#truly taken over all of my thoughts against my own fucking will

[charlieandluigi]

Ao3 is down and I’ve literally just been sitting here for hours rewatching my favorite episode of my current hyperfixation cause I desperately need serotonin and rn I have no other sources of joy.

[lovegasmic]

 BEST FRIENDS WHO FUCK  P.2 !

ᯓ★ mdni. bff Satoru + f!reader. continuation of this post and part two of what started the whole best friend Satoru au, unprotected sex, satoru is still oblivious. 1.2k

BFF SATORU MASTERLIST — heavily recommend you to read “jealous, jealous” which is basically a continuation of this.

another day, another breakup, another hangout with Satoru rambling your ear off about his newest ex.

“I am a good boyfriend!” you knew damn well, your best friend was always over the top when gifting something to his girlfriend’s, or planning beautiful and expensive dates, you still didn’t understand why they always broke up with him.

it truly was not your fault.

sure, you and Satoru had your usual hangout nights with movies and snacks included, staying up late and chatting about whatever came into your minds first, but you always respected his girlfriends, keeping respectful distance without ruining your friendship either.

so of course, casual sex was also out of the way.

after that one night where he suggested you two should sleep together, you and Satoru kept fucking, and what you thought was a one time mistake happened twice, thrice, and multiple times after that, under the disguise of hanging out, which ended with Satoru’s balls nestled against your soft ass or his face buried in your cunt.

but no one could blame you, Gojo Satoru fucked like as if he was possessed.

just waiting for when he came to your place and fucked your brains out, mushing your face against the damp pillowcase while his cock plunged your insides, dragging out each drop and strand of sweet slick to stick to your trembling thighs, he liked it messy, you came to realize.

but everything stopped each time he got a new girl, he wasn’t a cheater and you weren’t a bitch. sleeping with someone taken was the last thing you’d do. so of course, hours after a breakup count as your best friend not being taken anymore.

the first time was a surprise, Satoru suddenly arrived at your place with a pout and puppy eyes, one that you weren’t sure was real or fake, “she broke up with me”

“again?” you think, but instead voice a “what happened?”

he sighs, walking into your cozy living room as if he owned the place, just to plop down on the couch, feet dangling off the side and staring at the ceiling through rounded pitch black sunglasses, “said I didn’t give her enough attention”

‘odd’ is what you think, considering Satoru is one of the clingiest and most attentive people you’ve ever met, “not true” you sit on the small coffee table right next to the white haired, “are you sure it wasn’t an excuse?”

another sigh comes out of him, and you start to think you should count and tease him about it later, “i don’t know… she said many things, that my mind is everywhere and I am not focused on her enough…” a hint of something else flashes on Satoru’s eyes.

“...and…?”

his eyes drift through the ceiling for a second, as if nervous but is quickly replaced by a casual shrug, “that’s all”

this time you sigh, scratching your cheek and reaching for the bowl settled on the table next to you, picking one of the candies that Satoru himself bought and left at your apartment and tossing it to him.

his eyes sparkling almost immediately, like a child on Christmas Eve, “i love you!” he smiles and pops the candy in his mouth, the girl long forgotten.

a huff of a laugh comes out of your mouth with a shake of your head, eyeing your best friend with a soft smile, one that’s returned when he flips and lays on his side, eyes on you, “hey…”

“yeah?”

“can you give me a hug?”

a simple and innocent request you quickly comply, laying down face to face with Satoru’s hands quickly wrapping around your waist, face in the crook of your neck, “hmm, you smell good… new shampoo?”

you hum in return, cozy and warm between your friend’s broad arms and chest.

“it’s nice…” he murmurs, a bit… lower, huskier even, sniffling against your neck as if trying to memorize your smell. you don’t give it a second thought, Satoru always had strange tendencies, but it’s the soft brush of his lips that make your eyes snap open.

“what are you doing?”

it takes him a bit to answer, perhaps thinking of a proper response, perhaps just lost in your warmth, essence and taste, “i missed you” and the lingering touch on your thigh was enough to let you understand what kind of ‘missing’ Satoru’s feeling was.

comforting your best friend by moaning his name, drenched in sweat and taking his bare cock into the deepest spots of your pussy was not what you expected, yet it happened.

over and over again.

“i even bought her a necklace!” through deaf ears is where his words go, it wasn’t as if he minded whether you paid attention or not, for some reason your babbled, ‘mhm’ ‘that’s sad’ or ‘her loss’ were enough for him.

“i don’t know what, ah, fuck…! i’m… doing wrong” he groans, the sound as loud as the messy squelching of your pussy sucking the fat girth of his cock down to the hilt, each push, each kiss of his tip into your g-spot making your toes curl.

“it’s not as if I… u-ungh… spoke… too much about y— ah, fuck, so close”

what was he even trying to say? “m’ close too”

“yeah? can I come inside?”

the first sentence you actually pay attention to “fuck no!”

“why not— ugh, shit! you've… let me do that before”

“that’s the only, ngh… way to make you stop crying!”

“rude!” Satoru hisses, yet complies to your wishes by pulling out almost at the last minute, spurting thick ropes of cum that land on your chin.

yet there were other times when you were too fucked silly too understand his words, and for once, he didn’t spoke about any of his exes either, starting with a few whines and complains, but slowing down until Satoru turns into an animal, dicking you down against the mattress, pistoning his hips hard against your cunt for the sound of skin slapping to echo, mingling with your squeaks and desperate screams of his name, “S-ato-ruu” you choke on your own saliva, eyes crossed and heels of your feet weakly digging into the back of his thighs, not to mention the red marks on the soft and milky expanse of his back that your nails create.

“that’s my good fuckin’ girl” each word accentuated by a thrust that pushes you up on the bed, his pace animalistic, rough and primal, as if trying to mold your insides to the shape of his cock, “you were made for me, baby, made to take my cock”

eyeglasses long forgotten, blue eyes taking in the whole sight of you, from your pretty fucked out expression, to the way your skin glistens with sweat and to how your creamy cunt gushes around his length, “fuckin’ gorgeous” leaving him all needy with how his erection glistens and holds a white ring of cream down the base, he’s really fucking you that good.

almost as fucked as you are is he, although differently, brain a fuzzy mess of pleasure, of desire to keep you like this forever, to bully his fat cock into your pussy every single day, almost possessive.

almost in love…

he loves you, “i love you” it’s a blurred mess that comes out of his mouth, with his fingers gripping your jaw, yet you’re too dumb right now to even hear him.

it must be a side effect of mind-blowing sex, because there's no way you’re the reason his relationships don’t last… but what if...

yet all thoughts that threaten to pull him out of this surreal experience are drowned by the sound of your whimpers, of your cries and the way you so beautifully moan his name as you cum.

and in the end, Satoru doesn’t even remember what he was thinking about a second ago.

[ohtobeleah]

Something that goes without saying is how uncertain Logan really is about sleeping in the same space as another person. Sure, he'll commit to the fun beforehand….The foreplay, the sex, the highs.

But the inevitable act of sleeping beside someone, terrifies him.

We see it in Origin, we see it in Days of Future Past. Sometimes while Logan is sleeping, his claws come out when he feels under duress. Nightmares are a common occurrence for this man, not a night goes by where he isn't waking in the dead of night to the ghost of his past.

And I'd like to think of all the Logans running around the multiverse, that the Worst!Logan has surely been through some things. He's never experienced true rest. Not until he met you.

“I'll sleep on the couch.” Its common at the beginning of whatever the dynamic between the two of you is. Logan ends up back at your cafe, or in your living-room, bathroom, kitchen or bed—but he never stays beside you for longer than a few minutes after. Not because he doesn't crave that intimacy or true human connection, but because the idea of losing you to his own mutation truly scares the ever-living fuck out of him.

But one night, you catch him off-guard. So off guard that Logan doesn't even have a counter proposal ready.

“Ill join you,” You beam, padding down the hallway with your blanket and pillow wrapped in your arms. “Somethings bothing you and with friends like me and Wade, that shits gonna come up eventually,” You ramble. As you sit beside Logan on the lounge he slept on more often than his own bed, he catches a glimpse of a few noticeable scars on your back. Scars where his claws had once accidentally taken over in an otherwise romantic moment between the two of you. “So, get talking pops.”

“Don't call me pops.” Logan sighs as he opens his body up for you to snuggle up against him. “It's nothing I can't handle, didn't anyone ever tell you not to stick your nose where it doesn't belong?”

“Are you trying to tell me that I don't belong here?” You counter quickly, playing Logan’s logic against himself. “Me? Resident of this timeline? Doesn't belong right here next to you?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Logan smiles all the while trying to keep his brooding man mask on. But with you he feels ever atom of his being igniting with desire and unconditional love. “I worry I'll hurt you, while I'm sleeping,” Logan explains as you listen to his heartbeat inside his chest. Snuggled on the lounge in your apartment. “You don't know how much that thought terrifies me.”

“Hmm,” You hum in response. “Perhaps the question you should be asking yourself Lo, is what if the nightmares, what if the fear stops, when you allow yourself to rest with someone you love?” It was a bold word to use, and even though it was rarely, if ever used, there wasn't another word in the English language to describe how Logan felt about you. Or how you felt about him.

And its a thought that's never crossed Logans mind before. He frowns, thinking it over in the late-night silence. You fall asleep there, right with your head on Logans chest as he tru thinks.

Only to wake up in a tangled mess of sheets, with Logan snorning next to you as the early morning sun kisses his golden, aging skin. Its the first night in years he hasn't woken in screaming terror.

“Tell me told you so and I'll turn you into a skewer.” Logan mumbles as you pepper him with kisses across his exposed back.

“I think I'll take my chances with you, Lo,” You chuckle to yourself. “I'll make you some coffee.”

@a-reader-and-a-writer Canon Ilya universe content

Ilya

[seraphicsentences]

hlllo can you pleas do football!ellie ina rush and really needing her sport shirt that reader is wearing, but since reader is so unbothered to change she takes it off right there n it gets ellie thinking if she should even go!!!!!! maybe a little smutty smut ‼️‼️inluv with yur writinggg

hi baby yes i can thank you for the request sweet girl. sorry this took a little while i appreciate your patience. also yes i know i said i was going on a break yesterday and then proceeded to bang out this entire thing, my bipolar ass got bored. enjoy! <3

“BABE?”

“BAAAABE?” ellie calls louder as you hear her stumbling through your shared apartment, clearly in a rush.

“babe, have you seen my-oh there it is,” she swings into the room abruptly, stopping in her tracks when she sees her much needed football jersey, adorned by yours truly.

“hey els, what’s up?” you ask, propping yourself up on the bed, and shooting her a look so sickly sweet, savage starlight comic in hand.

ellie’s existence can be found in all aspects of you at the moment, from the clothes you’ve “borrowed” and your choice of fine literature, to the purpled bruises littering your jaw and collarbone.

ellie can’t help but let her buzzing pre-game thoughts slow at the sight of you, and fester around thinking mine, mine, mine.

“hey pretty girl, i just really need my jersey for practice. do you mind changing, pretty please? i’m late,” she says softly, leaning over the mattress to press a warm kiss against your forehead.

“aw, fine, i’ll just wear nothing then,” you joke, reaching over your head to pull off the top in one swift move, revealing your bare chest with marks to match your neck.

you watch knowingly as ellie quite literally shutters: caught up in the sight of what’s literally a physical manifestation of the guilty pleasure that is her possessiveness.

—and you revel in the power trip that this is. because how is it that mere nakedness, something that’s more you than anything else you could put on your skin, is enough to make ellie fucking williams crumble.

and so all you do is smirk when, without sparing even a glance away, ellie tosses the held-out jersey lazily over one shoulder and leans in to indulge herself with another kiss; this time a proper, messy one on your parted lips.

“on second thought,” she says, in between breaths, before diving down to swirl her tongue around your hardened nipples, greedily sucking and licking at them like your own fucking baby.

you’re nothing but powerless to her hypnotic ministrations, as much of a fool for her as she is for you, letting low moans out freely from the back of your throat.

moving back up to kiss you like she wants to consume your sounds, the aggressiveness of ellie’s actions leave you nowhere to go but fall backwards onto the bed, chest pressing up to brush your pointed nipples lush against ellie’s chest.

“fuck, baby,” she rasps into your mouth, slipping her hand between the two of you to knead at your breast, calloused fingers thumbing over your nipples. she watches in awe as you shudder at the sensation, hooded eyes begging for more.

“fuckin’ tease,” she mumbles with a smile, mouthing over her previously left bruises with a hot, flat-tongued lick. feeling the vibrations on your throat as you laugh at her, she gently nips at your skin, letting out a laugh of her own as she feigns annoyance.

“shut up,” she chuckles, suffocating your laughs with the press of her mouth, continuing to make out with you in the delicious way that it is to make out with her.

ellie pries a knee between your squeezed thighs, nudging it upwards in such kind offerance to your burning heat— to which you take, hips immediately grinding up in desperation.

but just as quickly as it was given to you is it taken away.

ellie sits up with a jolt, mussing with your hair as she replaces her shirt with the jersey hurriedly. she stumbles towards the door with a guilty look in her eyes, pausing only to ramble, “coach is gonna kill me, sorry babe. that’s what you get for being such a tease! i’ll make it up to you, you fuckin’ minx. i love you!" before sprinting out the door, shoelaces undone.

you lay there, frozen and topless with your panties soaked, and you curse ellie out, that little bitch.

[starogeorgina]

𝐔𝐧𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧

Paring: Aemond Targaryen × Targaryen reader, minor Daemon Targaryen × Targaryen reader

Warnings: Swearing, kidnapping, self harm

1.03

“Shh, shh,” you try to gently rock Daenys to sleep. “Please, calm down, sweet girl.”

Your daughter was brought to you in the early hours since she woke up fussy and wouldn’t latch onto the wet nurse. Luckily, she fed from your breast without issue, but your silver-haired baby was still unhappy and crying. From the flush in Daeny's cheeks and the redness in her gums, you suspect she has started teething.

“Princess,” one of the handmaids approaches you while nervously pulling on the sleeve of her dress. You often wonder how the servants who followed Rhaenyra to Dragonstone felt watching the way their beloved princess was treated. “The maester wishes to speak with you as a matter of urgency. There is a wet nurse in the room down the hall; would you like me to take Daenys to her while you dress?”

Reluctantly, you nod and hand your daughter over to the younger woman. As soon as you’re left alone, you bring the faded nightgown over your head and redress yourself, choosing to put on the light grey gown you were wearing the night you were taken. It was made to accommodate the swell of your stomach, and now the extra fabric hung loose down the front. You had others to choose from, but it was one of the only items you had that was truly yours.

In every passing moon, the maester would examine you for any sign of pregnancy, which was humiliating, so you’d at least attempt to try and maintain a shred of dignity. You comb your hair with your fingers and try to straighten out the creases on your dress. Just as you finish adjusting yourself, the door to the room opens, and the maester, followed by a handmaiden, enters.

—

You were cursed by the ghosts of your father's blindness and your mother's lies. Your mother claimed that before King Viserys died, he declared he wanted Aegon on the throne, and all the men who deemed a woman unfit to rule believed her. Your father turned a blind eye to your family's scheming for years, and now the future of the realm would be full of war, murder, and misery.

As you dig your nails into the palm of your hand to stop yourself from screaming, blaming your parents for this situation was an easy option. If the throne wasn’t usurped, then envoys would never have been sent; Lucerys would still be alive, as would Jaehaerys, and you and your daughter would be safe in Aemond’s arms.

And if your father had been stronger-willed, none of it would have happened.

Being so caught up in your own thoughts, you don’t notice Prince Daemon entering the room. It’s not until you feel his presence beside you that you finally address him, “What is it?”

“A raven arrived from the red keep; one of my little spies has informed Criston Cole and your cunt of a husband that we have taken you north.”

No, no, no.

“They are currently gathering the green forces and will leave in a couple of days. Which means the false king won’t have that hoary old bitch, Vhagar, to hide behind. With only Sunfyre on his side, we can easily take the city back with the mere threat of Caraxes, Syrax, Vermax, Moondancer, and Tyraxes.”

“Need I remind you, uncle, which side my dragon is on?”

Gripping your jaw tightly, Daemon shoved you against the wall. “Need I remind you, niece, that you’re nothing more than a prisoner? I’ve spared your daughter's life, something the fucking kinslayer didn’t do for Luccerys.”

You slap his hand away and say, “You’ve got what you wanted; you're getting another child. Do not fucking touch me again.”

Daemon places both hands firmly on the wall beside your head, caging you in. His eyes flickered over you; he didn’t quite believe what you just said. “The maester confirmed this?”

“I haven’t bled in two moons; the maester is convinced my stomach will swell again soon.” Sarcastically, you add, “Congratulations; I hope you're as excited as I am.”

—

After speaking with the maester himself, Daemon kept his original promise and had you move to a larger, more comfortable bedchamber with crimson colors and dragon decor, and soon a crib would be brought in and your daughter would join you. All you cared about was keeping Daenys close.

You feel the lavish oils soothing the ache in your shoulders when one of the handmaidens rubs them onto your skin. This was the first time in many moons you had bathed properly, and the luxury of having a clean body, hair, and clothing wasn’t something you’d take for granted again.

“My Prince,” the handmaiden nods her head at him, then attempts to cover you up with a towel, causing your uncle to chuckle.

“It’s considered bad manners to interrupt a lady while she’s bathing.”

“It’s nothing new," he says as he stands at the bottom of the tub, showing no attempt to advertise his gaze from your bare breasts. “Perhaps I wanted to join you in bathing.”

“I’d rather you drowned me.“

Aemond smirks, “Leave us.”

The handmaiden gives you an apologetic look, then leaves. No matter how many times Daemon spilled his seed inside you, the reality of carrying his child never felt real until now. You’d already suffered on the birthing bed out of duty; now you’d be doing it again to keep Daenys safe. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you taste the salty tears on your lips. “What happens if this pregnancy doesn’t end well?”

“What do you mean?”

“I had two other daughters once; both of them died.”

Daemon comes to the side of the tub and crouches down so he’s eye level with you. “I wasn’t aware.”

Red blotches appear on your chest and neck as you struggle to stop your voice from cracking. “The first girl's name was Anya; she came early after three days of labor.”

Your mother had remained by your side throughout your labor, and the look of horror on her face when she saw the ‘thing’ you delivered would be forever etched in your mind. Anya’s skin was covered in small scars that looked similar to dragon scales. But no matter how monstrous she may have appeared to others, you thought she was beautiful. Against the maesters advice, Aemond visited you before the silent sisters had come to take the baby, and it was the first time since the night he lost his eyes that you’d seen him cry.

“I gave birth to Rhaella the following year; she was born at the end of the fall but was taken by the winter fever.“

The expression on Daemon’s face was hard to read; he himself knew of the pain you and Aemond have suffered from losing a baby. And you could only begin to imagine the grief and suffering the blacks felt after Lucery's death. “And news of this never reached Dragonstone?”

Your eyes sting from crying. “Our family has always been divided; who would have told you?”

“My brother.”

“Ha,” you scoff. “You saw what my father was like in the end. He had consumed so much milk from the poppy that he became oblivious to everything around him; the only person he ever wished to speak with was Rhaenyra.”

Frowning, he skims his finger over the water.

“I feared I would never again bear a living child, but the gods blessed me with Daenys. But I shall ask again, uncle, What will happen if this pregnancy doesn’t end well?”

“You do not want to find out, niece.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

sink, m | jjk

you left your hair tie, battin’ those eyes by the sink, you leave ‘em behind think I know why – 'hair tie' by ØZI

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends-with-benefits going downhill thanks to shitty communication; smut (fem reader, f and m-receiving oral, heavy petting, m-masturbation, ball spanking, spit kink, breath kink, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS – fuckboy?Jungkook x rock fan!reader tired of his shit XD inspired by the song above and ofc I referenced 'Too Much' ;)

--

You left your hair tie by my sink again.

Oh, shit, my bad. I’ll pick it up next time I’m over. :)

You left him on read.

Went back to brushing your teeth, looking down on the clear hair tie by your sink. It was one of those squiggly ones that were meant to not leave ceases in the hair. Not one of those that could easily be secured on the wrist. He must have taken it out right after. Well. He had needed it. You would have opened the window to get that cool night air, but Jeon Jungkook was loud when he was fucking.

Hm.

He sweat a lot when he was fucking. All over his back and chest, his skin glistening in the rainbow starlight generated by your mood lamp. You didn’t really care if the lights were on or off. He liked mood lighting, so he bought it and left it in your room so he could turn it on when he wanted to turn you on. Always tried to act all cool about it, as if you didn’t know exactly what he wanted when he hit you up. As if he actually needed to talk to you in-person about the latest installment of the Marvel universe.

Uh huh.

Somehow your back had ended up against his chest. Somehow his mouth had ended up by your neck and somehow his hand had ended up sliding under your shirt. Can’t stay too late, he always said. Same lines to the same old story. You half-scoffed into the mirror, switching sides of your teeth. The same routine, accidentally knocking the light switch, somehow knowing exactly where in your nightstand the remote for the mood lighting was, and then it was clothes on the floor. Your hand around his wrist and your hot breath by his ear, the fuck you think you’re doing?

“What? Too much?” he had replied with a smirk.

The shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

Fuck it.

The hair tie must have been because he had planned to eat you out today. Precautions. He was better at it this time than the last. It wasn’t that his black hair was excessively long. A good amount simply fell past his ears when he leaned forward and, between your thighs, it stuck when he sweat. You might have lightly complained about it last time. Jungkook was self-conscious enough to remember and pull back the upper half of his hair before showing up at your doorstep. His own damn fault since he liked to plant his hands on your ass and drag you forward into his face, strong tongue consistently and firmly pressed to your clit and looking up at you with those round dark brown eyes of his. He had been trying to tease you but you saw right through him.

“A little higher up,” you had gently prompted.

The simmering waves danced through your veins as soon as he obeyed. Your hand had eventually found the back of his head. Crowning touch and locking your hips, feeling your slickness press against his lower lip and chin. The thought of your juices smeared into his double lip rings. Your tense thighs pressed into his jaw and cheeks. His long fingers sinking into the full curve of your ass.

The ghost of imprinted fingertips lingering on your skin.

You leaned over the sink bowl and spit out foam.

Jungkook had been truly annoying about it from the start. Needed to know that he was the best you had ever had. First kiss was an accident in the way that accidents don’t really happen. The kind of accident that was you getting into his face after he called you at three twenty-four in the morning and ordering you to stay on the line so he didn’t drunkenly pass out while walking home on a night out. He had even thrown up in some poor neighbor’s flowerbed mid-walk. The next day you had gone over to his place with take-out food and an annoyed attitude, confronting him after he had groggily brushed his teeth, smelling his minty breath as you scolded him that he was too old for this shit, right next to his bathroom sink.

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes had given you this look.

And you immediately knew how this was going to play out.

The kiss was to get you off my case, he said.

But.

“But… would you do it again?”

You rinsed your mouth out and applied your lip balm.

Not seeing yourself in the mirror, but instead seeing your shocked face from back then, squeezed between his bare arms and tasting the mint of his breath, strands of his black hair against your face. You remembered the way he smelled. Like warm, crystal-clear rain. The residual notes of cologne. You had found it later on his dresser. A square glass bottle.

Calvin Klein, Euphoria for men.

Strange, you had smelled that scent on other men before but he never smelled as good as it did on Jeon Jungkook.

But he did this shit all the time. A little kiss here. A little kiss there. Loved to disappear and pop up at just the right time when you were thinking about him and suddenly you were alone with exploring hands and a smiling mouth, is it too much, and you would reply in your most unfazed tone, shut the fuck up. He would promise he wasn’t fucking around but also he wouldn’t stick around either. You didn’t chase him but also you would blow his mind every time. Like that one instance where he had thrown himself into the wall and wheezed for air after you non-stop sucked him off for three orgasms straight, only stopping because you were done swallowing.

“Fuck… How does your mouth always get me hard so fast, f-fuck…”

“Told you not to question me,” was your calm reply as you wiped your lip with the heel of your palm.

There was no way that you were going to tell Jeon Jungkook that he was driving you insane with his behavior. Maybe he really wanted you to be the one to say it. But you weren’t going to, not with his constant, too much or next time or his stupid non-accidental leaving of his hair tie by your sink. He had shirts and sweatpants left behind in your apartment, just in case. The scent of Euphoria for men lingering on your bedsheets for a few hours, but it would disappear before the morning.

Just like him.

You knew Jungkook didn’t like it that you never tried to stop him from leaving.

“If you have to go, you have to go.”

If he wanted to, he would.

You left the bathroom, holding your phone loosely.

-

Jeon Jungkook looked up at the ceiling and wondered if she would let him love her the way he did.

He had a sinking feeling.

It started in the way that all accidents don’t happen. His finger hovering over her name in his contacts one too many times. More than one of those drunk times actually pressing it and then immediately ending the call. And then a single one of those extra drunk times not hanging up when she answered at the second ring. The fuck was she doing up at three in the morning anyway? His drunk brain was too over the moon to care though. His impulses uninhibited and his mouth going off before his brain could keep up.

Then promptly informing her that he needed to vomit and throwing up in some random flowerbed.

Not one of Jungkook’s best moments.

For some reason, she hadn’t completely written him off for that. Both a good thing and bad thing. A good thing because at least that didn’t disgust her. A bad thing because it made him fall in love a little harder. Then she had showed up on his doorstep the next morning with breakfast and looking like a million bucks. She looked too beautiful with tousled hair and that stern kindness. Even her lips moving as she chided him, you are not a kid anymore, you’re an adult, they looked so soft and inviting and she didn’t back away from he leaned in.

His head hurt like hell but he did it.

Her perfume was sweet and smokey and addictive.

He could still remember the feeling of her hand on his chest. Only thin white jersey separating him from those five fingertips. What are you doing? It was his fault. She put him on the spot and he couldn’t admit it fast enough. Getting you off my case. She shoved him and he laughed it off, setting a precedence that he couldn’t stop. No.

Didn’t.

“But… would you do it again?”

She had scoffed at him.

“Let’s see if you’re brave enough to meet me after dark when you’ve got a clearer head. Bye.”

There was something in that expression that dared him. Something in her body language that he couldn’t get out his head. Word on the street was don’t fuck around and find out, so Jungkook did precisely what any man would do when encountered with that information.

He fucked around and found the fuck out.

“Hey, now.”

Shit, her ass had looked so damn good in those black leather pants.

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing, punk?”

He had never met a better tongue. And her breath. He had begged her to breathe on him before. Hot and heavy like his heart, over his neck and chest and down his abs, warming the line of spit made by her wicked tongue. Unseen marks that stayed in his mind when he closed his eyes, looking down to her sensual stare, locking eyes with him as her tongue curled around the swollen head of his cock. Didn’t even need to look. So fucking hot. There was magic in that mouth. He never knew what to expect next but it was always exactly what he wanted. Soft and tight. Rough and deep. Warm tongue that curled around his girth and pressed him into the ridges, driving him insane with the sensations and the pressure.

If he had ever wanted anyone else, he had already forgot about them.

Jungkook refused to believe that she fucked anyone but him with that kind of vigor. She would place her palms on the headboard and ram her hips into him like he owed her goddamn rent. Pussy squeezing him all around. Dripping down his balls, sticking to his inner thighs. She would throw her hair back and grin after she blew his mind, sure, I can go again, like it was no big deal even though his chest was about to burst. He must be special.

Right?

He had brought a hair tie with him last night so his hair would stop sticking to his face.

He needed a haircut.

It made him so mad that she wouldn’t take the bait. She would corner him before he had his trap set and then he would balk under her stare, lips to lips to avoid saying anything. Hand to skin. Lips to his jaw, tongue playing with his earrings.

He just didn’t know.

Jungkook rolled in his bed, wishing it was her body beside his.

Stay away. She was a nightmare dressed like a daydream, everyone said. Road to ruin, everyone said. He didn’t care about that shit but he could feel the distance. Even between naked bodies and tongue to tongue, Jungkook got the feeling that she was never going to need him and that pissed him off. Was that stubbornness? Yeah. But wasn’t she being stubborn too by not giving in to what was so clearly there?

He had pulled the hair tie out and put it by the faucet, rinsing off his face to clear his head.

I’m not gonna stay if she doesn’t make me, he had said to himself, using her soft white hand towel to wipe his face. Looked at himself in the mirror and remembered that morning when she had come up behind him, yanking his shoulder and telling him he was too old for this shit. He wished she had done the same thing to him last night too.

But she hadn’t.

The sinking feeling persisted.

He texted back and he would get the hair tie next time. Next time. But she was pulling away and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t like it. It made him irritated. It made him think he didn’t need this. It made him think he didn’t want anyone else because he was addicted to her now.

And.

It made him sad.

He looked to see if she had replied and of course she hadn’t. Reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside with a click of his tongue. Needed a shower. Needed to wash her memory off his mind. Maybe make an effort to call his friends and go out tonight.

Jungkook got up from his bed, holding onto his phone.

-

People were scared to be messy these days. But not you. The world was always going to be chaos. The only way to be in control of it was to be at the center.

Or start it.

You liked to be alone and you liked to be alone amongst people. The kind of feeling most people dreaded. You slid in deeper, deeper into the crowd, caged by body heat and bated breath. The world was darkness alight with neon points. The thundering bass traveling up from the floor seized the heart, threatening to stop it. A steady, continuous beat before the chaos. The other audience members where whispering amongst themselves in the dark. And there you were, standing in the vacuum of space surrounded by universes abound, and you the black hole, catching bits and pieces of their excited conversations, passively devouring in their palpable anticipation.

The music started.

The mosh pit came alive.

You had earplugs to prevent permanent damage for your dangerous pastime. Drums and guitar and guttural vocals. Bodies on the floor and leaning up against yours, even jostling you, but you paid it no mind, licking your teeth and letting the vicious, subline energy burn through you. It was hard to think about anything else. The band was alternative rock but they occasionally covered heavier songs live which was a real treat for your nostalgia.

A phase you never grew out of, heh.

You headbanged along and thankfully the hair tie kept the majority of your hair away from your face.

Not that it would have really mattered here. The concert was a psychedelic and everyone here was under the influence, lost in their own high, too deep into each song, reliving old memories and creating new ones. No one would care if you were sweaty. Everyone was sweating. Still, even with the mesh cutouts on the thighs, you probably shouldn’t have worn these leather pants. Now it was becoming disturbingly hot and you were really hoping adrenaline could make you forget about it. At least you had opted for a mesh long-sleeve shirt and loose crop top with the band’s logo on your upper half. Plus, you learned from last time – a skimpy black swimsuit top under instead of a bra.

Moisture-wicking, check.

“Nice jewelry.”

“Thanks,” was your quick reply between songs. They were talking about your tangle of silver bracelets and chain necklaces, you assumed. You did not really want to engage anyone too much. Rock bands tended to attract a lot of unsavory men. You never knew who you were amongst unless you trusted too much, so it was better to be distant and vigilant.

You tensed during the interlude as the band took a break.

“Are you by yourself? Me too.”

It was years of unfortunate experience that made you relax, because now you could tell the difference between someone you could hurt and someone that could hurt you. You didn’t check your phone when it vibrated while you spoke to the man who approached you. You could feel it and your cardholder practically glued to your hip in these tight leather pants. You weren’t going to get pickpocketed without a fight. But that wasn’t what this was. The guy was calm. Young face with an oddly wise aura. Seemed a little nervous. He was cute in a shy way.

Reminded you of someone.

Intimidating with his broad shoulders and all-black fit. Black hair swept over his forehead and soft dark eyes so large that they reminded you of boba pearls. You got him to smile easily. He had a brilliant, stunning smile. Apparently, he was supposed to meet a date and they flaked on him. It could have been a fabricated story, but he seemed genuine in the way he described it. Since he had already paid, he had decided to stick around. Noticed you because, unlike everyone else tightly packed in their groups, you thrashed alone. He said he was surprised that you had come alone. Even more surprised when you clarified that you had wanted to come alone.

“Well, big bad lone wolves like me can protect timid chipmunks like you, hm?” you joked.

After all, the world didn’t stop revolving just because Jeon Jungkook didn’t try hard enough.

That made him laugh and you let him enjoy the night with you. Even without knowing someone deeply, there was just something about enjoying music together that was its own intense experience. Bonded by bass and beating hearts, by the winded lightheadedness of whipping your heads too hard, by melodies that reminded you of darker times that made you stronger now, strong enough to be alone and casually with another, impulsively letting this strange wrap his arms around your legs and lift you so you could blow your lungs out and go hoarse during the last song.

You didn’t even feel your phone vibrate again because the bass was too fucking intense.

You bounced off that broad shoulder as the lights went down, laughing manically, electricity still simmering in your veins.

“I always wanted to do that.”

“Glad I could help,” the handsome stranger was chuckling. “You’re insane.”

It was, and you took it as such, a compliment.

You didn’t see Jeon Jungkook’s double text until you pulled out your phone to get this guy’s number.

Hey.

I see you.

A strange feeling. But you did as you intended and broke away, not lingering as the rest of the crowd filed out. You weren’t sure if this annoyed new guy, and at the moment you didn’t really care. Life, after all, was not a fairy tale. You wouldn’t have linked up tonight anyway, with or without Jungkook’s texts. The concert had been set in was a small venue next to a bar. People were either going through the side door or through the bar to keep the night going. You also followed towards the bar because you needed to get to the main street to get to the train.

If Jungkook had seen you, he must have brought tickets as well.

You hadn’t thought to even ask him.

You texted back.

You still see me?

Yeah.

You raised your eyebrows at the immediate answer, breaking out the crowd and moving towards the wall. You didn’t, however, look up. You weren’t about to give that satisfaction. Checked the time and the train schedule. Hm. You debated on whether or not to entertain this bullshit.

You look really good. Love your hair like that.

It took effort to not roll your eyes. Thing is, he could just approach you right now. The crowd was thinning out, but you ignored everybody and stayed glued to your phone. The only reason he wasn’t, then, was because he must be with others, which meant for some reason he didn’t want them to know that he was talking to you right now.

And.

That shit really pissed you off.

You cocked an eyebrow.

Come get your hair tie.

One of those times where you actually wanted to be left on read.

But he disappointed you.

Your place or mine?

You stuck your tongue in your cheek and dropped your hand, shoving your phone into your leather pants. Didn’t bother looking around. Just started walking out the door, thinking about the fastest route to the train station. Huh. Twenty-first century and Jeon Jungkook was out here thinking only guys like him could be fuckboys. You pushed through the smoked glass, out into the cool night and bustling street lit up with streetlamps and neon signs. Maybe you should have followed that stranger tonight. No. Deep down, you knew this wasn’t right. You shook your head at no one, whipping your hair about your shoulders, and began your brisk walk, Jeon Jungkook on your brain.

Fucking idiot.

-

He realized it too late.

The top of her hair had been pulled back, half-up, half-down, with wisps of bangs around her face, and he recognized those black leather pants, damn, her ass looks so good, and then he still didn’t get it as her shoulders slumped. She completely ignored his reply, walking out instead.

Ten minutes and then it hit him.

Come get your hair tie.

Fuck.

“Sorry, guys, I gotta go.”

“What? Why? Did something happen?”

“Yup, bye.”

“Yah, Jeon–”

He didn’t even wait to hear his name being called, instead jumping over the chairs in haste and one beat away from running, just now realizing how fucking stupid he was. His heart fluttering as he knew a little piece of him was with her, but he was also mad. One of his friends had suggested the concert thing earlier tonight, and they had arrived late, staying in the back with their beers and enjoying the music. It had been a small, dark venue, but it suited the band and their heavy sound. Jungkook thought he had been going a little crazy, thinking about her all night with a drink in his hand, so crazy that he thought he had seen her silhouette towards the front. Thought he recognized that flying hair and rocking shoulders, but, no way, right? Then that same girl was lifted onto a shoulder and bouncing with her hand held high.

Devil horns and everything.

Whoever it was tipped her head back and Jungkook swore he recognized that back and those body proportions. Then her hoarse voice entered the meld of screams and instruments and boosted bass.

And he knew.

She was with someone.

Someone that wasn’t him.

He wanted to remind her. Remind her it was him that held her last night, remind her it was his mouth between her legs and his hands on her ass, but mostly he just wanted to remind himself. He wanted to know who it was that she was with but she had emerged from the doors alone. Weird. It made him feel a little better though. Selfish, Jungkook knew, but so he was. He had stayed were he was, at a table with his friends, out of her sight, but she didn’t even look up. Really. She was willing to make him feel all kinds of fucked up and not willing to even look the fuck up.

Okay.

Come get your hair tie.

Yeah, okay. Okay, she wanted to use him. Fine. Fine, he was cool with that. But she left him on read. In fact, he watched her not look back and leave. Wow. And then it hit him and now he was running in the night, past flooding pools of light and wishing to catch a glimpse of mesh sleeves or black leather pants or even those heavy black boots with silver metal heel. Now he was throwing himself onto the train and trying to remember which one was her stop, wondering why he didn’t see the invitation for what it was. Now time was a thief stealing away the perfect moment and he was chastising himself for not chasing that feeling that he wasn’t so sure about.

-

You pulled the clear hair tie out of your ponytail. The squiggly kind that was meant not to leave ceases in the hair. The strands still ended up wild from the headbanging and the windy night. You ran your fingers through it haphazardly, annoyed when your fingers caught a snag. Scowling at your bathroom mirror as you untangled the strands and wondered why the fuck you ever let Jeon Jungkook get in your brain and drive you insane.

Fuck it.

Fuck him.

Your body was still on a high from the concert. Nerves alight, senses simulated, emotions caught in a rollercoaster. You yanked your clear earplugs out and cleaned them off in your bathroom sink, patting them dry with your hand towel and leaving them next to the hair tie.

You looked down at it.

Should throw it away.

Your hand reached out and then there were three loud thumps at your apartment door.

You jerked and backtracked, surrounded by no light except for the one from the bathroom. It was a short walk. You had to step past your heavy black boots, careful not to stub your toe on the metal heel, and peered through the peephole, seeing a large dark brown eyeball because Jeon Jungkook was too damn close to your door.

You yanked it open.

“The fuck–”

And froze.

He was panting, slightly hunched over. Wearing a black racer jacket with white stripes. It lay half off one shoulder, exposing the black tank top underneath and a peek of his right arm tattoos. Slate blue jeans with slight rips on one knee and black boots, but none of that made you stop and stare, not even his furrowed brow and annoyed expression.

“You cut your hair,” you beathed.

It was fresh. Sides cut short, with the top layer long enough to touch his brows. Currently half swept back, probably from running around. A few strands fell by his dark eyes, additional shadows to this harrowed tension. You backed up. He stepped in, one hand catching the doorframe.

Jungkook glared at you and you felt none of that fake frostiness.

“Yeah, I had a hair appointment today,” he huffed. “I didn’t come for the damn hair tie.”

It was all piling together. The moments of hands around each other’s waist, around his wrist, around his hard cock with his low voice in your ear. Don’t stop. The things unsaid and not said. The nights with him and the mornings without him. Backing away from Calvin Klein’s Euphoria still clinging to your sheets. Alone. The music of your youth, hard and rough and full of anger. The strength of a stranger and the cold air of the night, and suddenly you felt alive, alive and needing answers and fucking pissed off at all the shit Jeon Jungkook pulled.

You let him in your apartment, but not in your space.

“How did you know where I was going to be?” you accused.

The door fell shut.

Jungkook cocked his head. Dark eyes finding yours, cornering you with his gaze. You locked stares and did not back down. “Where else you gonna go but home?” he shot back.

You narrowed your own eyes and didn’t bite your tongue.

“How would a guy like you know what home even means?”

-

Goddamn, the one always knew how to hit him where it hurt.

He stopped moving forward.

But his heart was racing fast, remembering all the moments piling together. Lips to lips, hips to hips, and how tightly she held him, as if she wasn’t going to let him go. Not falling for any of the traps he set but drawing him closer and closer each time with that look in her eyes. Alone. Trying to forget how it felt to be held by her even through it was the most secure he had ever been.

Thinking about it now, maybe too much.

His voice wavered in the darkness between them.

“But, would you do it again?”

She paused at his question. Those eyes seemed a little less shadowy, a little less space between them but only for this second. Kept her hands by her sides though, not reaching out to him.

“How much of this was a lie?” she quietly asked.

He answered honestly.

“None of it.”

She scrutinized him. He stayed an open book. Mostly because he didn’t know any other way to cover up except run, can’t stay too late, didn’t know what was the right thing to do when clearly he had done so much wrong, didn’t know how this was going to end but Jungkook damn well knew this was gonna fuck him up for his whole life.

Silence.

That sinking feeling.

“You have time to spend?” she finally asked.

-

“Yeah.”

Must be a dream.

You closed the distance, trying to stay awake, watching his eyes. Waiting for Jungkook to run, as he did so many times before. He always had somewhere to be that wasn’t here. Following his dark brown eyes, the memory of his taste on your tongue, breathing in the clean scent of Euphoria, closer, body heat radiating off him, and Jungkook bit his lip, causing the two silver lip rings to catch what little light there was, like punctured stars in the darkness between you and him.

His lashes lowered.

You looked at him, unfazed.

Raised your hand.

Placed five fingertips on his black top. Thin jersey fabric between skin to skin, and you walked them up his chest, staring into the windows of his soul to find the truth. Your lips formed his name, but made no sound. His own followed suit, breathing your name under a tense exhale, not yet moving, shivering as your middle finger traced his chain necklace.

“You never have time to spend,” you murmured, your breath against his jaw.

He lowered his head, gaze flickering away. Then back, mumbling even though he meant it.

“I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow and tilted your head.

Opened your mouth to chastise him, but all that came out was an exasperated chuckle.

“Don’t do it again.”

You pressed your lips against his.

Jungkook stole your breath and sank into you.

Your hand pressed into his chest and his arms slid around your waist. His fingers splayed out under your crop top, pressing the slinky micro-mesh against your skin and sending a tingling sensation up your spine. He tasted like haste and hunger. Warmth spreading out, squeezing your torso between leather-covered arms, gasping when your tongue flickered against his lips. Slow. Teasing. Dragging it out. Your other hand slid under his jacket, grasping the small of his waist and digging your nails in. He winced, a small whimper, then tried to cover it up by pulling back slightly, but your tongue remained, sliding out further between his open lips.

Your eyes cracked open to see Jungkook’s lashes flutter, his hot moan warming your lips.

“F… Fuck…”

Your tongue retreated.

Exhaled, giving it the weight that made it drift over his neck and chin. He sucked in a sharp inhale, opening his eyes too. A stand-off. His thighs pressed against your thighs. His erection was straining, even in his jeans. You traced your tongue around the perimeter of your lips, seeing him track the movement with bated breath, smiling slightly as his cock twitched.

He narrowed his eyes. “Can you not?”

You cocked one shoulder, smirking with the tip of your tongue at the edge of your teeth. “Why?”

The faintest of eye rolls. “You don’t suck my dick unless I shower first. And I haven’t showered yet.”

“That really sucks,” you hummed.

With just the correct about of intonation hat you had no sympathy. Especially since your hand was sliding over his ass to follow the line of his hip and then further down, hooking your thumb over the waistband of his jeans and molding your other four fingers around the unforgiving bulge. You heard him bite back a sound, pressing his biceps against you in warning, but you merely smiled, leaning forward to graze your lips against his cheek and jaw.

His cock pulsed strongly in your grip as you whispered into his ear.

Low and hot.

“That really sucks.”

Jungkook made a noise between a whimper and a growl.

But you didn’t care, pressing your breasts against his muscular chest. You knew he could feel your lack of bra through the layers of fabric, the confusion spreading over his facial features as you backed up. There was something there, his brain was working that out, but the swimsuit fabric was thin and your hard nipples were large enough for him to barely feel if he really flexed his pecs.

You unbuttoned his jeans.

He didn’t stop you because he would be crazy to.

The tension so tight that neither of you were breathing.

You grinned.

And yanked his underwear and jeans down at the same time.

You probably wouldn’t have tried this shit if it was someone else. Jungkook was habitual creature. The kind where he kept a small tube of hand sanitizer on him at all times, and you would catch him using it all the time, so absentmindedly that it seemed to have become second nature. He would do it after getting off the train. Walking aimlessly. Standing at your front door as you opened it, rubbing his hands together and directly looking at you, cocking an eyebrow.

The first time you noticed this action you thought he was being a creep before you realized it was hand sanitizer he was putting back into his pocket. He was not, in fact, imitating eccentric cartoon villain behavior. Had you in the first half, not gonna lie.

“What?”

It had been a pointed what at that time.

This time it was a sexually charged and gravelly, “What…?”

You squatted down and took his right hand, turning it palm up. Opened your mouth and drenched saliva all over his palm and fingers, the clean citrus scent of his hand sanitizer hitting your nose, hearing him hiss and feeling him tense. The tendons of his wrist stood out, black ink of his tattoos creeping out under the sleeve of the leather jacket. Your tongue lingered against the texture of his calluses along the top of his palm.

Guess he had been working out his frustrations.

“F-Fuck!”

You wrapped his spit-covered hand around his stiff length. Instinct and arousal and the slippery, tight, pleasurable sensation beat out any protest he had about what was happening, firmly and quickly jacking himself off right in front of your face. You calmly watched the glossy, swollen head pop in and out between his tightened fingers. All colors were desaturated due to the dark apartment. Didn’t matter. You had seen it enough times to know what he looked like.

You looked up.

Jungkook was looking down, gasping, the visible strain making his shoulders tremble. Jaw clenched, dark irises glassy, you’re so fucking pretty, shit, and you stuck out your tongue, enjoying the power. He shuddered, gripping himself tighter. Using your left hand, you hooked a thumb under the hem of your shirts, pushing them up, up, over your barely-covered breasts, revealing your hard nipples straining against the tiny black bikini top.

Those large brown eyes went wide, his lips parting.

“Oh, fuck…”

You used your right hand to shove the thin fabric away, scooping your breasts closer together to give him a good view, securing your left hand against your shoulder, easily holding the bunched-up fabric. Grinned, not hiding how pleased you were at his reaction. You lowered your right knee to the ground, stabilizing yourself.

And, now that your right hand was free, you reached forward and smacked his balls.

His black hair whipped in the air as his head snapped back, moaning sharply at the sudden impact. You slapped them again, and again. It was slightly slick from your own spit. Fast and firm. Not hard, since Jungkook hadn’t quite expressed the level he wanted yet, but then his head fell forward, erratic gasps and pupils blown out, squeezing the head of his cock hard, his entire body shaking.

“Harder,” he groaned out, depraved and deep.

You did as you were told, smacking harder and spreading out the hit over the entire area, keeping yourself exposed for him.

“Fuck… f-fuck…”

It was loud, lewd, and wet. His hand moving fast, and your fingertips repeatedly punishing his balls, his hips shaking in ecstasy. The scent of sex mixing with his crisp cologne, deliciously dirtying it. He turned his hand so it was palm up, knuckles down. You spat on his closed fingers and Jungkook moaned even louder, tipping his head back, sweat glistening along his throat.

Spit dripping down.

A bit of a mess, truly.

His head snapped back, fucked-out gaze, his voice rough and hoarse.

“Can… Can you breathe on me…?”

You leaned forward and parted your lips. Keeping eye contact, sliding your tongue out, and exhaled. Slow, heavy, saturated with warmth, leisurely drifting over his fast, tight grip on his hard cock. His eyes squeezed shut, drawn-out groan thundering in his chest. You did it again and his eyes opened, rolling back slightly, his lashes fluttering. You increased the pressure on his balls. The sharp smacks getting louder, wet thrusts, sensual sighs mixing with his desperate whine, and Jungkook tipped his hips down, fixated on watching himself cum onto your tongue and down your throat.

Hot, thick streaks.

You tilted your head back, drinking his orgasm down as you locked eyes with him, electric bliss simmering through your veins. His short black hair was damp with sweat. The strange feeling came back again, somewhere between a dream and reality, yet unmistakable clarity.

Fuck.

You were both sinking.

Shit.

-

“Don’t stop.”

To be honest, Jungkook didn’t like missionary for the sheer reason that she was too damn powerful in this position. Face too damn pretty. Tits too damn perfect. Legs on his shoulders letting him get too damn deep, soft thighs against his hard abs, pussy clenching around every centimeter of his length and not letting up, her hips smacking up every time he thrust down. Okay. It just felt too fucking good. It was a damn problem. He had to grind his teeth and fuck hard so he could slow down and not cum too fast. One would think the second orgasm would be difficult to reach, but one would be fucking wrong. His was rock-hard once she was naked and even harder when she dipped her fingers into her wet pussy to smear her juices over the throbbing head of his cock before he rolled the condom down.

“Are you a virgin or what – fuck!”

She was giving him that smug smirk of hers.

It both pissed him off and made him so damn happy.

A bitch faking it would be imitating shitty porn right now. That was why he never did missionary with any other women before her. It just made him limp. Better it hit it from the back and not have to look at their faces.

God, she was so fucking pretty.

“Always a virgin, only for you,” she snickered.

“I feel so fucking special,” Jungkook growled back, emphasizing each word by pounding her into the mattress.

He did, though.

Somewhere between dream and reality. That strange feeling as he watched her hands grip her pillows, her features softening as she fell into the pleasure, smacking her hips into his, their breathless moans blending together, primal harmony, and he knew he was well and truly fucked because instead of only drowning in the physical sensations of shoving his cock into that tight, wet hole, Jungkook was thinking about how he would wake up and bury his face in her hair the next morning, inhaling the scent of her sweet and smokey perfume, hoping other people could smell her on him, thinking about how lovely it would be to look over and see those eyes roaming over his face, every day and every night.

Well.

Shit.

She clenched around him particularly hard and Jungkook snapped out of his daydream.

Back into his lustful nightdream.

“Harder,” she hissed out, narrowing her eyes.

He was going to gasp, fuck you, but he was doing that already and there was no time to think because she sank lower into the mattress, angling her hips ever-so-slightly, and it was so deep, so good, so tight, losing his mind. Sweat dripping down his chest. He tucked his head back, trying not to get it all over her, bending his elbows and locking his muscles, driving his back and hips into his thrust, bending her in half and neither of them could breathe, closer, clawing up to the high, fast and intense and coiling tight in his chest, sinking down, down, deep down.

Airless.

His orgasm crashed into him so hard that his arms almost gave out.

“Fuck, Jungkook!”

He was sure that the noise that came out of him was not one he wanted to be self aware of. Something between a choked groan and whining moan, lost in the pulsating walls shivering against his jerking cock, wave after wave burning through him. The high seared him like electricity and the aftermath was layers of sparks building over his skin, tingling nerves and forgetting about anything else, suspended in this feeling.

Then his muscles screamed from fatigue and Jungkook realized his back was alarmingly sweaty.

“A… ah, hah…”

She plucked the white hand towel from her nightstand and flung it over his shoulder, falling back into the pillows and gasping.

He was in the middles of wiping his face before he realized that she didn’t have a towel there the first time he came over. But a towel was always there every other time he had showed up after. Either white or dark gray. Always fluffy. He looked down. Her eyes were closed, her pants slowing down to heavy breaths. She hadn’t been looking at him during his epiphany.

She smacked his arm for a second time before he realized she was trying to get his attention.

“Put my legs down, damn…”

“Oh, shit, right…”

It took him a moment to untangle himself. She went to the bathroom, as she usually did. Their clothes were all over the floor. Leather pants. Mesh shirt. The bathing suit top. Panties. His tank top. Black boxer briefs. His jacket and jeans were out there somewhere in the hall outside the bedroom. He noticed a pair of folded gray sweatpants and white shirt sitting on the corner of her room, randomly atop a low bookshelf. He had put them there a week ago. Just in case. She hadn’t moved it.

Jungkook breathed out.

He patted his temple.

I’m in idiot.

Then vigorously dried his hair.

The feeling came back when it was his turn to clean up in the bathroom and he saw his clear hair tie by her sink. A little tangled up from use, next to a pair of clear earplugs. He should probably check his phone and tell his friends that he was fine, but it was somewhere out there in his jeans and Jungkook wasn’t going to go hunting for it right now.

He went back to the bedroom.

Damn, she was so stunning even simply lying in bed. Her gray duvet was only covering her lower half, her forearm draped over her eyes. Amazing breasts. He took a moment to ogle them, perfect nipples and all.

“Stop staring at my tits.”

Well, shit.

She raised her arm and cocked her eyebrow at him.

Not saying anything, but the message came across quite clear.

Jungkook draped the hand towel over his shoulder and picked up the gray sweatpants from the bookshelf, yanking them over his legs before looking up again. Those shadowed eyes were watching him carefully. Surprise but not quite believing. He left the t-shirt and dropped the towel onto the floor, walking over to the other side of the bed and throwing himself down onto the mattress, making her body bounce.

Side eye.

“What?”

He shrugged.

“I’m tired.”

She frowned at him.

“Oh, yeah?”

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

He used his elbows to scoot himself to the pillows, resting his chin on the backs of his hands to look down at her. Her eyes followed the sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. Down and then up. Observing his facial expression carefully.

“Can’t stay too late?” she whispered. Somewhere between a taunt and weariness.

It broke his heart a little, hearing his own words said back to him. He moved one hand and lifted her forearm from her brows, seeing more of her face now. The mood lighting was still on. Points of color dancing over the ceiling above them. They reflected in her eyes even as she faced him.

Jungkook could smell her perfume, soft and sweet and not yet clinging to his skin.

“Can I stay the night?”

Her eyes narrowed. “And why would you wanna to that?”

He shrugged, realizing now that it had never been a no.

“Boyfriends stay over at their girlfriends’ places sometimes. Free breakfast.”

She rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

“The shit you pull, Jeon Jungkook.”

He leaned down. Had to fight for the kiss. Hands on wrists. His chest pressed against her breasts. When their lips touched, he could feel her smiling, so Jungkook smiled too and kissed her deeply.

--

masterpost

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Finally Getting Help (pt 12)

Masterpost

“Ya, I have questions,” Jason confirmed, trying not to shift awkwardly in his seat. “I read the slideshow but I don’t seem to fit in either liminals or ghosts, and I have some issues that I think would have been mentioned if they were common?”

“Alright, what are they?” Danny asked tilting his head a little. 

“Well, it’s been better since meeting you, and I know increased aggression was one of the thing mentioned but mine isn’t like Damian’s, or even yours I think. We’ve been calling it Pit Madness. I’ve gotten better at managing it but especially when I got back it was really bad. I… killed a ton of people and I still have a lot of bloodlust that no one is comfortable with.”

“That is unusual, especially directed towards humans. Aside from revenge against whoever killed them dead usually don’t care very much about the living,” Danny said curiously, considering Jason. 

“And I do read as- as dead?” Jason asked, he had been worried about that.

“Well you’re obviously not Dead dead,” Danny said rolling his eyes before he reached across the table. “Here, with touch I can figure out a bit more.” He said and Jason hesitated for a moment before resting his hand in Danny’s.

A cool feeling quickly washed up his arm and over his chest like intangible water. Danny tilted his head to the other side, his brows coming together slowly as he gazed into the middle distance and considered what he was feeling. He let out a hiss and some sort of chitter that couldn’t come from a human throat, then clicked his tongue and the cool feeling dissipated, sinking under Jason’s skin and cooling heat he hadn’t been aware of feeling. 

“Okay, ya that’s weird,” Danny admitted and Jason’s heart dropped. “Best I can equate it to is, like a bone that healed wrong,” Danny said thoughtfully. “You did die before?” He asked, Jason nodded mutely. “Okay, I won’t ask why or how. But best I can tell your soul was shoved back into your body and not given time to get settled back in it’s proper position before whatever was done to bind it in place. So you’re alive but with some.. Spiritual nerve and brain damage. Would you be comfortable telling me how you were resurrected?”

“Well, I resurrected myself apparently. I don’t really remember it but apparently about six months after my death I dug myself out of my grave. Before I could get anywhere the League of Shadows found me and dunked me in the Lazarus pit which is this glowing green stuff that heals the dying and kills the healthy. I don’t remember any of it, it was almost a year before I recovered enough to be myself at all.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Danny said, nodding thoughtfully. “My guess would be at first you came back as a revenant, which is basically when a ghost possesses their own corpse to get revenge, not truly a living being. But then this Lazarus pit resurrected your body and your soul got stuck in your living body again without being prepared or intending for that to happen. 

“That’s what I’m guessing happened but I can’t be sure, and I’m not a healer so I don’t really know what to do about it. I’m sure my ghost doctor Frostbite would be happy to take a look at you though! Looks like we’ll be making an appointment for you too,” He joked making Jason chuckle nervously. 

“Well that’s.. Totally fucked up,” Jason said and Danny nodded.

“Ya, dying is basically always fucked up, coming back Specifically for revenge and then getting stuck here long after that’s a motivating factor is messy. I mean, for a human that would be fine, but for people like us,” He gestured between the two of them. “Obsessions are everything so that’s hard. You’ve been cultivating more healthy obsessions I know but you’ll never be the same,” Danny said, and Jason nodded.

He knew as much, he could never go back. Not that he hadn’t always had these sorts of thoughts and inclinations. Once of the reasons Bruce had taken on him and Dick was their murderous inclinations needed to be curbed, for Dick it had work, for Jason… Well it was a combination of a lot of things, it wasn’t really Bruce’s fault it had failed. Other than the fact that he’d let the Joker live far longer than he should have, but that was bleeding-heart-Brucie for you. It was funny, to not really be mad at Bruce anymore, understanding there was nothing else he could have done, and still not be able to forgive him.

Danny must have noticed how Jason had gotten lost in his own head because he reached across the table and covered one of Jason’s clenched hands with his own, soft and cool. “You’re doing really well Jason. It’s a messed up situation but I don't think anyone could have handled it better then you are,” Danny said softly.

Jason didn’t believe it but it felt good to hear and it did settle him a little bit. “Thanks Danny, that means a lot,” he said, giving Danny’s hand a squeeze before pulling back. 

There was a natural break in conversation as the waitress brought their appetizers, and when she left again Jason didn’t know what to say. Thankfully Danny spoke. “Why don’t I tell you a bit about my doctor? Frostbite can be a lot, as much as it would probably be funny to spring him on you I should probably give you a heads up.”

“Ya, ya that sounds good,” Jason agreed, glad to let Danny do the talking for a bit. And when telling him about Frostbite turned into talking about the Yetis, to talking about the Infinite Realms, to Danny info-dumping about space. Well Jason really doesn’t mind, especially with the way it makes Danny light up. It was good to see him happy.

---------

The food was good but Jason didn’t taste much of it, and aside from going “Oh wow!” When he took his first bite of his food Danny didn’t seem to either. At a certain point Jason realized he was going to have to do some talking or Danny was going to keep talking and wouldn’t eat. So he took over, but he didn’t know much about space so he started talking about literature and poetry and Danny listened raptly and finally ate his food.

It was very nice to have someone listen to him like that, it was sort of funny, it looked like it was as fun for Danny to listen to him talk then it had been the other way. Jason thought about how supporting obsessions was important for ghosts to have their obsessions supported. Reading wasn’t Really his obsession, he didn’t think, but it sure was an interest and it felt really good to get to share with someone new. 

By the end of the dinner Jason has well and truly decided that this was a date. Danny was cute, good, and passionate, and a good listener, Oh and strong as Fuck which was always a turn on for Jason. Speaking of powerful…

“Can I ask you another sort of serious question?” Jason asked after they got their dessert. Danny looked up, mouth full and a little smear of chocolate on his top lip, Jason resisted the urge to reach across the table and wipe it off. Danny nodded. “When Damian gave me his little shovel talk he mentioned that you’re going to be a god some day?” He said, tilting his head. Maybe that was a third date sort of conversation but it seemed like it would be important to understanding Danny.

Danny choked a little and swallowed, sighing heavily. “That’s what I’ve been told,” Danny grumbled. “There’s a prophecy apparently, and with how my powers have been progressing even just in the first 2 years since I died, I can already go toe to toe with some Ancients and win so… Ya, I guess it’s probably inevitable, especially since I haven’t stagnated yet. I don’t want to be one really, I didn’t ask for this, but whatever. I probably can’t stop it.” He slumped back in the booth, looking tired. 

Shit Jason shouldn’t have brought that up. “Hey you’ve got time right? That won’t be for a while. Also, what’s an Ancient?” 

“Very old, very powerful spirits. They’re essentially their own pantheon, Ancient is basically just what ghosts call gods.” He said with a shrug.

“Makes sense, I mean gods usually are ancient. Even more reason you don’t have to worry about that right now. I mean you’re far from ancient,” Jason pointed out, earning himself a little smile from Danny. 

“Ya, you’re right,” He agreed and went back to eating his dessert, the conversation moved on to the music they liked.

When the bill came Jason put his card down without letting Danny see what the bill came to and passed it back to the waitress. They lingered in the booth for a while still chatting, unwilling to part ways yet. If Jason didn’t know his family would want Danny home before they went out on patrol he might have suggested they just go to a park and walk for a while. Talk, maybe each take one of his wireless earbuds and take turns picking songs. But he had a feeling Damian really would try to kill Jason if he didn’t get to see Danny home safe. 

Eventually they left, wandering back to Jason’s motorbike and Danny snuggled up to Jason’s back again as they drove back to the manor. The silence was companionable until Jason pulled up, propping the bike up to let Danny get off. He took off his helmet and handed it back to Jason, not letting go immediately when Jason took it so their hands were touching. 

“This was nice, I had fun,” Danny said, blushing a little and looking down.

“It was, we should do it again soon,” Jason agreed, “I’ll text you okay?” 

“You’d better,” Danny teased before walking back towards the manor. 

Damian opened the door for him, shooting Jason a glare before slamming it making him laugh. He was still a child no matter how much he pretended he wasn’t. Jason kicked off on his bike and zoomed off, heading home to get ready for patrol.

Next

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

Omfg I ate that Vox fic up! The one where he hypnotized the reader after a long fight of them nearly being taken from him. Can you do a part 2 please? Like when the reader eventually learns he basically forced them to sign the contract and they find a way to be immune to his hypnosis? He goes absolutely nuts despite literally owning their soul. He's canonically a control freak and seems to even have some yandere traits. I hope I'm not going against your rules! You don't have any posted so I just wanna ask! Thank you for being awesome! :D Don't hesitate to turn down this request. Write what makes you feel comfortable. Just please respond so I and everyone else knows not to make a similar request in the future. Lots of love!

ABSOLUTELY!! I did take this in a slightly different direction, but hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Lowkey thinking of doing a Vox POV of this later and maybe even a part three...

Vox isn't actually in this much, but I feel a loose actual plot coming together and this is what naturally flowed for me.

I hope y'all are ready for more angst... plus a cliff-hanger <3

More Than Anything Part 2 [Vox x Reader]

Part 1

Part 2.5

"You controlling prick!"

Vox ducked as you threw a pillow at him. Even in your righteous anger, you'd never actually truly try to hurt him, but by god were you pissed.

Despite Vox's obvious disdain for the Hazbin Hotel and its association with Alastor, you visited the hotel occasionally to catch up with your friend Angel Dust and give some much-deserved love to his pet pig Fat Nuggets. It was during one of these visits that you ran into Alastor, who immediately looked at you with disgust in his ever-present smile.

"Really now, my dear," he said as he shook his head in disapproval. "It's already enough of a shame that you have such poor taste in a romantic partner, but to give your soul to him as well? I thought you were smarter than that."

The overlord could see the aura of Vox's ever-annoying electric cords locked around your soul like chains. You'd been confused and his eye twitched with annoyance as he realized what Vox had done to you. To say you were livid after he explained that you'd been tricked was an understatement.

"Y/N, I'm sorry," Vox pleaded as you fumed at him in his room. "But you left me no other choice! You weren't listening to me and if I didn't bind your soul, then Satan knows what could have happened to you by now."

"Just because you don't fucking believe in my ability to look out for myself doesn't mean you get to just take my soul!" You screamed with hot, angry tears flowing down your face. You wipe at them, only crying harder at the frustration of the tears you couldn't control in your anger. You felt like they undermined your emotions.

Vox's magic sparked around him as he tried his best not to get angry and start a fight with you. He was terrified and was that much more susceptible to his angry tendencies in moments like these. It took everything in him to try and calm himself, not wanting to push you away further. His heart dropped and his blood ran cold as he saw you pull a large bag out of the closet and start shoving clothes into it.

"W-Where are you going?" Vox panicked as he crossed the room.

"The hotel," you said with quiet fury, as you stepped away from the closet and went to the nightstand with your personal things on it. "I need some space and it's the one fucking place I know you'd rather die again than follow me to."

"Ŷ̸̪͕o̸̢̿̿ū̷̫ ̶̬͂c̶̺̾͂a̴͒͘͜n̴̫̂̔'̶̡̉t̶͙̝̄͒," Vox said, his voice starting to glitch as his panic increased. "You've heard the news, the extermination is in a week and the angels plan on attacking there first. There's no guarantee they'll keep to the date after how much little miss dumbass pissed off heaven. It's not safe there."

You pull your bag over your shoulder and the look you gave him will haunt him for the rest of his afterlife. "It's safer than here."

It breaks him all the more when you shield your eyes from him and storm past him so he can't hypnotize you into staying. Vox is paralyzed with fear like never before. He wanted to scream, to beg, to stop you from leaving him, but he couldn't do anything as his system glitched so hard it forced him into a reboot. When he came to, he was alone. You were gone.

--

Charlie was more than willing to let you stay at the hotel. The two of you hadn't had the chance to really ever speak before, but she was always friendly when you came to visit Angel, even after you explained to her there was no way you'd be able to become a guest.

In exchange, you were happy to help set up the defenses against the extermination. You got to know all of the other members of the hotel and the work helped you push down the burning ache in your chest.

Vox had been trying to contact you nonstop. You eventually turned off your phone, driven insane by the wall of notifications of him begging you to respond in any way. He knew you were okay for the time being. He was literally connected to your soul. But as the extermination day grew closer, his panic only increased. If it wasn't for Valentino and Velvette holding him back, there were several times he genuinely would have set aside his pride and come to the hotel just to get you.

It was after helping Husk and Cherri put up a particularly tricky barrier with the dwindling supplies that Angel found you taking a break. He passed you a water which you took gratefully as he slid down the wall and joined you on the floor.

"So," he started. "Are we going to ever talk about the reason why you're hiding out here?"

"Do we have to?" You groan, running your fingers through your hair. Despite the smiles and laughter you'd been sharing with your newfound friends as you all prepared for the potential end of it all, the dark circles on your eyes gave away what was lurking underneath.

For as angry as you were at Vox, you missed him. You missed feeling him curl against you in bed. You missed being woken up at unholy hours early in the morning because Vox couldn't start his day without giving you a kiss and telling you how much he loved you. You missed his shitty taste in shows and how he'd collapse into your arms after a long day at work.

Angel sighed, looking at the boarded-up lobby. "Look I may not get it, but you love the guy, right? Are you really content with possibly dying in a couple of days for a cause you're not even a part of, just because you're pissed with him?"

"He stole my soul, Angie" You frown at him.

"And that is fucked up as hell," he agrees. "But I know you and I know there ain't no way in hell you're actually satisfied leaving shit like this."

"I just-," you start before groaning. "How the hell are we supposed to come back from this? I doubt he'd ever void the contract. He's too convinced he's right for that."

Angel sighed, setting his own cup aside. "Honestly toots, you're not gonna like it, but... He kinda has a point."

You whip your head up to look at him and he holds up his hands defensively. "Not saying that stealing your soul was the right call. Believe me, if anyone gets how fucked it is having your soul controlled by a sociopath with a big ego, it's me. But you're not exactly in the safest of places, dollface. Not to mention, you're dating an overlord who's in a trio determined to piss off as many big shots as possible. His mind may not be in the right place, but his heart kinda is."

You take Angel's words to heart and sigh as you bury your face in your arms. "I hate it, but you're right... I just... I don't want to hold him back. I don't want to be the person that needs to be protected. I want to be his equal, not his problem."

"Then tell him that," Angel sighs. His gaze drifts to the bar and smiles fondly. "Someone recently has taught me how important being real with yourself is. It's okay to be flawed. No one got stuck in this shithole cause we were perfect, y'know?"

He nudged you with a grin as he added, "Plus, come on. Can you imagine how many bitches in hell would kill to have a sexy fucker that wants nothing more than to love ya and keep ya safe? I love you toots, but for fucks sake, pick a struggle."

You snort, shaking your head as you lightly swat at his arm. "Fuck you for being right about shit all the time."

"It's one of my best assets," Angel smirked. "Y'know, aside from all the fluff."

You laughed as he puffed up his chest and by the end of the evening, you'd decided to head back. As much as you loved Angel and wanted nothing more than to be by his side as the extermination drew near, he had a point. This wasn't your fight and there was a controlling dumbass that had been blowing up your phone ever since you left that was praying for your return.

After exchanging promises to see each other after the extermination, you left the hotel. You had an idiot to see.

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

HIS GIRL - PART 2

Summary: You were always Topper’s girl—until Rafe decided you were no longer his.

PART 1 can be read here

Paring: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Rafe/Reader, Topper/Reader, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Fingering, Oral (w receiving) Drinking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.  

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

The night air is cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of the house, and you shiver slightly, not noticing Rafe's hand resting against the small of your back. The beach stretches out ahead, dark and quiet, the waves whispering secrets in the distance.

You’re tipsy, your laughter loose and soft, and he likes the sound of it, the way it fills the dark spaces between his thoughts. He guides you along, each step closer to where he wants you, each step carefully calculated.

“I never figured you for the ‘walk on the beach’ type of guy,” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Rafe raises a brow, glancing sideways at you.

“I dunno…” You laugh lightly, your voice soft and carefree. “You’re just so… serious all the time.” The words spill out easily, weightless from the alcohol. You’re too distracted, too lost in the rhythm of the waves, to notice how far you’ve wandered from the house—how isolated the two of you have become.

“Serious, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle, though there’s an edge to it. “Is that how you see me?”

You nod without a second thought, swaying as you walk, oblivious to the way his eyes trace every curve of your body, his lips parting slightly as if savoring the thought. You don’t notice. You never do.

“Topper says I should set you up with one of my friends…”

Rafe's jaw tenses. “Does he now?"

"He just means—well, you know—he thinks you need someone who could get you to loosen up, smile more—”

"Someone like you?” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

You laugh, stumbling slightly. “I don’t know about that. I have my off days like everyone else. But Topper just wants you to be happy. You know, to have what we have—”

“Right,” Rafe drawls, stretching the word, his eyes narrowing as he processes.

Happy. And yet here you are. Alone with him. Laughing, trusting him. Maybe that’s what truly pushed him over the edge. To prove Topper wrong, to show him that the girl who supposedly "makes him happy" can be taken with a mere glance, a touch, a few choice words.

And now, because of Topper's self-righteous superiority Rafe wasn't going to stop until he turned his world completely upside down.

“But you know… maybe I don’t need to set you up after all,” you tease, still unaware, your smile soft and innocent. “I mean, here we are, walking on the beach. I guess you do have a soft side after all. Any girl would be lucky—”

“Careful,” Rafe cuts in, his arm tightening around you as you stumble again. His hand hovers just above your hip, fingers itching to move lower, to grab a handful of your ass through that little summer dress. But he won’t. Not yet. He can wait a little longer.

"God, that would be so embarrassing, knowing my luck I'd faceplant in the sand," you laugh, your head resting briefly against his shoulder. Rafe inhales, taking in the scent of your hair, his eyes rolling back for a second. Fuck, you smell good. You probably taste better.

“Where… where are we going?” you ask suddenly, your words slurring now, the alcohol making your legs unsteady.

“Just down here,” he says smoothly, his voice dipping low, calm, soothing. Like he’s been here before. Like he’s done this a hundred times. He leads you across the sand, his feet sinking slightly with every step, but he doesn’t waver, doesn’t falter.

The pier looms ahead, dark and skeletal against the night sky. Its wooden beams stretch out over the water, a perfect place to disappear, to be alone. The shadows underneath are thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the posts is a constant rhythm—drowning out everything else.

You hesitate, your steps slowing, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. “Maybe we—maybe we should head back…” you whisper, your voice a little shaky now.

“Come on,” Rafe coaxes softly, his voice a smooth, dangerous whisper. “Don’t be like that. Have you ever been to the pier at night?" he asks, and you shake your head 'no.'

“Well, you’re gonna like it. Trust me.”

He guides you under the pier, into the darkness where the world seems to fade away. The crashing waves create a steady, rhythmic beat that syncs with the pounding in his chest. Any second now. Any second now.

“Here,” Rafe says, finally stopping near one of the weathered wooden posts staked in dry sand. His hand grips your waist firmly as he gently leans you back against it. The rough wood scrapes against your skin, but you barely notice, too absorbed in the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“We can chill here for a bit. Just you and me.” His words are spoken with a menacing calm as he looms over you. His hand remains firmly on your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make it clear he’s not letting go. He’s not going anywhere.

His eyes lock onto yours, and he sees it— eyes wide with confusion, the sudden fear mingling with it. It only fuels him more. Fuck, he loves the way your body tenses, the way your breath catches in your throat, that delicious mix of fear and innocence that makes him want to devour you whole.

“What… what are you doing, Rafe—” Your whisper, barely cutting through the relentless crash of the waves. It’s a question he has no intention of answering.

He’s on you in a heartbeat, lips crashing against yours with full force. Demanding rather than pleading, and he revels in the surge of power as he claims your mouth. His tongue darts past your lips, exploring with a possessive hunger, licking and sucking. Utterly Relentless. Ravenous.

He feels your hands pressing weakly against his chest, your fingers trembling in a futile attempt to push him away. It’s almost comical, the lack of resistance you offer. Your touch is barely there, too weak from the alcohol.

“Rafe, no,” you moan as he kisses down your neck and buries his face in your chest inhaling your scent. His hands sliding all over you grabbing  and squeezing, making up for all those months, all those month of pinning and watching and fantasying.

"Rafe—stop—" Your voice is so small, so unsure and hollow, and he fucking loves it. Those tiny, breathless moans, those fleeting flickers of desire in your words even as you say no—it’s all he needs. It’s the crack he’s been waiting for, the opening that lets him slide in just a little deeper, into your mind, under your skin.

“Don’t move,” he says, his voice low and deadly. A promise. A threat, even as he holds your face and kisses you again, his tongue lashing hungrily against yours.

“Do you hear me? Huh? Don’t you dare fucking move,” he whispers against your lips, just as he gets down on his knees in front of you.

Naturally, you thrash, trying to push him away. But you’re no match for him, not in your inebriated state. He shoves your back against the post, hard enough to stun you. Hard enough to make you freeze, stock still and shaking.

His hands push up your flimsy dress, desperate to touch and taste what's underneath and he groans when he comes face to face with your pink panties.

His fingers curl around the fabric, pulling them aside at first, exposing you to the cool night air and his ravenous gaze. Your plump pussy lips press against the taut fabric just begging to be kissed. Without hesitation, he leans in, his tongue on you with ruthless hunger.

He groans at your taste—so fucking sweet, of course you're fucking sweet, just like everything else about you—but the fabric of your underwear is in the way and it's pissing him off. He doesn’t have time to fuck around. He knows Topper is probably looking for you, asking where you've gone and who you’re with. In one sharp motion, he yanks them down, guiding your legs out of them and shoving the damp fabric into his pocket.

His hand immediately hooks around one of your thighs and throws it over his shoulder as he yanks you closer. His tongue plunging inside you with brutal force, the shock of it leaving you gasping.

Rafe watches you closely, sees the way your body tenses, the sharp breath you suck in, the fear that flashes in your eyes. It makes his heart race, adrenaline spiking as he grips you harder, forcing you to stay exactly where he wants you while his mouth gorges on your sweet pussy.

His fingers dig into the globes of your ass, squeezing hard as he works you over, tongue fucking you like a man possessed. There’s no tenderness here, no hesitation—just raw, invasive, primal need. He pushes and pulls you as if he owns you, every thrust of his tongue deep in your cunt, every lick of your clit is a reminder that there’s no escape. Not now. Not when he’s so fucking close to breaking you.

Suddenly, he replaces his tongue with two thick fingers, driving them deep into you with brutal precision, curling them just in time to see your eyes rolling back, tears kissing your cheeks as a silent scream rips from your throat.

“Don't fight it- Just let it out—Let it all out… no one's gonna hear you... It’s just you and me... just you and me...”

He can feel the heat building inside you, the way your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body betraying you as he takes what he wants, what he knows he deserves. He buries his face again, gluttonous, head thrashing from side to side like a dog with its favorite toy—determined to break you.

"No Rafe- no, please-- don't make me-- don't make me--" you whine.  Your hands clutch at his head, fingers scratching his scalp, trying desperately to push him off, but it only makes him double down, dragging you over the edge.

“Oh God— Oh please-- oh no, no- I’m—I'm—” you gasp as your body bucks against him, but he holds you firm, and when you scream, when you finally  scream the sound is ripped from the depths of you, piercing over the waves.

Rafe knows it’s not from relief—but fucking devastation when you cum, and he loves it. Loves the way you desperately gasp for air, loves the way your body crumples, the way you can barely stay upright, how he’s the source of both your pleasure and despair.

He clings to you, groaning at the feel of your pussy throbbing against his tongue, the soft squelch of your clit pressed against his nose. You’re cumming so fucking hard that your sweet nectar overflows, running down his chin as if he’s savoring the juiciest of fruits. He greedily follows your every movement, keeping pace with your squirming, taking every last drop, leaving nothing to waste as your sobs of pleasure and anguish drift into the night sky.

His eyes flick up to you, and he could have cum right then and there. You were grinding your delicious pussy against his face, eyes rolled back and mouth open. No longer pushing him away, your fingers held onto the back of his head, pulling him closer, guiding him exactly where you needed him, while tears trailed down your cheeks.

You looked like you’d seen the face of God—reverent, awe-inspired. It was such a beautiful sight that a part of him wished Topper were there to see.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Stay tuned for Part 3 which will be up tomorrow. x If liking the story so far feel free to spread the love by liking/commenting/reblogging.. Lots of love to you all ❤️

[shewrites02]

Green With Envy |Zoro X Reader|

Jealous Zoro x reader

Zoro x Crewmate!Reader

A/N: This is for @dinuxia-bhm, Who requested Zoro Jealous of the shitty cook. This is my very first One Piece fic request so I hope I did it justice.

Request : Open

Word Count : 5.3k

Leave a comment if you enjoy ! :)

"If you stare any longer , you may actually burn the image of them into your brain." Nami teased. She bumped the swordsman with her elbow , only then drawing his attention to her presence. "

Do you plan on making a move or were you hoping to intimidate her into a relationship?"

Nami takes a seat at the table next to the pirate who also awaits the start of breakfast. His eyes glance over at her , contemplating if he has any harsh words for the navigator... He has half a mind to tell her to mind her own business. Relationship? He scoffs at the notion. The swordsman knew nothing of feelings or love. The taboo, he quickly determined, too ridiculous to even discuss. Zoro only huffs in disagreement then goes back to watching the displays of affection amongst you and the cook.

You were teaching Sanji how to make an authentic breakfast from your village. The cook had begged you for weeks to share your favorite recipe with him. Even offering to spend his own berries gathering all the ingredients.

"Sanji, why do you keep asking me about this?" You inquired on the third week.

" I know you've only been sailing with us for a couple months, but I'm sure you noticed how hard it is to be away from home. " He took the cigarette out his lips then ashed it on the railing before giving you a sincere smile. "I just want to be able to make you something if you get homesick."

It was difficult to decline such a heartfelt request.

"Here. Try it now."

You blew on the spoon hoping to cool it down. When most of the steam subsided , you extended your arm bringing the spoon to Sanji's lips. You steadied his chin with your free hand being sure not to spill the hot liquid on his face. He hummed in pleasure at the taste.

"I think you have outdone even me on this one, my love." Sanji grinned proudly.

"As if I could ever!"

You pushed your hand into Sanji's chest jokingly shoving him away from you. The cook grabs your wrist before you can pull away, drawing you in to plant a tender kiss on your cheek.

"Darling, you truly did an amazing job. Thank you for showing me."

The sight made Zoro's stomach turn. He watched how Sanji's hands fell to your waist when he moved around you to navigate the kitchen. Notice how you didn't shy away from his touch. How you actually offered a sweet smile to him in return . The marimo's body strained at every passing touch you and Sanji exchanged. His taut muscles are too tense to contract any further at the sight of Sanji's lips against your skin. "Why does he get to touch you?" The thought comes as a surprise to him.

"Here Zo , you wanna try ?" You asked.

You turn to him with a new spoonful of jam, blowing on it just as you had done for Sanji . You had taken notice of the swordsman's observations of you . Watch the way his eyes had followed your hands to Sanji's chin when you fed him . Zoro had sat at the table all morning supervising your lesson with the cook. You figured you could offer him that attention too.

"Marimo is too dense to appreciate such elegant flavors. " Sanji responds before Zoro has an opportunity to.

"Fuck you! It's only your shit cooking I don't appreciate!"

While the boys bicker you walk over to the table spoon in hand. Sanji had hurled another insult at the ex bounty hunter , but the delicate feeling of your fingers wrapping around his chin stopped any words Zoro may have had in return. There was a small pause where his eyes lingered on yours . Searching for something . Malice? Contempt? You didn't know. But When he found what he was looking for , or lack thereof , his lips parted.

"Is it good? Do you like it?" You asked using your thumb to wipe away the excess from the side of his mouth.

"Yeah..." His gaze shifts away from you. "Way better than the cooks."

You giggled at his words, allowing yourself to wallow in the heat that filled your chest at his praise. Amused at the small smirk that laid on his lips once he had gotten what he wanted. Your attention. You bend to bring your mouth to his ear.

"Silly swordsman, I have enough attention for the both of you." You whispered .

"I- that's not-"

The words trip and stumble out his mouth never once finding their feet. You could see the sweat begging to bead on Zoro's brow as his eyes shifted about in panic, looking for anything coherent to mumble back. The stoic pirate reduced to a fumbling teenager at your words. When he can come up with nothing, he decides to stop speaking. Annoyed, he crosses his arms against his chest and turns his head to face the navigator. He is met with the knowing grin on her face.

-

Your eyes scanned the room while your fingers aimlessly tapped against the sake bottle. You sat at the bar top alone , waiting for the rest of your crew-mates to join you . You should have known better than to think any of them would be on time. Sticking to the plan was not something the Strawhats were particularly versed in. Especially when they were all left to their own devices on a new island. You sigh, dragging your free hand down your face , attempting not to ruin your makeup in the process. It was beginning to get difficult to wait. The eyes of the pirate's in the bar watched you hungrily, and you feared one may try to satiate their appetite. Eyes still roaming the room, you hoped to see a familiar face.

"A pretty lady like yourself shouldn't be sitting all alone in a packed bar. " A man announces.

It's their captain. His arm is extended, hand out offering you a beer as he approaches. You smile, kindly declining. You hold up your own bottle, shaking it slightly to indicate its fullness as means of justification . The man nodded in understanding, but didn't leave. In fact he took the prolonged silence as an invitation to take a seat alongside you.

"Are you waiting on somebody?"

He casually rests his hand on your thigh as though he has already claimed you . You shift in your seat, turning so your legs would fall beneath the bar top. You're hoping the man would sense your discomfort at his proximity. His hand does not move. Instead his smile grows wider. Taking your movement as the green light to slowly drag his hand up toward your waist.

"My boyfriend is meeting me."

The lie slips past your lips with ease at the sudden rush of adrenaline. You go to swat the man's hands from you . The previous statement should be enough for him to understand you are not his to claim . The smile he wears drops. His hand doesn't move. Despite your physical protest. Your breath hitches in your throat at the growing realization of the situation you're in.

"He shouldn't have left you here all alone." The man's voice isn't above a whisper

His warning is gone just as quickly as it came , but your fear still lingers in the air. Your eyes bounce wryly from the door to the pirate who continued to creep into your space. "They're coming!" Your mind loops the words as if they were an incantation.

Then, as if to answer your fervent prayers, the bar door is shoved open. Luffy is the first of your crew to enter, his first mate trails behind him. You can see Zoro searching for you in the crowd, as the rest of the Strawhats messily file in after him. It doesn't take long for his eyes to find yours.

You don't have to say a word . The swordsman can sense your discomfort from where he stood. He saw the fear that engulfed the glimmer that resides in your eyes. He watched how you kept your arms held close to your body, afraid the man would reach for you. Notice how rigidly you cross your legs over one another . Then he sees the man's hand rubbing up and down your thigh. The swordsman starts making his way over to you, hand on the hilt of Shusui.

Zoro drew his sword placing the blade at the base of the man's wrist. The music in the bar stopped. The patrons are silent. Everybody's eyes fall on the three of you. Most filled with fear, your friends with confusion. But all watch the same as the conflict unfolds.

"Move your hand, before I slice it off."

There is a brief pause before the man laughs. A genuine belly hugging laugh at Zoro's imminent threat. Moments later the other men join in, egging their captain on.

"Is this the boyfriend you were talking about?"' The man asks, ignoring the ex bounty hunter. His eyes don't leave your body. Neither does his hand. "You almost got your lady in a lot of trouble , leaving her all alone in a bar like this."

Zoro's scowl deepens at the pirate's words. "Boyfriend? You had told the man he was your boyfriend?" The pieces slowly fall into place as the swordsman assesses the scene surrounding you. Alone, you sat in a bar full of pirates. The only other women present are staff of the small business. Zoro's eyes glance over at yours. His grip tightens around the hilt at the sight of your fearful expression. You had told the pirate he was boyfriend. Zoro finally understands.

"What kind of man would treat his girlfriend that way?"

"What kind of man uses his power to strong arm women? " The swordsman responds.

The question coals in the raging fire that was already roaring in the ex bounty hunter. The pirate had thought you were his, yet touched you anyway. Decided you were his to claim. To conquer. Then Justified his actions using the lack of Zoro's presence as an excuse. As if his absence was reason enough to encroach your space, and have you trembling in fear. Now the pirate captain had the audacity to question the type of man he was. It enrages Zoro.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

"Strong arm?" The captain stifles another laugh. His eyes finally look over to meet the swordsman. "We would've handled princess here real gentle."

The pirate clenches his fingers around you then goes to inch his hand further up your thigh. Zoro has seen enough. There is a sharp yelp preceding the sound of him sheathing his weapon. Your harasser's hand falls to the floor beneath your feet. Blood spews from his severed arm. You want to scream, but a sharp gasp falls from your lips instead. Almost instinctively Zoro's hand reaches out to grasp yours at the reaction.

You had seen Zoro cut down many men before, but being inches away from his blade as he does so was an entirely different experience. As you felt the warmth of the pirate's blood seeping into your dress, and wiped at the splatters of blood that littered your skin, you couldn't help but be a bit awestruck at his strength.

The captain's crew members rush to his aid as his screams continue. Zoro lets you squeeze his hand while you cautiously hop down from the bar stool, trying your best not to slip on the blood that covered the floor. He nudges you along to follow him. The only precursor you receive before the two of you walk into the single stalled bathroom at the back of the bar.

The small room didn't allot the two of you much personal space. If anything it forced you two into dangerously close proximity. As you stood in front of the sink , back to the mirror, you could feel Zoro's knees lightly brush yours when he reached to grab the paper towel off the roll. He bundles it up then brings it to your cheek. You take note of the small hesitation he makes before his hand lands on your chin . He licks the wad before swiping away at your cheek. A poor attempt to rid you of the scumbag's blood.

"I'm sorry." The words feel unfamiliar as they fall from the swordsman's mouth.

Your eyebrows raise to your temples. In all the months you had been sailing with the Strawhats , you have never heard Zoro apologize. You wonder what made this occasion so different. the slight widening of your eyes gives way to your surprise. Zoro notices and continues.

"I should have been on time."

"Don't be sorry Zoro. You saved me, thank you."

You bring your hand up to rest over his before smiling up at him. The look in your eyes, the one he had seen you give to Sanji so many times, was finally from his doing. His heart raced at your expression. He felt himself begin to sweat as the warmth of your stare spread across his skin. Zoro couldn't understand the physical response from his body. Part of him wanted to run. To flee the threat that seemed to be your piercing gaze. But a bigger part of him wanted to bask in its glow, doing anything imaginable to keep the sun out just a little while longer.

"Although " You giggle at the silly hunch. "I would have thought it would be Sanji to save me."

Your words bring raging storm clouds that wash Zoro's warmth away. He rolls his eyes. As though the notion was too implausible to even be considered. He brings the paper towel back to your cheek then speaks.

"The dumbass cook can barely save himself !"

"Is the moss head jealous?" You tease. " I'm happy it was you."

A loud bang on the flimsy wooden door interrupts the swordsman before he can respond. Seconds later it flings open, shaking on its creaky hinges. The sniper stands on the other side wide eyed.

"It's time to go!"

When you reunite with your crew there really is no need to explain the urgency of the situation. The pirate captain laid unconscious on the ground with a makeshift tourniquet wrapped around his arm. Apparently the crew had not taken kindly to Zoro's treatment of their captain, and seemed to have every intention of taking it out on the rest of the crew.

"C'mon guys there is surely no reason to make this much fuss over one hand." Brooke had tried to reason, his efforts in vain. The pirate crew wanted a fight.

"You pieces of shit!" Sanji swept his leg, thrashing a considerable number of men through the bar's singular window. "How dare he have the audacity to treat my darling , sweet love with such disrespect. And now you stand here trying to avenge your captain's actions... I won't allow it to go unpunished."

Sanji had enough fury in his heart to take on the entirety of the scumbag's lackeys. A fight was the only way to alleviate the emotions that were sure to get the better of him. In under three moves the cook had the no named pirate crew looking just as bad as their captain. The situation was settled.

-

"So the swordsman saves the day." Sanji says dejectedly as he brings the glass to his lips to take a drink. "At least you're okay."

You can't help the giddy smile that appears on your face at his mention. A bitter side effect of the alcohol. The navigator had suggested none of you go home empty handed after the chaos that ensued at the bar. Insinuated you had deserved a treat after all your troubles. There were no objections. At first you can only giggle at the cook's words. Butterfly's bloom in your chest when you think about the swordsman's delicate touch against your skin just moments after cutting a man down... for you. A slight chills crawls down your spine. You take a significant swig from the whiskey bottle in your hand hoping the burn of the alcohol sliding down your throat may warm you up.

"He's an interesting man , Uh?" You pause to glance towards the deck. "Zoro."

"That's one word."

Sanji's curly brows raise at your question. He turns to look at you, but you don't meet his gaze. You're looking out at the party . The cook watches your eyes while they search and scatter. He is trying to assess their intent, and then it dawns on him. You were looking for him. The Swordsman.

"You wouldn't happen to have a crush on mosshead would you?"

Your eyes dart back to Sanji , then away to look at the sea. Crush wasn't nearly a strong enough word to describe how you felt about Roronoa Zoro. Sometimes you would switch night watches with Nami just for the opportunity to watch the swordsman train in the crows nest. Although most of the time had been spent in silence , there was still something special about being in his presence. But Zoro's stoicism made it difficult to discern his feelings. You had thought him so unconcerned with your presence for so long that you had resorted to blatant teases and flirting with him in the first place. If only to fluster him. You craved acknowledgment from Zoro, in the way your lungs craved oxygen. desperately.

"I have been obsessed with the swordsman since the day Luffy dragged me onto the sunny... "

"Obsessed uh?"

Sanji lets out a genuine laugh at the words. Amused by the way the alcohol loosens your tongue. He had always taken notice of your affinity toward Zoro. Witnessed how differently you spoke to him than the others. Your crewmates had easily labeled you a flirt, but the way you riled Zoro had been different than the jokingly stated endearments you passed the rest of them.

Sanji glances around you to spot the swordsman on the deck. As he suspects the green haired pirate is surveilling them. When their eyes meet Zoro turns his head to stare at the antics of their captain, feigning interest. "If the dumbass mosshead had even the slightest ounce of emotional intelligence the two of you would be happy now." Sanji is surprised when the thought bumps into his head.

"Well, darling" Sanji wraps his arm around your shoulder to draw you into him. You rest your head on his chest, then he continues to speak. "I have half a mind to say marimo likes you too."

The swordsman lays against the mast , feet crossed in front of him downing his third bottle of the night. He doesn't understand his anger at your actions; This scalding feeling that envelops him at the way you rest your head on Sanji's chest encourages him to drink more. He tries to dismiss his thoughts, convince himself that he doesn't care, but they bombard him like a buster call.

"Why did the cook get to hold you?" "He was the one who saved you. Why are you batting your eyelashes at Sanji and not him ?" "What else does he have to do to keep your attention?" "What about the shit cook was so much better than him?"

Zoro sees you part from the cook, and watches as you trek back to the party. He assumes you'll rejoin Nami and Robin, considering the tipsy women are calling your name so fervently. His brows raise when you pass them giving a placating wave. You're making your way over to him.

"Don't tell me you're already done drinking Zoro. I hadn't known you to be such a lightweight." You jest, pointing over to the 3 empty bottles that sat alongside him.

Zoro smirks before reaching for the half empty bottle that was clutched in your fingers. He wraps his large hand around yours then guides you to bring the bottle to his lips so he can take a drink. When he is done he wipes the excess from his lips using the back of his hand.

"You done smiling at the cook?"

He releases his hold on you then turns his head so your eyes won't meet his. He's staring at the sea as if it will answer his question. You mock a gasp bringing your free hand to your chest. Then you giggle.

"Roronoa! You're so jealous."

"No I'm not!"

You bring your hand to Zoro's cheek guiding his eyes back to yours. You offer him a sly smirk before you bend at the waist to meet his face. You're so close Zoro can feel your breath on his cheeks.

"Yes you are mossy. So spoiled, wanting my attention all to yourself. It's okay, I'm here now."

Zoro jerks his chin away from your grasp. His face scrunches into a frown. It's difficult for him to discern if it's anger, or embarrassment that's swelling inside him. The words fall from his lips before he has a chance to assess them.

"I'm not jealous!... I don't even know what the shitty cook sees in you."

Zoro wishes he could snatch the words back before they hit your ears. Hates how you wince at what he says. The way your smile dropped while you ruminated on his words. There is no more sunshine in your tear pooled eyes, only storm clouds. He knows it before the first tear has fallen. He's gone too far. You storm away from him.

-

"You made her cry." Sanji states as he pulls the cigarette for his lips. He puffs the smoke out then turns to Mosshead for an answer.

Zoro is in the crow's nest hiding from the peering eyes of his crewmates. Surely the cook hadn't been the only one to notice your early departure from the party only moments after the conversation you two had. The others were bound to have questions of their own soon. None of which Zoro cared to answer.

"I didn't mean to." Is all the swordsman can muster. The image of your broken hearted eyes are seared into his brain. Why did he say that? He wants to bang his head against the wall at the thought. Sanji rolls his eyes at the excuse. Not assuaged by the swordsman's words. Intent had no significance in Sanji's mind, all that mattered was that he was the source of your tears.

"What did you say to her?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Bullshit."

Zoro walked toward the dumbbells that laid on the floor . He decides lifting is a better option than repeating his misgivings. He had no intention of admitting to the cook that he himself had been the source of Zoro's rage.

"Why do you care?" Zoro snaps back . He's deflecting.

"Because I care about her. She's cried herself to sleep and it's your fault!"

"If you care so much you fix it!"

"I wish I could marimo, I would love nothing more than to take that darling lady away from you."

Zoro scrunched his face into yet another frown. From him ? Zoro had never believed you his to begin with . Had that been the case he would've cut the chef down ages ago for his fleeting touches and stares.

"Take her, I don't care."

At this the cook let out a loud laugh that threatened to escape the confines of the crow's nest. He genuinely couldn't believe the swordsman could be so oblivious of his own feelings. When Sanji catches his breath, he can't help his devilish smile.

"... So you wouldn't mind if I climb into her bed tonight? You know she asked me."

Zoro's jaw clenches. He lowers the dumb bells away from his chest then drops them to the floor. Now his eyes meet the cook. Sanji takes it as an invitation to continue.

"I think she wanted the comfort after y'all's ... run in."

More fuel is added to Zoro's already racing thoughts. This time, he could not convince himself he was unbothered. Couldn't find a deep place to push the discomfort. The cook always got the best parts of you. Parts the swordsman so desperately wanted to save for himself. Zoro was sick of it.

"Don't touch her."

A sharp chuckle falls from Sanji's lips at the irony. Zoro couldn't admit to how he feels about you, but is standing there contemplating cutting him down at the mere thought of letting him into your bed. How could marimo be so stupid?

"Yeah mosshead, You don't care about her at all." Sanji mocked.

"You don't know what you're talking about?" Zoro scoffs.

What does the shitty cook know of his feelings, when he himself could not sort them out.

Sanji can only shake his head in disappointment. He brings his fingers to the bridge of his nose to pinch it slightly before letting out a dismissive sigh. Oh how'd he wished to take your mind away from the swordsman. Wished it was he who was the object of your affections, but the cook knew you would never be obsessed with him in the same way you were marimo. As painful as that may be.

"Zoro, if you lose the girl you're in love with because you're too stupid to figure out your feelings..." He takes a drag from his cigarette "You're a bigger dumbass than I thought."

"Why do you give a shit if things work out?t" Zoro snarls. He wonders why Sanji has suddenly taken his feelings into so much consideration.

"Honestly mossy I don't. You don't deserve her. but she loves you and she deserves to be happy. You'll make her happy. That's all I really want... "

-

Sanji set the plate down on the vanity. He peers over at you wrapped in the thick comforter. You had allowed it to engulf you, face and all. You had not moved since he had come to see you last. That was at breakfast. Still you faced the wall with your back to him. There is a slight hesitation in his step before he walks further into the room.

"You sure everything is okay?" He inquires for the second time.

"I'm fine Sanji. Really." You attempt to sound reassuring.

The cook nods in understanding. He is not convinced , but will not ask for a third time . Instead he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. A sigh of relief leaves your lips. You didn't want to tell Sanji the truth. That you were too embarrassed to face the swordsman. That his rejection looped continuously through your mind, making it impossible to sleep. Had Zoro really meant what he said ? Were you just making a fool of yourself this whole time? The thought makes you shudder.

Sanji pushes his way through the door to enter the kitchen. He is met with the eyes of his crewmates who waited for him at the table in anticipation . He shakes his head. Nami and Robin release their sighs of disappointment .

"I wonder why she won't join us." Robin inquires.

"First breakfast, now lunch... She must really be feeling bad." Nami continues.

"I can go check on her... " Luffy chimes in "maybe she'll tell me what's wrong."

Luffy goes to grab a handful of the chopped fruit Sanji had placed on the table . Sanji swats his captain's hands away before sitting another plate down, this time sandwiches. Zoro has now entered the kitchen hearing the tale end of the Strawhat's woes. He feels the way the cooks eye borough into his skull, knowing that they're scowling at him. Zoro doesn't look his way. He knows that it is his fault you've gone missing . He doesn't need the cook to remind him.

"Marimo is going to check on her." Sanji announces.

The room falls quite as eyes are now on the swordsman. Nami cringes in disbelief, shaking her head vigorously.

"I don't think that's a good id-"

"Don't worry, he'll fix it." Sanji ends Nami's sentence before she has the chance to.

His crew eyes him with unsure stares. Zoro had never been one to offer much comfort, even in the most dark of times. They didn't see how he'd be the answer to their troubles. Sanji does not elaborate on his statement. He offers his crew a smile before setting the homemade chips on the table and announcing lunch is ready.

-

"Sanji , you don't have to keep coming in here every fifteen minutes to check on me. " You say to the sound of knocking at the bedroom door.

You pull the blankets back to face who you thought was the cook. Zoro stood there in his place. His back against the bedroom door like he was still contemplating if he should stay or not. You sit up at the feeling of your heart shooting to your throat.

"What are you doing here?"

"You haven't come out all day." He responds as if that answers your question. When you don't say anything back , he assumes he should continue. "They're worried about you."

Zoro's hand falls to the nape of his neck, he rubs sheepishly then looks down at the floor. You roll your eyes, dissatisfied with his answer. You pull the blankets up to cover your face then turn your back to him.

"Go away Zoro."

It hurts him to hear, although he knows he has no right to be upset. When he heard you didn't show up for breakfast, he'd felt worse than when the words initially fell from his mouth. Truth be told he had hid in the crow's nest as long as he could trying not to run into you this morning . Thought that he was giving you space to breathe without his watchful eye.

"I- I was jealous... of you and the cook."

Zoro pauses waiting for a reaction from you to see if he should keep talking or not. There's an unusual shake of fear in his voice you don't recognize. You sit up to face him once again.

"I was mad and I took it out on you. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

This has made two apologies from the ever prideful pirate.

"You hurt my feelings." Your voice is soft , fragile as you respond.

"I know..." The swordsman pushes himself from the door to take a step towards you. "If I could eat the words I would."

You gaze into his eyes for a moment, searching for an ounce of deception. You know you won't find it . If the swordsman had not meant his words, he would not have gone out of his way to say them. But still you look to reassure yourself.

"Zoro I don't understand makes you so angry about my relationship with Sanji?"

"I don't like it when he touches you." The swordsman confesses.

You smirk at his candor. All this over the playful touches the cook had thrown your way. It was almost too sweet to believe you had the swordsman so twisted at the sight of you sharing your affection. You swing your legs so they fall off the edge of the bed. You're staring at him intently. Zoro is nervous under your gaze . You can tell by the way he fiddles with his fingers aimlessly.

"You don't like when Sanji touches me ?" You repeat. You pause to offer the swordsman a chance to take back his words. But he does not renege.

"...I don't like when anyone touches you."

Your giggle is involuntary. The smirk on your lips is now a full blown smile. Despite the pain that had come from it, you couldn't help but love the thought of the swordsman jealous over you. Before you were just joking , but to hear the words from Zoro's mouth himself was truly blissful.

"Roronoa... Do you have a crush on me?"

"Crush on you?" He ponders like it's the first time he's thought about it. "I don't think that's a strong enough word."

"No?"

He shakes his head taking a step toward you . His hand meets your cheek. He is hesitant. Thinks you may pull away from his touch. But the swordsman is pleasantly surprised when you lean into his hand.

"Sanji says I'm in love with you."

Your heart skips at the word. Love. It sounded so sweet coming from Zoro lips. You wondered what you would have to do to hear him say it again.

"Yeah? And what do you think?"

"I think he might be right."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N : I stared at this so long, I might have it memorized at this point lol. I'm not sure if I'm happy with it , but it is a labor of love nonetheless.

{If you would like to be added to my tag list lemme know! I would Love to have you}

[foli-vora]

vulcanalia lucius verus x f!reader x marcus acacius

a/n: yeah i honestly don't know what this is - i got dragged in by beautiful gif sets and horny thoughts and peer pressure (thanks @juletheghoul). just a little thing to get them out of my system before work. this was co-written with my vagina. enjoy. word count: 627 warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY: rough unprotected p in v, exhibitionism, creampie, cum eating, a smidgen of a breeding kink somewhere in there, mention of f rec oral, an absolute mess of a drabble tbh

They can hear your cries, you’re sure of it. You lack the strength to do anything about it, lack the concern or embarrassment. Behind the fire biting at your flesh and the threat of ecstasy lingering just within reach, you feel the force from which they’re torn from you. You hold no hope against such power, such fury.

He’s unyielding.

Bruising hands, bloodied from victory, fingers dug deep into the flesh of your hips to ensure your body escapes none of his thrusts. You’re gladly at the gladiator’s full mercy, knees burning and arms shaking, left with nothing but to skate your hands over crumpled linens in search of stability and endure.

Lucius runs a roughened hand across your shoulder, thick calloused fingers winding around your throat and pulling until you’re curling back into his touch, rising back into the heat of his sweat slicked chest and displaying your victory of taking him so well—a showcase to the other man present in the room, lounging against plush cushions and illuminated by warm candlelight.

The General.

He had taken his fill of you already, always the first to claim you upon arrival. His own personal reward, his right. Though he used a softer touch than that of the gladiator, it was to never be mistaken for weakness. Strength, control, lingers behind the hands he uses to strip you, to pin your thighs open at his mercy and to beckon your pleasure forward with an expert touch.

Unlike the gladiator, he prefers to feel the hot press of your chest against his own as he fills you again and again, thick cock rutting so deeply into your weeping cunt you swear you feel him hit places unknown to you.

Caged between the arms that carry the weight of the entire army, you’re left with nowhere to hide. He sees all, eyes roaming your face as you meet your end over and over, relentless in his pursuit of more until tears begin to spring in your eyes and his name is nothing but a broken plea on your lips.

Only when he decides you’ve had enough does he allow himself to fill you, hips so tight up against your own as his cock twitches and pulses within you, flooding your cunt with spend until he feels it begin to seep out from around him. Perhaps one day you’d sire a child, his child. The triumph of his efforts, the success of truly claiming you before the gladiator.

Lucius feels the remnants of the General as he fucks into you, the silky smooth feel of it hot where it mingles with your own pleasure coating his cock and wetting his thighs. The taste of you both still lingers on his tongue, still sits heavy and wet within his facial hair from how he devoured you once Marcus was through with you, his mouth eager and open against your cunt as you cried and rocked against his face until finding starlight.

More.

With your back pressed against his chest, he allows his hands to roam down until he feels where his cock stretches you, running teasingly over the swollen nerve that causes you to jolt in his arms before swiping through the mess and soaking his fingers. You know what he wants, and your lips part before he can even make the demand of it.

You taste it all—the victory of battle, ecstasy that could rival the Heavens. Lucius chases it, fingers hard around your chin as he twists you to meet his mouth. He steals what he can, tongue hot and demanding against yours until he’s breaking away with a low groan, ocean eyes soon finding the ever watchful ones across the room.

“Care for a sample of your work, General?”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Do you think you could write some hcs about HSR men comforting reader who woke up from a nightmare?

Bonus if the source of the nightmare was Silver Wolf telling scary stories.

Argenti

Would immediately wake up the moment he senses that your sleep was being disturbed.

‘My sweet, what’s troubling you?’ He’d ask you, his eyes shone with concern.

‘Just got spooked by the story Silver Wolf told last night.’ You tell him.

‘Aww my beloved rose.’ He coos softly.

‘I know it’s stupid.’ You scoffed.

‘Oh no, not at all.’ He replied as he scooted himself closer to you and brought his hands up to hold your face and used his finger pads to caress your skin soothingly.

‘It’s okay to be scared for it is a reaction shared amongst all beings, but you should never feel such a way when I’m here to keep you safe.’ Argenti said as he presses his forehead to yours and began to hum a sweet, tender melody that swiftly had you drifting off back sleep within seconds.

‘Goodnight my beloved rose.’ He whispered after performing his song, pressing a kiss to your forehand and followed you in the dream realm where he could continue protecting you.

Welt

When Welt saw you had woken yourself from a nightmare and were obviously still reeling from the effects, he would wordlessly bring you into his arms slowly enough as not to frighten you and have you rest your head against his chest.

‘Are you comfortable in telling me what happened?’ He asks barely above a whisper.

‘It’s stupid.’ You replied, voice muffled from the way your face was pressed against his chest.

‘Not if it’s got you frightened this badly.’ He says against your head, his hands rubbing up and down your back soothingly.

‘It was the story Silver Wolf told last night.’ You finally tell him after debating on it for a bit.

‘It was truly a well put together story,’ Welt began as he recalled the events of last night and how tense you were the entire time, ‘I must admit I was slightly taken aback at times.’

You raised your head from his chest to look him in his warm eyes. ‘You were scared too?’ You asked.

‘Kind of.’ Welt chuckles as he brought your head back to his chest and press several kisses to your forehead. ‘Now if I’m allowed, I would like to tell you a story of my own. I must preference this beforehand that it’s not a well written one, but I hope it brings you comfort regardless.’

‘Please.’ You pleaded as you burrowed yourself further against his chest, practically clinging on to him. ‘Anything you say is better than nothing.’ You added.

‘Very well then.’ Welt cleared his throat. ‘There once was a young lady with vibrantly pink hair who had an…habit of wandering into places she probably shouldn’t have. This is merely one story out of many, many, many others…’

Blade

Is an extremely light sleeper, so any movement you made was picked up almost immeditly and he was more than ready to grab his sword when he felt your breath hitch in your throat.

He genuinely thought you were in danger, only to find out you had just woken up from a nightmare.

‘What’s wrong.’ He’d ask gruffly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

‘Nothing.’ You replied.

‘Bullshit.’ He scoffs.

‘Fine it was the scary story Silver Wolf told.’ You admitted and Blade raised a brow.

‘You do know none of it’s real right?’ He then asks while biting back a yawn.

‘Yeah no shit but that doesn’t stop the fact that it really freaked me the fuck out.’ You told him as you looked away from him, knowing you weren’t going to get much comfort out of him, seeing as how he’s never known a day of it.

Blade sighed when you showed him your back, knowing you were expecting to be comforted, as he then shuffles himself behind you and puts his arms over your waist all the while caging you against his chest.

‘Nothings going to get you, I won’t allow it.’ He reminds you as he burrows his face into your neck. ‘So there’s no need to be afraid when I’m here and am willing to put body on the line if it meant you sleeping soundly. What’s a few new scars compared to the old.’ He adds as he kept his eyes locked onto the door to the bedroom for a while, just long enough for you to comfortably go back to sleep before following soon after.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Warnings: Pregnancy, Thoughts of abortion, Graphic birth, smut, Somnophilia, and kidnapping. Poorly translated German and Korean, if you know either, you can correct me nicely, please.

(I was given permission by the one and only @diejager, that I can write something inspired by her series of stepdad! könig and dbf!Neighbor Horangi. If you haven't read them which I doubt, go check her out, this was a little longer than I wished but I think once you start reading, you'll like it.) fanart, not mine

Erotic sounds of smacking skin echoed within your bedroom. Horangi's rough burned-like tiger scars rub against your cheek as he groans into your shoulder, "너무꽉. (So tight)" He grunted, "Gonna be such a good mama." his cock plunged into your soaked depths with abandonness as you wept, your body and breast jerked, this wasn't right.

This shouldn't feel so good, you shouldn't love the feeling of your stepdad's best friend thrusting into you, shouldn't like the sight of said stepdad watching from the side of the room on your vanity chair and touching himself, pumping his cock to the rhythm of his best friend and your neighbor thrusts.

You shouldn't at all.

"I'll be such a good dad to our child," Horagni growled, drilling you into the soft texture of bedsheets, his curved bulbous head bullied your cervix, and your legs rested on his shoulders as he leaned back, his head thrown back and sheathed in glistening sweat. The sight of a beautiful man, of a beast above you rushed your climax.

"씨발! (Fuck!) That's it, baby! Cum on your Neighbor's cock." He groaned as fastened his pace. "Ja. Cum, unser wunderschönes Mädchen. (our beautiful girl.)" König cooed, his thick digits rubbing that bud of nerves as he sat down on your bed beside your head, his other hand continued to jerk off of his big, fulsome, and lengthy cock.

The pleasured symphony of your ecstasies wasn't held back, ropes of König's seed painted your skin, and shot after shot of Horangi's semen overflowed your womanhood.

"It is my turn." Your stepfather grinned and pushed his friend away from you once he had pulled out to leave you leaking but not for long who simply chuckled at könig's rare playfulness. Horangi placed his dick on your lips, his usual honey-brown was dark brown as he looked upon you with a dark kinda of lust "Suck."

You wake up a couple of hours later, body in such gyp it was like pins and needles. Groaning you sat up from your bed, the room was empty, bare of the monsters that used and obsessed over you, their cum dried on your thighs and the rest was clean of the evidence of what existed. The walk to the bathroom that linked to your room left you to the mercy of your own thoughts. The very notion of abortion was quickly shot down, it was obvious that they had wished for you to bear one of their children, and the number of times cum stuffed into you was uncountable, and the fact that birth control wasn't always reliable was its own tissue so truly what would stop them if you did get one? Even in secret, they would find out sooner or later more akin to sooner being who they were.

The brightest of the ceiling light ached to your eyes for but a second and the insulting sight of your forgotten pregnancy teat was a big fuck you to whatever was up there. Your freedom was truly gone, taken away forever, your feelings, and wants be damned.

After a relaxing bath, you dry yourself and your hair. Changed into clean clothes that consisted of some black shorts, and a loose black T-shirt and you went downstairs. Laughter came from the living room as you walked into your kitchen, the want to dig your feelings deep in your food was strong and the laughing of your mother irritated you to no end, how can she be happy with that monster of a man? You rolled your eyes and finished making your snack "Oh honey!" your mother called out with a lovesick smile as she hung onto könig's arm like a puppy wanting the attention of its owner. "Yes Ma?" you asked, hiding the venomous bitr you sure would come out. "I heard you got good news for me." She giggled as König kissed her neck and you could see Horangi roll his eyes, It was not so stable but like always your mother didn't notice. "Where did you hear this?" you had a hunch "König and Horangi did. So what is it?" she asked you sighed and looked down. "I'm pregnant." you muttered, half-hoping she'd wouldn't hear it. "What?!" she inquired "You're pregnant baby? Who's the father?" she got up from her seat on the long couch and rushed to you, resting her hands on your shoulders.

"I am." Horangi's deep, accented voice answered one of her questions "Your daughter and I have been seeing each other in private." he declared as he wrapped an arm around your hip and pulled you into his side. "Isn't this wonderful, ja? You're gonna be an Oma (grandmother)" König smirked as he hugged your mother from behind, a smirk he shared with his friend. "I guess." she trailed off yet smiled reassuringly "I'll be here for you my sweet baby" she announced and pulled you into her comforting embrace, which did little to help as you saw the wicked glint in the eyes of the men before you.

You heard of the horrors of morning sickness, from your mother and online alike. You were sure that it would be the same tale yet it was the opposite, the only symptom was extreme nausea when you smelled eggs or your favorite breakfast even then that hardly led to throwing up. You were luckily still able to attend college but you feared not for long as Horangi and König continued to reason with your mother why you should stay home.

It took them an entire month to do so. How? If the screaming of ecstasy and filthy-worded grunts from an Austrian voice in your mom's room were to go by you knew exactly how, unfortunately. Your first appointment was spent with the one that birthed you and luckily without the father, whoever that is before she left on a business trip leaving you to the wolves. König decided that Horangi would stay with you both until she came back, almost every day you wake up from either the feeling of a skilled tongue lapping your love juices or a heaviness on your tongue or the eye-rolling, toe-curling feeling of a thick appendage sparing you open.

Today you woke up to none of those but a smell that didn't make you want to vomit no, it was mouthing watering.

It's a craving you haven't gotten sick of and one you want every morning. You throw on a shirt and a pair of panties and rush downstairs. "Morning 여자 아기 (Baby girl)." Horangi greeted you, lifting a cup of pure, bitter black coffee to his lips, his eyes closed as he took a sip. "Mornin'." you greeted back and sat down on the dining table, boredly watching as he began to read the newspaper as you waited for your breakfast. "Ah, Liebling. There you are." König smirked playfully and sat down your plate of food which you wasted no time in scarfing down. Your cheeks heat up in embarrassment as The men chuckle at the sight "So cute." Horangi smiled. "Ja. She is." König agreed and grinned, watching you mutter under your breath about them, and took a bite of his breakfast.

You all ate in silence, a..peaceful silence. After you finished your second helping, you up away your dish and stretched, joints pop from sitting to long, your hand coming to rest on your three-month baby bump. "How's my baby?" könig uttered into your hair, his beefy arms around your middle, pulling into his sturdy chest. "Or mine!" Horangi called out from the linked dining room. "Fine," you replied loud enough for both to hear, your form tensing up before relaxing in your stepdad's embrace. This has been going on for a while, their softness, playfulness, and sweetness, a part of you acknowledged that this could be a ploy but the scared part, the part that wanted comfort and love overpowered that sense, you began to find comfort in their company, you felt...safe in their arms. König and Horangi had business to do with so you would be left alone for the day for once in the whole months you have been with child.

You sat in your craved indoor window seat, your book laid on your thighs. You tried and failed to distract yourself from all the new and old feelings. You just can't love them, they hurt you, used you, mean to you then they're loving, caring for your needs, and soft to you. You were so lost that nothing could help but sleep so that's just what you do.

You nervously tapped your fingers on the plastic armrest of the chair in the clinic as you impatiently waited to be called back. "Nervous?" your stepdad asked, grasping your hand in his large one, making your hand look like that of a kid. "Very." you chuckled humorlessly, and Horangi's hand grabbed your other hand. "It will be okay, we're here." His deep voice, sent a wave of comfort within, tooking a deep breath you calmed yourself.

"Ms. Schäfer?" the male nurse called out and looked up from his clipboard, he immediately took a small step back as the two men stood with you and walked to him. "M-ms. Schäfer and?" the poor nurse stuttered as his eyes shifted to the masked gigantic mammoth of a man and his smaller masked companion. "Boyfriend," Horangi spoke up before könig. "Stepfather," König answered not bothering to hide his amusement at the squirming male nurse. Sadist.

"Umm, right this way." the nurse hesitated to his back on two veterans and led you to the room where the doctor would see you. You glanced back at them with a small glare, knowing they intimidated the man on purpose, and sighed as they showed no remorse then again what did you expect? The walk was short, the nurse dipped the moment you entered since you were the last one in, and on top of that, you already began to show a little waddle in your step even just being four months along. With a little help from König you sat on the ultrasound bed as Horangi took the closer chair to your left, the doctor in question wasn't a minute late. "Good day! How are you today Ms. Schäfer?" Dr. Patel smiled, shutting the door behind behind him. "Good doc. curious about the gender of my baby." you smiled back, and shook his hand, completely missing the look that both the men you came with shared. "Well, we'll get right to that. If you'd be so kind as to lift your shirt," he said and busied himself with turning on the ultrasound equipment.

You yelped as the cold gal graced your belly, the noise instantly made Horangi and König tense, and their overprotectiveness almost an appearance. "Mr. Kim, would you turn the lights off?" The doctor requested, grabbing the transducer. Wordless Horangi got up from his seat beside König and turned off the lights. Suddenly the projector on the ceiling turned on and shined on the blank wall before you, a picture of black and white filled the wall soon after the transducer touched your baby bump and there was a baby...another baby across from the first.

"Congratulations Ms. Schäfer! You're having twin.." the Doctor trailed off "Boys!" he exclaimed as he turned off the machine and got up, "I'll go get the ultrasound pictures while you let everything sit in." Dr. Patel shut the door to giving you privacy.

The drive home was silent as well as the rest of the day, each one of you, stuck in your heads. In the weeks after Horangi and König were frequently busy, and each time you asked why they simply glared at you or scoffed and ignored you, it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

The loneliness didn't last longer, your mom was finally back. She barely got out of the car as you were waddling as fast as you could, you had no doubt you looked like a penguin running for its life. "Oh, Baby." your mother cooed as she hugged you, "You've gotten so big!" she smiled, "How's my grandbaby?" she asked as she walked with you to the steps of your house. "The boys are good." you smiled softly, waiting for the realization to show on her face. "Y-you're having twins?" She stuttered, coming to a stop in the doorframe, her eyes wide with shock. "Ja, two strong boys," König answered her, walking out of the kitchen and kissing her with a fiery kiss that he had saved for you, not anymore. You just walked away, they didn't seem to notice as they began to make out in front of you, forcing the painful ache down, and you decided to hide in your room to lick at your wounds.

The next few months were neither good nor bad, you and your mom collected, baby clothes, toys, and everything the twins would need or want. König continued his blunt affection for the woman who birthed you and Horangi has yet to come back around, seeming too busy to see his possible baby mama. Isn't this what you wanted right? To no longer deal with their abuse, their twisted sense of love, if that was what they called love yet it pained more than you thought, and you became envious of your mother, you missed könig kisses, his big body against yours, to feel all of him, and with Horangi it was no better. Were you truly to be a single mother?

You awoke from your nap, panting and in pain, as a puddle of wetness soaked your thighs and the sheets below. You throw off your blanket and scream, your water has broken, they are coming now. The door was ripped open by your mom, your stepdad right behind her, through the words they spoke sounded like you were underwater, and you suddenly hosted into König's arms as he walked out of the room and sat you down in the back seat. The last thing you saw before passing out, the pains of your contractions too much for you to handle as your mother on the phone with Horangi.

A sobbing scream pierced the delivery room as sweat covered your clammy skin. "Miss, Push!" the Doctor yelled above your screams. Gritting your teeth. you pushed and grabbed onto the railing bars beside you. "I can't." you sobbed, throwing your head onto the pillow behind you. "No, baby you can do it. Come on push." your mother moved your drenched hair off your forehead. "Push,애인. (sweetheart)" Horangi encouraged and took one of your hands and kissed it. Their support helped to give you the strength to continue, so you took a deep breath in and pushed once again. "That's it! He's crowning!" the doctor spoke, you groaned as you pushed with all you got. A numb relief spread through you as a small but strong cry of your baby boy echoed but the relief didn't last long as another contraction hit you. The doctor quickly handed your firstborn to the nurse to her right before getting back into position.

With a few more pushes your second-born was welcomed into the world.

"You did good, Liebe. (love)" König finally spoke since you all entered the room, his large hand resting beside yours on the bar. Too tired to reply, you instead gave him a tiny smile. "Ms. Schäfer, meet your first baby boy." Dr. Smith smiled and laid your baby on your chest. He was so.. beautiful, tears welded in the corner of your eyes, his hair was jet black, that stood up a bit from being dried of the liquids he was born into, his little eyes open a bit, enough to see the honey brown color, his soft skin was like yours, it was no doubt who's the father. "What's his name?" your mother asked, watching the scene with awe. "Baek-hyeon," Horangi spoke with proudness that you never heard, his glazed locked upon you and his son, love and happiness apparent in his brown eyes. You handed Beak-Hyeon to his father as you made space for his twin, the room was so quiet that you could hear a pen drop, the nurse laid him onto your chest, he was a bit more on the chubbier side than his brother...and his hair was a nice shade of ginger, his eyes a bright blue, he was the spitting image of your stepfather. A fearful daunting feeling lingered inside as you turned to your mother, no emotions were on her face, and no words were said as she rushed out of the room, König following her.

"What's his name?" a brave nurse softly asked. "Gunther."

Your mother didn't visit you after that, the only people who did was that of your baby daddies, mostly Horangi than könig. You were gonna get discharged and you feared what your home life would be like until your mother got you and the twins before the set date.

"Mom..I'm sorry. I-" you started once you all got into her car.

"Don't. I didn't believe you and I'm so sorry you suffered." She looked at you, regret and love in her eyes. "Thank you." you whispered and pulled her in a hug,"I forgive you."

"So where are we heading." you smiled softly as you pulled away. "A friend's house, one könig doesn't know about. I'm here now." she turned on the car and started the long journey there. The twins weren't that much of a hassle, eventually, you had to get in the back seat with them, feeding them wasn't hard since the nurses were a great help. The house was big, a three-story with four rooms and three bathrooms, you got the biggest guest room which you couldn't be more grateful for.

Life was great, or it was supposed to feel that way. You knew you should hate the men who took advantage of you, who bred you, who had abused you yet you couldn't find it in yourself too..you fell in love with them, you missed them, and It didn't help that their sons looked so much alike to them, it hurt to look at Baek-hyeon and Gunther despite this you loved them more than anything and you wouldn't trade them for the world.

Baek-hyeon was more vocal than his little brother, he smiled a cute gummy smile at anyone or anything with a pulse, and he adored being held. Gunther only smiled at you or his toys, he was a lot more attached to you and would get fussy if anyone but you tried to hold him, a true mama's boy. Your mother decided for you to file for custody over Horangj and König, and it seemed you were winning, you didn't want that but you had no say, she'd think you were crazy.

Moaning you stirred awake, a thickness pounded into your cunt, a familiar firm grip on your hips. You moan loudly as the person thrusted particularly hard "Wake up, Prinzessin." König's warm breath rolled across your skin, one of his hands grabbed your jaw and turned you to look into his pale blues. "König?" you asked still dazed of sleepiness. "That's right. Daddy's back." he cooed, rolling his hips, his wet pubes brushing against your rubbed raw clit. You moaned and pulled the giant into a kiss, all the feeling you felt toward him poured into it, and his kiss was just as passionate.

His thrusting never once stopped, his strong arms wrapped you into an embrace as he drove his cock deeper within your wet pussy. So lost in the pleasure that you almost didn't feel the bed drip and a hand weaves its way into your hair. "여자 아기.(babygirl)." Horangi groaned, "Missed you." he confessed and kissed you, his tongue swirling around yours, his lips dancing with your own, the kiss became hot, and messy, and drool slowly trailed down your locked lips. He pulled away, his sacred chest heaving as he wiped his chin clean of your shared saliva.

König grinned naughtily as he watched his stepdaughter and beat friend make out like it was just them, he couldn't have that. Taking your legs he held them flat against his broad chest and snapped his wide hips, hitting your cervix just right making your toes curl. "Fuck!" you cried out as könig did this a few more times, you moaned, whined, and mewled all night as the two ex-military men showed you how much the missed you.

You came to find out that the whole time they ignored you was because they were building a home for you and their sons.

Building a big, happy family.

[berrieluv]

Loving her seems tired.

cw. creampie, cheating kink, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, actress reader, this is more me hating on aaron's wife than smut, tbh.

Aaron caressed the skin of your stomach and kissed it slowly as he went down, putting your panties aside and starting to get his face closer to your pussy. His licks were lazy and his hold wasn't as strong as what you were used to.

The moment the Bullet Train Tour was over, his wife decided it would be an amazing idea to have a romantic getaway, which was full of messages from him to you, confessing how much he needed you and how his wife didn't taste as good as you do.

I imagined You once thought Sweet, sweet youth.

With time, his hold grew tighter, his tongue moved like a starved beast and your hips were thrusting into his mouth trying to get to feel him more, if it was even possible.

"Fuck, fuck, missed her so much, baby" He said, talking about your pussy while looking at you for a moment.

"Me?" You question with a pout and puppy eyes.

"You too. More than anything, fuck I love this, I love you"

You knew, it wasn't the first time he says something like that. But you've never answer back. Not because you felt guilty you may be ruining his marriage, that was not even the last of your concerns – it wasn't a concern for you –, but you didn't thought of Aaron as husband or boyfriend material, if he could do this to his wife, what could he do to you?

Well, maybe he would respect you more, basically because you didn't groomed him. He wouldn't feel like a part of his youth was taken away because you weren't depraved enough to date a seventeen year old boy at thirty three – or more, you couldn't care less what her age was –.

"Aaron..." you breathe, needy and in a murmur, almost undistinguished if it wasn't because he was paying all his attention to you.

"Yes, baby?" He looked up "Tell me. Everything you need, everything I own would be yours, just tell me"

You knew he was completely lost in the scent of your pussy and in a few seconds he would try to get you pregnant. Which you wouldn't mind, you knew a kid made from you and Aaron would be heavenly, truly prettier than any kid that old woman could give him (not hating towards the kids, they don't deserve it).

When he made sure your panties were completely soaked he put them back, crawling back to your face, kissing your lips with his and holding your neck, adding a bit of pressure on it, just like he knew you liked it.

Aaron didn't seem t think on the danger of the situation you were in. Lying on his wife's bed, staining and wetting her clean sheets with your cum. Aaron freed his cock, putting your panties aside again and started to rub it with your clit, starting to press it against you and putting it inside slowly, his thrusts were calm, a noticeable contrast with the neediness of his breath, words and eyes.

"Fuck, I love this pussy. You take me so well, baby. Such, such a good star"

He started pounding in and out of you, without getting completely out, your legs were spread around his torso and he started to press your boobs. Passing his big hand through all your body.

"You look so– so pretty. So beautiful" He says, his cut breath being harder to hold every second passing. You take your legs and pull them to your chest, looking at him "Let me make you a mom, baby. Let me get you all round and pregnant, make you my wife, my baby mommy, princess"

You knew you said you would never a few minutes after, but fuck if he was asking like this, how were you supposed to say 'no' to that.

You felt his big cock stretching your pussy every time he moved, and he looked at you like the most precious thing in the world, like he knew you would allow him to do with you whatever he pleased because he was just really hot.

Aaron finds entreatment for a moment with your boobies, which he soon forgot when his thrusts started to get faster. You, instead, started to touch your breast, teasing him, finding satisfaction in the way his eyes rolled at the pleasure.

He helps you holding your legs and now your left to just lay there and feel the pleasure, feel how his thick cock enters over and over in your tight pussy.

With a fast and skilled movement, Aaron turned you around, having a view of your back and your ass, which he proved he loved by his inability to stop touching it.

This time he just plays with the tip, turning your moans into frustrated groans.

"Want me to get you filled from behind, baby?" You moan while nodding "Fuck, I need to see you all round and pretty, princess. Shit your breasts would be... fuck–"

Now you're the one moving while he stays quiet. Thought, Aaron doesn't last much letting you command, he grabs your waist and hits faster your ass with his hips.

"Aaron... your wife"

You said, pretending to be worried.

"Doesn't matter, baby. Want u, just you. You're all I need"

Aaron completely lost his senses, and he forgot how many times he has cum inside of you, he just know he felt it dripping from your cunt, he knew his wife was moments away from being home, but how could he care if you were there, lying in bed, legs open and cum dripping his cum from how full it was.

"Fuck, Aaron" You started, looking down to your pussy once he pulled out "It's too much"

"I know, star. Gotta make sure you get pregnant, shouldn't I?"

"Yeah" you answer, completely lost.

"Sam's coming, princess. Get dressed? Let's pretend I'm showing you the house"

You nod and put on your dress quickly, your thighs sticking from his cum and he takes the panties on the floor before you could get to them. "I'm keeping this"

And you don't complain as you walk out of the room.

"We're getting rid of this house after you leave her. It's horrendous"

[anyonewannasteponme]

Summary: Your marriage with Aemond had been one of honour, not of love, yet when subjected to your husbands cruelty upfront you cant help but ache for a way to take your revenge.

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol Usage while Pregnant, Incest

Authors Note: I feel like Aemond is lowkey out of character and I kind of hate this but oh well.

You sat awestruck, in shock at the vile accusations your own husband had just made not only against your brothers but yourself as well. You held back tears as you all but waddled over to where your step father held back Jace. "I'm sorry." You whsipered to Daemon. Your step father just gave you a pitying look as you caressed your heavily pregnant belly. Your emotions were already running rampant, you couldn’t believe Aemond had been so bold as to dishonour you in front of his own family. You didn’t just feel humiliated you were furious.

Aemond caught your eye from across the room, where he stood with his brother and sister. You could barely hold his glance, simply turning away and storming out of the dining hall tears brimming in your eyes. Please. You thought selfishly. Please come after me. Because even after the insult he had dealt you and your family tonight, you still wished for your uncles comfort. Craved it. Of course as was expected of Aemond, he did not.

When you were younger you had imagined it to be customary for husbands and wives to sleep in the same bed, now you knew that was not the case. Aside from a few moments of passion, of which Aemond never spent the night you and he had kept entirely seperate chambers throughout your marriage. That usually made you saddened, wishing and wondering what your marriage could have been like if you had simply not been born a bastard. Because of course that’s why Aemond had disrespected you. He saw you as less than, nothing more than a duty he owed to the realm as the second born son.

Tonight, you must admit you felt relieved that you didn’t share chambers with Aemond, knew you wouldn’t be able to control your rage if met with him directly.

A knock sounded at your door, startling you slightly, you prayed to the old gods and the new that it wasn't Aemond. You arose overcome with a sense of trepidation as if you were moving in slow motion, if it was Aemond what would you do? What would he do? You opened the door.

"Aegon?" You whispered, slightly taken aback. He simply grinned raising his left arm, in his hand a bottle of wine, he shook the bottle slightly as if hoping to get it through your thick skull that he wasn't here to chastise, he was simply here to... drink? "It’s Arbor Gold" He said. "Your favourite... now can I come in or are you going to keep me confined to the doorway." You cleared your throat stepping aside and allowing your uncle to enter your bedroom.

"Aegon if Aemond-" Aegon interrupted you by putting his finger to your lips and letting out a condescending assortment of hushes. "Aemond never did like to share, fear not niece I haven't come here tonight to take advantage of your delicate state, I simply come to offer a sense of comfort. From one person that has been sincerely fucked by this family to another. "

You didn't understand, Aegon had taken as much pleasure in your public humiliation as Aemond and yet you didn't open your mouth to argue knowing Aegon's temper you would take this act of goodwill with little complaints unless you wanted to risk waking the dragon. "I appreciate that." You responded. "But you know I can't drink this right? The Maester insisted."

"The Maester is a cunt." Aegon replied simply, pouring himself a glass that resided on the small table you oft took your breakfast at when you weren't expeted to be publicly feasting with your family. "Truly Aegon, if Aemond finds out-"

"What are you so afraid of." Aegon laughed, turning towards you, two glasses in hand. "My brother may have trained with the sword but I doubt he would turn his hand to his own lady wife."

Truly you didn't have a clue what Aemond would do and that was what frightened you. Yet you must admit a wave of excitement went through you at the thought. Your husband, who rarely showed you any emotions at all, losing his composure, the idea was intoxicating. You took the glass from Aegon, sitting yourself down beside him on the carpet at the foot of your bead. "I do have seats you know."

"Fuck seats."

You frowned. "You curse an awful lot for a prince of the realm." Aegon smiled at that. "And your awfully prudent, which is certainly not befitting of a bastard born daughter." His words hit where they were supposed to and you shut your mouth taking a gulp from your glass of wine. There was a fluttering in your womb at that, you thought nothing of it, treating it as a mere coincidence that came with how far along you were in your pregnancy. Yet you still placed a hand on your lower belly giving a comforting caress to the babe in your womb. "Does it ail you?" Aegon asked, staring down at your stomach in what may have been awe. "No." You responded. "Didn't you have Helaena to ask these questions to during her pregnancy?"

"I was hardly around during Helaena's pregnancy and I was most certainly not at the birthing." Those words saddened you. Your Aunt had been one of the only people in this court who had shown you kindness since your betrothal to Aemond and your Mother and Brothers taking their leave to return to Dragonstone. The thought of her laboring alone hurt your heart. Maybe that's because it could very likely be yourself in a few months, Aemond would most certainly provide you no comfort.

The night escalated from there, you had hardly meant to drink as much as you did but Aegon kept pouring you glass after glass until you were both shattered, giggling messes simply lying on the floor and complaining about how your lives had ended up the way they did.

"I always wanted to go to the north, marry a Stark." You whispered. "I hear they value honor above all else."

Aegon frowned. "Do you not think my brother honorable?"

"No!" You replied, flustered. "That's not what I meant." Yet you couldn't form a coherent thought or come up with a way to defend yourself courtesy of the alcohol. Aegon simply laid his head against your shoulder beginning to doze.

You found yourself relaxing too. Until your door swung open and a visibly irritated Alicent burst in. "Aegon." She growled. "Wake up you fool." She stood above her eldest son looking exceptionally regal despite her grievances. But Alicent wasn't who you were focusing on. No it was your husband, a stony, cool look washed over his face as his took in the compromising position you were in with his brother. Alicent had managed to prop Aegon up and began leading him out of the room, not before shooting you a look filled with malice. Aemond closed your bedroom door and locked it. That act alone sent shivers down your spine and a strange feeling began to well in your lower belly, accompanied by a neediness you had never felt before.

Aemond cleared his throat, clearly aiming to appear composed, yet you saw through his illusion; through his clenched jaw and blazing eyes, it was clear he was furious. He opened his mouth appearing unsure how to start a conversation with you. "Did he touch you." He began, getting straight to the point. "No of course not." You responded immediately. "I know you think me a baseborn idiot, incapable of remaining any semblance of loyalty but I assure you, I know where my loyalties lie."

"I never claimed you to be an idiot." He responded through gritted teeth.

"Yet you treated me as such when you toasted my brothers, blatantly questioning their legitimacy." You swallowed, feeling a sudden surge of confidence. "Jace is to be your future king and Baela his queen, you ought to treat them with the respect they deserve."

Aemond tipped back his head and laughed heartily "The day your brother ascends the throne will be the beginning of the downfall of this kingdom."

You froze in pure disbelief that he would say something so bold. "What you speak is treason."

His eye glinted with amusement. "Are you going to tell on me to your mother?" He chuckled cruelly. "You are no true Velaryon, that is for certain."

"Perhaps not." You whispered, approaching Aemond slowly. "But I am as much a Targaryen as you are and you'd do best to not forget it."

He went silent. Something passed between the two of you, maybe it was the alcohol acting but you found yourself staring at his lips as his tongue darted out to wet them. Wondering what they would feel like on your own.

You leaned forward and pressed your lips against him, he stiffened immediately at the contact arm coming up to grip your own, as if he was unsure whether he should pull you away or not.

“I will not take you.” He said at last pulling away, lips swollen. “Not if my brother has had you.”

You hated how chivalrous he always had to be. “He hasn’t.” You whispered. Please. You wanted to say, yet you caught yourself when you realised the picture you were painting of yourself. Bedding a man who had attacked and debased your family regardless of if he was your husband or not would come across as needy. You didn’t care. “I want it.” You whispered. His eyes widened and then something changed, his gaze became hungry, his eyes roving over your body, drinking it in. You were still in your dinner dress, now crumpled and stained from your drinking with Aegon. Your pregnant belly strained against the material.

“Lay on the bed.” Aemond ordered.

You obeyed.

“Spread your legs.” Aemond approached the foot of the bed where you sat. When you spread your legs, with slight difficulty due to your belly, he snaked his hand between them, pulling down your undergarments before assisting you in taking your dress off.

Aemond pulled a chair up to the foot of the bed and sat down, his legs spread. You found your eyes drawn to his straining cock immediately. You felt a thrill, having not taken him in months. “Touch yourself.” He stated.

Your eyes widened. “Pardon?”

He smiled cruelly as if you were nothing more than a joke to him. “You want it?” You nodded. “Then show me.”

You had only allowed yourself the reprieve of masturbation on your loneliest nights when you wished for anyone to keep you company in your large, cold bed. You gulped, snaking a hand down between your legs and finding your clit. You began to rub circles around the bud, letting out a light gasp at the jolts of pleasure coursing through your body simply by having someone watch you.

“You’re filthy.” He said simply, smiling and palming between his legs as you began to buck into your touch. “Close already?” You nodded desperately. “Hands off.” He said. “When you cum I want it to be from me.”

You continued, his words barely registering. In seconds Aemond was on you, ripping your hand from between you legs and pinning you to the bed. “Stupid girl.” He snarled. “Dumb already and you haven’t even had a cock in you.” You whimpered.

“Please put it in me.” You whispered prompting a growl from Aemond. He spread your legs even wider before undoing his zipper and freeing his length. “I shouldn’t be giving you what you want.” He growled. “Not after the stunt you pulled tonight.”

He aligned himself with your entrance before pushing in ever so slowly. You let out a cry of pleasure. “Fuck.” Aemond whispered, so feint you could have missed it, his eyes fixed on where the both of were joined. “Feel good?.” He asked.

All you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and nod as his thrusts became deeper, more frequent.

“This is all you needed huh?” He asked with a laugh. “A cock to fill you up and you’re satisfied.” His words weren’t computing, your eyes rolled back into your head. “Fuck I’m close.” He growled, thrusts picking up. “Where do you want it?”

“In me.” You said before tipping your head back and moaning as you played with your clit, walls fluttering around him as your orgasm finally overtook you. You must have been squeezing him like a vice because Aemond came shortly after you, collapsing beside you as he breathed deeply.

You lay like that for a few minutes, before Aemond placed a hand on your belly giving it a light rub before standing up. You grabbed at his wrist. “Stay.” You asked, eyes pleading. How you had gone from being furious with him to asking him to spend the night you had no idea.

Yet it was Aemond. He left anyways.

Perhaps that was for the better. Aemond was blood of the dragon, as were you and yet some days he made you feel like a sheep in comparison to himself. So you went to sleep. The only evidence he had been in your room dribbling out between your thighs.

[aux-squiggle]

Daughter or Abortion #1

Conclusions at the bottom

The other week I made a tiktok post about how I will get an abortion if my fetus is male because I will only birth daughters and I found it hilarious how much it pissed off supposed "pro choicers."

And it's made me realize a lot of mainstream pro-choicers reasons for being pro choice isn't because they truly agree with the meat of pro-choicism, but rather because they approve of abortion in more cases than what we consider prolife.

They approve of abortion in cases of rape, poverty, medical necessity, lack of parental skill, career aspirations, unpreparedness etc. But that's not why pro-choicism exists. Pro choice is not about having a good reason to abort, or extending abortion to enough reasons, but because of arbitration.

Whether a woman will carry a fetus to term or not is a complete arbitration. She could decide to flip a coin on whether or not she'll have the baby and that's completely morally neutral. If that makes you uncomfortable, get over it.

Mainstream pro-choicers can justify the above "good reasons to abort" via an array of arguments including the argument that fetuses are not people (which is true). But in their complaint against me saying I will abort a male fetus when I am trying for children (via a separatist method btw I couldn't be caught dead fucking a man), they expose that they have not taken the "fetuses are not people" thought process to its logical end.

Fetuses pre-24 weeks are no better than an organ. They are just rapidly growing cells, that will mostl likely become a baby but is not yet a baby. But until it actually becomes a baby, it is just as "unbaby" as every other organ in your body.

Post 24 weeks fetuses have the brain structures necessary for consciousness (though when this consciousness actually "turns on" for the first time is debated. Let's say it's 24 weeks for the sake of the conversation even though it may be 28 weeks or even later).

Maybe you consider consciousness the start of personhood or maybe you consider being born the start of personhood (I personally consider first consciousness the start of personhood, however fetuses beyond 24 weeks still are at arbitration because the mother has the right to remove it at any time, same way if your body was hooked up to keep someone else alive, you can unhook it anytime).

Therefore I consider first consciousness the time a fetus becomes a baby, and babies are people. Fetuses are not babies, and are also not people.

Discrimination* is only a thing that happens to people.

*In the social sense of treating a group differently and/or unfairly because of their traits. Not the literal meaning of discriminate which is essentially akin to sorting or approaching things differently.

What does this mean? Fetuses cannot be discriminated against.

Abortion typically happens before 24 weeks (and any abortion I have will be pre-24w). Therefore no person is suffering or being treated differently if I abort it for being male, because fetuses aren't people.

Of course people immediately snap "oh what if someone aborts daughters huh?" First of all, a pre-24w abortion is incapable of harming the female fetus because it's not a person. That "potential daughter" did not experience the (presumed) misogyny behind the decision because it can't experience anything. It's not conscious, it was never conscious, and it's a not a person.

If the woman aborted the female fetus because of misogynistic messaging she's received in society, that's still her choice, and I still support her choice to do anything regarding her own pregnancy. The only victim in the situation is her from the misogyny she already experienced in life. An aborted female fetus is the consequence of misogyny and not a method of misogyny in and of itself. Her womb is not real estate for social justice and equality.

Let me say that again. Her womb is not real estate for social justice and equality.

If carrying a female fetus to term would upset her, because misogyny has told her it's better to have sons, then it doesn't matter if she ends up becoming the next Andrea Dworkin ultra feminist 20 years down the line, because the stress and anxiety she experienced from having a pregnancy she didn't want (even if I don't agree with the reason why she didn't want it) will become birth trauma which is one of the deepest forms of trauma someone can have.

It would be better for her to have aborted and be happy than give birth and be sad, even if I think the reason for the happiness and sadness is ridiculous or misogynistic.

Complete arbitration is necessary to be pro choice. If you don't like complete arbitration, then you're not pro choice, you're pro-abortion-for-more-situations-than-typical-pro-lifers. The two are not the same.

Additionally, had the daughter been born to a mom who doesn't want her, she'd be traumatized so it's better to never have known that suffering in the first place.

Inversely, if you are pro-choice it doesn't matter whether you agree or not with me not wanting sons. I don't want a walking liability, I don't want a ticking time bomb who I could feed feminism from the moment he says his first word yet can grow up into a sneako rat or the next Andrew prostate. The most laterally misogynistic daughter is not enabled to do as much harm as a mildly misogynistic son.

We've got to remember that the patriarchy doesn't give a fuck about women's opinions and feelings. The patriarchy only exists to serve men. Women tend to become internally misogynistic and/or laterally misogynistic to ease the cognitive dissonance that occurs from being a human woman, in a system that treats women as subhuman. But the patriarchy does not actually care if you internally agree or not, it just wants to control you. Internalized & lateral misogyny make you easier to control. But you could be a complete anti-patriarchal ultra radical feminist, but as long as you're as easy to control as a believing tradwife, patriarchy doesn't care. Men don't care.

Because the patriarchy doesn't give enough of a shit about you to truly care about your deepest opinions and just wants to control you, no woman in a patriarchal sphere of influence will be elevated to the level of authority and control as a man. Because of the fact she could use her authority to spread anti-patriarchal dissent by hiding her deepest opinions to get that authority in the first place.

This is especially concerning when it comes to intimate relationships and what men can get away with.

An ultra far right laterally misogynistic tradwife daughter posts bs propaganda on the internet and ruins her own life. A casually misogynistic man (on the right or the left) rapes women. Or beats women and calls it kink, or buys sex (another form of rape) and calls it female empowerment. The misogynistic daughter is an embarrassment, the misogynistic son is a targeted nuclear warhead heading for women that I helped fashion. Absolutely not, under no circumstances will I create such a risk to the female class.

A poor person who supports capitalism will never be as bad as an actual capitalist who benefits from labour they did not do, and often makes the material conditions for the proletariat unfair or abusive.

It's funny though because you need a LOT of abuse, social conditioning and often straight up programming to turn a daughter into such a class traitor, which my future daughter(s) will seldom have due to the fact they will grow up without a patriarch and without brothers.

Single sex schools are still fairly common in Ireland too so they'll most likely be going to those (and most of said single sex schools ban makeup for students too, and are uniformed, so way less expensive trends and self consciousness about the face). And Ireland, while not some beam of patriarchy-less sunshine, is one of the best for gender equality and as a woman living here I can attest it is much better Nigeria which I'm originally from. And honestly from what I see my American friends going through it seems to be a lot better than large swathed of the USA.

My future daughter(s) with all that, on top of a radfem GNC separatist mom, will be hard pressed to turn into a misogynistic tradwife, whereas a son only needs an internet connection to become a danger to humanity.

But ultimately it doesn't matter if you dislike my reasons for aborting male fetuses if I have one, because my womb is not real estate for social justice and equality.

Additionally it is majorly disrespectful to me but also any mom/future mom to say "don't have children if you're going to hate your child for their sex." Lol what? Obviously if a stork flew down with my magic male full-term or near-full term baby, that is my child and I will obviously love him and raise him as best as I can to be a feminist ally. A pre-24w fetus is not my child because it's not a person. Even after that, until it's born, it's up to a woman's interpretation when a fetus becomes a baby, and further when the baby becomes HER baby.

Overall wider culture but even people on the left, even so-called pro-choicers, seem to take issue with sacrifice minimization. It makes them uncomfortable that a woman will exercise her liberties to bring about the best and happiest outcomes for her child(ren) with the minimal amount of input.

Like described above, bringing about a son who truly respects women and isn't a misogynist at all, is magnitudes much harder than bringing a daughter who has female class consciousness. Why would I out myself through the stress for a son for the high likelihood of failing, when I could live a much more relaxed life with a daughter who is not only class conscious but happy, with way less stress?

I also find people invoke this kind of shame when they try to guilt women into having more than one baby. "Give your kid a sibling, they'll be lonely otherwise!" meanwhile having a sibling can also be lonely and it can cause actual trauma if the siblings don't get along. A lot of one-and-done moms talk about how much easier and more fun life is compared to their friends with 2+ kids. Not saying it's common for pro-choicers to shame women into having more kids, just saying there is a similarity between their distaste for sacrifice minimization.

The sacrifice minimization concept is also allegorical to the conversation about the ethics of aborting disabled fetuses.

Many people abort fetuses for congenital/antenatal disabilities because they view disabled people as lesser, people who don't belong in their family, invalid, they straight up hate disabled people which is extremely ableist. Which makes having kids contraindicated entirely, as any kid can become disabled or have an indetectable disability.

Issue is, the abortion of disabled fetuses is the culmination of extreme ableism, not an act of ableism in and of itself. Because fetuses aren't people, therefore no person was victimized or discriminated against when aborting.

And like I said before, no one's womb is real estate for social justice and equality. It's no one's place to judge what is or isn't evicted from someone's uterus (or who, if the pregnancy is post-24w).

Additionally, not everyone aborts disabled babies because they hate disabled people. To preface, of course disabled people as a whole are very very much not a privileged group. However within the demographic that is disabled people, most of us activists are privileged in comparison. Frankly any one of us who is able to access the internet is very privileged in comparison to some disabled people's difficulties, and this is the stuff that rarely gets posted.

I used to work as a healthcare assistant (for a short time before I had to quit due to my own disabilities) and without exposing anyone's private life, I can comfortably say that as a childhood torture survivor & ritual abuse survivor, still dealing with the physical injuries of torture, there are antenatal disabilities that cause such pain and suffering (to the disabled person) that makes my worst experiences as painful as bumping into a wall in comparison. And such disabilities are not as rare as we'd like them to be.

When it comes to the topic of sacrifice minimization, it's not about whether or not people think such people "deserve" to live or not or if aborting them "saves them from misery," let's put that aside. It is utterly ridiculous to tell a hopeful mom that she SHOULD go through the level of grief, stress, depression, and anxiety to a) go through the more dangerous pregnancy as these in-utero disabilities tend to come with higher risks and b) actively know her entire life will be changed to care for a child with such a high level of need, and then purposefully go through with that, and have that weight and guilt on her shoulders.

Mothers already deal with guilt when it comes to health issues completely unrelated to them, like freak accidents they weren't even present for or had any control over. That (misplaced) guilt is magnified an indescribable amount of times when she has a test showing fetal abnormality and she chooses to keep. That choice to keep, if it occurs, should not be egged on by detached so called pro-choice telling her aborting over this is somehow creating cruelty and hate. It's nobody's business to be swaying her either way.

On top of that, while one should prepare for one's child to be disabled, those possible disabilities often stack onto whatever congenital disability is under scrutiny in the first place. It's not like you get a set of illnesses and that's it, disability parking slots booked out for the future. Many disabled people are at higher risks for other disabilities too. Using one's given medical information to abort disabled fetuses also means only birthing babies with a relatively decreased risk of further disability as well, which means higher potential quality of life (depending on the disability, QoL varies a LOT, and some measurements of QoL are ableist in and of themselves and assume disabled ways of living are inherently worse. I mean QoL in the abstract here).

Babies without many certain antenatal disabilities have not only a far higher chance of survival, but also the mom has a lot more available resources to secure that child's wellbeing, safety and happiness, and are in a better position to address disabilities that appear later while the adults are still caring for the child (or even at birth conditions such as CP). Aborting disabled fetuses is often a form of sacrifice minimization (and probably the most common form of said minimization amongst selective abortions), not always from ableism (although I agree it often is both or just ableism). And mainstream pro-choice left clearly takes issue with sacrifice minimization to some degree.

—

Conclusion: 1) Fetuses (at the very least pre-24 week fetuses) are not people. Fetuses cannot suffer from being aborted. Fetuses that would grow to belong to certain demographics don't experience discrimination for being aborted because they're not people.

2) Abortions based on the future demographic of a fetus is not an act of discrimination in and of itself but is often a culmination of pre-existing discrimination.

3) People's uteruses are not the places for social justice or moralisms. There's no "wrong" thing to do with the contents of one's womb.

4) It is perfectly fine for women to use abortion to minimize their sacrifices in raising children, while still working for the best possible outcomes for the children they do decide to birth.

5) Some people who call themselves pro-choice don't understand point 1 or point 3 and need to work on that stat.

6) If you don't agree with the underlying principles of pro-choice, you're not pro-choice, you're just abortion-permissive to more situations than pro-lifers.

Note: Edited some sentences for clarity. Message of the post is the same