning and letting his jaw drop. he sees you looking down at him, and your hair frames your face perfectly as you smile smugly. eunseok has half the urge to play with the strands of your hair, but when you start slowly stroking him all thoughts leave his mind. he only knows your name and the short answers to your teasing questions.

“does it feel good?”

“want me to keep going?”

“want me to go faster?”

“can i take your boxers off?”

each answer to your question is a breathy yes with a head nod. eunseok looks down at the tent you two form together in his boxers. he pushes his waistband down, desperate to see the uncovered view.

when eunseok can see your fisted hand around his base, he lets expletives fall from his lips. he wasn’t usually this reckless. he prided himself in keeping his composure until the very end. but the view of you pleasing him always made him lose self-control a little faster. that compounded with how bossy you were being made eunseok already feel like he was close to cumming all over your hand and his abdomen. 

eunseok is so desperate to feel you wrapped around him that he clutches at the thin strap of your top. but you are out of his reach as you trail down his body and slot yourself between his legs. eunseok props himself up on his elbows and runs his hand through his bangs to push it out of the way. he can feel the clumps of dried frosting comb through his fingers before he brings his hand back down.

“what are you doing?” he asks breathlessly.

he knows what you’re doing, or what you plan to do when he sees the determined glint in your eyes. you pull down his boxers without answering. neither of your say anything, only letting the sound of your heavy breaths and movement on the sheets fill the room. only a second passes between you throwing his boxers past the edge of the bed and you taking eunseok’s dick into his mouth. the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue causes eunseok to lift his hips off the bed and thrust into your mouth.

eunseok takes control when you gag on his length. he pulls himself out of your mouth by the base of his dick while you furrow your eyebrows at him.

“you surprised me baby,” eunseok wipes the spit from the corner of your lips “i’m sorry.” he apologizes.

you don’t listen to his apology, only placing your hand over his before guiding his dick back to your lips. you trace your bottom lip with the. eunseok shakes when he sees precum glisten on your lips, and how large his dick is in comparison to your face. he has to sigh and lean his head back to stare at the ceiling.

“you can be rough with me.” you say matter-of-factly. 

eunseok looks away from the ceiling down to your eyes between his legs. he feels your hand hold the base of his dick, and when you have his attention eunseok feels you run your tongue along a vein. it takes you all the way up, where you place a sweet kiss on his tip. eunseok twitches in your hold and gasps quietly.

“you can fuck my face,” eunseok feels your warm lips kiss his tip again. “or pull my hair.” you say.

eunseok has to dig his nails in his hand to stop himself from thrusting up into your hand. it’s all so vulgar, the way you give him permission to wreck you so casually. 

“don’t wanna.” eunseok says.

he did have nights where he fucked you into the mattress, not relenting until you were jelly in his hands and his thighs were shaking. sometimes something came over eunseok where he was admittedly mean to you in bed, spanking you until you were in tears and denying you orgasm after orgasm. but right now, he wanted nothing more than to lay you down and gently show you how grateful he was to have someone like you in his life. 

eunseok wished you weren’t so giving, or so hard to look at in the eyes during times like this. when you audibly pout and drag a wet hand up his shaft eunseok lifts his back off the bed slightly.

“i can feel you getting harder the longer you think about it.” you deadpan.

eunseok has to shake his head to try and deny the facts

“‘cause i want to have sex with you,” eunseok hisses when you drag your hand back down to the base. “really nice and slow.” he sighs.

eunseok can feel your lips curl against the shaft of his dick to smile, and he can see your legs playfully kick in the air. eunseok wants to cover his eyes with his arm, maybe the pitch black would stop him from twitching in your hand so much and his face from getting so hot. but your other hand has a steady hold on his, and his other hand is too busy clenching a fist repeatedly. 

“we have all night for that.” you blow cold air on his tip and eunseok hisses again. “we have all day tomorrow too, actually.” you say casually.

eunseok doesn’t know where this side of you came from. your sex life was very carefree. both of you agreed that assigning roles in bed was restrictive, and you were both so young that experimenting was a big part of intimacy. neither of you fell into roles, but more often than not eunseok ended up in charge, changing the positions to what he thought was most beneficial unless you requested something. but here you were slotted between his legs, calling all the shots and teasing him. 

he let out another sigh, hoping you didn’t hear the shaking in his voice.

“can you put it back in your mouth?” eunseok asks pathetically.

you smile even bigger before kissing the tip again. you start slowly, beginning with his tip. you look up, seeing eunseok’s adam’s apple bob while his hands grip the sheets. eunseok has to look at you take him deeper and deeper in your mouth. his elbow slide from underneath him and his groans when he can feel your nose touch his stomach.

“you’re so good at this.” eunseok says. 

you stay there for a moment, and hollow out your cheeks. eunseok bites his bottom lip when you come back up.

your eyes already start becoming red, and you have to sniffle to stop your nose from running. eunseok thinks you look beautiful. your determined look softened to something more needy, and eunseok was sure his eyes mirrored yours. he lets one hand tangle in your hair and slowly guides you back down to take all of him.

“you got it” he encourages when you take a brief pause.

you nod with your mouthful of eunseok and grab his other hand. he interlaces your fingers with his. the hand in your hair is just for show—the pace and how deep you take him is entirely in your control. you squeeze his hand when you gag, and eunseok coos you assurances and compliments.

“your mouth is so perfect baby.”

“making me feel so good.”

“keep going.”

“you’re so pretty.”

eunseok can feel the vibrato of your moans come from the back of your throat each time he compliments you. the vibration makes his dick twitch in your mouth. his hips occasionally jump up, and each time you look at him begging for more.

eventually it’s eunseok squeezing your hand, warning you that he can’t hold his hips back anymore. you nod and move his hand to the other side of your face. you place steady and firm hands on his thighs, ready to push back if it becomes too much.

“can i?” eunseok asks, nearly shaking.

you nod and say something that is blocked by eunseok’s heavy dick in your mouth. he takes what he can, a hand tighten in your hair and he places a guiding hand on your cheek. he tilts your head and eunseok lifts your head all the way off his dick, until a nearly invisble string of spit connects his tip to your flat tongue. eunseok massages your throat, enticing you to loosen it before he pushes your head back down his dick. when your halfway there, his hips meet you the rest of the way. eunseok can feel himself against the back of your neck, and how your lips stretch around the root of his dick. 

eunseok grips you there, and shakes your head so he can snuggly fit inside your tiny mouth. when you gag he pulls out and repeats the motion, until his hand holds your head in place and his hips take him all the way. eunseok wipes the tears from the corner of your eyes and lets his moans bounce off the tiny walls in your room. he’s sure of a noise complaint, or at the very least evil looks when he runs to someone in the mailroom. but eunseok doesn’t care when he turns your head and pushes halfway in until he presses your cheek as far as he’s comfortable with. 

when eunseok places his hand over your soft cheek and feels the bulge of his dick press against his hand, he goes into a frenzy. the steady rhythm he has is ruined instantly when you look up at him and whine. he becomes fixated on stuffing half of his dick into your small mouth and the pain of your nails digging into his thighs. you don’t push back, and when eunseok looks down at your body he sees you grinding your hips against a balled up blanket. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” eunseok lets one hand fall from your face to place it over your hand. “i’m close.” eunseok whimpers.

he’s rushing himself again, and he wishes he could slow down to enjoy the moment. but the burning in his thighs on pushes him quicker to the edge. 

“where?” eunseok asks you quickly. when you control back, bobbing your head up and down at a fast pace eunseok sees stars “in your mouth?” he asks quickly.

all eunseok needed was a nod and murmur from you before he thrust his hips up one more time before stilling them. he can feel the sweet release, and how it drips down his length before your quick tongue swipes it up. he stays there, back slightly off the bed while he keeps giving you cum. your name and a million thank you’s and fuck’s slip past eunseok’s lips. when he thinks he’s down, you bring a gentle hand to massage his balls. 

when eunseok is finally done and the last spurts go down your throat, he relaxes. it’s a full body relaxation, so much so that his lower back cracks in relief. he gives your every last drop, and you continue to bob your head up and down slowly even after there’s nothing left. 

as fast as eunseok was cumming he is tender to the touch, instinctually laughing from the almost ticklish feeling of you continuing your ministrations. eunseok has to pull your head off his dick, but you start to pump his length slowly while you rest your head on his thigh to catch your breath. eunseok has to place a firm hand over yours and shake his head before you pull your tunnel vision from his dick to his pained expression. 

“sorry.” you laugh and place one more kiss to his tip. “got carried away.” you say.

eunseok can only let out a light chuckle. the remaining last bit of his strength pulls you up from your spot between his legs to bring you in for a hug. you kiss him back with ease, like he wasn’t just using your mouth like his personal pocket pussy a few seconds ago. your tongue slips past his lips and you guide his hands to knead your breasts again. eunseok can’t let anything continue before he showers you with praise and appreciation for making his birthday so special. so he pulls away from you and distracts you by looking deep in your eyes softly. when he places a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose you close your eyes. eunseok makes quick work of you, by the time your eyes are opened it’s him on top. 

your pout is incredibly cute. eunseok laughs and kisses the creased skin on your forehead as your fucked out eyes try to scowl at him. 

“don’t laugh at me.” you try to be angry, but eunseok sees the smile on your lips.

“let me make it up to you,” when eunseok sees you open your mouth to protest, he kisses your complaints away.

“it is my birthday after all.” eunseok says before kissing you again.

[babiestbubbles]

I found this in my drafts this morning so here you go, let me know if you want me to finish it!

Softness in the Strangest of Places

Mikey woke up feeling small, really small. So small he didn’t think he could make it off the bed if he tried to stand up. So, he stayed in bed for a while, attempting to will himself big enough to at least brush his teeth. To his credit, he managed to make it to the bathroom, brush his teeth, and make it all the way back to his room before he collapsed back on his bed.

Last night was… rough to say the least. 

He’d been reckless, he knew he had been, but it was a spur of the moment type of thing. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, worst case scenario he’d end up with a couple extra scrapes or scratches. 

Except that in jumping headfirst into a fight he’d unintentionally dragged his brothers into danger too. It was never his intention, he swears. He’d rather deal with a thousand punches than see any of them receive a single one. But intentions aside, he endangered them, if it wasn’t for Raph, Donnie would’ve ended up with a concussion from falling off a roof, and Leo narrowly avoided fracturing his wrist from all of the impact it received from fist fighting. He wasn’t trained for long bouts of it, having to rely on his foundational training from childhood since he now trains consistently with his swords.

None of them were prepared for a fight, weapons abandoned at home in favor of a casual visit to topside. Mikey knew that, and he’d still started a fight. 

He walked home head hung in shame, taking deep heavy breaths as guilt and remorse clawed at his chest from the inside out, caged only by his ribs and fear of breaking down in front of his brothers.

Things got worse when they got home. He had to work so hard to keep up a good poker face while being lectured by Splinter, painfully aware that he’d just get in more trouble for crying. 

His dad’s words clung to his brain, branching out into harsher remarks. “You were irresponsible and childish. This behavior will not be tolerated anymore Michelangelo. ” slowly morphed into, “You are useless and pathetic. This was your last chance and you still managed to slip up.” Distress, fear, and sadness clouding his better judgment.

By the time that it was over, he’d lost track of anything other than his own misery and the burning sting of his father’s words. He walked shakily out of the living room, fighting every urge in his body to sprint to the safety of his bedroom.

The second the door shut and he was safe in his room, he fell into littlespace, hard. He was still a bit big, somewhere between 3 and 5, but lines get blurry when you’re on the verge of tears. Luckily he was still big enough that he had the sense to secure his room. He shuffled to the door, locking it, and pretending that the lock would magically make his room soundproof. 

He sprinted back to the softness of his blankets, jumping onto his bed, but the minute his body touched the mattress, the tears that had been pooling since he walked in, finally began to fall. He sobbed into his pillow, clutching his stuffed bunny close and letting it all out. 

His mind continued to swirl with thoughts, the words from earlier still fresh and metaphorical wounds they caused still aching.

How could he be so terrible? They probably never wanted to see him again. His brothers probably hated him, the only reason Splinter hasn’t gotten rid of him is because he’s spent 13 years training Mikey and it would be a waste. That was it. Mhm, Splinter didn’t love him at all actually. No one did. All he ever does is mess things up and cause accidents and be unhelpful. Mhm. Yeah. 

The poor turtle was so caught up in his feelings, and headspace, that all logic had gone out the window and he fully believed that his family no longer loved him because he’d made a mistake and gotten a lecture from his dad along with some glares from his brothers.

Mikey cried and cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, and not even ten minutes later, he was asleep. Entirely exhausted from the emotional and physical stress he’d just gone through.

And now he’d woken up cemented even deeper in littlespace, and he had no idea what to do. A part of him still believes that everyone is mad at him, that they don’t want to see him more than they have to, so he stays put. Deciding that it’s not worth the energy. He lays back down, snuggling his bunny and hoping that he could spend the day in his safe space, unbothered and a little bit sad.

Tragically, he has no such luck and less than thirty minutes later, Donnie comes looking for him. “Mikey?” he calls, his voice a bit sing-songy as he tries the door, pleasantly surprised to find it unlocked. Mikey knew he had forgotten something when he crawled back to bed after brushing his teeth.

Mikey can only look upwards and stare wide eyed at his older brother. Tears already beginning to form as he remembers everything that’s happened and emotions start creeping their way back. 

“Angelo?” Donnie asks, concern lacing his voice when his brother makes no move to greet him

Gentle distress floods his veins as Mikey makes an attempt to break his accidental vow of silence but finds the words stuck in his throat, leaving him sitting on his bed with his mouth hanging open as he tries a second, then third, time to speak. 

Through his mild panic the box turtle vaguely registers Donnie asking him what’s wrong and is suddenly struck with a genius idea. 

He sits upright, making sure he’s facing his brother and has his full attention, as he begins carefully lifting up his arms. He holds them in the air at chest level for a second before bringing his two palms closer together and hunching himself inward, effectively signing “Little” or “Small” in ASL.

It takes Donnie’s mind a moment to realize what’s happening, but his face softens as understanding washes over him. 

He slips into his role of caregiver almost immediately, his entire demeanor changing in seconds, and finds himself snuggling closer to his little brother, as he begins asking questions.

The first one is simple, “So I’m guessing you can’t talk, huh?” 

A nod is all it takes to get his brain going, running through all the various forms of nonverbal communication he knows.

He’s aware that Mikey only knows the bare minimum when it comes to ASL, so that’s off the table, but it reminds him that sometimes the simplest solution is also the best. “Can you type?” he asks softly, taking care to add a soft and suggesting tone to his voice so that Mikey doesn’t feel bad if he can’t. When his brother signs back “Don’t know” he pulls out his phone, handing it to the smaller. 

‘kinda can’ is all he manages but it’s more than enough for Donnie, whose face lights up in encouragement.

“There you go!” he happily remarks, before continuing his impromptu questionnaire. “Do you know why you can’t talk?” 

‘M rely tiny, jusa babie’  (Donnie Translation: I’m really tiny, just a baby)

Donnie can’t fight the urge to coo at his brother, “Aww, I’ve got a tiny little guy on my hands, huh?” he says in an overly sweet voice that somehow makes Mikey feel even smaller than before. 

Amidst his contemplation of the next question to ask, it clicks for Donnie that his brother is almost never this small. Hence the need for so many questions. The last time he was this small he’d gotten into a really bad argument with Splinter and- 

oh

Donnie can’t help the way face falls for a moment as he realizes why his brother has regressed so young. 

The question flies out of his mouth before he can even think about it

"Are you this tiny because of what happened last night?"

and Donnie has never been filled with such immediate regret as he watches his brother's face crumple.

Mikey's suddenly reminded of why Donnie was in here in the first place as the tears find their way to his eyes for the third time. Once they start falling, they can't seem to stop, streaming down his face chased only by hiccuping sobs.

Donnie’s on in him in an instant, wrapping him in a tight hug as he begins to soothe. 

"No, hey. Hey, it's alright. Donnie’s got you. I know it last night was a lot, I'm here I've got you. No one's upset with you, I promise. We know it was a mistake, I promise we don't hate you."

He states, knowing Mikey well enough to know exactly what was going on in his head right now.

Big or little, Mikey’s always scared that his mistakes are the end of the world, and it breaks Donnie's heart every single time.

He continues to hold his brother, a stream of soft “It's okay.”, “You're okay.”, and “I'm here”s  continuing to pour from his mouth. 

He tries rubbing small circles on the younger's shell but stops abruptly when he feels him pull away.

As the minutes pass, Donnie hears the harsh sobs fade to gentle sniffles as Mikey calms down a bit, nuzzling Donnies chest a bit as he tries to snuggle impossibly closer to his older brother.

It takes a few more minutes of sniffles for Donnie to try rubbing Mikey’s back again, but this time he leans into the touch, exhausted and desperate for reassurance. “There we go” he sighs as he feels Mikey melt into his arms, “Deep breaths, I’ve got you. Donnie’s got you.” 

Donnie’s never been a big fan of touch, but his little, scratch that baby brother, was always an exception. 

As Mikey leans back to look up at him, Donnie breaks out in a soft smile, “Hi sweetheart. Are you feeling any better? I’m so sorry I upset you like that, I promise I didn’t mean to. Do you think you can forgive me?” The question is asked in earnest, but Donnie knows the baby in his arms is far too tired and vulnerable to say anything but “Yes”, so he mentally files a reminder to apologize to his brother again when he’s bigger.

The small boy just nods shyly, looking back down with a droopy, almost shameful, look. Donnie recognizes it almost immediately. “Hey, hey, None of that! I’m not upset with you for crying. I could never be upset with you for expressing your emotions, especially when regressed. It’s fine, I promise. You’re such a good boy Mikey. My sweet baby brother.”

Mikey’s head continues to dip, though this time with a bashful smile rather than a shameful frown, and Donnie nearly beams at the sight. 

“Alright! With all that crying, I think it’s time we get you a drink and something to eat. What do you say bud?” Mikey nods cautiously in response, still on edge from all the crying, and just generally sensitive because of how heavily regressed he is. “Can you walk?” he asks tentatively, caregiver mode being increased tenfold now that he knows just how baby his brother was. 

He sighs at the sorrowful head shake he gets, but is quick to clarify he’s not upset at Mikey for being unable to walk, but simply hadn’t thought ahead about what to do in the event he wasn’t able to. 

Donnie goes back to rubbing soft circles on Mikey's back as he messages Raph and Leo a quick, “Code Baby, meet me in Mikey’s room.”

Of course, they’re there in an instant; Leo instinctively running up to the bed and reaching for Mikey’s hand to drag him up and out of the room before Donnie gives them a panicked “Hold on!” 

With a solemn look, he attempts to explain things as rapidly as possible…without upsetting Mikey. Which proves to be more than a bit of a challenge.

“Remember what happened last night with Mikey, the lecture he got from Splinter and-” he sneaks a quick look at Mikey, relieved to find him too busy playing with his newfound toy [Read: Leo’s hand] to pay attention to the discussion at hand, “the way he looked like he was holding back tears for most of it?” The second half is almost a whisper, Donnie treading carefully after earlier events. 

Raph and Leo’s faces immediately drop, excitement, about Mikey being little, shifting to worry for their youngest brother. Donnie quickly goes on, wanting to avoid putting his brothers through unnecessary anxiety. “Apparently some time between when he ran to his room last night and now, he regressed. And he regressed hard. He seems to be stuck in babyspace, and can neither talk nor walk ”

Both of their faces soften in understanding as everything, even their posture and stances, shift into caregiver mode alongside Donnie. They’d entered the room expecting a roughhouse filled playdate with an 8 year old Mikey, but now they were more than happy to dote upon their baby bound brother.

There’s also an unspoken twinge of pity, even sadness, lurking in the eyes of all three, that no one bothers to acknowledge. However Donnie decides to err on the side of caution and slips in an added, “I’m not sure if it’s what caused him to regress so hard or if it’s because he’s so tiny, but he’s super sensitive right now guys, so we’ve got to be extra careful how we handle him.” Raph quirks an eyebrow and Leo opens his mouth to retort before Donnie warns, “I sighed when he told me he couldn't walk and had to spend the next 5 minutes convincing him I wasn’t upset with him because of it.” which quickly shuts down any suspicion. 

The attention shifts back to Mikey as he squirms in Donnie’s lap, trying to reach Donnie’s phone but clearly unable. When it’s handed to him, he’s quick to type out a barely decipherable message about breakfast that kicks everyone into gear. 

Raph scoops him up, carrying his bridal style to the kitchen, and though he’s been held like this a thousand times, it still manages to make Mikey feel impossibly smaller. He babbles happily on the trip to the kitchen, clearly excited to be in his big brother’s arms and absolutely glowing under all of the attention. Donnie’s leading the way with smooth determined strides as he uses his gauntlet to run through an index of all the food in their household and organizing it into “Baby Friendly”, “Potentially Baby Friendly”, and “Are you trying to Kill the Baby?”

Leo trails quite a ways behind the other two, having run back to grab a pacifier and teether for Mikey, as well as his favorite Frog Stuffie. Just in case.

It only takes a few minutes for him to catch up with the others in the kitchen, where Donnie is already running around playing scavenger hunt with different ingredients. Meanwhile, Raph is attempting, to no avail, to pry Mikey off of him and set the boy onto a chair, a bowl of cubed watermelon sitting on the counter beside them. As much as he’d love to spectate Donnie’s goose chase for baby food, Leo figures Raph could use the help, so he makes his way over. 

“Mikey! Hey buddy,”  Leo coos.

[saltwaterandstars]

I while ago I saw @doctornerdington recommend the book Body Work by Melissa Febos. I recently bought it and I'm about halfway through reading it. So far I think it's excellent and I'm finding it helpful, but it's stirring up lots of thoughts and feelings and so I've decided to write some notes about that to keep a record of how I'm responding to it. So, under the cut it a personal essay of sorts. It's not a statement about what I think anyone else is experiencing or should do, it's just a record of my own experiences, thoughts and feelings about which are being evoked as I read this book. If you do read what I've written and want to comment, I'd welcome that, but it is quite long and I'm imagining not many people will read it. If you are going to have a read though, please note the content warning tags. I wasn't sure really what it needed tagging for, so if you do read it, let me know if you think it should be tagged differently.

Body Work is a series of essays by Melissa Febos. On one level it’s a book about writing memoirs—writing about personal experience. But the book is about much more than that. She talks a lot about the scripts we have taken in from society, from the patriarchy, scripts that we unconsciously write from, but also the same scripts that we shape our selves and our lives around. I’ve just finished the essay Mind Fuck, which is ostensibly about writing sex scenes. But in exploring what goes on when go to write about sex, especially when that we includes people disenfranchised and brutalised by the patriarchy, she’s really exploring what it is to be an embodied person; what it is to understand our physical and sexual realities, to live them, to make conscious choices in relation to them, and to write about them. She talks about the importance of identifying and getting beyond the narrative threads that were previously sewn into me by sources of varying nefariousness or innocuity.

I’m finding reading the book personally very helpful but, of course, it’s only helpful to the extent that it’s disturbing me, that it’s leading me to bump into and acknowledge the scripts—body-related, sexual, and otherwise—that I’m still living in accordance with. It’s interesting that this process feels to me so desperately uncomfortable, terrifyingly unsettling, actually, and yet, at the same time, it also feels like such a compassionate thing to be doing for myself.

I’m a white woman in my late 50s. I come from a poor, working class background, but through education and profession I am clearly middle-class now (and class is still a big deal in the UK, even if it’s not as explicit as it used to be). I look and sound middle-class and have the privileges that come with that. I’m bisexual but have been in a monogamous relationship with a man for 25 years, so pretty much everyone who knows me or interacts with me sees me as straight. To a very large extent, for the first four decades of my life, I tried very hard to live within the straitjacket placed on me by the patriarchy, especially in relation to my body. I spent many years trying not to gain weight, trying to be conventionally, heteronormatively attractive and so on. And like many women, I was fully aware of where those scripts, those rules, were coming from and the harm they were doing me, but I was just too scared to even attempt to let go of them in any kind of meaningful way.

There were ways in which I did live beyond the patriarchy’s imposed limitations. For example, I had a successful career in a male-dominated profession. But in my 20s and 30s especially, I attempted to do that while still trying to be seen as attractive and well-behaved and unthreatening (which would be hilarious if it wasn’t so heart-breaking—I was threatening just by existing in those spaces—I couldn’t be there and be successful and not be a threat.)

I also had a sex life where, at least some of the time, I experienced myself as having agency and freedom. But I lived that part of my life pretty much secretly. I wasn’t ashamed of my sexual behaviour; I just didn’t trust that society—including many of the people in my day-to-day life—would value and respect me if I allowed myself as a sexual being to be more fully seen. So I hid myself from view—not an uncommon coping strategy for me.

In my 20s to 40s, I was frequently fearful and anxious. Whenever I did something that challenged the scripts, the rules, I was very scared. I am not a feisty, up-for-a-fight kind of person. I find breaking rules difficult, and being a ‘difficult person,’ challenging other people, even just disagreeing with other people, feels disturbing to me (this can’t possibly have its roots in my childhood—surely not?!) So when I did do political things, feminist things, when I stood up for colleagues, said no to unreasonable demands, just disagreed with people, even, I felt real, like I had acted authentically and in accordance with my values, but I also frequently felt like the world was about to end. At the very least, I was often just waiting to be punished and expelled from the pack. It’s a hard way to live.

My 50s have brought me—through the menopause and the development of a life-changing chronic illness, and the death of people I love—some dreadful challenges, but also, through the exact same experiences, a real increase in freedom. For one thing, I am no longer attractive in a stereotypical heteronormative way. I’m just not. My body just can’t be that anymore. And while I’ve had grief and fear around that, I do also have an ever-increasing sense of freedom because of these changes, too. And because I’ve been so ill and my poor body has had (and continues to have) such a difficult time, my whole way of relating to myself as an embodied person has had to change. I’ve had to cultivate great oceans of kindness and patience to be in this struggling body, and it turns out, kindness and patience with my body are also antidotes to the poison of the patriarchal rules I swallowed in when I was young. Who knew?!

And I have to say, the less invested I am in being seen as attractive and pleasant and reasonable, the more my fears around the imagined consequences of being authentically myself subside. In the last couple of years in work before I retired, for example, I was pretty much immune to the attempts by my (mostly younger male) colleagues to pressure or bulldoze or embarrass or emotionally blackmail me into doing what they wanted. I wouldn’t say I became fearless because I didn’t, but alongside the fear was a kind of gleeful, arms folded across my chest sense of oh this is going to be interesting.

The death of loved ones has been an immensely painful experience, but it has also functioned as rocket fuel to help launch me out of my state of fear-based inertia. I’m not going to go into details, but basically everyone else in my immediate family died young, so I’m a chronically ill woman approaching old age with a truly awful genetic inheritance in terms of family longevity. I hope I live till I’m 90, but maybe I won’t. Maybe if there are changes I need to make to be more alive and present and free in my life, I might want to get on with that. So the questions I’ve asked myself again and again in different forms over the last few years are: How many more years am I going to spend living by these shitty rules? How many more years am I going to waste not allowing myself to explore who I actually am? To be who I am? Oh, and when I die, do I want them to put something like She was always so well-behaved—on my headstone? Is that how I want to live the rest of my life? Et cetera, et cetera.

Over the last few years, in ways small and large, I’ve managed to shrug off bits of the straitjacket. The biggest change is that I’ve completely stepped away from a pretty successful but personally damaging career. I’ve also allowed myself to finally get to know my pagan self and to be that self more publicly. And regularly in day-to-day situations I’m managing to catch myself about to act in accordance with Febos’ narrative threads that were previously sewn into me. Sometimes I manage to step out of automatic pilot and to make a conscious choice to do something different, to be more authentically myself in that moment, even when that feels scary and exposing.

Which all sounds great—and it is! But if that was the end of the story, then reading Body Work would not be proving so unsettling for me. Turns out, the really difficult explorations and changes I’ve already made were actually the easier stuff. Could it be that I’ve managed to avoid the extremely difficult work by focussing on the really difficult work?! As I’m reading the book, it’s becoming clear that what still remains to be examined and unpicked is the tough stuff. So here I am again today, asking myself the questions:

Who is it serving to keep myself, my needs, my wants, my interests, my values, hidden from view and not enacted in the world?

And how is doing all that serving me, too?

And how many more of my precious remaining years do I intend to spend in this understandable but deeply unsatisfying holding pattern?

[thiqskull]

He’s always found that there’s something about the kitchen light. The way opening the fridge floods the floor in warm yellow light, cutting a triangle through the darkness.

The dim under cabinet light bulbs.

He notices, he doesn’t really feel like he’s real in that moment. The tips of his fingers feel numb and all too receptive at the same time, as he crumples the packet of chips, so the remaining crumbs don’t go stale. The crinkling a distant sound despite being so nearby.

The hunger that had overtook him just minutes ago seems suddenly forgotten, replaced by this new-found sensation.

Billy’s there, sitting on the counter, despite Steve telling him not to do so endless times ((“It’s unsanitary” “You are unsanitary”), eyebrows knitted as he picks another cigarette and carefully lights it up.

Something’s playing in the background, down from the living room, he doesn’t recognize the song. He can feel the deep thumps of the drums, a soft guitar picking.

It feels like a place suspended between the real world and dreams; a place where you can say anything and it will forever stay there, a place where the morning after will bring no consequences.

And maybe it’s only the weed talking.

He can’t help but let his eyes wander and linger, on the way Billy stretches to grab a glass from the upper cabinet, the way it exposes the small of his back as his shirt rides up.

He’s pouring two glasses of orange juice. Steve feels his mouth go dry, suddenly thirsty like he’s never drank a single drop of water before.

“What are you looking at?” Billy asks, still soft, never puncturing the bubble they’ve settled in, not looking at Steve, if not only for one moment, inquisitive.

“You” he says before he can even form a thought.

And again, it’s probably the weed, not letting him think straight. He doesn’t really care about what that might imply. It’s just the plain truth.

He’s looking at Billy, studying the way his body moves and the way his muscles flex while closing the bottle. He finds himself mesmerized by it.

The change is immediate. Billy’s suddenly serious, as he sets the juice on the countertop.

Steve knows this has happened before.

The staring, the silence that follows, the odd feeling he gets in the pit of his stomach. Usually, the moment breaks when Billy says he must go. They never talk about it.

This is the first time either one of them hasn’t broken that silence, too stoned to fend off the questions lingering in their minds.

It’s late spring. The sun has long settled, only dim warm lights illuminating the house. They spent the afternoon hoarding the kids like sheepdogs and then found themselves, yet again, getting stoned at Steve’s while some shitty movie played on the TV.

Now Steve swears he can hear the blood rushing through his veins, the pulse in his neck. He stands up on autopilot. Goes straight for the cabinet, his shoulder barely brushing Billy’s, he feels the tips of his ears burn.

Once he’s fixed his drink and he’s had a sip he speaks again.

“So, what’s up with Lacey?” is what comes out of his mouth. Propped against the counter, he stares at the floor tiles, the grey grout running around them.

Billy’s laugh is low, warm honey coming from the deepest part of his chest. “What about her?”

“Weren’t you two going out or something? Tommy’s saying he saw the two of you under the bleachers”

He’s fully aware Tommy is full of bullshit, but he still pries, lands his elbow in Billy’s side, softly. Because Steve’s noticed that Billy has his arm swung around a girl only when everyone’s watching. Has his mouth on her neck at parties, tucked away in a corner, secluded, just enough to make the moment private, just enough to be seen.

“Nah, I ditched her, she was kind of lame.” Billy crosses his arms, exhales slowly “The only half-decent thing she listens to is Kate Bush.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Don’t let Max hear you or she’ll think you’re on her side now or something, we’ve worked so hard to establish you’re on my side, and not the kids’ ”

“Oh, am I now?” Billy turns to look at him, one of his genuine smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Yes, you are!”

There’s a glimmer in Billy’s eyes, as he watches Steve straighten up to better advocate for himself.

It took a while to unveil this version of him. To learn that there’s an actual person behind his Terminator-esque persona.

He remembers how much it had taken him by surprise, the first time he had heard his fully belly laugh, coerced by one of Henderson’s nerdy meltdowns.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your panties in a twist, I’m on your side alright. Would be weird if it was any different”

And that does something to Steve’s inside. He cannot help what he does next.

Because none of this feels real. The yellow glow tracing Billy’s profile, the nonsense he’s talking about.

What damage is there in indulging if it’s just a dream?

He closes the distance oh so slowly. The air feels like moving through molasses. Tastes like it as well.

And then they’re kissing.

Tentative, slow, lips barely brushing, and this is where he should wake up. Or walk away.

He doesn’t.

Salt, orange, nicotine. It’s making his head spin, he needs to steady himself and places one hand on Billy’s hip and pulls him closer.

Billy says something, still crowding Steve’s space “Was telling you about Lacey really what I had to do to get you to kiss me?”.

And it’s all the confirmation he needs to know this is all real.

He smiles so big his lips might split, and he kisses him again.

[oddballwriter]

Werewolf! Moon Boys NSFW Headcanons

Warnings: Okay so now I'm really feeding the monster fuckers so watch out for mentions of knotting, heat, and animalistic sex, and size differences. 

Author’s Snip: Time to really let my monster fucker hair down lol

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Marc Spector

Marc isn't against having sex when he's turned. I'm sure he's spent a few moments the morning after a full moon think about it. But he's scared that he might hurt you in the process

Because he's aware that he's bigger than his normal size, in both ways, so he doesn't know if maybe he'll be too big for you to take

Also, he might hurt you because he thinks that while in the moment he'll get to hyped up and he thinks that he might start doing the thing where dogs get really rough when their playing with something and that scares him

You honestly have to look at him and say that you're willing to take the risk for the sake of getting to smash

Okay but hear me out, what do you bitches know about heats and knotting (yeah we're letting the monster fucker freak flag fly today babes)

I don't think that Marc thinks that his dick is able to knot. He knows what it is, but he just doesn't make that connection in his mind that his penis can also knot similar to a wolf

Man has just never fully thought about it he's too busy being angsty and ashamed of being a werewolf. So when you finally get to fuck and he wakes up the next morning with himself still inside you he's like "Holy shit I actually can."

Sex is as animalistic and good as you think it is, and you will never complain. That thang does fucking WORK in there. It's hitting everything and then some

Marc worries about exhausting you when heat comes along but I mean... You're getting a huge dicking for like god knows how long every night

And the growling and snarling, and panting... bitch imagine

Steven Grant

Steven, bless his heart, was aware that having sex while in werewolf form might be something that would take a lot out of you, and at first refused the idea of doing it because he didn't want to hurt you or god forbid break something

But he's just a man, and he has a man's brain, and he can be a completely different size than you are. So at some point, he bites.

Steven insists that you do a safe signal and they he will try to stay coherent when in werewolf state so that he can notice it

But he finds out that you never use it

He was aware of the knotting and he was worried that it might hurt you, but you said it was fine and so he just, lets it happen

Afterwards he licks your face to give it kisses like how a dog would

Maybe clean you up like that too *cough cough*

The heat though, he genuinely wants you to stay away because he doesn't want to have you send all your energy just being his chew toy. Even if you insist that you're into that

He does hold himself back because he is still worried about hurting you though

Jake Lockley

Oh, he's thought about it. A lot. The whole thing

But he never mentioned it until you started showing interest in it because he didn't want to scare you or accidentally force you into it/make you feel like you have to

But upon hearing you suggest it he's on board. Bestie, he was already on the boat. Made the boat to sail, even.

He asks if you want him to hold back or go all out, and once you give your response he's like "Say less ;)"

I mentioned in the sfw version that Jake is mostly the one fronting during the transformation of both turning into a werewolf and changing back and probably just is the one fronting when they are a werewolf, so Jake has been able to be more conscious when in their state rather than being more animal like

So he's there when you're having sex, but he lets some of those instincts take control because he knows that's what you want

Also, he isn't afraid of heats either

Listen, he knows what the fuck you're here for. He's not going to be like Steven and Marc where they're scared and ashamed of having this part of them and the things they might do during sex and heats. He's not going to act like you aren't here for that shit.

Jake knows that you're down for getting split tf open and being it nonstop when they go into heat

Jake's nasty, you're nasty, you guys can get nasty together

Side note. All three of them are secretly into when you call them "good boy" in bed both when in their werewolf state and out of it, and sometimes as a kinky treat you can call them a "bad boy/dog" too

[mentallyshattered]

This is part 24 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

We're late. Shit. Only by seven minutes, but there's a lot of gossip in the Backstage Room during seven minutes. Damn!

Luckily, we still have plenty of time for our skincare routines. Grim gets brushed a little faster than usual, but we're good. "Breakfast can be eaten on the way to class," I mutter to myself as I speedwalk down the hall.

"Y'ain't gawt classes t'day! Jeez, yeh jus'a lil' too awn edge 'bout yeh grades, ain't'cha? Cawlm yerself, 's awll awrigh'," says Epel, voice drawling along as it does to add a w into some words that wouldn't normally contain them this far north. I laugh along with him. We were really in such a hurry, and for what? Club doesn't start for a long while today.

In walks Korrak. Mandible is on his shoulder, as usual, and they look... as fatigued as always. Do they know? I can't tell. Maybe their evident exhaustion is from normal causes, whatever those are.

Well, I'm not going to risk it. Those two have never looked fully rested as long as I've known them, and using my signature spell last night showed me that's not a recent development. Even on the day of the entrance ceremony, they looked like there had been about two hours of deep, undisturbed, uninterrupted sleep between the two of them.

...Actually, they look way better now than they did then. I suppose Rook and Vil's care has really had an impact. Good. They deserve it.

Is the same true for me? Did I look like some kind of abomination when I walked in this world for the first time? Thinking back to day one, absolutely. Grim and I actually got taken into the Backstage Room first, and our housewarden spent over an hour and a half on detangling my hair alone- after he spent another thirty minutes on cutting it without breaking the scissors. Maybe I overestimated the difference between me and the boy with the dark blue opossum.

Ok, definitely. I definitely overestimated the difference between Korrak and I. Then again, we're from entirely different worlds, so is that a crime? I hope not.

Oh, well. Korrak isn't looking at me or Grim like anything's different, so we're probably fine. Probably. There's definitely an ethics factor, but I'm choosing to ignore that. For now.

Speaking of problems I'm aware of but choosing to pretend I'm not because the stress of that issue is pressing and I never learned to properly cope with anxiety in any way but ignoring it until I can't and it breaks me, I've heard of a spring and winter break when students go home. What do I do then?

Perhaps my impending doom shows on my face, but It doesn't matter if so because nobody appears to have noticed, and I don't see Rook. That doesn't mean he doesn't see me, though. Good ol' Rook.

He'll find me later. There's a good chance Grim and I will be taken to Vil's room to discuss that, and perhaps my signature spell. I need to get better at using that. There, that's something to do today.

I don't know when I sat down, nor do I know when Korrak and Epel started talking about combat, but it's oddly comforting to hear someone talking about fighting whilst drawing many of their 'a's into 'aw's. All becomes awl, on becomes awn, and so forth.

Did I have these moments before? Of peace, of contentment, of calm? Of simply sitting on a couch and listening to friends speak of violence in familiar voices and tones? No, I didn't, not even that last part. It's nice to know things can improve with as little as... well, not little. Still, it's nice to know things can improve.

I need to start with learning how to trigger Memory Lane. I think it was accidental last night, but I can't recall enough about before to even guess how I set it off then. Perhaps I have to be asleep? Does Grim has to be asleep? How close do I have to be to the person whose memories I'd like to rummage through, physically? Does physical space even matter? How well do I have to know them? Do I have to know them? Can I swap between targets without leaving the spell's area, or do I have to cast it twice for that to happen? Where does my physical body go? Can I take other people there?

I'm getting ahead of myself. First things first: how to start using Memory Lane. No, wait, first is breakfast. I'm almost done with that, so I'll head into the woods to train. I'll probably have to register that with Vil and maybe the headmage, but that can wait. I'd like to learn more about this spell before I tell.

"You look like you've got a plan," murrs Grim. "What're we doing today?"

"We're figuring out that spell," I maow back. Grim grins, sharp little teeth slightly dirty with minuscule chunks of salmon and toast.

"Y'all ain't all that subtle when yer up ter somethin'," teases Epel with a roll of his eyes before he gets up to stretch. "Best I git goin'," he starts again, smirking. "Cain't masta spelldrive without practice, after awll."

With that, Epel is gone, and Mandible turns to chitter at Korrak about something- I don't know what; I don't speak opossum- who then nods, scarfs down the rest of his food, and makes a break for it. He is stopped by Rook, who probably wasn't there a moment ago if my eyes are telling the truth.

"No running in the lounge," he chides gently. "Now, then, follow me!" I assume that has to do with club activities and think nothing of it. We ought to be going, too- daylight only lasts so long.

The forest is quite pretty again, leaves crunching beneath my feet as I step through the rug of orange, red, yellow, and brown that only parts for trees, their roots, and large rocks. The air here is crisp and fresh, good for clearing your head. I'll probably need that to pull this off, but I'm not sure. Can't hurt, at least.

I inhale, holding the air in my lungs and picturing... someone. The breath escapes me. Who should I go for? Myself, perhaps? Grim? Korrak again? Myself, I'll try myself first. Worth a shot, at the very least.

I try again, holding my breath in my lungs with an image of me, as reflected in the Backstage Room's wall-length mirror. My eyes close. My breath exits me in a quiet whisper: "Memory Lane."

I open my eyes to a Grim-grey path beneath my feet and a slightly blueish sky. Not blue-grey, but blue-brown, like the sky was shifting from a brunette brown to an overhead midnight expanse and I walked in on it midway through. The "stars" are small, black dots and streaks that have scattered themselves across the expanse, more numerous than in Korrak's and somewhat grouped into rows that make me think of a river spreading itself over the landscape it cuts through, as if I walked in on them, too.

The trees are willows, not the weeping kind- at least, not until I look close enough to see their branches are held up by vines with stems that match the path and leaves that match the flames in Grim's ears. The trees themselves are the dark, colorless color of my familiar's trident tail, and their leaves vary in color like confetti- some are the signature Pomefiore purple, some are the same blue as the leaves on the vines, some are a different shade of violet I've seen in Vil's eyes, and some are the green of ferns, moss, and Rook's irises. These willows do weep, but the vines prevent that. Interesting.

I wonder what that says about me.

In front of the comforted willows are more memory screens, though mine appear less like floating screens and more like... what's the word? Like those big, fancy graves with something built from smooth marble atop them, honoring the dead by creating something beautiful in their name. Crypt? No, those are underground. Tomb? Maybe.

Mausoleum, that's it. Though, notably, only the memory portal things a little ways away have them- these are nestled in the willows themselves, once low-hanging branches held away from the screen by the vines and slightly obscuring my view of the past anyway. The farther and further I look, the more little white roofs I see.

"Funny," starts Grim, "I don't remember all this. I mean, the sky's bluer than before, the leaves on the trees are more colors, and the fancy buildings are new, too." He dips his head down, eyes facing the ground near my feet. "Then again, it's been years, and my memory isn't all that great. I don't remember my family, just being cold, that striped ribbon, this place, and you." He curls into himself, soft stomach hidden from my sight, and I cannot help but forget for a mere moment that I am holding a catlike unknown as opposed to a newborn human in my arms. The thought soon evaporates like a drop of water on the surface of the sun, though my familiar's pose remains fetal.

"That's okay, Grim," I reassure, hugging him closer to my chest. "We have each other." I do not tell him the whispers of my childhood are blurry and mysterious like fog over the sea. I do not tell him he is all I clearly recall. I do not tell him I've forgotten the face of my reflection so much I thought I was face blind until I realized I only knew what I looked like when I saw myself. He does not need to know.

Nobody does. Not Mandible, not Korrak, not Epel or Rook or Vil or anyone but me. Those teachers are irrelevant now; this new world has new rules that they can't teach me. Those kids were never my friends; they just let me sit with them and tried to talk to me. Those parents aren't my parents anymore; I have new ones.

Methinks I need a distraction. My remedy is to walk a few meters to the nearest one, adjusting Grim in my arms as I do so, and touching the shiny white with my newly free hand. My familiar uncurls and turns his head to watch my fingertips glide accross the pristine, exact surface. Not one bump, dent, or crack.

The memory itself is of searching the woods for a stick to turn into a toy for Grim- it's clear and crisp despite the fact that I haven't touched it and don't intend to. Behind me, the next memory is of learning I had magic. It's just as vivid as the one before it.

Further down the path, though, memory mausoleums are fewer and farther between. It's nowhere near as packed along the sides as Korrak's- a testament to my poor memory, I suppose- or, perhaps it testifies for his being above average. Maybe even both.

I guess that's just my life- forgotten until recently.

Actually, if I look, there are a few. These ones are blurry, concerningly so, and some part of me says they need to be wiped down like soapy windows in a car wash, as though that would somehow improve the quality.

The farther back I go into the faded scraps of my own forgotten past, the fewer and farther between the memories get, and the ones we do find are notably worse than the last, though not by much. It adds up, though. After a while, they look less like life viewed through a dirty lens and more like splotches of color that were filmed through fog.

Then, I see it. This marblelike structure is huge; I'd have to stand on my own shoulders to see the top. What event could this possibly be?

I look. It's crisp like the most recent ones, with clear differences between even a grey, trident-tailed cat and an asphalt road.

Oh.

Oh.

It's... Grim's death.

...

Yeah, that... that lines up. When did I get on the ground? Oh, I've fallen. Grim is- alive. He's alive, and I'm not losing him. Not again.

It'd be comforting if I could tell myself that wasn't real, but it is. That happened, and it won't again. Not on my watch. I won't let it, no matter what.

"H-hey," starts my frantic familiar. "Yuu... um, look! Over there! I think there might be something under the trees! Let's go and look, okay?"

That's right. That's right. More to see. More to remember. Farther and further back into my faded past.

I stand and look. He's right; the branches are unusually thick here. And, right at the bottom, a rectangle cuts off, like a memory has been hidden by the trees and was revealed by the vines pulling them up.

Gently, slowly, I brush some branches aside. Harshly, suddenly, I am standing in a very nostalgic yard.

Grass. Clover. A mossy wooden fence that my startled mind remembers was willowwood, once upon a time. Grim was right. This is a memory. Speaking of Grim, there he is. In my arms. My eight-year-old, grey-clad arms. I recognize that hoodie- the grey of Grim's fur. It was my favorite as a kid.

Another child is walking down the sidewalk. Small me sees him- blond hair, forgotten eyes- and does not call. He sees small me right back, through the many large holes in the picket fence, and then he stops, his feet in dark cyan shoes I don't remember the style of. His mouth opens.

"Hey! Yuu!" I freeze. It feels almost as though he's calling out to me- not small me, but current me. That shouldn't be possible, and then small me shouts back.

"What?" My old, echoing voice calls back. The boy- Christopher- smiles like he's just been given a pack of gummy bears.

That's right. Christopher. His name was Christopher, and his favorite food was gummy bears. He sat with me at lunch.

"Are you gonna come over to my house this weekend?"

Small me lights up. "Sure!"

"Okay," Christopher shouts back, "see you tomorrow!"

"Bye!" Small me turns back to Grim. I get a good look at him then, and he is visibly younger than the Grim of today. His trident tail, like the rest of him, is smaller, and the blue flames in his ears look more like embers than they do fire, as though they once roared and have been slowly softened by the neverending sands of time.

"Mreew," sqeals the exited bundle of fur.

Small me giggles, ecstatic and still learning cat. When did I master that language?

The door on the house behind me opens, faded paint flaking off in thin shards of what was once green. Young me turns to the obnoxious squeaking, and thoughts drop into my mind like rain into a bucket: That door was greener. Why is it so white now?

The paintless parts of the door are pale brown.

The memory cuts to the following day. Christopher's mother is cutting my hair, and, from where today's me is standing, it oddly resembles Vil doing the same. She's fussing over how it should t be this matted, and how this isn't healthy, and how she's going to call CPS. I can't even remember what that stands for. Did I ever know?

More thoughts flow through me: Their door is so quiet; mine is so loud. Their house is warm like the park is in summer. What color is this? It's like the walls of the doctor's office. Or snow.

I smile to myself. My elementary school was decently fancy when I was a kid, even though Night Raven has since blown it out of the water. Many of the kids who attended came from rich families, and my friends were no exception.

The memory ends, and I'm standing on the road again. It feels like something was cut out, like there was more to it that was lost to time. I guess I'll never know again. Thinking about that makes me feel a little faint.

We should head back. I can't tell the time right now, but we do have club.

I think I can just...

"Memory Lane."

There. Isn't that neat? With just the faintest of whispers and a little bit of magic, we're back in the woods- and my phone is buzzing in my pocket with messages. Specifically, texts from Ortho.

12:02

[This groupchat was created]

[Groupchat renamed to "Board Games Club]

8:34

(666-89-02740) Hi!

This is Ortho Shroud of Ignihyde

You are Yuu of Pomefiore, right?

And Azul Ashengrotto of Octanville

8:35

(534-82-42001) Yes, this is Azul.

Why are you texting us?

The lounge is opening.

(666-89-02740) Board Games club has been canceled for today

Idia is sick

And the club room hasn't been cleaned yet

Neither have the games

8:36

(534-82-42001) Okay, I'll be at the lounge if you need me.

(666-89-02740) Okay!

Yuu, respond when you see this

The first thing I do before I respond is add Ortho and Azul to my contacts. I don't know how Ortho got my number, but it probably has to do with the whole "Ignihyde is the tech dorm" thing. The second thing I do is look at the time, and the third is sigh with relief. We'd be late if it weren't for club being canceled.

10:07

(Yuu & Grim) We have seen this!

(Blue Candle) Got it

Thank you!

I smile. It feels like I'm connecting with this new world a little bit more at a time, and the thought is enough to distract from the still-drying tears on my cheeks. Grim is purring again, probably unintentionally.

And that connection with my old one is gone. Was it ever even there? My life was nothing special, except for Grim. I should know- interesting things stick in my mind. I lost a lot of then after the whole car-and-cat thing, but I remember some of Shakespeare's plays. They were interesting.

I only remember one of them, though- what was it called? The Ides Of March, I think that's it. All I really recall is the name and that some guy got stabbed.

I remember that play better than I remember my biological parents, and I barely remember the play. Did I even live with them? Did I ever know them? Maybe I was raised by a straight couple. Or a lesbian. Or two lesbians.

No matter. Right now, my "parents" are a pair of theater kids, and I'm happy with that. I like them. Vil personally dematted my hair when I first arrived.

...Hold on. I was raised by parents, not aunts or uncles or anything, I know that much. And I know they were alive and in the house. And I know parents are supposed to care for their children.

So, why was my hair a rat's nest when I first came to Night Raven? Why did Vil have to spend so long fixing it? Why am I hyperventilating?!

I hold my breath and pray to whatever will listen to please let me faint. That's what I always did back then... okay, maybe that just means this is a bad thing to do.

Maybe my poor memory is one of the ways I cope. I'll never know with what. That's the point, after all.

My phone breifly vibrates with another message, this one directly from Ortho to me with nobody else involved.

10:46

(Blue Candle) Hey

I can't find anything on you except school-related stuff

Like

Anything

(Yuu & Grim) Why were you looking for that?

(Blue Candle) The nurse asked me if I could find your medical history and stuff

You know

For safety reasons

Seems reasonable. Although, wouldn't it make more sense to contact Vil first? And then Rook? Or the headmage, even? Maybe Ortho knows her personally or something. Maybe she wanted to contact Idia, but he sent his brother in his place. Yeah, that makes sense.

10:47

(Yuu & Grim) Yeah idk lol

Good luck

(Blue Candle) ???

That does not help

(Yuu & Grim) 🤷

(Blue Candle) 😐

😑

😐

I don't send anything new, still processing my delight over the discovery of this world's emojis. By the time I look back, Ortho has sent another text

10:48

(Blue Candle) Meet me in the nurse's office soon so I can get your blood type and stuff

(Yuu & Grim) Ok!

"C'mon, Yuu! Let's go, I'm bored," meows Grim. I smile and nod. I can process this later, anyway.

@cenatour

[slaveofemma]

10 Year of Slavery - Ch.25

Summer break was about to end. And I was excited than ever.

The chat we had with Nat was a big relief for me. Even when I told her that I had become Ellie's slave "officially", she didn't react like it was a big deal and listened me with curiosity. And she was supportive all along, which obviously encouraged me to devote myself to Ellie even more. I felt like Nat was also excited to witness an alternative lifestyle, and was eager to see where it will lead us. I asked her to be my emotional support, and confidante in this journey, and she gladly accepted. She was going to be my benchmark to see if I'm going to the extremes and making a mistake.

Being fully aware of that Ellie wouldn't like that, we agreed with Nat to set up a secret email address, both her and me, and keep it secure and exchange emails once in a while. We were not going to use normal communication ways at all to keep ourselves safe from being discovered, and exchange emails as we go ahead.

.....

Meanwhile, Ellie had spent most of her last week with Dylan. I was not getting much attention from her, and I wasn't disturbing them too. We were exchanging some texts throughout the day, but she didn't call me until two days before the end of summer. That's where I learned about she texted Sean to hook up with him -to "close the deal" they had during the weekend getaway, but learned that he officially started dating with Melissa. Sean asked him to not tell Melissa what happened between them. Although disappointed, Ellie told me that she did want them to be happy. Dylan also tried to set up another threesome with Megan, but they couldn't find a common time and it didn't go along. Ellie was obviously into the threesomes with Dylan, and I was also curious about if Megan's subtle submissiveness had a part in Ellie's eagerness for another round or not. But I didn't asked about anything.

As I said before, she spent most of her last week with Dylan. She was now spending lots of time in their house. I guessed that Dylan's mom must be somewhat OK with it, to see at least that her son's settling down with a girl. Hesitantly, I asked her if they announced that they're a couple to anyone, but she told me that they're not a couple and "just hanging out" until the end of the summer. It was a big relief to me.

She also told me that she started liking Hazel, Dylan's little sister. Being a total bitch at their first encounter, she opened up to Ellie slowly after a while and showed that she's not just another moody teenager. It sounded to me like Ellie did really enjoy spending time with Hazel.

Before hanging up, we talked about what we were going to do when we are back. Her flight was several hours before me, so we decided to meet at our home directly. We had several days before the classes start so we had time to settle down again, set up some ground rules and get the house going. But we decided to leave the details to when we were together.

"Ellie, can I tell you something? I missed you so, so much." I told her, hesitantly. I was feeling like we were distanced from each other during the last six weeks, and was afraid of how we were going to feel once we're back together. But it didn't go as I expected:

"Me too babe. I know that we didn't have much chance to connect emotionally in this last weeks, but I really missed living with you. Believe me, not only this game between us. I missed your smell, your hug, your laugh..."

"You made me so happy babe. I miss you too. Everything about you..."

And we had a pleasant, gentle conversation about how we missed each other of a couple minutes before hanging up. It was the first sweet conversation we had after such a long time, and I was thankful, really thankful for it. We hanged up with a big smile on our faces.

....

I got off the plane in a bright Friday evening on the September 2015 to return to my city, my school, and my dear Ellie, and took a cab straight to our house. We were full of love during the last couple of days, but she was also reminding me here and there that I was still her slave. So, I wasn't entirely sure about how it was going to be like, and I doubt she knew either. We had agreed to let it flow and see how it'll unfold together. So, when I rang the door, I wasn't sure if I was going to kiss her lips, or toes.

To my relief, she greeted with a hug, and a long, nice kiss. I just hold her in my arms as long as I can, and whispered to her ear saying that I missed her so much. Soon, we ended up on our bed, hugging and kissing each other slowly. We talked about how good it feels to be back and other random things that a loving couple would talk about. After a while, she started unbuttoning my pants, and pulled them down, revealing my rock-hard penis. I was as stiff as I can be, and she started touching my shaft slowly with her soft fingertips.

"Did you keep your promise?"

"Yeah baby, it was so hard, but I did." I lied to her.

"I can see. Good job babe, I'm proud of you. Do you think you deserve a nice, long, sloppy handjob? Did you miss having sex with me?" She was touching my dick very slowly, very carefully.

"You can't imagine how much I missed that."

"But do you think you deserved it?"

I knew that it was a trick question, so I responded carefully:

"No babe, I don't deserve such a thing by following your orders. Only you can give me that, whenever you think I'm worthwile. I'm yours, with all my being." I was hoping that this would convince her.

"You are such a good boy. I'm proud of how quick you're learning. Undress me." She let herself completely flat on the bed, and let me undress her. I was kissing her naked body, her skin while removing her clothes, but she also reminded me to not to touch myself. Her tanned skin was softer than ever. And the contrast between her tanned skin and pale white boobs were making her even sexier. Once she's done, I removed my clothes as quickly as possible while she was watching me.

"Wow, you are toning up boy!" She said when I removed my shirt. I thought that comment worth all the gym sessions throughout the summer. "I liked that, keep going and you'll get much better."

I thanked her, and got back to the bed, right next to her. We were again naked, on our bed, and touching each other.

"See, we're back on our bed together. After all that time, I'm with you again. I know that you were afraid of losing me, but you trusted me and kept going. I'm really proud of what we achieved babe. We showed that a relationship is way more than just sex, and we can be a happy couple while having sex with other people." She was right next to me, under my arm. Her boobs were pressed against my chest, and she was touching my dick as slow as it can be.

"Tell me how it felt when I was talking about how I got fucked."

"It was hard, it is still hard, but I learned enjoying it. I'm not feeling jealous anymore. I'm feeling... I don't know if there is a word for it. I feel "content". I feel satisfied when I hear the satisfaction in your voice. I feel good."

"So, you don't want to fuck me anymore then?"

"Ah quite the opposite! I crave for that every moment. I can die for that. But I know that I won't be, and it doesn't annoy me anymore.I love your pussy. I don't care who's having all the fun, I'm happy worshipping it."

She stopped touching me, and pushed my head gently towards her pussy. It was a sign for me to assume position for oral sex. But when I positioned between her legs, she stopped me, and told me to just stay an inch away from her pussy while we speak. I was smelling her clean-shaved pussy, was seeing that she's getting wet, and I was pressing my rock-hard dick against the bed and hoping to not have an accident and get a premature orgasm. While I was just staying an inch away from Ellie's pussy and resisting the urge to kiss it, she kept talking.

[chemblrish]

Hey, First of all, I love your blog. It's literally aesthetic ~ I wanted to ask if you considered job prospects before deciding on your degree because I see people around me saying chem is not worth it because of future possibilities. I also have a background in Biotechnology, but had a similar issue with it being too vague. I am working in a totally different field which I am greatful for but I dont plan on staying here long term. Seeing your blog rekindled my interest in chem so would love to know your point of view on this or any advice you could offer. You can totally ignore this if you want as well <3

[This got SO LONG omg 🙈 But I hope it can be helpful]

Hi there fellow chem enthusiast!

To be honest, it's no secret that finding a job in the scientific field is difficult here in Poland. I was fully aware of it when I chose biotech first and then chemistry second. My reasoning back then was, "I love science more than anything and, since I have the opportunity to study it literally for free, why not take it? Why not spend five years - that are going to come and go anyway - learning something I'm passionate about, broadening my knowledge, and giving myself a chance to create a beautiful future for myself? Even if I fail to get a job in science, at least I will know that I tried my best. I'll have spent five precious years of my life doing something incredible."

Which may sound a little depressing, I agree 😅 But several years later, I still think this way. Even if I can't get a job in chemistry once I graduate, at least I'm so, so happy now. I can't really picture myself doing anything that's not science-related, so I know I have to try.

But at the same time, after a couple of years studying for two different science degrees, I have some insight that I didn't have straight after high school. I have had people tell me getting a science degree isn't worth it too, that I won't get a job afterwards, but I've noticed most of those people belonged to one of the following three categories:

1. People who have absolutely nothing to do with science: distant relatives working in business or trade, my parents' acquaintances with no higher education, everybody who ~has heard things~ but has never really been in the position to see firsthand how these things work.

2. My fellow science majors who have older friends with a science degree: their concerns usually sounded valid to me. After all, they were in touch with people who actually got the degree in question and then tried to navigate the job market post-graduation. Later though I realized a lot of those people belonged to the third category.

3. Science students who honestly don't know what tf they're doing - a category that I like to divide into two subcategories:

a. well-meaning but lost students who really need guidance

b. people who went to uni because eh why not but who don't really care and who refuse to put in the work.

I definitely belonged to category 3a at the very beginning of my uni journey, so there's no shame in that. I'm a first gen uni student, so I had to figure everything out all by myself as I went.

The thing is, I got to talk to a lot of people who complained that a science degree is useless while doing pretty much nothing to sharpen their skills. They floated through uni as if it was nothing but another chore they had to cross out of their to-do list, barely passing, having zero interest in their field of study, not taking any opportunities that were literally out there. No extracurriculars, no internships, no side projects, nothing. Is it surprising at all these people struggle to find a job in science afterwards?

Don't get me wrong, nobody has full control over their life - sometimes you just get lucky. My friend's friend (lol) needed to take a break from uni after his BSc and got a job in an analytical lab straight away. But most often you just really have to work your butt off to get what you want. The people from my old uni who truly cared about biotech worked extremely hard to get to where they are now: with published papers and working with their profs. Harsh as it may sound, I now know that if I don't want to be one of those people with a """useless""" science degree, I have to do more than is expected of me. I have to put my introverted, anxious self out there, because being passive probably won't get me anywhere.

The people who love you and care about you mean well when they say chemistry isn't worth it, but that doesn't mean they're right. Similarly, people who graduate with a science degree and then struggle to get a job aren't all slackers who just didn't try hard enough - that's absolutely not true. Life isn't always what we want it to be. I wouldn't exactly feel comfortable giving you advice since I'm still in uni, but I can tell you my experience, and my experience is people who know what they want and who are willing to work very hard for it, usually get it.

I'd say this is also no secret but it tends to float over people's heads (no shame in this either, it's hard to imagine your whole future when you're like 20) that when your profs tell you to do more, they're being serious. When they say doing extra is important, they're right.

So, I believe in all this stuff and I work hard and I got myself an internship, and will this get me a job in chemistry? I don't know! I've no idea! Maybe I'll fail miserably! Maybe I'll be one of those people who genuinely try hard and then just happen to be really unlucky! But right now I'm doing everything that's in my power not to let that happen. I can't guarantee you success in the scientific field - nobody can - but I can tell you hard work, determination, and faith in yourself increase your chances of succeeding dramatically. It's a cliche, I'm aware, but if you never try, you never know. You only get one precious chance to experience living on this floating rock and everything that comes with it. Why not try to make it good?

[waitineedaname]

Another Ritsu Thought™ (kind of) (please for the love of god tell me if these get too overbearing🫡im just so normal about him and need other people to be normal together with.)

i've always known he and teru are kind of alike in more ways than just being popular boy duo and their obsession with psychic powers and growing up earlier than they should have and etc but the one i'm thinking most about right now is how they're like. the type of traumatized that tries so fucking hard to excuse/justify the stuff they went through. teru would never admit he's ever gone through anything slightly traumatizing. he's like "[has not heard the voice of his father nor felt the touch of his mother for years] [is going through a life threatening situation] this is just part of my character arc guys dont worry! it will make me stronger :)". while ritsu would be like "well yes but i turned out great actually. [shows you a collection of trophies] do you think i'd have these if i grew up without a scar on my head and expectations on my shoulders🙄". they'd also both go "Well It Got Me Places!" and then proceed to make up every possible excuse to explain how it was actually their fault and they deserved it and it was not really that bad and (do you see the vision)

one of my favorite things about mp100 is the fact that every character can parallel every other character in so many different ways, and ritsu and teru in particular make my brain fucking rattle around like a can of bees. teru absolutely tries to justify everything as part of his Character Arc™️ like he spent so long thinking of himself as the protagonist of this world so whenever something traumatic happens, he's like "this is just part of my tragic backstory, I'll be fine :)" <- desperately needs therapy

meanwhile I think ritsu is like. maybe one of the more self aware of the kids? which is a low fucking bar, but considering he is a) thirteen, and b) extremely traumatized, he actually demonstrates a surprising amount of emotional intelligence. he's usually able to put his feelings into words (though usually just in his internal monologue), he was able to identify the guilt he was feeling during the cleanup arc and explain why he was acting the way he was, he's fully aware both he and his brother are traumatized (best demonstrated by the confession arc confrontation). so I think he's decently self aware, but with the caveat that he is in fact only thirteen and makes stupid decisions.

the thing that really gets me about his relationship to his trauma though is that post I saw about how he's internalized his role as the sacrificial lamb to provoke his brother into action. he knows the best way to get mob to act is to be endangered somehow, no matter how much that brushes against both their traumas. it's why the moment before his 100% is so important! he's breaking that cycle of trauma! he knows it's not getting them anywhere!

[imperial-nuisance-rudje]

People reacted positively to it on discord so I may as well post about my Haurchefant Lives/Conjurer!Haurchefant AU here

So! Everything stays the same for the Light Party up to a specific point: Ayulsa actually realizes why she is getting Rancid Vibes from her pals standing in a specific spot before it's too late, and shouts a warning/starts casting Flare. Haurchefant still blocks the spear of Light, but its weakened slightly by having a Black Mage dumping all her MP into it to try to knock it off-course, which gives Shayun time to drag his fiancé out of the direct line of fire when the shield breaks.

Haurche is still majorly fucked up by this, and the scene mostly resolves as normal save for the fact that he's stabilized—but very much in a coma, with a mangled arm and a torso full of metal shards. The Light Party leaves him to be treated and they all still behave like in the timeline where he dies, save for Shayun spending every spare second he has in Ishgard by his bedside, because the man is in a coma and the actual medical professionals have no idea if he's ever going to wake up even if his condition doesn't suddenly degrade, though once he's more stable they do amputate the arm and remove the most dangerous-to-leave-in bits of shield. He wakes up shortly after Nidhoggstinien is taken out, thankfully during one of Shayun's vigils so he wasn't alone, and is in immense pain and severely disoriented and weakened by being in a coma for literal weeks. It's quickly apparent that Haurchefant is never going to be a frontline fighter again—even if he had a working shield arm, the shrapnel injuries (aggravated by the fact that a few of those metal bits had been infused with Light) cause him constant pain that gets much worse when he exerts himself (which is always, at first, due to the physical atrophy being in a coma causes even at the best of times).

This is emotionally devastating to a man who has spent his entire life making himself as close to Ishgard's knightly ideal as he could, which takes a bit of thinking among the Light Party (because while only one of them is engaged to Haurchefant, they all are very fond of him) before A'pple comes up with an idea: once Haurchefant is able to stand for long periods again, they will teach him conjury (they would have started with books, but they are only fully literate in their specific dialect of Rava script and Garlean—they're still learning written Eorzean at this point).

By the time Haurchefant is well enough to travel, Emman has been in charge of Camp Dragonhead for a while (and him learning this was Not Pleasant for either Haurche or his father when Haurche confronted him about it—it was less about the replacement (he is well aware they can't leave it without someone in charge for the time it would take him to be able to even do desk work) and more that he had to find out about it way after the replacement happened rather than being consulted/informed right after he woke up) and it hasn't exploded, and he asks to join the Light Party when they next visit. They are more than happy to have him along, so the rest of the game has Haurche as a companion.

Stormblood is when things get fuzzy and is a major part of why I haven't started writing—I know things go mostly the same, with more Haurche giving input on military affairs because he didn't lose any of his knowledge there, and that while during Zenos duel 1 Haurchefant does stay standing with Shayun when everyone else (including Ayulsa and A'pple) is knocked off their feet, his attempt to block a direct hit fails due to not having all his strength back.

I have some vague ideas for Zenos Duel 2, but there's massive gaps between that and even then the end result is more "Haurchefant also impresses Zenos, and Shayun is actually willing to tell Haurche about his Echo flashback about Zenos's childhood, which massively recontextualizes Zenos's everything to him", which is not really enough to, yknow, write a story about. (Yes this has a Haurche/WoL/Zenos endgame of course it does who do you take me for)

Incidentally, while Haurchefant is not a natural at conjury (or any kind of magic), he's very determined and willing to practice and A'pple is a good teacher, so he ends up being very good at it. The only reason A'pple doesn't teach him white magic by the end of StB is because they're not totally certain his body could handle it since it takes him a lot of effort to do magic. ...Also, they're a little afraid of the Padjal WHMs. Just a bit. (Save them from the very old preteens, Haurchefant.)

[st4rdust-ch0rds]

I posted 1,877 times in 2022

That's 1,710 more posts than 2021!

279 posts created (15%)

1,598 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@mywaykiszka

@shutupdevvie

@myfriendtheghost

@hellfireclubs

I tagged 650 of my posts in 2022

#greta van fleet - 148 posts

#gvf - 131 posts

#josh kiszka - 96 posts

#book club with mj - 82 posts

#josh gvf - 75 posts

#joshua kiszka - 68 posts

#joshua michael kiszka - 58 posts

#jake kiszka - 38 posts

#jake gvf - 31 posts

#mj answers inquiries - 30 posts

Longest Tag: 96 characters

#someone on twitter said this is what he looks like looking down at you with your head in his lap

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

if i speak………..

232 notes - Posted September 18, 2022

#4

i, for one, need to be sedated immediately!

242 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

#3

Fresh || J.M. Kiszka

pairing: josh kiszka x reader

word count: 2308

warnings: 18+ CONTENT! MINORS DNI! oral (m/f receiving), fingering. mullet!josh.

summary: josh surprises you with a new haircut, and he receives a good review.

a/n: i haven’t written smut in so long, but somehow the new cut has inspired me to make this. i apologize if this is lack luster, but hey, it’s a valiant effort in my opinion.

You have spent the past few months following Josh and the band around on tour with few and brief breaks in between. Currently, the band was on a ten-day break from the second North American leg of the tour, allowing you to find some reprieve in your home. Normally you would spend this time catching up on laundry, clearing out old food that went bad in the fridge while you were away, or with Josh to make up for some alone time.

Josh was out of the house for the day to do some studio work and “run some errands,” as he said. One of the errands included going to the hairdresser. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary for him to do since he would go every so often to get the dead ends off for his hair to maintain its signature shape. Ever since you and Josh started dating, he has stayed consistent with his hairstyle. It would change from being a bit too short or a bit too long every now and then, but nothing super crazy. You were obviously aware of his former hairstyles, but you were only used to his current style.

It was about 3pm when you decided to call it a day on doing chores. You knew you probably should have kept going, but you had nothing else to do for the next few days and decided to pace yourself. You were in the midst of watching TV when Josh called your phone.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hey, hun, I just left the hairdresser and I’ll be home in about 15 minutes. I have to drop Sammy off first.” Josh said.

“You won’t believe what Josh did!” Sammy shouts from the passenger seat. Your brows furrowed at his statement.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Nothing, nothing,” Josh affirmed, “He means nothing. I’ll see you soon.” You exchanged your replies and ended the call.

The hell did Josh do? You thought. You became unnecessarily unsettled by Sam’s comment. He probably didn’t mean anything by it and just wanted to create drama for fun. Before Josh left for the morning, he didn’t mention what he was doing with his hair. Even when he had intentions of booking an appointment, he didn’t express his desire to possibly change his hair. You refocused your attention on your show when you heard the front door unlock. The couch in your living room faces away from the front door, having you to fully turn your body around to look at Josh.

“Hello,” Josh drew out the last syllable like a note. Instantly your jaw dropped, eyes going wide. Josh stopped in his tracks, “What’s up?”

“‘What’s up?’ That’s ‘what's up,’” You pointed at his hair. He had buzzed the sides of his hair making his hair into a mullet. It looked very similar to how his hair looked during the early days of the band, which you have shamelessly expressed your love for.

Josh ran his hand on the freshly shaved sides around his ears, blushing a bit. You darted up from your spot on the couch and made your way over to him. Your hands replaced his as you ran your hands through his curls, fingertips brushing the rough sides.

See the full post

252 notes - Posted August 12, 2022

#2

look at him 🥹

(📸: Fernando Aceves)

308 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

don’t call. don’t text.

341 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[rusted-muses]

Broken will

Leline paced up and down the length of her bedchambers.

Let’s not mince words. My prison cell. It was warm and had a soft bed and nice decorations and all, but it was still a cage.

She’d quietly tested the lock on the door while her keepers were changing shifts. She could break it down, she thought. It felt as though it only caught the wood of the door frame, not the stone. Unless there was a bar across the other side.

Well, even then. Her Soul-Sword would appear in her hand whenever she willed it to, and there was no substance it could not cut.

She was feeling fairly optimistic about her escape plans up... until her father came to visit her.

The late morning sun was obscured by a torrential downpour, as well as the rippled glass of the window, leaving motes of light that distorted every surface.

This space that was bigger than some caves Leline had spent the night in suddenly seemed far too confining. Though winter had the city in a firm grasp, this room was entirely too hot.

“My dear girl,” Wymond oozed. “It’s been such a long time.”

“Shove it, father,” Leline sneered, bored. “No one here's impressed with your performance."

Wymond smirked. “Such a temper. You’re very like your mother that way.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about my mother,” Leline growled.

“I know she was only semi-decent in bed. I hope that elf she ran off with isn’t too disappointed.”

Leline pulled back her fist for a straight jab. Good luck looking smug with a broken jaw.

Wymond raised a finger. “Ah, ah, ah. You know, I still have that lovely black dragon you used to be so attached to. It would be a shame if anything was to happen to such an expensive asset. But accidents do happen.”

Leline clenched her teeth and slowly lowered her fist, trembling with rage.

“You are a monster,” she told him gruffly.

Wymond shrugged. “Yes, yes. Let’s get to the heart of my business here, shall we? You have exceptional skills that you love using, and I love acquiring people with exceptional skills.”

“I am not working for you."

“You don’t need to decide right away,” Wymond said smoothly. “Take some time to relax. You’ve been out in the wilderness for so long. Spend a few days here in luxury while you mull it over. Spend a few weeks. Months, if you like.”

Wymond paused for effect, and to let his threat sank in. As if Leline wasn’t fully aware of her prisoner status already.

“I am not working for you,” she repeated, more forcefully.

Wymond sighed. He went to the door and knocked. The guards opened it. They were huge; two orcs, or possibly ogres. It was hard to tell with their helmets obscuring their faces.

“Boys, I’m afraid my daughter is being unreasonable. Perhaps you could help her more fully understand the situation.”

The guards knew what to do without being ordered. One of them picked up the vanity in the corner, mirror and all, held it over his head for a second… then smashed it into the floor. Leline had to shield her eyes from splintered wood and glass flying everywhere.

The other guard picked up the cushioned stool that had been part of the set, and tossed it into the fireplace. The silken cushion had been stuffed with horsehair, and it filled the room with a noxious smoke as it burned. Leline coughed as she made her way to the window. She pushed it open, only to be struck with freezing rain and wind. She was shivering instantly, but the only choice was that or suffocate.

“These quarters can be made far less comfortable,” Wymond said, as if he was explaining something to a child. “And the furnishings are not the most breakable things in the room. So, I suggest you adopt a more accommodating mindset.”

“I sug-g-gest you go t-to h-hell.”

Wymond sighed, disappointed. “Perhaps I came on too strong. I thought a position as Dragon Keeper would appeal to someone of your… earthy sensibilities. But I see now that I need to help you overcome that rebellious streak before you’ll know what’s good for you.”

Leline’s stomach lurched as she eyed the two guards, wondering if she was in for a beating. Wouldn't have been the first time.

Her father stepped closer, his glare as cold as that of a snake.

“I understand you’re using a new name these days. Won’t you tell your own father what it is?”

“No.”

“Oh, come now. Whyever not?”

“Because I would sincerely rather cut off my own ears than hear my name come out of your disgusting mouth.”

Wymond chuckled. “You’re far too honest, you know that? I would have hoped any offspring of mine would have more brains.” He turned to one of his guards. “Summon a courier.”

Leline felt a rush of confusion and dread. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

Wymond ignored her. A young man arrived with speed that must have been facilitated with magic.

“That black dragon,” Wymond said to him, “Nightshade. Sadly, he is far too undisciplined to keep. Have him sent to the block.”

“No!” Leline screamed.

Wymond glanced at her and shrugged. “My hands are tied, pet. I have no use for a beast that won’t even come when it’s called.”

He started to walk away.

“Wait!”

Wymond turned and waited expectantly. Leline tried to match his piercing gaze… but ultimately, it was her eyes that fell to the floor.

“My name…” she said, half in a daze, “is Leline Lilwater.”

Wymond returned and patted her shoulder as if she were a prize mare. “There, now. That wasn’t so hard, was it? Leline Lilwater. It has quite a pretty sound, doesn’t it? A shame it doesn’t really suit you. I can’t imagine what those elves were thinking. You might want to consider a change.”

Leline said nothing. She felt nothing. She just waited, numb from the cold and the defeat, for him to leave her alone.

Wymond paused at the door and gave her an oily smile. “What about Dragon Keeper Leline Rosevear? It doesn’t sound so bad, does it? Give it some thought.” Then he turned back to his courier. “You know, I’ve changed my mind about that dragon. We can keep him for now. But do send a message to the maids to have this room tidied up. Tomorrow.”

The door slammed shut behind them, and Leline was alone once again. She fell to her knees, heedless of the broken glass. The last of the smoke had cleared from the room, but the rain had doused the fire. She was soaked, shivering, empty... and defeated.

[heycollage]

thinking about ffxiv oc lore in lieu of sleeping/lying in bed with my brain spinning dusty little unwelcome thought webs-

re: love interests, neither grimm nor kore are spoken for.

grimm has more emotional awareness and intelligence than kore by a league. hence his somewhat quicker processing when it comes to relationships, regardless of the lack of time amidst multiple calamity emergencies.

he and haurchefant had a brief something. nothing ever consumated or spoken. not so much a spark but a candle flame- small and flickering and warm. but we all know how that ended.

he's attracted to y'shtola, but it's a nebulous sort of feeling. easily mixed in with the respect he has for her dogged scholarly pursuit of the truth and their comfortable "we've been through some bullshit together" camaraderie. hard to define when your time together has run so deep

genuinely, there's so much love between them, but g'raha adores grimm too much for them to ever be together and i think they both know this. raha understands what it is to be put on a pedestal and yet never be truly known. and he also only knows how to love grimm the way time and history have carved him out to be. it's a waste, in a way. or it would be if they didn't mean so much to each other regardless

erenville gets the closest. the two of them coulds feasibly have a very sweet pseudo-retirement post-endwalker. but not for quite some time given that post-endwalker grimm (aside from the former scions who know) essentially disappears for a good long while, holding silent vigil in the first amongst the night's blessed. the grief that he carries will take a very long time to recover, let alone heal from

kore on the other hand? brash, tenacious, intuitive but mostly too impatient to listen to it fully before acting. and goddamn young on top of it all. having the ridiculous lifespan of a viera doesn't help in the slightest.

y'shtola isn't even out of her league, she's playing an entirely different ballgame. closest kore ever gets is a schoolgirl crush in the early days

hilda is too pragmatic and too practiced for someone as green as kore when it comes to fighting for a cause and playing the long game. she's streetsmart, driven and has a head for organization that is frankly very sexy of her. that draws kore in big time, and oh it's a hardcore crush, but hilda's just too experienced and not interested in a green recruit or a champion for her cause which leaves kore with a whole lot of nothing much to offer with the chaos of ishgard's revolution as their meetcute backdrop (don't get me wrong i still don't think hilda would be interested even if the circumstances were more peaceful)

ysayle is the closest kore gets. she recognizes passion, and the clarity of ysayle's devotion as lady iceheart gives kore pause even when they first meet as enemies. they're the closest to meeting on equal footing, kore feels a kindred spirit in her. her drive, her desperation and ultimately her shattered purpose strike an awful chord in her that resonates painfully. there's a sense of maybe. especially during the climb toward their first audience with hraesvelgr. mutually bullying estinien, the shared wonder of a new landscape, the traces of a different world long faded into the past. the touch of a hand while gathering firewood, a quiet watch spent gazing up at unfamiliar stars. after azys la, kore breaks five training dummies clean in half, bloodying her hands on the hilt of her sword. estinien finds her hours later, sitting in the wreckage. he is the only one she's willing to see for days after

yugiri is too smart for kore. the closest they get is when yugiri loses hope after freeing the namai villagers, and even kore can feel that being able to met someone on their level only when they're at their lowest makes for a poor start