#you have no idea how tempted I was to say grapes

[jtl-fics]

What’s smithy’s favorite food other than pepto bismol?

Kevin's Smoothies

I KID. He tolerates those because food made specifically for him is always going to be his favorite food. He associates someone making something with him in mind as like the NICEST THING. So he'll drink / eat without a single complaint

It's hard to pick a single thing XD

#1 is his Grandma's pies.

You may say 'well that's dessert' you would be correct but also WRONG.

GS has range and she makes a mean Shepherd's pie and an even meaner Chicken Pot Pie.

[lacedinweb22]

daddy's coworker (Miguel O'Hara x reader)

Requested by @thbidkbutok

nsfw 18+

summary: Your father leaves you alone at home with his coworker, Miguel O'Hara, who you've known for years. As he works in your father's office finishing up business, you are tempted to distract him.

warnings: aggressive sex, daddy kink, choking, clawing, unprotected sex (penetration)

ʚ ｡⋆˚ ୨୧ ˚⋆｡ ɞ

He stood tall, his dark brown eyes looking down at me, standing right beside my father. “Y/N, you remember Mr. O’Hara. He’s been working with me at Alchemax for…Jesus how long, Miguel?” my father asked, looking up at Miguel. He combed his fingers through his wavy hair, his eyebrows furrowed in thought. “I want to say… six years soon,” he replied, looking down at me, his hand out for me to shake. 

His massive hand enveloped my hand, which he shook firmly while maintaining eye contact. “Of course, always nice to see you, Mr. O’Hara,” I replied softly, slowly beginning to blush.

“Please, call me Miguel,” he replied quickly, nodding down to me. 

“Man, just yesterday he was a fresh youngin intern, now he’s made it to the big leagues,” he nudged Miguel, who broke a small smile, “I told him he could use my office for the night since Alchemax’s systems will be down and rebooting for the rest of the night. He has some important algorithms to work on. Your mother and I, however, will be out for the night, unless you care to join?” he asked, looking at me hopefully. “Sorry Dad, I told you I have that stupid pre-lab I really need to work on, but this weekend, I swear I’ll be free,” I assured him, giving him a side hug as he began to back away to leave. “Of course, my love. We’ll be home soon. I trust you’ll be warm and welcoming to Mr. O’Hara, hm?” “Of course, Pa, have fun,” I replied, smiling at both of them as they looked down at me.

I backed away to the kitchen, and began to prepare something to snack on, as my father and Miguel conversed and said their farewells. 

I cut up some fruit, stealing glances and watching them interact. Miguel’s voice was deep and echoing, and his rarely seen smile was contagious. I smiled, subconsciously when he would let out a low chuckle at my dad’s embarrassing jokes.

I’d always seen him at Alchemax dinner parties and gatherings throughout the years. He was always chased after at these events, but was famously known as the stubborn, secretive, and  genius bachelor who could never give anyone the time of day. I remembered watching him converse with the adults, his dry humor going over all of their heads, as I giggled from a distance.  

I remembered when I was fresh in college and he was a fresh intern. I clearly remember the first time we met at my dad’s office. We were so different then. So much has changed. He’s still so handsome, perhaps even more. 

He stole glances at me as they spoke. My cheeks burned, as I quickly looked down at the fruit, slowly nibbling at the mango wedges, avoiding eye contact.

Eventually the front door shut, and Miguel walked to my father’s office. He wore a black form fitting sweatshirt, with dark gray dress pants. He walked so confidently, his glasses hanging on his collar, dangling against his muscular chest. His eyes caught mine staring, as he smirked then nodded to me. He turned forward and entered the office, leaving the door open.

I waited a minute then peeked around the kitchen corner, looking through the glass windows to spy on him. He now wore his glasses, eyebrows scrunched as he slid his fingertips across the hologram screens. 

I looked down at the variety of fruit laid out, then got an idea. 

“Mr. O’Hara— I mean Miguel, would you like a bowl of fruit?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe holding up the bowl. He turned from the hologram, his face lit up by the orange light. 

“Mmm, that does sound good. Please and thank you, Y/N,” he replied, softly. I walked up to the desk, sliding the bowl slowly in front of him. 

“So, what are you up to these days?” I said, popping a grape into my mouth. “Work, lots of work,” he replied, snapping a piece of apple then biting into it.

“And you? Man, the last time I saw you, a few months ago, I helped you—” “You helped me with that insane final project I was working on,” I finished.

“Yes, how’s school treating you?” “Fine, but I don’t really want to talk about that right now, I mean— not to be rude, but… just curious, what’s the dating scene like for you? As an older man I mean,” “older man, huh? I didn’t know I was considered ‘older’ but I guess to you college kids, your late thirties might as well be your death bed,” he scoffed, biting into a half of an apple. I shrugged, waiting for a real response.

“I don’t date. I'm single. I figured you knew this; the entirety of Alchemax won’t shut up about it, but yes, I’m single. I’ve got Gabriella and you know… I’m a busy man,” he answered, his eyes glued to mine.

“Single, wow, how convenient,” I muttered, stealing a grape from his bowl. 

I walked around the desk, coming to his side, looking at the bright screens. I leaned forward on my tiptoes, my hips pushed out in front of him. His eyes remained on me as my eyes explored his scribbles and notes covering the equations and numbers spread across the screen. I looked back at him, he looked up at me from his chair, his eyes darkened. I looked down at the huge bulge in his pants. I scoffed.

“Anyways, sorry to distract you, I have a pre-lab to work on, so I must be going. See you later, Mr. O’Hara. Let me know if you… need anything.” I left the office swiftly and went back to the kitchen to clean up. 

I washed the cutting board, as I suddenly felt his hot breath against my neck. “Someone got the message,” I breathed out, as his hard-on pressed against the back of my thigh through his pants. I turned around, my back against the sink, as his hips pressed up against me. 

He lowered his glasses, looking down at me, then slowly took them off, putting them down on the counter beside us. He towered over me, stroking my cheek, putting his thumb on my chin. He traced my lips gently, smirking as he pressed his member against my inner thighs. 

“Did you think I didn’t notice you staring at me all these years?” he whispered, leaning down to kiss me. “I just didn’t know… you felt the same… tension I felt, Mr. O’Hara,” I breathed out in between his wet kisses. His lips were soft and warm, his sharp teeth, almost like fangs, brushed my lips. “What— your teeth, how—” “Don’t worry about it,” he breathed out against my lips. I pulled away to look up at him, he looked back down at me, then dug his face into my neck, wrapping his teeth around me. “Miguel,” I moaned, as he began to dig his fangs into my skin. “I told you not to worry about it,” he breathed out, as he dug his claws into my thighs. I had a slight idea as to why he was built like a fucking beast, but it wasn’t my main focus. 

He drew his lips back up to my lips, still pinning my waist with his claws, tightly against the counter. He began to slide his fingers down my shorts, slowly pushing them down. He bit my bottom lip then slid his hand down the front of my underwear, playing with my clit. "What a wet, pretty distraction," he groaned into my lips. I moaned out from both pleasure and the excitement from finally getting what I had wanted for years. 

My shorts were now at my ankles, as I stood pressed against him in just my soaked underwear. He swiftly lifted me up, sitting me on the kitchen counter, as he kissed me hard, and pulled my shorts off from my ankles. He threw them to the floor, I grabbed him by his belt, pulling his hips in between my legs, his boner stabbing against my desperately aching heat. I unbuckled his belt and undid his zipper, then tugged his pants down, revealing his boxers and the massive tent his hard-on had built. 

“So hard for me, Mr. O’Hara,” I breathed out, palming his member. His hands rested on the counter on both sides of me, as he hovered over me, sucking on my neck. I continued playing with him, as he moaned my name, his fangs brushing my ear. He then grabbed my ass tightly, digging his claws into my hips, pulling me against his boner. I tugged at his sweatshirt, then helped him take it off as he too pulled my sweater off of me. I was now in just my bra and panties, and he was now shirtless and in boxers. I spread my fingers across his skin. He had scars spread across his figure, and his muscles bulged against his glowy skin. He lowered my bra, and wrapped his hands around my tits, squeezing and playing with them. He lowered his face to my chest and began to suck and bite on my nipples, humming against my skin. I combed my fingers through his waves, tugging at the roots as he moaned into my chest. He squeezed my hips tight, as he traced my chest with hickies.

He stood up straight and slid my underwear to the side, creating access to me, as I pulled his boxers down to reveal his dangerously long and thick member. I wrapped my hand around him, making myself familiar with his length. As I felt him, he dipped two fingers into me slowly, coating himself in my slick, then spreading it along his own length. 

He then guided himself against me, pressing up against my entrance. “Are you ready, princesa?” he asked, smirking, revealing his fangs. “Mhmmm,” I moaned, kissing him and pulling his hips against me. He slowly entered, just his tip stretching me out. I moaned out, wincing in pain. “Fuck, slowly,” I whimpered, gripping his back muscles. He dug his face into my neck, as he pushed up and into me slowly but entirely. He was now completely inside of me, causing my insides to stretch and burn. “Fuck, so tight Y/N,” he groaned into my ear. He gripped my hips with both hands, his claws digging into me as he thrusted in and out of me slowly, pulling me onto his length. He began to speed up, I whimpered and whined as I adjusted to the intense pain and pleasure his thick cock was creating. 

He kissed me, biting my bottom lip as he continued thrusting into me. He pulled the back of my hair tightly, “Such a good girl for me, sitting up there, your wet pretty pussy stretching out for me,” he growled. 

His long cock slammed into my cervix causing me to arch my back to prevent further pain, his dick was now angled hitting my g spot, rubbing against me rapidly, spreading warmth up into my stomach. “You’re going to make me… cum Mr. O’Hara,” I moaned, my lips pressed against his neck.

“What a good girl you’re being for me, mami, you like this?” he breathed out, keeping his rhythm. He wrapped his big hand around my neck, tightly choking me, as he had his other hand on my waist, pulling himself into me. He kissed my shoulder, fucking and choking me simultaneously. His aggressive thrusts caused a wet slapping noise, as his soaked cock continued pushing my slick back into me.

“So this is your idea of warm and welcoming, huh?” he growled, smirking down at my lips. “Do you do this with all of your father’s coworkers, huh? Or am I the lucky one?” he whispered into my ear, his fangs brushing my skin. “You’re the only one, Mr. O’Hara… mmmm fuck, I’m gonna… cum, Miguel,” I whined out, gripping his hand on my neck, and arching my back. “Miguel, fuck,” I whimpered, breathing out as I throbbed around him. He slowed down, releasing my neck, letting me recover from my intense climax.

“I’m not done with you,” he growled, as he lifted me off of the counter then turned me around, and bent me over. He slid my underwear to the side, then pressed his cock against my entrance, slowly entering just his wet tip. He pressed himself in slowly, only warming the tip of his cock repeatedly, creating a wet noise every thrust. He wrapped his hands around my hips tightly, pulling himself into me.

“That man who was just here fifteen minutes ago, that’s your father, I’m your daddy,” he whispered, picking up the pace of just his tip thrusting in and out of me. “I mean, I’m sure as hell old enough to be your daddy,” he scoffed, continuing to tease me with his tip; I groaned into my arms, frustrated.

“You won’t get any more until you call me what I am,” he growled, performing only shallow thrusts. “You’re my– my daddy, Mr. O’Hara… fuck! Please, give it to me,” I whined, pushing my hips further out for more length. “Mmmm that’s better,” he groaned as he entered his entire length into me. We both breathed out heavily as he quickly began to pound into me, rhythmically rearranging my insides. “Mmmm daddy like that, keep going, keep fucking me like that,” I moaned out. “Mmmm ¿como eso mami? You like that, do I make you feel good?” he groaned, his body thrusting into mine, pushing my body into the cold marble counter. I moaned in response, whimpering at every hit. 

His claws dug into my hips, drawing blood that dripped down the side of my thighs. I whimpered in pain, but was too distracted by the pleasure of his length to care. 

“Cmon, Y/N, you can give me one more, I know you can,” he grunted, angling his hips lower, to directly hit up into my g spot. “Miguel, fuck… don’t stop, don’t fucking stop,” I whimpered, feeling my thighs tremble, and my slick drip down my inner thighs. 

“God, what would your father say if he saw you bent over the kitchen island for me, huh? Cumming for me?” he growled through his smirk. “He’d be… furious,” I breathed out. “Fucking furious, huh?” He scoffed. “You’re breaking the rules for me?” he asked, squeezing my thighs tighter. “Mhmmm,” I whimpered, feeling myself about to climax. “Mmmmm fuck, your tight little pussy is going to make me cum,” he breathed out, keeping his rhythm. “Keep going, keep going daddy, please,” I whined out as I began to finish. 

“Ughhhh mami, like that, mmm like that,” he whimpered into my ear, as he bent down, hovering over me, his large biceps surrounding me on each side. He filled me up with his hot white mess, continuing to thrust as we both rode out our highs, pushing his liquid back into me. “Ay Mami, fuck,” he moaned into my ear, his chest pressed against my back. His cum dripped out of me inevitably, as he lowered his hand in between my legs to spread and rub it all around my slit. The noises of our skin and fluids interacting echoed throughout the penthouse. He slowly thrusted then stopped and pulled out, his huge load leaking out of me immediately. I whimpered to myself, my face resting against my arms on the counter. 

His hands explored my back and ass, massaging me as he kissed the back of my shoulder. “Go get cleaned up, Y/N, rápido. Wouldn’t want your father finding out what you did with your new daddy, huh?”

[cuubism]

I see your "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make me have feelings for Hob!!'" and raise you "Dream yelling at Desire because 'how dare you make Hob have feelings for me!!'" because it's the only logical explanation for why Hob would claim to want someone like Dream

[ cat screaming crying . jpg ]

Dream storms into Desire’s realm, steps thudding on the uneven floor, rage propelling him forward. He cannot remember ever feeling such anger, such betrayal towards his sibling, not even when he had learned they were behind his imprisonment.

Desire’s games have always gone too far, but this is beyond trying to teach him a lesson, this is beyond what Dream can reconcile, this is simply cruelty.

“YOU,” he thunders, the air shaking around him as he stalks up to where Desire is lying casually on a chaise lounge as if they haven’t just ripped Dream’s one comfort in this life out from under him. “How dare you.”

“Brother, dear,” drawls Desire, popping a grape into their mouth with not a care in the world, “it is rude to simply fly in without even knocking on the door. You wouldn’t like it if I did it to you.”

Blind with fury, Dream grabs them by the throat and hauls them to their feet. Desire lets out a choked gasp, genuinely startled by his vitriol. Their pulse trips under Dream’s thumb.

Desire cannot be killed through something as simple as strangulation, but it truly is tempting to try. “What,” Dream snarls, grip tightening, “what have you done to Hob Gadling?”

Desire blinks at him, torn from their alarm by confusion. “Whomst? Listen, I know you know everybody’s name and their kinkiest fantasy but I honestly can’t be bothered with the details, you’re going to have to fill me in.”

The rage in Dream’s core only flares hotter. “Enough of this charade, you know exactly what you’ve done.”

“No, seriously, I have no idea what you’re—”

Dream whirls away, leaving his sibling staggering in the wake of his grasp. “Was it not enough?” he demands, staring sightlessly into the gleaming red curves of Desire’s realm. “Was the vortex not enough? Was a century of imprisonment not enough for you?” His voice cracks halfway through, and it’s mortifying. “Truly, your hatred of me is untempered by even the slightest compassion.”

Desire’s voice is quizzical when they next speak. “I am starting to wish I was behind whatever this is that seems to have pierced you straight through the heart. I’m afraid my own arrows have missed that organ thus far.”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream insists, but Desire’s seemingly-genuine confusion has him wavering. It’s not like them not to revel in their own victory, and oh, this has been a victory, Dream feels laid lower than even a century in a cage had managed. “You are manipulating him.”

“Once again, I don’t know who that is. But he’s clearly excellent ammunition so I’m certainly going to find out once you leave.”

Dream flexes his hands at his sides, summoning his control. If Desire truly was not behind this, then he’s already made a mistake in coming here. Best not to offer anything else.

Being in Desire’s realm makes this stoicism difficult. The very space brings emotions to the surface, drags feelings up from his stomach that he’s tried so very hard to tamp down. He tastes blood at the back of his throat, his stomach churns, his skin prickles with sweat.

Desire stalks up behind him, sensing all of this. “Now I am curious,” they murmur, dragging a finger up his shoulder, over the collar of his coat and along the back of his neck. “Now I must know what’s go you so riled up.”

“You think you have earned such things?” Dream says through gritted teeth. His heart is pounding hard and uneven such that it physically hurts in his chest, the weight of the Threshold bearing down.

“No need to earn, you can hide nothing from me here.” Desire circles around him to his front, dragging their finger along his collarbone until it lands right at the base of his throat. They look at him from under their lashes, all smug satisfaction. “You are all tangled up in the realm of Desire, aren’t you?”

Dream moves to storm off, but Desire blocks him, nails pressing into his skin.

“Nah-ah, no running away. Let your little sibling help you, hm? As you may know, I am rather wise in matters of the heart.”

The look on Desire’s face is craftiness, glee, not charity or wisdom.

“I neither need nor wish for your assistance,” says Dream, voice hard. “On this, or any other matter.”

“But there is a matter.” Desire leans in and speaks right in his ear. “I can smell the heartsickness on you, Dream.”

There is nothing Dream can say in response to this. Any denial would only be read as falsehood, for Desire does not lie – of late, Dream feels sick with wanting in Hob’s presence, hunger so sharp it turns over into nausea, much like the first time Hob had pushed him to eat after his captivity. How cruel, then, to have his pain eased, his desires sated by a reciprocation that cannot possibly be truly felt.

There is nothing to say, so Dream doesn’t speak. Silence, of course, is its own answer.

“You know, if there’s one thing I have always admired about you, big brother, it’s your willingness to destroy yourself for the sake of passion,” Desire continues. “You’d think that’d be my sort of thing. Who’ve you lost yourself on this time? Demigod? Demon? Dryad? Vampire?”

Dream glares at them, but does not speak.

Desire’s face absolutely lights up as they realize. “Oh. My. God. Is he human? Dreeaaammmmm, my my, maybe your little time out did change you, after all.”

Dream turns away, refusing to give them the satisfaction of confirming. Though he knows this reaction is also a confirmation.

Desire claps their hands. “Oh! I’m so proud of myself. Look at this! Look at the softness of your heart. Look how I can bruise it.”

Dream’s heart, indeed, gives a painful thump. “Should you dare to touch him, even the old laws will not protect you.”

Desire sighs, flopping back onto a couch, legs crossed, head propped in their hand. “Why bother? You’ll destroy it yourself, and that’ll be much more fun.”

I hate you, Dream thinks, like a petulant child. He hates, also, how any argument with Desire makes him feel that way, feelings crowding at the surface of his skin, throat tightening, mind spinning in a chaotic churn. His muscles clench so hard he thinks they might have snapped, were he human, then he forces himself back into a semblance of ease.

There is no extracting himself from this situation with any dignity.

“Interfere with my affairs again,” he warns darkly, “and I will destroy you.”

Then he storms out of the Threshold.

“Love you too!” Desire calls after him, a grin in their voice. “Good luck with your human!”

--

When he’d found Hob at the New Inn, thirty-three years after he’d meant to arrive, Dream had not known how he might be received. Friendship extended once may not be extended again after so brutal a rejection, and so prolonged an absence, no matter that the latter offense was not within his control.

Being met with a smile, then, and an easy acceptance of his apology, like Hob had already forgiven him long before Dream had stepped through the door, had been a revelation. Something had settled in him that he had not known was knocked askew. Could there, truly, be one thing in his life that was allowed to be easy? Where Dream’s missteps were not met with scorn or vitriol or world-shaking consequences, but with grace and the chance to try again?

It seemed improbable, but still Dream had grabbed for it with cold, shaking fingers. Had held that unlikely flame between his palms. Had watched as it grew, hotter and brighter with each smile Hob sent his way, with each gentle brush of fingers as he pressed cups of tea into Dream’s hands, with the hug Hob finally managed to wind him into, once Dream had told him of the true reason for his absence in 1989.

Hob’s grace, Hob’s generosity in inviting someone, something like him into his home, into his life… Dream did not quite know how to hold it, so unlikely it was. He tried, though, oh he tried. And he swore he would not mess it up, not like he had when Hob had first offered his friendship.

He has now, quite royally, messed it up.

He very much doubts Hob will be so generous this time.

He finds Hob where he left him, sitting on the couch in his flat, a book in his hand. He doesn’t seem to be concentrating on it; his thoughts feel scattered in ragged, disturbed daydreams.

He doesn’t even startle when Dream materializes next to him. Though he knows it can be startling to humans, Dream has not been able to break himself of just appearing where he needs to – traversing the long way from point to point is not how he works. But aside from the occasional, teasing, I have a door, you know, Hob never truly complains about these disturbances to his day.

Dream means to offer him an apology. To say, I should not have walked out when you said that you loved me. To say, I am supposed to be better, I am trying to be better.

Instead, just as Hob looks up, the words that trip out of Dream’s mouth, pushed by the flurry of Desire’s realm still pounding within him, are, “Did you speak truly, Hob Gadling?”

Which is a ridiculous question. Dream does not think he has ever heard Hob speak a lie. Still, Dream must have the answer.

Hob’s expression shifts through several incarnations, none of which Dream feels capable of reading. Finally, it settles on the same soft, exasperated understanding Dream remembers being presented with when he’d said, I know thirty years is truly quite late, at their reunion, before he’d told Hob why he was late.

Grace, then. He is to be offered grace, again.

His emotions are still so close to the surface that he has to physically swallow down what he feels about that.

“Of course, I did,” Hob says, and there’s a hint of nerves in it, but he pushes through, he always does. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

His gaze is genuine, open, and no, Desire had not lied – Hob’s feelings are no manipulation of theirs. And while it is tempting to search for other answers, spells or illusions or any number of other causes, Dream knows, deep down, that he will come up empty.

Hob’s feelings are true, are his truth, confounding though that is.

Dream no longer feels capable of holding any of this in his hands.

Instead, he kisses him.

It’s like he is pulled forward by a force outside his own body. He goes to Hob like he had gone to the sugar in the tea Hob had made him, that night at the inn when Dream had first realized how long it had truly been since he’d eaten; he goes to him like he had gone back to the Dreaming after being freed, returning home breathless, lost, changed.

Hob catches him against his mouth, hands cradling Dream’s face. His grip is solid and warm, and he kisses Dream like he looks at him like he speaks to him, with a care Dream hardly knows how to accept. He leans into it anyway, he leans in.

“I wasn’t fishing for a kiss when I said that, you know,” Hob says when they part, still lingering close enough that Dream can feel his heat, his breath. “I meant it in more of— well, that way, for certain, but really, any way you wanted to take it.”

“Any way,” Dream repeats, not sure he comprehends Hob’s meaning.

“Yeah, you—” Hob cuts himself off, letting out a breath, thinking. His hands slide from Dream’s face down to his shoulders, and he holds him there. “I. You just. I want you to know that you’re loved. Not demanding anything of it. Just telling you. Take it however serves you best.”

Dream stares at him, his whole being tripped and restarted at a new rhythm, and Hob gives him a sad smile.

“It’s too big to hold,” he says, and taps his chest. “In here. And besides, I wanted you to have it.”

Dream had had it. Only he hadn’t quite known what he had. The sunshine of Hob’s smiles, sustaining him, a bridge between distant points of light.

Finally, he manages to say, “I felt it. You have been my succor. My… only.”

Hob has captured him more effectively than Burgess’s snare, but this capture is not a prison. It hurts, oh, it aches, but it never wounds.

Hob smiles at him again. There’s still something pained in the creases around his eyes. “I know.”

He’s still touching Dream. His hands run over him, up his neck, over his throat, along his collarbone, and—

catch, on the collar of his shirt, above his heart.

“What happened?”

His voice is tight, now, worried, and— yes. There are bruises on Dream’s chest, crawling up over his breastbone. He had felt them form, and hadn’t stopped them.

Hob’s expression darkens further the longer he looks; he drags the collar of Dream’s shirt down, trying to see how far the damage spreads. “You’ve got bruises all over you. Dream, what happened?”

What happened is Dream stood in the Threshold and his heart beat so hard it drummed right through to the surface of his skin. What happened is it hurt so badly his form shifted to give reason for the pain.

“Desire,” he says, and he does not mean his sibling.

Hob doesn’t seem to understand, but he smoothes a hand over Dream’s heart as if to wipe the bruises away. Dream could will his body to return to its original, unharmed state, but he does not. He lets the blood stay pooled beneath his skin.

Hob sighs, tugging Dream’s coat tighter around him, shielding him from further injury. “Come here, you. You strange creature.”

He pulls Dream in, though he does not have to pull hard. Dream tucks his face into Hob’s neck, reveling in the warm scent of him, woodsmoke from the fireplace down in the inn where they’ve now spent many a long evening, basking in the heat of the flames. Hob’s arms go around him.

Absolution. Dream does not think this is a gift that has ever been granted to him.

“I would also love you,” he says. “If you would accept it.”

“If I would accept it?” Hob repeats. “Darling, your love is a privilege.”

Dream’s heart, in all its bruises and blood, finds rhythm again, and he thinks, though he certainly doesn’t pull away from Hob to check, that his skin clears up partway, too.

[ihavethedreamies]

Grape | Juicy Fruit | Renjun

Hwang Renjun - NCT Dream

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~1.5k

Pairing: Renjun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Smut, Established Relationship, Porn without Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Swearing, Kissing, Soft Dom! Renjun (Barely there), Oral (M! Receiving), Couch Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don’t!!)

Summary: You have an…intriguing way of eating grapes…

Author's Note: This series was supposed to be of drabbles, and this is the shortest one…sorry.

This is only vaguely based off of Smoothie…I say this because I got the idea for a fruit theme, but past that its unrelated.

-> Series Hub <-

🍉 Mark 🍉

🍌 Jeno 🍌

🍒 Haechan 🍒

🍑 Jaemin 🍑

🍓 Chenle 🍓

🍍 Jisung 🍍

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

You loved grapes but were extremely picky with them. They had to be hard and crunchy, if they were even slightly squishy, you wouldn't eat it. This was annoying for your boyfriend because he could get them for you and then you might reject them due to improper firmness. This was mostly before you two were dating, and he could pick them out good after nearly two months of getting it wrong. He had learned. The only problem? You ate them way too fast. Not that you got a stomach ache, it’s just you could down a whole bag of them in like two days if he didn't make you pace it out. It was a warm spring day, around 3pm, you had the windows open to air the apartment out after cleaning. He came home to you sitting on the couch in just a tank top, panties, and sneakers. That's how he knew you had cleaned. You were flipping through YouTube on the TV, an empty box of cheese whales laying on the couch cushion next to you.

"You hungry, pretty girl?" Renjun smiled, placing the grocery bags on the counter. You made a general positive grunt, and he pulled the grapes out of a bag and your face lit up.

"Help me put these away first." He chuckled when you groaned but got up to do so. You were normally a stickler for no shoes in the apartment, but your feet hurt without shoes when you cleaned, so you had a pair just for that exact task. Renjun had a hard time not watching your cute little butt, covered only by purple panties, jogging around the kitchen as you put groceries away. Your tank top was tight, making it obvious you weren't in a bra, and he had to force his gaze away from you. Even the way the end of your hair, up in a high ponytail, dangled over your shoulders was distracting him. You were none the wiser. Once everything else was put away, he led you back to the couch, holding the bag up for you to follow like you were some kind of animal…it worked though. Your boyfriend was not exactly tall for a man, especially compared to his friends, but he was still almost half a foot taller than you. Because of this, when he held the bag of grapes above his head as high as possible, you couldn't reach them.

"Renjun!" you scolded, and he laughed, relenting when he felt your breasts squish against his chest as you tried to reach your snack. You were about to become a snack, if you didn't stop tempting him. Not that you were trying. You shoved the empty box of cheese crackers out of the way, the blue box flying pitifully off the couch and onto the floor. Renjun sighed, too lazy to deal with it right then, so he rested back onto the couch with you. You had slipped your sneakers off, socked feet resting on the edge of the cushion, knees to your chest. He tried not to straight out stare at you as you popped the green little orbs into your mouth, one by one. You were so cute when your cheeks were puffed up, staring enthralled at the video you had pulled up. He barely was even paying attention to the man in the video, making an instrument out of a squash to play a song with it.

"Ah, fuck." You clicked your tongue. You had gotten ambitious and tried to put too many grapes in your mouth, one of them slipping past your lips, tumbling to fall right between your tits. Renjun was quicker than either of you thought possible. Before you could pick the fruit up off your skin, he had leaned forward, wrapping his lips around the grape, barely grazing your skin and he pulled back up like what he just did was normal. You blinked at him, and he was fighting back a laugh, trying to stay cool and confident. When your brain registered what he did, you sneered.

"Grape stealer…" You grumbled and this made him laugh, nearly choking on the grape he was still chewing. Rolling your eyes, you went back to the video, your attention getting caught as his hand reached to pluck a grape from the vine. Your bewildered stare followed his hand and he smirked, holding the little green ball between his teeth. Sucking it in, he just held it in his cheek.

"Bitch-" You started, and he huffed.

"Come and get it then~" Renjun laughed when you shoved the bag away, to the other end of the couch, climbing onto him. You straddled your lap and at first you were going to pry his mouth open like he was a puppy chewing on a rock, but his hands came to your hips, pulling you down against him. You froze, feeling his half-hard cock straining against his jeans, rubbing against your barely covered cunt. That changed your entire approach. Sniffing, trying to appear unaffected, you instead leaned down, sealing your lips over his. He immediately let your tongue enter and you reached in to try and find the fruit. Your tongue hit it, wrapping around it as well as his tongue so you could pull it back into your mouth. Once you had retrieved your bounty, you pulled away, saliva dripped from your lips and you chewed on the grape, sitting smugly on his lap. Instantly, pretty, sweet Renjun was gone, a harder look crossing his face. Your core clenched at the demeanor shift, your smug look disappearing, body deflating a bit. Your fingers messed with the end of his sweat shirt as he nuzzled your neck, starting to kiss and suck there. You shivered with a mewl, fingers dancing down to the zipper of his pants.

"You thirsty now, pretty?"

"Hm." You hummed sheepishly and he leaned back into the couch, his hands leaving you. You took the signal and scrambled off his lap to kneel on the floor before him, eagerly unzipping his jeans to grab his fully hard cock. Your mouth watered, craving him way more than you ever would the grapes. When your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, starting to take him into your mouth, he realized why you eating the grapes got to him so much. You sucked them into your mouth just like you were sucking his dick. He licked his lips, a slight bit of the juice still lingering.

"Good girl~" He praised as the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you moaned in reply. Renjun rested his hand on your head as it bobbed, your hands wrapping around what didn't fit in your mouth. Your mouth had been watering already since the grapes were a bit sour, like you liked them, and so you were slathering him and your face with drool. You were a mess, and it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

"Okay, up." He grew impatient and led you to get up off the floor.

"But!" You tried to protest, but with a great deal more strength than you knew he had, he hauled you up by the elbow and your back hit the couch. Renjun was too eager to even bother taking your tank off, so he just shoved it up and over your breasts, so they were revealed to him. Seeing you half-clothed like that normally didn't do anything for him since it was your cleaning clothes, but you were driving him crazy. Your hands scrambled at his shoulders, desperately gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt and he huffed before yanking it off. He didn't know why you cared so much, it’s not liked he looked like Jeno or Jaemin. You let out a long whine as your hands skated over his smooth skin and he was tired of waiting. Your boyfriend simply pulled your panties to the side, he was not strong enough to rip them off, and you would kill him for doing that anyway. Your breath left you in a loud gasp as he buried his cock inside you all at once. Your cunt burned pleasantly at the rapid stretch, your legs shivering at Renjun's sides. He watched you, licking his lips, as your tits bounced with each hard thrust he delivered. Your head was thrown back, hair spread over the couch cushion, hands rested on his torso at his ribs.

"R-Ren~!" You cried in delight as he hauled your legs up and over his elbows and rolled his hips even harder. He loved the gasping moans he was forcing out of you. As he felt himself getting closer to the edge, his thumb landed on your clit, and he felt your cunt clench his cock harder.

"-j-jun!" Your voice was getting hoarse, not holding any noises back.

"Cum, pretty." He pressed his thumb harder, and you fell over the edge, your pulsing walls milking his cock as he fucked his cum into you. When he finally stilled, you mewled with each panting breath.

"Gotta get you grapes more often~" Renjun chuckled, and you huffed.

"Rather have you instead."

-> Series Hub <-

Master-Master List

NCT Master List

[seat-safety-switch]

As tempting as it is, you can’t discard everyone else’s advice and go it alone. Such is the path to become a frustrated, bitter shell of a human being, frustrated at some complete bullshit that won’t move for you. What our species figured out eons ago is that working together gets things done. Something that has been frustrating you for weeks has been encountered – and defeated – by some other weirdo. Maybe you have some skill or tool they need. When paired up, you can make some really strange shit.

Of course, among project-heavy freaks like myself, it’s difficult to find people to collaborate with. We’re just so busy all the time, due to the bourgeoisie demanding that we serve in spirit-draining jobs instead of eating grapes while reclining nude in the sun. As a result, it can be hard to justify asking someone else to give up their minuscule amount of project time in order to help me with mine.

I did think about starting a “buddies program.” The idea is that, when you’re bored at home and need somewhere to hang out for awhile, you can go hang out with some random person. You’ll pass wrenches, and shoot ideas about how to pull that fucking cockeyed throw-out bearing out. Bread, maybe? Stuff it in there and push it out? Okay, go get a loaf of bread. The downside of this program is the same as it always is, the tragedy of the commons. Even among your wrenching friends, I am certain there is someone who is more of a drain on the available time and resources than they put back in. In my friends group, it’s me. This works out as long as you are friends, and have some kind of common social goal, or at least the others are concerned for your welfare and are trying to keep you from going off on your own and adding nitrous oxide to, say, a zoo elephant. With random, anonymous internet perverts? We’d have a murder on our hands in a week. So that whole idea went in the trash.

So the solution, then, is to make more friends. Friends with weird cars. Friends with interesting lives, and a lot of lived experience. Friends with that cool portable bandsaw I saw on the internet the other day, that thing seems like it would work really well to chop this road sign I stole from outside their house into a skid plate. It is through community that we’ll save ourselves. Just not the community that I stole the road sign from. Those normal people aren’t helping me at all by calling the cops.

[leebrontide]

This is not gonna win me a lot of friends on here but seriously a lot of y'all are irritating me lately with your gleeful piracy posts.

"Poor people deserve stories, to!" You're right. 100% Go on gumroad. There are a ton of authors, myself included, who are giving away free books there. Many of them are from the very marginalized backgrounds y'all claim to want to champion. Look for newsletter giveaways. there are literally so damn many ways to get books that come from creators who have consented to give them away. Oh, but you think anyone should be entitled to the exact book they want without paying for it? the popular book from the big publisher? That's a different thing. That's a different thing that continues to uphold ideas that the mega-corporations are the only source for good stories, that only stories vetted by the companies you claim to be rallying against have value.

"Piracy is archiving!" Archiving is archiving. I can't speak to how it works with indie videogames or what have you, but with books, this is absurd. Ok, say you illegally download a book. If it's from a huge publisher, this is nonsense cause a ton of those were printed. It is not in danger if vanishing. Say it's from a small publisher- you have now decreased that publishers chances of of continuing to print and distribute the book. You are making the book harder to locate in the future. You want to make sure a book doesn't vanish? Pay for it. If it vanishes utterly off the internet when the author dies or whatever, then yay, you have a copy and can maybe help get it back in circulation. Not paying for the book didn't help with that. You can help save an out of circulation book later just as well if you paid for it.

"Piracy is counter corporations!" See point 1. Also, a lot of the sites where you all are pirating fiction do just as much scraping of indie, self-pub, and small press books. Robin Hood wasn't stealing from the poor to give to the poor. I personally know an author whose publisher dropped them mid series because the book wasn't selling, who later found a piracy site with WAY more downloads of her book than there were legal sales. She gave up publishing after that.

This isn't sour grapes, folks. To my knowledge, my own books have never been pirated, and to be honest, over the years I've sold as many copies as a regular mid-list author with a pig publisher.

But I have watched so many authors- not wealthy people- have their work stolen from them. Many of them are disabled and really struggle with other kinds of jobs. They can do this work, but they can't make money, and this is honest to god a big part of why. I feel like people don't believe this. If you don't hang around authors maybe it's tempting to buy in to the hollywood idea of an author.

If you don't think you're entitled to demand free labor from a plumber, then why do you think you're entitled to demand free labor from an author or artist? Is it because you don't have to look them in the eye? Is it because you feel like you can get away with it? Is it because you've fallen for the fantasy that authors are wealthy people living glamorous lives, and their labor doesn't count because they're so lucky to be making a living with their art?

I don't know. And please don't defend this to me.

Just go read free books, if you can't afford to buy them and don't have library access. Or at least stop rubbing what you're doing in the faces of all the creators on this website who put a lot of hard work into the things they make.

Reblogs are nice, but reblogs accompanied by cheerful endorsements of stealing things which aren't freely given do not make for an ideal community.

[cupcakeinat0r]

hihihihi i have a lot of thoughts of dad bod bc he is my wife and i love thinking about him so sorry for the spam but u asked for it girl

this one is just a general one lol BUT while i do see him drinking sum corona or modelo i definitely know that man is a big wine mom, expensive wine stored where gabi can’t reach (saying this bc i accidentally smashed an expensive wine bottle when i was little and it’s now miguel’s deepest fear). so expect wine nights with miguel, his robe untied with your head on his chest, his feet on the coffee table and cuddled up while you guys talk about whatever — he gets very talkative when wine drunk and will shit talk all the people in your life because i said so

another thought is after reassuring miguel that his body is still sexy in your eyes meow he starts to take advantage of that. normally he’d look like the guy who doesn’t care how people perceive him, positive or not, but knowing how much you love his new body he’d constantly wanted to be reminded of it. so any shirt he’d wear to cover his stomach and arms were now non existent at home just so he can hear a whistle from behind and smaller arms wrapping around him to hold onto his stomach, feeling up his body as you shamelessly mumble suggestive praises while leaning your body into his back .. he likes the validation and attention ok?!?!?! he is me i am him?!?!?!?!

he also likes getting woken up by you sitting on his face or sucking him awf i mean ok byeee !! 🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️🙋🏽‍♀️

GIVE HIM TO MEEEEE this is all so gud bae omg

First off, the wine ?? (Also, I feel like Gabi would have her own stash of “wine” but rlly it’s just sparkling grape juice Miguel gave her so she can feel included n not tempted to snoop around the real stuff lmao) Yea, he likes em dry, will only drink ‘em if they’re the finest n oldest bc my man is boujee like that. n the untied robe?? Chest hair n stomach out??? Fresh out the shower n smellin like teakwood n sex??? Yeaaaaa ima need a min………

Secondly, I’ve made self conscious dad bod… but cocky dad bod Miguel ??

SOMEBODY HELPPPPP MY PUSSYS GONE CRAZYYYY

Alicia!!!! Girl!!! The ideas r ideaing rnnnn. That’s it, next Drabble is cocky dad bob Miguel. Yea ima make him an attention whore bc EYE said so.

Girl duh, thicc man likes to eat, ofc he a munch n I would gladly wake him up both of those ways every single day uGH GOD, THIS IS ALL I WANT, PLS IM NOT ASKING FOR A LOT.

[westerosoliviapope]

Theon Greyjoy - A Day in the Life

I loved this Theon segment so much, I want to give it room to breathe outside the other shenanigans in my latest update.

From Warrior in a Suit (Scandal Westeros - Finale) on A03

"That's the one."

Gods, Theon thinks. Don't let it be the expensive one. He flips the view on his phone so Sansa can inspect the selection of rings on the tray.

"Far right. 1.5 carat, round cut, white gold," she says. "It looks just like the one on her Pinterest board."

Of course.

He nods to Sabitha, the smiling saleswoman behind the counter. A mere six months ago, those tits peeking through her scandalously-buttoned white shirt would have compelled him to give her something more fleeting than the healthy commission she's about to collect.

He's in love, not blind—but neither Sabitha's turnips nor the significant dent in his credit card can cool the warmth in his chest imagining Jeyne's face when she sees this ring.

Theon Greyjoy. Betrothed. He's tempted to pinch himself.

You learn a thing or two watching your best mate spin out from a broken heart. Namely, you don't want to be the bloke who lets the girl—the One—get away.

Day two of their trip to wine country, having dinner on a balcony at Redwyne Family Vineyards as the sun set over rows of red grapes as far as the eye could see, when the light caught whatever Jeyne put on her face that evening to make her cheeks shimmer and all of a sudden he couldn't breathe, Theon knew.

He was done for. Over. So long to the Sabithas of the world.

Maestro, you can cue the wedding march…

The Riverlands' rains don't bother him —a walk in the park compared to the icy storms he grew up with. As far as he's concerned, it's 70 degrees and sunny as he whips his Tesla through the Capitol nodding to the sounds of Jaero Hovys. He became a fan while stationed in Tyrosh, sharing a base with Braavosi soldiers who couldn't get enough of Jae's layered, braggadocious rhymes. When you spent your days trying not to get your cock blown off by landmines, you took confidence where you could get it. For Theon, that meant chanting lines like "I will not lose" and "allow me to re-introduce myself" while waiting in the fields, rifle at the ready.

He generally prefers the earlier stuff to the recent releases with his wife, Bellegere Otherys. Since taking Jeyne to see the pair in concert, however, he appreciates the newer tracks. He doesn't even skip when "Boss" thumps out of his custom speakers.

"Everybody's bosses/ till it's time to pay for the office—"

Fucking hell. How does the phone always know to ring right before the best part of the song? His frustration is quickly replaced with a shit-eating grin when he sees the name flashing across his dashboard.

"Ms. Poole," he answers. He swears he can feel the ring burning a hole in his pocket, even though it's locked in his safe at home. She has no idea… he thinks. Or does she? Bloody hell, if Sansa spoiled the surprise—

"Are you seeing this thing with Arya and your uncle?"

He tries—actively—not to see anything about anyone in his family, except maybe Asha. But keeping the Greyjoy name out of his feeds is difficult of late. What with Euron emerging from bumfuck Asshai and casting himself as Westeros' new main character. Running around with Cersei Lannister. Going viral for shitposting celebrities and the government. Now, apparently he's arguing with Arya on Twitter.

Once he's at his desk, Theon goes through the tweets. All 319 of them. Arya listed the 318 victims of the 2002 Bear Island Attack, a name per tweet, and ended the thread with:

"The media wants you to forget, so they can use the theatrics of a suspected terrorist to boost their ratings. Please think of your Northern neighbors before you platform/share/boost Euron Greyjoy. Time changes many things—it doesn't bring back the loved ones we lost at Bear Island. #TheNorthRemembers."

587k retweets

In reply, Euron posted a photo from Robb's campaign with Theon featured prominently among the Stark siblings.

"Seems you aren't triggered by all Greyjoys. Just the ones who don't kiss your 'honorable' arses. Westerosi elites use every trick in the book to censor me because I tell the truth. Don't let the sob stories fool you.

869k retweets

How long before his phone starts buzzing with requests for comment? Theon gives it two, three hours tops.

When he left Pyke to join the armed services at 18, he thought his days of explaining his family ties were over. He enlisted as Theon Harlaw with no plans to return to the western shores of the Narrow Sea. Once the Three Daughters' conflict settled, he'd find a local Tyroshi girl—a buxom waitress, bartender, or the like—and have a stable full of blue-haired sons who'd never hear their family name associated with words like "extremist," or "cult."

He was in Tyrosh a year when a new crop of cadets came over from the Military Academy at Storm's End, and the name "STARK" appeared over one of the bunks in his unit.

When the Bear Island Courthouse fell, he and Asha were already emancipated, having won their freedom with the assistance of their Uncle Rodrik. The national media knew of Balon Greyjoy, the Iron Islands governor who didn't publicly support the Church of the Drowned God, but—conveniently—never brought the full force of the law down on its extremist sect. They knew the masterminds behind the attack, and applied the term to Aeron and Victarion without irony. And they knew of the enigmatic Greyjoy brother whose "business" took him to Qarth—known drug and money laundering capital of the world—a month before the attack.

They knew little of the wife who divorced Balon ten years prior on grounds of spousal abuse. Or the pair of teenage orphans left to fend for themselves when she died.

His mother's surname let him and Robb coexist peacefully when he first arrived. As the legend of the Young Wolf spread, Theon stayed cordial, but distant. They worked together when duty called. Otherwise, Theon spent his leisure time with the Braavosi unit. With their music, brashness, and penchant for good liquor, they were more his speed than the boy scouts from the Military Academy.

Leave it to Balon to blow it to shit.

News of his father's stroke came via letter. Addressed to "Theon Greyjoy." Like it was bloody designed for shouting in the unit for everyone to hear.

Theon learned three things that day.

One: He wouldn't receive a penny of his trust fund without the Greyjoy name.

Two: Robb has literal bricks for hands.

Three: A fist fight can be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Moments like tonight—watching his name turn into a trending topic because he didn't just have "a" crazy uncle, but came from a family of hucksters who amassed power by deluding an impoverished region with the fantasy of subjugating women, never paying taxes, and attacking merchant ships in the Sunset Sea like a band of old time pirates—makes him wonder if being a Greyjoy is worth the money.

Hovys said it best. Take the good with the bad or throw the baby out with that bath water. Theon Harlaw couldn't drop $21k on an engagement ring.

Fuck waiting out the storm. He may as well steer into it. Smother this baby in the crib before it hits Robb's radar and turns into a real shit show. It's the last thing they need after that Westerling business.

And yes. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of his mind, Theon liked the idea of eye candy in the office when that bloke from the Lorathi embassy gave him her resume. How was he supposed to know Robb would lose his godsdamned head?

Before Jeyne—his Jeyne—not Slutty Fanfic Jeyne…

Well. Okay. Theon would've done the same. Or at least tried. But he didn't unzip Robb's pants and stick his cock in the girl. So, not his fault.

"WNTH. How may I help you?"

"Theon Greyjoy for Wylla Manderly."

Hound that she is, Wylla barely lets the phone ring. Gods save anyone standing between her and an exclusive. "Your uncle has half the republic calling you 'Theon Sheepboy.' Care to comment?"

Sheepboy? Oh. Wolves. Sheep. "Charming," Theon retorts, tapping his pen on his desk.

Time to earn his keep as comms director.

"I'd like to say, on the record, that I have been honored by the gracious warmth and welcome I've found within the Stark family, and stand ardently with them in support of the families and victims of the Bear Island Attack. Euron Greyjoy is a photo on a mantle in a house I barely remember. And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Got it."

"One more thing, Wylla…"

"Aye?"

"The headline is me and my uncle. The family's been through enough without Euron goading them into a brawl." Better Euron's army of bots calling him "sheepboy" than whatever vile shit they'll say to Arya.

"Careful, Greyjoy. People might start thinking you're galant."

"Me?" Theon smiles. "Never."

[fizzingwizard]

Decided to do this cottagecore ask game. No one tagged me, I'm doing it by myself just for fun :) And I tag whoever else wants to do it for fun haha

Would you rather live in a lone lighthouse that’s overlooking the grey-cool sea, a little cottage in the woods far off the beaten tracks or an old mansion at the outskirts of town with an overgrown garden?

A little cottage in the woods. A lighthouse is too remote and lonely and I'd be scared of storms. Old mansions with overgrown gardens are almost definitely haunted. Now, a little woodland cottage is likely inhabited by a people-eating witch, but I'll be fine as long as I cook her first.

What kind of marmalade or jam is your favourite?

Strawberry jam! Except pb&j which absolutely must be grape.

Botany aside – which flowers would you keep in the window box under your bedroom window?

I like a profusion of color so many kinds. But lately I'm very into lantana.

What does your ideal picnic look like? Which food would you pack, where would you go, who would you ask to join you etc…

My favorite "picnic" is a summer barbecue, does that count? Lol. For a more picturesque sort of picnic, I'd go hanami-style with lots of cold finger foods. I do like sandwiches but prefer rice balls. Hot tea in a thermos if it's spring, lemonade if it's summer.

Another way I love a picnic is at the beach. Then it's mostly the same but plus fresh corn and watermelon.

What’s your favourite recipe?

Impossible to pick, but I'll go with chili because it's so filling and always delicious. Not a very cottagecore answer lol let's call it "spicy forager's stew"

Which pet would you rather have – a lamb, a cat or a hen?

I love cats, but I'm allergic. Had one growing up who I was find with, but every other cat I've ever met has made me so miserable just by existing. I want one though so I'll have to get some allergy meds. I do like the idea of a hen because fresh eggs. And nekoniwa's chickens are so cute

How would you rather spend a day alone – riding a bike into town to go to the farmer’s market followed by a trip to the library or having a walk in the forest followed by a picnic amongst the trees?

I guess I'm not buying anything at the farmer's market if I'm going directly to the library after and can only carry a little on my bike anyway? I will pick the forest walk because there's nothing to tempt me to buy it and I can just bring a book.

Which season is your favourite? Why?

Autumn. The season of winding down. To me autumn is the wisest and most magical season. I always feel like I've come back home in autumn after a spring and summer of running around. Also I love the holidays.

Would you prefer to live on your own, with inner peace or share your cottage/old mansion/lighthouse with a partner?

My dream is a little house away from town with just me and my partner. But only if my partner were as happy being as reclusive and quiet as I am. I enjoy being alone, but I'd rather have the option of being alone sometimes and together sometimes, which I can only have by living with a partner who has a similar temperament.

Name 5 details from your childhood home that you remember fondly – they could be a scenery, an object, a scent…

Christmas lights out my bedroom window The hole in the fence between my house and my best friend's house Barely being able to see the Fourth of July fireworks over the trees but being too lazy to go down the hill for a better view Smell of my mom's banana bread My uncle playing the spoons at New Year's

Which song(s) would you listen to on a golden-slow morning while making breakfast barefoot in the kitchen?

I wouldn't make breakfast barefoot because I'm terrified of hot oil splashing. The song would be this piano cover of Where Is My Mind

The scent of the forest in the morning, the scent of freshly baked bread or the scent of beeswax candles?

Scent of the forest in the morning wakes me up happy, especially if it's after rain

Would not having a connection to the outside world, except for, say, a landline (so no internet, no smartphone etc) be oppressing or liberating to you?

Sorry I'm so internet dependent ;_; But I'm not sure? I've thought of trying to cut myself off for a little while to see if I focus on other things more. But I don't think I could do it for long.

How do you take your tea or coffee? Which blends do you prefer, do you take sugar, milk, cream, lemon etc. Or, if it’s coffee – do you take milk or sugar etc

Hate hate hate coffee. Just the smell makes me sick. Love tea, pretty much all tea - fruit teas can be a little too sweet for me though. I don't pay much attention to what blends I drink. A lot of green tea, and I don't put anything in that. For black tea I add a little sugar. I love cold unsweetened barley tea in summer but apparently that's made from seeds so it's not a real tea :P

Share a treasured childhood memory!

Camping with my friends and having deep 13-year-old girl conversations late into the night

Would you prefer a garden to be aesthetically pleasing with flowers, decorative ponds and statues or practical, with vegetable patches, bean rows and currant bushes…?

Well, both, if possible, but honestly I'm probably gonna screw up the vegetables... so I should probably stick to flowers :P No statues though. Maybe a bird feeder.

Blue early mornings with dew-glittering grass and birdsong or golden late mornings with buzzing bees and the sun tangled in your curtains?

Impossible to pick, gimme gimme gimme

Which book would you read on a lazy day while rain and wind dance outside?

Jane Eyre

Knitting, embroidery or crocheting?

Can't do any of the above but I sure admire people who can

Name 5 details you long for in your dream home – they could be objects, architectonical features, etc

I really, really, really want a screened-in veranda <3 An attic with a skylight A garden that magically takes care of itself, lol A recessed book nook and/or play area for kids, I loved the sense of being in a "secret space" growing up Fireflies in the backyard

[libidomechanica]

“Fool”

A Kelly lune sequence

               1

Morning on this body decorate the ground, let bee.

               2

With the bounty wrong. And thus singly well-conduct’s less?

               3

Today when I be? Fool! Lights are much depends of hate?

               4

Saw nothing let’s lay, and God stand, whatever I do!

               5

Nor can body, we that all displease. The clubs no more.

               6

If lowliness town! No, no, not I. But the lilies.

               7

Should connected woes. A sheathenish. Bid me too near.

               8

That which man may regard to Aristotle. For all?

               9

Juan consent’—consent. Each other show’d with Ismail’s ours.

               10

He fixed the class is fit to virtue prefer a spark.

               11

Ah wanton music’s charming, which men vain., Cupid’s blood.

               12

In our mothers also have our fame, it is vertue, truth.

               13

Cite is, than his larger soul, like picture, how I love.

               14

For Wit is foiled. Their create Ideas in their shafts.

               15

And if his golden as a voyage or vessel lost.

               16

’Er them gold, and fashion. Come in a grey hairs bid come!

               17

Beams, but now she knew the true? When Julia did not pass.

               18

I will not of Woman face; wit tempt further. The night.

               19

Pardon where Vertue is come a library, and all be.

               20

With muffled this glass. What still these Four which seem’d to bee.

               21

Will be. Now for fear my Garment quite a paragon.

               22

Since God is filled window blew bubbled, the long to light.

               23

Come, Madam—hist! More bright like two people say his arms.

               24

That was near history; but when my wings, to scold, but, ah!

               25

And wonder in an evil sprite, and she queen they be?

               26

Not that besides the ball. An Inner Meaning hello.

               27

But, ah, Desire? Nonsense for ever see Brooklyn.

               28

Now Juliana stung! Bats, blind, lest soil took pity.

               29

Such a one Why will. Wherein with stamina so steals.

               30

Cried. Towne fierce tears, of counsellors’ for malice still the Sage?

               31

I must want to row; in thee, as swan or snow, his soul!

               32

And I don’t make me this child, without younger brother.

               33

But you in men. Albeit all; I could kill his child.

               34

And so steal on peal, the grass. The photos anymore.

               35

And thee afternoon the Sea? But bravest, with edge-tools!

               36

Bid me through the destroyed. No one column; date, Falmouth.

               37

But that I can’t but once. Fear she that Donna Inez.

               38

Did not in looked pines. Smoking dress, often fifty rhymes.

               39

I lost pulse of chromatical, but is fine-pointed.

               40

Father blood, not knowledge. Was it outlasts in good nights.

               41

Look we for words, the glow tells to retort the mart; swords.

               42

Our state of youth: but, finding they feel? A Haire than one?

               43

Dominion. Can everywhere, for a stone to pick up.

               44

But sweeter stresses. These contented on Nelly Gray!

               45

All your confounded fawn came troop, to hold the tulip?

               46

The bee? And see how or what—I never has made up.

               47

When a female. Him all within its grasshoppers warm.

               48

And all the Seraskier. And Lilly, why man would be.

               49

To this same heaven’s Angels known; and the fair. Your purse.

               50

The work of you here? Inez were vanish: wept they grief.

               51

Must I, who would refused it, and rain. Of burning Post?

               52

As e’er begun. Hee will displease their midst of fellow!

               53

He reader!—Because it but on pantaloons or booze.

               54

The Madeira to the human fair! He would enter.

               55

Wretched the woods were remains? As change she stand the branch.

               56

Ashes to weary of love, give me now! With the true?

               57

Indeed! Here, now, and on the drying through destroying.

               58

Father cases, is the great word about his first-fruits.

               59

The frock and rose. He too great with a heavy measure!

               60

Charlotte, having now. What kind of his own nature light.

               61

A still cries, Forsooth, let bee. And when they sought up true.

               62

For half an honest speech. Or calm around, in shining.

               63

And if the flowers. I’ll calls friend scrawled on the stomachs.

               64

While Dame sans merci hath a far mountain posts themselves?

               65

Such I grieve thee! Thou shalt not one of the wild bird’s wing.

               66

Of polish fashion. Two signs o’er a flower and flow.

               67

And grape could kill? As in the gaunt famine, and this whole.

               68

Poor grapes is philosophic in our beauty, you know.

               69

At my legs. The latest things are pretty child will spin.

               70

Who was a fine,—even survive the motion. What sigh.

               71

Love without desires. The quiet limits, but them.

[lunaavity]

ATTENTION - 15 ramen

-written piece ahead, 0.9k!-

"what do we need to buy again?" beomgyu asked for the second time while smiling sheepishly towards you. you could only roll her eyes jokingly before listing the things gaon had already written in the list of stuff to buy.

"let's find hearts or red and white themed decorations first. shouldn't be that hard since valentines is coming up right?" you muttered the last part to yourself and started to search down the aisle alone while beomgyu wonders to the next aisle.

"it's here! hearts theme!" beomgyu shouts from the other side of the aisle. pushing the cart that beomgyu had left, you headed to the aisle right beside yours. beomgyu wasn't wrong. the whole aisle is filled with all kinds of decorations. banners, those little popper things that pop out confetti when you push them, balloons and so much more.

"lets take this one. since we have three stalls, lets take three then." you say as you put in three packs of the banner shaped in hearts.

"do we need cloths? i was thinking since we have the banners we could layer the cloths behind them so it could look more complete."

beomgyu asked as he held up a packaging with coloured cloth inside.

"ohh good idea! sure let's go all out." you smiled as you pushed the cart closer so beomgyu could put the cloths in.

"what about confetti? but they'll be messy tho" you said looking directly at beomgyu. he stayed silent for a bit before speaking.

"yea i think it'll be really messy. it would be a hassle to clean up. but it depends on you." beomgyu shrugs as he continues to look down the aisle.

you decided to put down the confetti filled packaged back on the shelf and follow beomgyu further down the aisle. most of the decorations that they sold would result in having to clean up after the fun. as tempting as the fun part sounded, you and beomgyu both agreed to not buy them.

after buying all of the decorations you could find, both of you headed to the convenience store near the entrance for a break before continuing the search later. it was nearing 1 pm, and both of you were hungry. seeing as most of the food places in the mall was almost full due to rush hour, you both decided to go simple and eat instant noodles at the convenience store.

"here's your ramen, and here's mine." beomgyu said as he put down the ramen cup on the table where you sat.

"thank you, here's your water. i hope you like grape jelly drinks." pushing the cup of water towards beomgyu, he happily accepted.

"this is my favourite! how did you know?" beomgyu smiled widely as he sipped the water filled jelly. that was a lie. beomgyu would pick soda over fruit flavoured juice anyday, but you didn't need to know that.

"oh really? im glad. this is my favourite too so i just picked what i thought you liked!" you smiled to yourself as you managed to guess correctly.

"oh right. wait here." you said as you hurriedly went to the shelves to pick out some stuff.

after checking the packaging to make sure it was the one gaon wanted, you headed back towards beomgyu.

"what do you have there?" beomgyu peered curiously towards the basket you held in your arms.

"oh, this is for gaon and me. both of us wanted some of this ramen so i bought some for him." you explained as you set down the basket

"why does he want ramen?? isnt there some in koop. he can just buy it there." beomgyu muttered as he took another sip of the drink.

"yeah but the one there isnt as good as this one. " you said as you held up one of the packages to show it to him.

"really? is it that good?"

"you've never tasted this one before??" shock was written all over your face. beomgyu felt embarassment creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks.

"um yeah well no, not really. i dont have that much time to go outside of school and buy stuff yknow." to avoid you seeing his kinda flushed face, beomgyu dunked his head doenwards and started eating the ramen. while you sat in your seat bewildered.

"oh my god you have to try these! this is the best i swear. so much better than the ones at koop. ill buy some extra for you then you can some over to my dorm and we'll eat it together. i want to see your face being stuffed with deliciousness." you rambled on as you pulled beomgyu to the aisle to take more packages of the ramen.

"okay so, they have 5 flavours, mild, spicy, cream, spicy cream, and extra spicy. do you want to try one by one or like just buy all of them at the same time?" you said excitedly while showing all of the different ramen flavours they had.

"why not all at once? when's the next time we're going to come here anyways." beomgyu shrugged while taking each flavour a packet and stuffing it in the basket you were holding.

"true true. so when are we going to gather and eat?" you said as you made space for the ones he hasnt added yet to the basket.

"how about tomorrow night at like 6? we can watch movies while eating or so." beomgyu suggested.

"okay, that doesnt sound bad. sure!" you. nodded enthusiastically

"great. its a date then."

"yeah. its a date."

masterlist previous next

notes! finally this part is updated. sorry for the long wait, i wasnt well physically and mentally but im back now! hopefullly el oh el

synopsis! when the school president of hybe high mysteriously dies, a spot in the student council is now open. and to the overachieving students of hybe, its now or never. choi beomgyu, the bad boy of the school decides that its time to change tactics, after all who wouldn't want the attention of the whole school?

taglist! @flrtsbin @ashxxkook @feline4txt @terrylvr @woncheecks @ioszzn @milkycloudtyg @wccycc @bnhaikyu @vanillamilko @bluebearybeom @luvsoobs @yeppeudau @tae-ology

[venenatd]

last meal; jean kirstein x reader

summary: you and jean are in a relationship, and finally get some private time for a cute picnic date the day before he goes on the mission to marley. it’s v cute but also ur both horny!

content: smut / nsfw 18+. minors dni. (public/outdoors sex, dracylphilya, size kink, fingering, thigh riding, use of “good girl/baby”, praise kink, female bodied reader, unprotected sex, creampie) some fluff for good measure.

i am new to this pls let me know if i should add anything!!

word count: 3.3k words of unedited content

a/n: i saw a cottage core inspired jean post and this idea immediately popped into my head. i also kept thinking back to the sunset blush scene and it felt destined lmao. i thought it was gonna be shorter but i guess i get carried away lol. pls feel free to send me requests or ideas or give any advice on what you liked!! thanku!<3

Everything is painted with gold. The sun hanging low in the sky, despite the late hour, still warms your skin. You and Jean walk away from the Scout Headquarters, warmth of the evening allowing you to roam without coats. 

He’s in a tight cream shirt, braces holding up darker toned pants. A simple hat sits on his head, shading his eyes from the setting sun. You, a simple sage dress, loose and flowing around your legs. The long grass tickles your flesh, and the two of you laugh as you try running through the field, lifting your limbs stupidly high to jump over the pasture. 

Jean snorts at you, watching you flap around. The orange hue of dusk makes your hair shine, your skin glow beautifully. And as you look up at him, a wide and goofy smile spreading across your face, he can see all the flecks and details of varying colours in your eyes. And it takes his breath away. 

It was the last night before the end. He’s not sure of what, but it feels like the next chapter is to be finished when he closes his eyes tonight. Tomorrow he goes to Marley. Hange ordered all of their team to go relax for the final day at home. “We’ve gone over the plans enough, we know every angle! Go! Shoo!”

Hange was right. Going in and getting Eren home. It was engrained in Jeans brain. The scouts knew everything they were going to before they arrived. So tonight, it’s all about you.

You, with your skirt floating around you as you weave between trees, making your way to the clearing the two of you know so well. It’s where he first admitted feelings, where you first kissed. The others don’t know (or so you both think), and until he’s safe from his last mission, you’re not sure the two of you will ever reveal your affiliation. 

Pulling a blanket from the picnic basket you’ve brought with you, Jean lays it down on the ground. There’s a wide pond in front of you both, some ducks still paddling about. A thin haze floats over the water, the last of the summer heat still encouraging dragonflies and water skippers out. 

The light snacks you’d managed to sneak out from your job in the kitchen were delicious. You’d whipped up some light pastries and desserts from leftover ingredients. Even some strawberries and grapes. Whilst everything was miniscule from lack of provisions, it tasted good enough. 

Dipping the sweet red fruit from the cream and sugar and between your lips, Jean is in heaven. Your hair being pushed by the wind away from your face, the rosiness on your cheeks. The world may end tomorrow, but tonight he’s got all he needs.

His hands reach over, noticing the drip of cream collecting on the corner of your lips. Swiping his thumb along your cheek, he notes “you’ve got a lil..”

Jean looks at you, his eyes locking on yours, still gently cupping your face in his hands. Warm pupils flick down. His brows scrunch together for a moment, before he moves forward. His other hand comes up to your face, and he is so gentle when he kisses you. It’s as if he may break you if he goes too far.

The soft plush of his lips on yours, slowly pulling you in is intoxicating. He leans back on his forearms, pulling you over him, not letting you leave his mouth. You knock into his hat, it flopping off behind him as you lower your chest over his.

A hand reaches to his chestnut hair. It’s grown long over the last few years. You play with tendrils, the two of you lazily kissing. It’s soft and easy. You’re breathing into one another your chest resting on his as you move a leg to intertwine with his. 

Shifting yourself slightly, you rest directly above his thigh. Jeans hand comes to the back of your neck, making sure you don’t split the contact he so desperately needs. Your nails slide softly against his scalp, twisting into his hair with more want. 

The man, your man, underneath you curls forward, leg lifting and chest pushing up into you. Your crotch bumps against his thigh. A delightful little gasp erupts from you. If Jean wasn’t tongue deep in your mouth he could have even missed it. But he is, and he didn’t. 

He’s tempted to see how far he can take this, maybe make another first here. You’ve had sex, and plenty of it. Although for the most part it’s been rushed, the nature of your jobs only allowing for quickies. You both lived in shared rooms, and the lack of privacy was definitely a roadblock in his attempts to please you.

This clearing, in the outside meadows by headquarters, is maybe an ironic place for the privacy you both so need. Putting any doubt out of his mind, Jean lifts his muscular thigh, achieving another gasp into his mouth from you. You grind against it slowly, tentatively.

“No need to be shy, baby girl” he smiles into the kiss.

Cheeks rosy, you roll your hips along his leg. Jeans body rises further, leaning back casually on one hand, the other gripping the flesh between your waist and hip. He breaks the kiss that has been going on so long, wanting to take in all the ways your face displays pleasure. 

Your eyebrows knit together slightly. Your lips are wet with saliva, slightly parted as you give off little mewls each time your clothed cunt is brushed along his cotton pants. 

There’s a sweet and tender feeling building in your lower stomach. You can feel how wet you’re getting, the slow and methodical undulations generating a heat between your thighs. 

“Jean, plea-”

“You want more?” he’s quick to answer. Your head jumps and up and down, past the point of playing shy. 

His long fingers meet with your jaw once more, lightly skimming your features. He’s noting it all down in his head. Maybe he’ll even make a drawing of you. You pause in your ministrations, and a low tutting comes from the man. “No, no. Keep riding. Get yourself ready.” 

A delicious smile emerges on your face, and you bear down on his thigh. You take your hands on each leg, gripping onto the thickly built muscle underneath the cloth. A couple of fingers miss their mark, and you can feel how hard Jean is getting. Eyes flash between his crotch and his face, and he can sense how eager you are to please him. 

His touch moves from your jaw down, one finger slowly running along the centre of your throat. Jeans hand dips, slowly dragging his fingernails across each collar bone, down to the valley of your chest. Your breath hitches, and he moves away again. You shift your hand in response, moving it towards the joint between his thigh and pelvis, allowing your fingers to brush his clothed balls.

Wherever his fingers move leaves a tingling in their wake. They push towards your shoulder, teasing the fabric from each one. Your dress pools a little, allowing him to make his way back, this time taking your breast in his hand. Thumb brushes against your puffy buds, and a finger meets it to squeeze lightly.

Jean fully lifts off the blanket, sat up straight. He makes quick work of your dress, pulling it down and pushing it up. He grabs at your legs, going between light caresses and tight grasps, not knowing which to settle with. Finally he finds purchase in your ass, guiding you back and forth over his thigh.

You moan into his mouth, fully succumbing to the wetness surely dampening through your panties, the feeling of his fingers twisting and teasing your pert nipples. He raises his fingers from your chest, using his thumb on your lower lip to apply gentle pressure. 

Breaking the trail of saliva that connects you both, he pushes an index finger between your lips. You’re all too eager to suck on it, eyes looking dutifully at him. He inhales sharply between his teeth. His cock is so hard, so desperate to fuck into you. Jean wants it to be slow and beautiful, but he simply needs to have you. He wants you close to him before he leaves and doesn’t know if he’ll come back. And close means being inside you, hearing you in your purest form. 

The dusky pink settling on his cheeks could be the sun, low in the sky, filling the meadow with rich hues. 

Your moans could not be interpreted so wholesomely.

Fingers wet with your spit, he moves his hand between your legs, under the skirt. Pushing your panties to the side he lets you ride his palm for a moment. Teasing yourself, teasing your clit on his strong hand. He goes deeper, fingers sliding through your folds. He slips through your folds, resting at your entrance, before allowing your hips to rise and him to push knuckle deep inside you.

You reddened lips form a perfect ‘o’, and the bliss on your face is one he will remember forever. His thumb moves to your clit. Still on top of him, Jean watches you fuck yourself on his fingers. He kisses your neck, your chest. Taking your nipples and sucking, biting, nibbling. 

Your walls are closing in on him, before gently relaxing and he can tell you’re close. 

“Don’t be shy” Jean reissues his earlier statement. But now it’s far huskier, far more commanding. “I want to hear you, y/n. I want to hear you cum.” 

You’re watching his face, the words - orders - tumble from his lips. They make you flutter around his fingers. You murmur out tiny please’s. 

“What did I say? Louder, y/n.”

You moan against his neck, “please.”

Jean pulls your hair, making you extend your neck, forcing you to look up to the hues of pink and orange. “Louder.”

You’re so close. “Jean, p- please!” 

“Good girl.”

With that he’s flicking his thumb over your clit, fucking his fingers up into your cunt. The sounds of liquid and wetness only add to the noises of you cumming. Pussy clenching around his fingers, hips giving way and as your legs start to burn and shake. Jean holds you up, working you through your orgasm. He wants nothing more than to watch you fall apart, moaning his name. And then whining curses as you become oversensitive. Yet your gummy walls still suck him in, begging for more.

Leaving your tight walls, he brings the fingers to his lips. You taste tarte and sweet. Better than strawberries any day.

Your breaths are heavy as he twists the two of you, resting you with your back on the blanket. You are radiant. A green halo of grass above you, the dusting of pink on your cheeks, your lips kiss-swollen.

Jean pushes your skirt up, eyes trained on yours as you rest on your elbows. Your eyes follow his movements. How his tongue wets his lips before he drags them on your inner thigh. How his fingers dig in to pull you closer towards him. 

He pulls off your sodden panties, kissing into your hips, your belly. Jean is slow and deliberate. As much as he wants to be deep within you, he’s never had the chance to enjoy you this slowly before. 

He rises, kissing your breasts as they spill from the top of your dress. His tongue paints saliva on your lips before slipping between them. The kiss is intense. It’s deep and sloppy and so needy. 

Your hand reaches to his shoulders, thumb slipping underneath his braces pulling them off. Hands slip under his shirt, and he quickly helps you pull it off. His muscles are firm and taught, the amount of work his body has been through over the years evident underneath your fingers. You trail fingertips over stripes of knotted flesh, kissing each mark and scar after your hands move onto the next one. 

“You’re beautiful, Jean”

Jeans cheeks go rosy and he smiles so bashfully that it breaks you apart. The lopsided grin makes you pull him back into you, teeth bumping together as you giggle into the kiss. 

He unbuttons his pants, pushing them far enough down his thighs to allow more friction as he grinds into you. Jean is noticeably straining his underwear, his member long and hard. You move your hand down to cup him, squeezing gently through the cotton. You tug on his cock, leaving him stuttering into your mouth. Holding him just tightly enough, he ruts his hips into your hand, little sighs escaping his mouth into your hair. 

Tucking your hand under the fabric, you pull out his dick. It makes your hand look smaller, Jean’s member long and hard. The pink tip is slick with precum, and your thumb brushes his head slightly, earning a little hiss. 

You go from light little touches to harsher ones. Fingers brushing against the veins on his length, before you wrap around him again. He’s whining in your ear, “you like playing with my cock? Seeing what you do to me?” 

With hooded eyelids you look at his contorting face and whisper “yes, yes. I want to please you, I want to make you feel good.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

Taking his member, you push the tip against the heat between your legs. Teasing your clit with his head, he looks down to watch you work. Precum lightly sheens over your folds, and fuck, Jean can’t wait to add to it. 

“I w-want you so bad Jean.” 

“You have all of me.” 

You hold him against your entrance, the tip of him just resting at your little hole. Pulling him in a little, he pushes against the first tight ring. It’s always intense letting Jean fuck you, making you so full. You rock your hips up, letting him slip out a little, before grinding back down. It pulls him into you so sensually. He moans unashamedly as you control the pleasure you both receive. 

Repeating the action, you lift again, pushing him out, and again tightening your stomach muscles to curl and bring him deeper inside you. His golden eyes are trained on where you’re conjoined. 

He’s halfway inside you, stretching your tight walls so much already. Jean sits back, moving his tongue around inside his mouth before letting a ball of spit fall where his cock rests inside of you. Spreading it on his length, he helps you the rest of the way. Letting your eyes widen and gasp of surprise (how are you always surprised by the feeling?) as he fully sheaths himself inside you. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he holds himself above you, head falling back as he inhales slowly.

Jean allows you a moment to breath, before he pulls back out, quickly snapping his hips back to yours. Moans tumble out of your mouth as he fucks into you. Lashes fluttering and your tits bouncing in rhythm, you are a sight for the sorest of eyes.

“You’re so pretty for me, all splayed out on my cock.” 

He pushes your legs apart, watching his length disappear inside you. Watching how one hand twists your own nipple, the other feebly trying to grab onto his wrist. He’s splitting you apart on his dick, the feeling of being so fucking full taking over. You were already sensitive from your last orgasm, but he builds another, the tightening in your core unmistakable. 

“J- Jean,” you hiccup, so overwhelmed by him. “You’re s- so big” 

“You’re taking me so well, y/n.” 

He lowers himself against your chest, bringing his knees upwards and closer to your ass. You curl up around him, holding your legs further up. Jean quickly renegotiates the position, pulling your legs around him whilst you hold under your knees. You can feel him so deep inside you this way, pulled into a ball underneath him. Jean wants to be impossibly close, and this new angle is punishing on your pussy. He can feel how wet you are between you, how much you enjoy the intensity of his cock working in and out. 

His forehead presses against yours, his hand snaking between you two. From his new angle, he can hit that sweet spot inside you so easily. His length sweeps against it, and hits into your furthest wall. He lets out curses as he feels your cunt tighten each time, mixing with the moans and mewls from you. You lock eyes with him, big doe eyes pricking. 

“Pl- please, I’m so close, Jean.”

Fat tears roll over your cheek, trailing to your temple. Everything feels too much. Him inside of you, the wet squelching between you. His strong fingers rubbing over your clit again and again. You let out a sob, followed by a moan. It’s a combination of knowing this is the last night, feeling how fucking intense his cock is inside you, hearing how much Jean needs you. He kisses your cheeks, tasting the salt, not faltering as he continues to pummel into you. 

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

His balls slap against your skin. 

“You can do it.” 

His teeth bite at the flesh of your breast, pull at your nipples.

“I want to hear you.”

His fingers play and roll with your clit, feeling the way you tighten around his cock.

“Please cum for me, y/n.”

Your back arches off the blanket, the night sky soaking up the moans. The lewd noises in between you both are all consuming, the slap of slick and wetness only adding to your full body sensation. 

His fingers keep moving on your clit, and Jean grunts each time your pussy spasms around his cock. He keeps pace, fucking you raw and with need. He loves to see your delicate face scrunched up, eyes rolling back and mouth unable to close. 

And with the tightening of your walls around him, Jean’s close. “Where do you want me?” 

“I want,” you inhale sharply, as his cock drives back into you, “you inside me- I- I need you Jean. Please.”

“You’re so good, baby, you’re so good.” He’s getting quicker, making you writhe beneath him in your overstimulated state. “I’ll give you what you want, okay? I’m going to cum inside your pretty pussy.” 

Jeans fingers are going to bruise you. He's holding onto you so tight, never wanting to let you go. It’ll be something to remember him by. Movements are starting to stammer, the sweat evident by the sheen forming across his shoulders and face. You tuck a tendril of his honey hair behind his ear. “I love you”, you whisper amongst the moans. And with that he pushes deep enough to make you cry out, feeling the hot ropes of cum painting your walls. 

Your man rests inside you for a moment, gathering his breath as he leaves languid kisses against your breasts, your jaw, your lips. He pulls out, seeing his cum drip from your pussy. Using his fingers he pushes the white around your folds, earning a sharp his when he brushes past your clit. Finally, he brings his fingers to your lips, and you put out a delicate tongue. 

Cleaning him with your mouth, he sits back, sighing softly. How can you be this good? And you like him? Jean thinks he is the luckiest man on earth. He adjusts your dress for comfortability, before dipping next to you. Your heads are lightly touching, your hair intertwined with his. Staring up at the sky as the last colour leaves it in its inkiness, he holds you close. He presses his final kiss on your forehead. 

“I love you too.” 

[saphirered]

Hey! You asked for individual character requests, so how about Vex x Reader (I thought I’d give you a break from EXU as well), where the reader has a massive crush on Vex, but is unfortunately really scared of Trinket? And maybe something about Vex helping them to relax and bond? Thanks regardless! I love your writing x

Thanks for requesting! This was definitely a fun one to write so I hope you enjoy! 😘

-

You may or may not like Vex. Okay, maybe a but more than just like, closer to a major crush but how could you not? Vex’s intelligent, quick-witted, drop dead gorgeous and don’t even get started on the woman’s charm or you might just swoon. Gods above, you’ve fallen for the half-elf hard. The worst part; you know she likes you too. She’s stated so several times, flirting with you more than anyone else and not just to get something from you. She’s not shy about it and takes every opportunity she can get to make you blush. It’s great, or would be great were it not for your very reasonable fear for big hulking bears and Vex just happens to call one such bear her closest of buddies if not closer to a fur baby.

You’re not sure what to do. Trinket, you know, is nothing short of lovely but you cannot get over your fears no matter how much you may like Vex. You’ve kept your distance and retreated within your shell every time the big grizzly is around. Bears are scary. Sharp claws and teeth, super strong. They can climb, swim and run. They’re great trackers too so there’s really no getting away from them.

“Darling, do you have a moment?” You’re seated at the table scribbling away on some paperwork you needed to take care of. Someone has to assure there’s any food and drink left after Grog has one of his solo exclusive parties again. They’re not really parties and only consist of him inviting Scanlan and Vax for a night of binging food and ale until the sun comes up but you’re always out of groceries right after.

Vex peaks around the corner leaning on the doorpost arms crossed. You put down your pen and nod. Vex nods her own head to the hallways behind her and you get the message getting up and following her to wherever she’s leading you. There’s a determination in her step but she tries to cover everything else which leaves you worried just a bit. What’s she up to?

“Vex, where are we going?” You fall in line next to her as you begin to ascend the stairs.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ve found the perfect sight I think you might enjoy and simply wouldn’t want you to miss out before the weather changes. I’d like to discuss some things with you too so, two birds one stone?” Okay that does sound like a reasonable explanation. Maybe almost a little too reasonable now you think of it. You continue walking until you’re stopped in front of a door, Vex opens it and allows you to step in.

Immediately you see the late afternoon sun shine through the clouds, casting rays of golden light upon the landscape contrasting with the darkened grey of the rain ahead. It’s an absolutely beautiful sight. You enter the room walking up to the window as Vex steps in and closes the door behind her. You hear a grumble and a soft but forceful ‘shh’ behind you.

“Just my stomach. I’m afraid I haven’t had lunch yet. Would you like to enjoy some with me?” You turn around at the offer, seeing the table to the side set with lunch for two and a huge plate of fresh fish. A brown grizzly tries to nibble on the tail of one fish in an attempt to pull it off the plates without his momma noticing and is quickly scolded.

“Trinket! What did I say! Stay hidden!” Vex scolds the bear as you squeal making a break for the door but Vex is quicker and grabs you by the arms stroking your shoulders in a calming motion as Trinket growls in shame, for disappointing Vex and being tempted by the delicious fish.

“Let me go, Vex.” You almost beg and Vex offers you a sad smile.

“I’m afraid I can’t just yet. I wanted to ease you into this but as we’re a bit short on time, we’ll have to take this route. Now calm down, just breathe, in and out. That’s it.” You do as she says, Vex guiding you and preventing a mental breakdown of being face to face with your fear in an enclosed space. Her presence makes it a little better knowing she at least is able to control Trinket to an extend and you know he won’t attack you outright but doesn’t get rid of the fear.

“Now, are you alright to sit down or am I going to have to tie you up to prevent you from running? I’m not opposed to the latter but I think we’d both prefer better circumstances.” Vex jokes, or half jokes. You know her well enough for that. You nod and she guides you over to the table, sitting you down on one chair while taking the other next to you, rubbing circles in your back to keep some nerves at bay as trinket makes himself comfortable, laying down, eyes closed but occasionally peaking, pretending to be asleep, much akin to a young child having been told to go to bed.

“Shall we eat?” Vex gestures to the set table and you have to admit the food does look divine, maybe minus the plate of fish though. You look between her and Trinket. You can do this. You’ve been in the same space as Trinket plenty of times before. Granted, those times the spaces were much bigger and there were several people between you and the bear at all times.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I could do with some food.” Your voice shakes but Vex smiles anyway. Small steps are better than none at all. She half expected you to have made a break for the window. She took all the precautions and ‘fear-proofed’ the room just in case. Awkwardly you’re eating and if Vex has learned one thing from animals is they don’t eat when they really mistrust the company, so people can’t be much different right? Vex attempts small talk asking you about your day and such and while you replied you always keep an eye on Trinket not so successfully pretending to be a sleep even mustering a fake snore.

Halfway through Vex keeps staring at you absentmindedly playing with her food leaning her chin upon her enclosed fist. She’s got plenty of ideas running through her head but all are circumstantial. Maybe she’ll go for a hail Mary.

“Darling, do you trust me?” The question makes you look at her confused. Have you done anything to show that you don’t? You don’t think so.

“Of course I do. You’ve saved my life more than I can count. I trust you more than anyone.” You admit a bit wary of where this is going but it’s Vex and what you said is true.

“Could you close your eyes for me?” You look between her and Trinket biting your lip. You do trust Vex but within your own head a battle between that love and trust for her and your fear for the big fuzzy animal rages on. What are you supposed to do?

Vex sees your struggle and gets up from her seat. She gracefully walks around the table making sure your eyes stay focussed on her and kneels down in front of you. Taking both of your hands in hers she squeezes them softly and gives you a gentle comforting smile.

“I want you to know your trust is not misplaced so I’ll give you this.” Vex takes the necklace from her neck and puts it around yours.

“Now I want this back when we leave this room but for now you’re in control of it. Will you close your eyes for me?” She asks once more. Her expression says enough to let you know if you don’t want this you don’t have to and literally anything but closing your eyes will show her you’re not ready yet and that would be okay. There’s no shame in taking small steps or finding a different approach. She’d come to terms with that too but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t relieved and happy when you nodded and closed your eyes.

Darkness. That’s all you see, and the occasional movement of light outside bleeding through distorting that darkness from time to time. You’re hyper focused on your other senses and you’re unsure wether that be because of closing one sense off or because you’re practically shaking with fear awaiting for that fight or flight reaction to kick in. You smell the sweet fruit from your plate, the gentle kick of the fermented grape juice, and of course the slight saltiness of fresh fish. You hear a grumbled moan and the sound of paws-no sharp nails hitting the fine stone floor step by step almost drowned out by the soft whispers of encouragement of Vex.

Trinket, as quietly and carefully as he can makes his way over to you. Vex shushes him a couple of times and the bear loyalty obeys the commands, laying down at your side. Vex takes one of your hands and you jump a little when she does so she turns to rubbing circles in the back of it as she guides your hand away from your lap towards Trinket.

“You’re doing great.” Vex can feel the gentle shake of your hand but you don’t resist so very slowly she guides you towards Trinket until your fingers touch his fur. You breathe in sharply holding your breath upon contact and freeze up, waiting for something to happen, be that a sharp claw slashing out at you, teeth munching down on you, a roar in your face but none of these come. Even Trinket awaits in suspense for your responses, his bear senses giving him enough insight in your discomfort.

Once you’ve gotten a moment to adjust Vex takes her hand off yours watching both you and Trinket. You don’t dare open your eyes yet but in the back of your mind you hear words of encouragement. You’re doing great. You got this and before you know it your fingers glide, all be it a little rigid and awkwardly, through Trinket’s fur.

“Perfect, darling. You’re doing absolutely wonderful.” You nod afraid to speak and break the spell you definitely must be under with this newfound courage.

Vex couldn’t be more proud of you. When you walked in here she wasn’t even sure she could have you be in the same room as Trinket for more than ten minutes and now you’re petting the bear. She watches as you slowly peak through one eye and when you deem the coast clear open the other too watching in amazement.

“He’s so soft…” You breathe barely audible and Vex laughs. Trinket grumbles at the compliment making you pull away your hand and jump a little but when no repercussion comes you put it back and continue petting the bear, who begins purring softly almost akin to an oversized cat. You can still feel your heartbeat in your throat but this is going relatively okay until you begin seeing spots and you start feeling dizzy. Vex notices and pulls your hand away from Trinket offering you your glass.

“Maybe that’s enough for now? We’ll take it easy.” You nod and feel the nerves subside as Trinket returns to his comfy spot by the window. It may be best not to push your luck and drive yourself into a panic attack.

“Don’t worry, darling. Before you know it we’ll have you riding into battle on Trinket’s back. Won’t you like that Trinket?” She shouts over her shoulder to the bear who replies in a happy moan. Vex pours you another glass of wine after she watches the colour drain from your face. Let’s stick to small steps. But for now, the first ones have been taken. Besides, she can’t deny you’ll look absolutely marvellous riding into battle on her favourite Trinket.

[writtenjewels]

Switch part 8

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven

Cullen and Dorian sat in their usual spot playing chess. It was a clear enough night that the moonlight helped them see what they were doing. So far Dorian hadn't resurfaced the subject of Cullen's encounter with the desire demon, but Cullen just knew the Tevinter was stewing over it. He wished the man wasn't so damn clever: he guessed far too easily what demon Cullen faced and how it had tempted him.

“My demon was Desire,” Dorian spoke up suddenly. “When it was my turn, I faced Desire. It thought it could seduce me with grapes and wine.”

“What it should have done was given you books,” Cullen teased. “I see how you light up every time I bring you new tomes.”

“It's charming that you think the books are the only reason I light up.” Cullen went red and Dorian chuckled. “Though you're right: a good book would tempt me far more than grapes and wine. I miss reading.” He let out a sigh and moved one of his pieces on the board. “Sometimes the headaches are so bad I feel like someone is banging a hammer to the inside of my head. How do you manage to read all those reports?”

“Sheer stubbornness,” Cullen admitted, earning a laugh from the other man. He claimed a piece before he spoke again. “Do you miss your magic?”

“I miss wielding it in battle with Malika,” Dorian nodded. “I want to be out there helping her, not stuck here. I know, I know, the research helps too, but it's not the same. I joined the Inquisition to be a part of it.”

Cullen stared at him; he had no idea Dorian felt this way. “You are a part of it, Dorian. A very important part, with or without your magic. You must know that Malika sees you as a valuable member of her Inner Circle.”

“Thank you,” was all Dorian said. They finished their game when Cullen declared checkmate and started to head back inside. “Do you think we should try sleeping again?”

“It's nearly dawn,” Cullen reasoned. “Might as well get in some practice sparring. That's how I deal with my insomnia, anyway.”

“Are you going to teach me how to use a sword?”

“No, I've seen you practice with the other mages; it wouldn't suit your battle style. You would do better with grenades: they're quick and can be thrown at a distance. I'll help you get back on the battlefield if that's what you really want.”

“Thank you, Cullen.” Dorian paused his steps, turning to face the commander. “I wish I regretted that spell more, but honestly... I'm glad. You keep so much hidden inside you, Cullen.”

“So do you. You're just a lot more glib about it.”

“It's safe to say we won't be able to hide from each other anymore,” Dorian remarked.

“No,” Cullen agreed. “We won't.”

Their lips met tentatively, and when there was no rejection from either side the connection grew more defined. Dorian's fingers curled tight into his shirt and his hands dove into the Tevinter's hair. Cullen shuddered as the heat of their embrace built inside him. This was better than any fantasy, his own or one crafted by a demon.

Their tongues intertwined and he heard a guttural moan slip out of Dorian. He arched his body closer to Cullen's and the commander kissed him even more fiercely. Whenever they paused for breath they lunged back at each other as if they couldn't stand even the few seconds apart.

Cullen suddenly remembered part of the spell that started all this. “What is mine, is yours,” he hummed against Dorian's mouth.

“What is mine, is yours,” the Tevinter responded. It felt like a promise, like they were offering something to each other. It's yours, they were saying with each kiss. It's all yours.

[st-kitten]

Kinda Hot In Here, Innit?

Summary: Aokaga in the hot spring after a game.

Warning: Close to smut (if that's a thing).

Seirin High with their overly fatigued team and Touou High with their hotheaded champions found themselves sprawled in the hot springs after a nail-biting game, more, between the aces of each team. They'd thought that this kind of play only happened the first time when the anxiety of surpassing one's own limits was the most palpable. But, even after a friendly rematch (just to settle the grounds for once), neither of the teams had been able to break each other's spirits. What was anticipated to be a heated conclusion had ended with a nerve-racking tie.

'I can't believe this,' muttered Hyuga, crossing his arms swiftly, creating ripples in the water.

'Hate to agree with you,' said Imayoshi, his narrow eyes squinting ever more than usual.

'Will there ever be a conclusion?' asked Hyuga. No one answered.

'No conclusion, only concussion,' whispered Izuki, earning nothing but eye-rolls and hitched breaths from the men.

'Aomine was perfect as always, isn't that right?' remarked Imayoshi, a glare from Hyuga spiting him.

'Hn,' the bluenette hummed.

'What matters is that we had fun playing, right Kagami-kun?' asked Kuroko, turning toward the redhead leaning against the cool rocks of the spring, eyes closed. He had AirPods stuffed into his ears, his phone lying around on a deck, away from the water.

Kagami didn't say anything, so the team assumed he hadn't heard Kuroko or had dozed off. They resumed talking about the match and its peak points. Much to their disappointment, everyone was too exhausted to drag the conversation and decided to visit the sauna.

'Yes, sauna sounds good,' soughed Kiyoshi, massaging his aching back.

'I can't wait to get out of the water,' complained Imayoshi, getting up hastily and accidentally hitting Sakurai, gaining at least ten apologies at a go.

'Yes, the sauna we go, the better,' said Izuki, instantly getting kicked into the water by Hyuga.

Kuroko looked at Kagami, contemplating whether or not he should nudge his friend, but seeing him relaxed in the water changed his mind and he simply followed the rest of them.

Kagami could barely hear the ambient conversation over the music that played in his ears. No matter his ambitious play, at the end of the day, fatigue took over him and he succumbed to the ache latched onto his body. Somedays, he just wanted to lie in one place doing absolutely nothing. The hot water from the springs had seeped into his tired body, allowing him to let loose and forget about the next course of action. For now, he just wanted to unwind the rigidness in his body. Suddenly, he felt the steam hiss in his ears as one of his AirPods was yanked out. Assuming it fell in the water, Kagami jolted upright hands already in the water attempting to grasp it. He was startled to feel a presence tower him.

'What girly shit is this, bakagami?' He recognised the coarse voice instantly. His rival, his equal, Aomine Daiki stood in front of him, one hand on the waist and the other pressing the AirPod in his ears, the music echoing in both, Kagami and Aomine's ears.

'Tch... Give it back, bastard' grumbled Kagami.

'Don't tell me. You like Taylor Swift?' Kagami could hear the taunt in Aomine's voice.

'I- It's- That's on shuffle. Why do you care anyway?' Kagami replied.

'I don't.'

'Why're you here? Go with the others.'

'No.'

'What do you mean, "no"?'

'Exactly what you heard, bakagami. No.'

'Then go sit in the corner. Don't bother me.'

Aomine smirked at the redhead's remark. He'd seen Kagami's rudeness coming from a mile away.

'Sure,' he said, slowly stepping back and leaning on the deck, a couple of feet away from Kagami. He saw him tense, arms tightening to fight the tension he'd took on himself. The idiot plays too hard sometimes, thought Aomine. He'd long confessed to himself that Kagami was a miracle in making, but seeing him take the journey this hard made him want to smack the man into his place. He knew that the same road Aomine took won't guide Kagami up there, but taking things down a notch wouldn't harm him either.

'At least change the song, will you?' he commented.

Kagami's eyebrows quirked and angrily realising that Aomine still had an AirPod embedded in his ear, he grabbed his phone, pressing "next". The last thing he wanted was to be mocked for having a differing music taste by his "rival". He tossed his phone onto the deck and huffed, massaging his shoulder, which seemed to have gotten a cramp.

[cue Mine by Bazzi]

He watched Kagami struggle to release the strain in his shoulder rather comically. Kagami under the public eye was very perplexed and clumsy.

'Tch, you're only making it worse, baka,' he said, strolling toward Kagami, who rolled his eyes and continued to massacre his already exhausted shoulder.

'Turn around.'

'What?'

'Turn around,' said Aomine, twirling his finger in the air, signalling the redhead to do as directed.

Kagami gulped, trying to determine why he'd been asked to do so.

'Why?'

'I'm going to get rid of that stupid cramp in your shoulder. What else?' answered Aomine. His words hit Kagami like several hundred basketballs and he yelled, blushing, 'What the hell, Ahomine? I don't need y-'

Aomine interrupted his sentence by manhandling Kagami by his waist and spun him around. Kagami gripped the tall stone with his arms, trying not to slip and fall.

'What're you-'

'Shh...' Aomine's voice vibrating behind his ears made Kagami shudder a little. He had run out of excuses and timidly waited for Aomine to pull a trick or two. But, instead, he felt calloused hands press on his shoulders, kneading his shoulder blade tenderly, to his surprise. Kagami definitely was not expecting this.

'You play too hard, bakagami. Take it easy.' Aomine's voice shed the usual mischief and sounded more solemn, something Kagami hadn't heard from the ace who destroyed his opponents like squashing a grape with two fingers.

Kagami scoffed but didn't reply. He wasn't prepared to have that kind of conversation with Aomine. But, he did agree, Aomine's hands had a way to ease the pain in his shoulders and slowly release the knots packed in the muscle. He didn't know why he was enjoying this contact, in a hot spring, with only a pair of boxers on, and with a crowd of people right next to the water, who'd take any chance to tease him were they to see the scene. He soon felt comfortable and let his shoulders fold under Aomine's touch.

Aomine saw and felt him relax and smirked to himself. All Kagami needed was a little push. Or fifty of them. It was then when he finally noticed how well-built Kagami actually was. All those years of hefty practice and grit had served him well. He could feel the sculpted muscles play along with his massage. Kagami's arms, which were propped against the boulder looked even more humongous in the dim light at night. If he didn't know better, he'd also call it hot. Kagami... was hot. Aomine almost choked at his thoughts, but there was no use denying them. As if he wasn't massaging Kagami's nearly naked body by his own will and secretly liking the way he arched his back whenever Aomine ran his thumbs across the redhead's spine. It made him wonder how Kagami would react to being touched in other places.

He was answered rather graciously when Kagami half-sighed, half-moaned as Aomine kneaded a rather rigid spot. More than happy to continue, Aomine chuckled into his ear, 'Glad you're having a good time.'

'Sh-Shut up, bastard.'

'Or what?'

'Or th-' Kagami turned around, temporarily breaking contact with the bluenette, facing him. Aomine simply stretched his arms over Kagami's shoulders and locked his hands behind his neck.

'Yes?' His smirk grew wider at the sight of another blush creeping on Kagami's face.

'What's the big idea, bas-'

'Quite the idiot, aren't you?' Aomine stopped him mid-sentence, inching closer to him.

Kagami halted in his tracks, physically and mentally, feeling Aomine's scent trickling through his nose, dampening his senses. His gaze automatically lay upon Aomine's smirking lips. He licked his own lips reflexively, not knowing why. He was tempted to take a small risk, but like the idiot he was, he simply froze and stared at Aomine's mouth like a deer stuck in the headlights.

'Want to get a closer look?' Aomine whispered, moving as close as he could get without touching the redhead's mouth. He could feel Kagami quiver, goosebumps rising on the neck Aomine had locked his hands behind. Kagami had wanted to reject the boiling urge to slam his lips onto Aomine's, but he got beat to it as he felt soft lips peck his mouth. Like a vintage television snapping shut with monochrome static broadcasting itself, Kagami's mind exploded into pieces and before he could fathom what was happening, he felt Aomine press his lips slightly harder, locking onto Kagami's perfectly, obstructing any escape. Kagami surrendered to the kiss and let himself go with the flow. He kissed him back, and not wanting to stand there like a stick, held Aomine by his lean waist. He could feel the bluenette smirk even when he was engrossed in pecking his lips. Aomine slid his tongue against Kagami's teeth demanding entrance, which Kagami gladly provided. Their tongues waltzed together in sensual sync, eliciting swoons from the two men. Aomine held Kagami's neck, the other hand pushing him against the boulder, their torsos meeting. Aomine's slender front fit perfectly with Kagami's bulky build.

'Hngh,' Kagami groaned and snaked his hands up to the bluenette's locks, gripping his head, wanting to never let go.

Waste this night away with me, you're mine!

Like slippery dolphins, their bodies moved against each other in the water, their hips craving the to and fro a bit too much in their tightened boxers. They could feel themselves respond to the intimacy, but neither wanted to eject the carnal desires out of their minds yet. The gradation of intensity augmented and they kissed each other in a frenzy, bestowing sloppy, wet, and impatient kisses upon each other, hungrily tearing apart the veneer of reluctance.

Aomine was drowning in astonishment seeing Kagami's response and could only strike back stronger. He pressed Kagami once more, letting go of his warm lips and making his way to his neck, letting his animal instinct drive the momentum. Kagami felt himself look up naturally, leaving Aomine a playground to work on. His grip on Aomine's waist grew firmer. Feeling his neck getting sucked on by the alluring man he'd let approach him this way felt a thousand times better than he'd envisioned in the mere seconds of their contact. As a response, Kagami tugged at his hair a little too harshly, making him grunt and pull away. But it didn't last long as they both found their way back to each others' lips, tongues gliding against one another. Long gone were the hesitancy and the rivalry. Aomine and Kagami kissed each other with the same passion they'd played against each other with, which was perhaps, what made them accept each other this way. To the world, it hadn't been more than a few minutes, but to them, it had felt like languorous hours, their hearts beating rapidly, hands in a battle to hold the other tighter, and lips claiming each other their own.

Aomine pulled away, panting ever so slightly, a thread of warm saliva tying the two together. He dared to look at the redhead once and the look he saw in Kagami's eyes drove him wild within an instant. He looked at him with an appetite, a thirst that Aomine instantly recognised as his own. He felt the same, he thought. A tinge of happiness overpowered the sense of relief. Kagami too knew at the back of his mind, that he wasn't an idiot to have thought so.

The distant chatter of Seirin and Touou high dismantled their moment and they pulled away from each other, Aomine putting the AirPod back in Kagami's hands, the ones which had ravished him seconds ago. He climbed out of the spring, holding the thick towel near his waist, covering the blemish implanted by Kagami's fingers. He walked inside the changing room leaving a flustered redhead smiling like a high school girl, controlling the urge to squeal. Kagami let out the breath he'd been holding and shuddered as the crisp air hit his abdomen, getting up and heading toward the sauna to meet up with his team, clutching his phone tight, the song changing to the next.

Kuroko waved at him, not noticing his red cheeks and the fact that all his tension had disappeared. Touou's team burst into the streets, exiting the hot springs, engaging in yet another conversation. Their ace, however, walked behind the group, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, earphones blocking the loud chatter of his teammates, and Taylor Swift musically reminding him of a certain redhead.

The TS song in the fic is Long Live (Pirated Version cuz we're waiting for Speak Now TV).

[floral-poisons]

im so shook rn because your mind is literally on the same wavelength as my right now—

EXACTLY—i have a cousin who ended up majoring in english writing with a minor in fine art and she works as a high ranking executive manager for a company and bestie she’s making hella dough. ive honestly come into contact with people who’ve so audaciously told me that english is a useless class and then proceed to ask me to help them write an email because they’re unsure on how they should get their messages across to others. ( funniest part is that one of the people who asked me to help him with this was an uncle of mine who shamed me for not liking stem and gravitating to the humanities instead ) omg it’s a similar thing for us arabs ! arabs started immigrating in the 1880s because of european colonialism ( boooo ! ) and most of the people who afforded the immigration fees were like high ranking literary artists , but when they came to industrial america they switched their fields to stem to fit in. the next few booms of arab immigrants would happen in the 1940s-70s, 1990s-2000s and most recently 2015-now. more of the older immigrants implore us second and third generation immigrant children to do stem, not out of malice or anything, but because they don’t want us to suffer working uneducated entry level jobs like working in the grape fields ( something my grandpa did in the 60s-70s when he immigrated to america after the yemenis kicked the british out ) OOH OMG I LOW-KEY ALWAYS FELT THAT GONE GIRL WAS ANTI-FEMINIST WHEN WATCHING THE MOVIE. honestly , i am thoroughly interested in these different essays you’ve written ! especially the shang-chi and the humanity of asian women ! i watched the film with my chinese friend and she told me she was pleasantly surprised with how they handled asian women , in particular katie’s whole career conflict and xialing not being the surper stereotypical east asian dragon lady. OOH TURNING RED—i was tempted to write a paper on how the movie was received to the public because i noticed some people actually being pissed that the movie didn’t reflect on nine eleven bc it took place like a few months afterwards ?? someone even had the audacity to go and say that the random hijab and turban wearing backround characters should not have been there because of 9/11 ?? i was so confused because it was a movie about inter-generational trauma and menstruation im— DRAG ME WITH YOU TO THE MOVIES AND WE CAN ANALYZE ALL THE TINIEST DETAILS TOGETHER. i actually wrote a paper in my first year in high school about the old bbc pride and prejudice show and how the different hairstyles and dresses showcased different things about the characters ! it was so fun and honestly i need someone like you who cares so much about the little things, as i do

ALSO THIS MESSAGE IS SO LONG ALREADY BUT IF YOU EVER WANTED WE COULD ANALYZE THE CHARACTERS OF TWST TOGETHER-

genie anon !

honestly it’s amazing to see how colonialism and imperialism really impacted communities in very similar ways with similar outcomes (yuck!). whose idea was it to conquer the world? like seriously.

i aspire to be as financially successful as your cousin out of college 😭 but who knows i have no clue what i wanna do aside from working with movies.

the main reasons why gone girl is anti-feminist pretty much lies in the fact that it leans towards common lies used against women and on top of that, it follows the “gaslight gatekeep girlboss” feminism that centers on white women. like if you watch the movie or read the book, it’s so clear that this was written by a white woman.

shang-chi is just amazing in all aspects!! story, camera work. like they did subtle things that really go a long way. and the reaction to turning red was just weird. it’s an intense combination of xenophobia, racism, and misogyny. and to see people dismiss it makes me so mad as an avid fan and defender of the movie.

honestly, i would read an essay about costuming and makeup. there’s a reason why it’s an award.

BUT YES PLEASE I WOULD LOVE TO ANALYZE TWST CHARACTERS WITH YOU!!