#THE THRILL IS GONE ／ inbox.

[moonstruckme]

hmmm how about james potter and shy reader’s first kiss? 💘

Idk how this sat so long in my inbox, thank you for requesting (and for your patience) angel!

James Potter x shy!reader ♡ 998 words

You know James has been holding back on your account. He’s still a thousand times braver than you are, always with a hand cast over your shoulders or resting on your back or clasped around yours and compliments dropping from his lips like they’re nothing. You find it easier to reciprocate when he makes the first move like that. To lean into his side, tighten your fingers around his, smile and tell him he looks lovely, too. 

Tonight he seems to be taking things further, and you suspect you know why. He’s seemed reluctant to let you out of arm’s reach all night. Instead of just holding your hand, he’d played with your fingers while you’d sat in the cinema. He’d pushed your hair out of your face when you turned to talk to him, and a couple of times he’d wiped chocolate from the corner of your mouth that you suspect wasn’t really there. Now, as you’re walking home, he’s rubbing a slow, absentminded back-and-forth across the back of your hand with his thumb. It feels like he’s testing the waters. 

You’ve been dating for a while now. You’d wondered when it would come. 

James walks you up your front steps, every smile he beams your way worsening the bone-thuddering beat of your heart. It’s not necessarily James that scares you. He’s perfect and lovely and kind, and you want him close so badly it’s humiliating. 

He squeezes your hand in his, and your nerves misfire, the toe of your shoe catching on the top step. You gasp as you pitch forward, but James is quick. He grabs you around the middle and you save yourself with your other foot. 

“Whoa,” he laughs. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Sorry, I don’t know how that happened.” 

“They are your own front steps,” James points out. There’s a knowing in his eyes, in the soft curl of his bottom lip, that makes your cheeks warm and your stomach flutter. “I hate to think of what unfamiliar steps do to you if you’re falling right outside your own home.” 

“I know.” You look down, pretending you need to check your shoelaces or brush off your pants or some other ruse he won’t believe, and try not to be so acutely aware of how he hasn’t let you go. “It’s humiliating. The neighbors will talk.” 

“Let me know if they do. I’ll set them straight.” 

You grin up at him. James’ expression is as warm as his voice. His eyes go molten as they meet yours, a look now familiar and yet newly thrilling every time. It makes your spine feel rubbery. 

“Thanks for coming tonight,” he says, voice gone a bit softer than usual. “I had a really great time.” 

“I did, too,” you reply earnestly. “Thanks for inviting me.” 

“You’re always invited, sweetheart.” His touch slips from around your middle, taking your hand again. “See you Friday, then?” 

When you’d told James how busy you’d be this week, he’d penciled himself into your schedule for Friday, when the pandemonium will have ceased. He wants to cook you dinner. You think you’ll likely deliquesce into a heart-shaped puddle when he does. 

“See you then.” You smile, and he smiles back, and then intention solidifies in his gaze.

You hold your breath. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. 

“Please.” The word leaves you on a sigh, and then James is stepping closer to you, your fingers tightening on his. 

The first soft press of his mouth is gentle and chaste. Warm, like the rest of him, like sunlight given form. His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, and you lean into the touch on instinct, slotting your nose alongside his to get him closer. It starts so slow and lovely you’re not sure you can handle anything more, but then James parts his lips and you mirror him reflexively and his sunlight is pouring into you. 

You let go of his hand to wrap both your arms around his neck. James smiles against your lips as you press closer to him, his hand gentle on your face as he slows you both down again with sweet, soft kisses to your bottom lip. 

“Easy,” he says, his own voice slightly hoarse now. It sends shivers down your spine, light as a feather’s touch. “Let’s give the neighbors one headline at a time, yeah? Don’t want to overwhelm the presses.” 

You’re lost for words. You let your forehead rest against his, eyes still closed, savoring the warmth emanating from your lips. 

“Angel, you with me?” James tilts his head up so his nose bumps into yours. You feel your lips curve of their own volition. “Was that okay?” 

You hum. “You’re right,” you say, impressed with how normal you manage to sound. “I think we should go inside so they’re left to wonder.” 

That earns you a hearty laugh, James grasping your shoulders when you’re forced away from him by the raucousness of it. 

“You said you were tired just a few minutes ago,” he reminds you. 

“I feel awake now.” 

He laughs again, delighted, and your face warms at your own brazenness. James lets his touch slip down your arms to your hands again, taking them in his and squeezing reassuringly. 

“As much as I’d like to,” he says, “you’ve got a big week. I should let you get to bed. Plus—” he gives you a roguish grin “—keeping you wanting more is how I get you to let me in here on Friday.”

You grin down at your shoes. “That’s very conniving of you.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m nefarious that way. But one more.” 

James tilts your face up with a hand, pressing one quick, sweet kiss to your lips before pulling out of your reach. You know you look as surprised as you feel, because his eyes dance with amusement as he backs down the stairs, his smile poorly repressed. 

“See you Friday, sweetheart.” 

[goldfades]

★ THE HARD DECISIONS LEAD TO THE GREATEST REWARDS ─── prologue

─ pairing | paige bueckers x fem!reader

─ word count | 2.4k words

─ warnings | unedited, some angst, coach misunderstandings and the feeling of being alienated, transfer-talk, nothing else? little r and p content but this is just the foundation, there will be a lot more coming!

─ ev's notes | as you guys know (OBVIOUSLY) my inbox is open for thoughts on this series and i'd love to know what you think so far, and maybe ideas for future chapters or even the plot itself since i don't have everything figured out just yet. anyways, hope you enjoy this prologue! ily all! mwah mwah

⇨ missing out on updates? check out the masterlist for my series!

May 2022

In a surprising turn of events, collegiate basketball powerhouse UConn has just secured a major coup with the addition of Y/N L/N to their roster. Y/N, once hailed as one of the brightest prospects in the 2021 recruiting class, has announced her decision to transfer from Arizona to UConn.

The news of Y/N's transfer from Arizona to UConn has sent shockwaves through the community, sparking speculation and excitement about the impact she will have on her new team. The timing of Y/N's decision, coming just weeks after the Wildcat's loss to UConn in the NCAA tournament, has led some to speculate about the impact of that defeat on her choice to transfer.

At UConn, Y/N will join a storied basketball program led by legendary coach Geno Auriemma. The Huskies, known for their tradition of excellence and strong team culture, offer Y/N the opportunity for a fresh start and a chance to rediscover her passion for the game.

"We're thrilled to welcome Y/N to the UConn family," says head coach Geno Auriemma. "She's a dynamic player with a bright future ahead of her, and we can't wait to see what she brings to the team."

──

March 2022

The buzzer echoed throughout the court and the UConn girls cheered loudly as they ran up to their teammates on the bench. You felt a lump form in your throat as you swallowed back the tears, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

Slumping onto the bench, you buried your face in your hands, the sting of tears threatening to overwhelm you. It wasn't just about the loss, though that certainly stung ─ it was the culmination of months of frustration, of feeling like you were fighting an uphill battle with no end in sight.

You had come to the U of A with high hopes and big dreams, but somewhere along the way, it had all started to unravel. Your coach, once a source of inspiration, now felt like an obstacle standing in the way of your growth. And the teammates, once friends and supposed allies, now seemed more like strangers, each focused solely on their own ambitions.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was heavy. Players sat in silence, their faces reflecting a mixture of disappointment and frustration. Coach Johnson's voice cut through the silence, his words measured and deliberate as he addressed the team.

"Look, we gave it our all out there," he began, his tone firm. "But sometimes, the game just doesn't go our way. That's fine, there's always next year and we'll come back strong. Practice is still on for tomorrow morning, 5am to 9am"

Coach Johnson's announcement of another early morning practice felt like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of everything that had gone wrong, of the sacrifices you had made in pursuit of a dream that no longer felt like your own.

As your teammates exchanged weary glances, you felt a surge of frustration rising within you. Was this all there was to it? Endless hours of practice, sacrifices made in pursuit of a goal that felt increasingly out of reach?

As the team dispersed, heading back to their dorms and apartments, you lingered in the locker room, the weight of the decision you had been wrestling with growing heavier with each passing moment. It wasn't just about one tough loss or a grueling practice schedule ─ it was about reclaiming your sense of purpose, your love for the game that had once been your escape.

"Fuck," you grumbled as you felt the tears fall. You sniffled as you got up from the bench, reaching for your backpack as you began walking out of the locker-room.

You heard the court doors open and some laughter, you held your breath as you ignored the annoyance that filled your stomach. You focused on your feet as you walked, not really watching where you were heading until─you collided with someone, jolting you out of your reverie.

"Oh shit, my bad," the blonde's voice echoed as she glanced at her teammates, giving you a thin lipped smile as she recognized you from the game. She was wearing a UConn jersey as she steadied you with a hand on your shoulder. "Sorry,"

You nodded quickly, wiping your eyes and trying to compose yourself. "You're good," you muttered, avoiding her gaze.

The blonde hesitated for a moment before offering a genuine smile. "Hey, you're a good player. We were all impressed out there. Keep your head up."

You managed a small smile in return. "Thanks."

As she rejoined her teammates and they disappeared down the hallway, you felt a strange mixture of emotions ─ regret for the loss, but also a flicker of hope from her unexpected kindness.

──

"What are you suggesting?" You asked as you met Coach Lindsay's gaze, your expression confused as she sighed ─ you knew what she was suggesting. "A transfer?"

Lindsay nodded, her expression somber. "I hate to say it, Y/N, but I think it might be the best option for you," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "It's clear that things haven't been working out here at Arizona. The coach, the team dynamic and now the whole Alyssa thing... it's all been weighing you down."

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair. The idea of transferring had been lingering in the back of your mind for weeks now, but hearing it spoken aloud made it feel all too real.

"I just don't know if I can do it," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've put so much into this program. Leaving feels like admitting defeat."

Lindsay reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder, her touch reassuring. "It's not about admitting defeat, Y/N. It's about taking control of your own happiness. You deserve to be somewhere where you can thrive, where you can be supported and valued for who you are."

Her words struck a chord deep within you. For too long, you had allowed yourself to be consumed by the expectations of others, sacrificing your own well-being in pursuit of a dream that no longer felt attainable.

Lindsay hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I'm not supposed to say anything but I've heard talk about UConn being interested in you. They've got a great program, and Coach Geno is one of the best. All you have to do is agree and just trust in the process, babe."

"UConn?" you repeated, the word feeling foreign yet oddly enticing on your tongue.

Lindsay nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Yeah. I mean, nothing's set in stone, but it could be worth exploring. Just think about it, Y/N. You will get drafted to the WNBA if you are at a powerhouse like UConn, especially with your talent."

You couldn't believe it ─ your own assistant coach was telling you to transfer. Was your situation at Arizona truly as bad as Lindsay seemed to suggest? You glanced around the locker room, the familiar sights and sounds suddenly feeling suffocating. Had it really come to this? Were things truly as toxic as they seemed, or were you just overreacting?

As you thought about her words, memories of the past few months flooded your mind ─ the grueling practices, the weird relationships (if you could even call them that) with teammates, the constant pressure to perform. Each moment felt like a weight dragging you down, sapping away your passion and drive.

And yet, amidst the uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope. The possibility of a fresh start at UConn, of rediscovering your love for the game and reaching your full potential felt right.

Lindsay's voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. "I know it's a lot to take in, Y/N. But sometimes, the hardest decisions lead to the greatest rewards. Just trust in yourself and follow your heart."

"Maybe you're right," you admitted, the words feeling like a weight lifted from your shoulders. "Maybe it's time for a change."

Lindsay smiled, her eyes shining with pride. "I'm proud of you, Y/N. It takes courage to admit when something isn't working and to take steps to change it. Whatever you decide, just know that I'll be here to support you every step of the way."

🚨 ESPN | BREAKING: Top Prospect Y/N L/N Commits to UConn Transfer 🚨 Y/N L/N, widely regarded as one of the most promising players in the 2021 recruiting class, joins UConn with high expectations. With UConn's storied basketball program and renowned head coach Geno Auriemma at the helm, Y/N's transfer promises to shake up the landscape of women's college basketball.

You glanced down at the notification on your phone, a nervous knot forming in the pit of your stomach. The news of your transfer had spread like wildfire, and now, seeing it plastered across the screen of your phone, it felt all too real.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of the reasons behind your decision to transfer. The toxic atmosphere at Arizona, the strained relationships with teammates, the relentless pressure from coaches ─ it had all taken its toll, slowly suffocating your love for the game.

But now, with the opportunity to join UConn, you felt a flicker of hope reignite within you. Here was a chance for a fresh start, a chance to rediscover your passion for basketball and thrive in an environment where your talents would be appreciated and nurtured.

──

"Okay, listen up!" Coach Geno's voice echoed throughout the room, earning the attention of the girls on the team. You stood by the shorter man and somehow, you still felt small underneath his towering presence.

"As you all know," Coach Geno continued, his eyes scanning the faces of each player, "we've got a new addition to the team. Y/N, I want you to know that you're not just joining a team here at UConn ─ you're joining a family. We look out for each other, we support each other, and we push each other to be the best we can be."

"You guys all already know who she is, I know you did your research." His lips quirked up into a small smile as the girls exchanged amused glances within the team. A ripple of laughter spread through the room at his remark, breaking the tension and easing the nerves that had been swirling in your stomach.

"As for you, Y/N," Coach Geno continued, turning his attention back to you, "I want you to know that we're thrilled to have you here. Your talent speaks for itself, but what's even more important is your commitment to the team and your willingness to work hard."

As Coach Geno's words sank in, you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with a hint of nervousness. Being welcomed into the UConn family by none other than Coach Geno himself was an honor beyond words.

With Coach Geno's words echoing in your mind, you joined your teammates in a huddle, ready to embark on this new chapter of your life. And as the team broke apart with a chant, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation for the season ahead.

──

"And uh, don't eat Azzi's protein bars. She gets angry when she doesn't get her gainz," Paige remarked as Azzi sent her a glare. Everyone at the table giggled at that as you nodded, glancing toward Azzi.

Azzi sighed. "I think that's like common courtesy, P. Y/N knows better than that,"

"Of course, Azzi. I'll make sure to steer clear of your protein bars," you replied with a playful grin, earning a relieved smile from Azzi in return.

"What else..." Paige hummed as she ate chewed on her food, glancing around the table.

"Oh wait, I got one. If Coach tells you to run suicides, just do them without complaining," Aaliyah chimed in, her tone teasing but with a hint of seriousness.

"And make sure you hydrate," Nika added with a smirk, raising her water bottle in emphasis. "Especially during those conditioning drills Coach loves to throw at us."

As laughter erupted around the table, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie and belonging among your new teammates. "Of course, of course."

"And don't come to practice hungover, Coach will notice and he'll force everyone to run laps," Paige added as she shivered, earning a laugh from Aubrey. "Better for everyone if you just skip,"

"I think you need that advice more than anyone, Paige," Aubrey added as she nudged Paige playfully, eliciting more laughter from the group.

Paige mock-glared at Aubrey before joining in the laughter herself. "Hey, I've learned my lesson the hard way. Trust me, nobody wants to run laps hungover. I'm tryna make sure she doesn't get too carried away, she's from U of A, that's like party central."

You shrugged, a smile playing on your lips. "She's not wrong, if there's one thing I'll miss it'll be the insane parties at Kappa Sigma."

"Ooh, so you're a frat girly?" Aaliyah teased, raising an eyebrow playfully as she leaned in with interest.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not exactly. Frat boys aren't really my thing," you smiled as you looked down at your plate. "Neither are guys, really."

Paige hummed in response as she smirked, raising her cup in a mock toast as Aaliyah's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but her expression quickly softened into understanding. "Ah, got it. Well, good thing UConn has plenty of other things to offer besides frat parties."

"Yeah, like winning championships," Nika chimed in with a grin, nudging you playfully. "And having the best teammates in the world," she continued, earning a chorus of laughs and "awws".

"Look at Nika getting all sappy," Paige mocked as Nika sent her a glare, earning another round of laughter from the table.

Nika rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the smile tugging at her lips. "Okay, shut up Paige,"

"No, you first."

"I asked first, Paige."

"I don't care, shut up."

"No, you-"

"Okay, that's enough." Azzi sent you a thin-lipped smile as you laughed, enjoying the playful banter between Paige and Nika.

You felt yourself settle into the team more and more with each passing moment, the laughter and camaraderie of your teammates easing any lingering nerves or doubts. As you listened to their stories and shared your own, you couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging wash over you.

These were your teammates, your friends, your family away from home. And as you laughed and joked with them, you knew that you had found a place where you truly belonged.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[familyvideostevie]

hey! do you think you could do a steve x reader fic that's grumpy x sunshine? ty in advance!

i have truly had this in my inbox for over a year, so i am so very sorry for hoarding it. i've twisted it a little -- here we've got what happens when you, usually the sunshine to steve's grumpy, has a bit of a bad day yourself. hope you like! sunshine!reader and grumpy!steve on a day when you're the grumpy one | fluff, 1.2k

Steve notices immediately. It's kind of weird, actually. He leans heavily against your door as he shuts it behind him, toeing off his shoes. The plastic of the takeout bags digs into his hands a little but he's just glad to be here, glad to finally see you after a long day. He likes your place better than his and he likes you best of all.

But something is off. There's no music, no familiar smell of that beachy candle he bought you burning. Are you napping? It's possible, but you sounded pretty excited when you called him at lunch asking him to come for dinner. And Steve, sue him, kind of expected you to greet him.

It's kind of an asshole thought, he can admit that, but you always do. You're always nothing short of thrilled to see him, your boyfriend, like he's been away for years rather than a day of work. You throw your arms around him and sing-song his name and kiss him sloppily because you're smiling so wide. Your love for him is infectious and he feels it all the way to his bones.

Because he's not exactly known for being a nice guy, right? Sure, he's not like, a jackass, not anymore, but he's not exactly cheery all the time. He's quieter than he was, a little more serious. It just comes with the territory. Getting older, dealing with shit. God knows he's dealt with a lot of shit.

But you? You're fucking sunshine. There's no other way to put it. He has no idea where you get your endless smiles for him, the laughter that bubbles out of you like sheer goodness personified. And you're with him. You love him.

Steve doesn't get it but hey, he's not going to complain.

So, something has to be wrong. "It's me!" he calls into the apartment. "Steve," he tacks on a bit lamely, hoping it'll make you laugh.

"On the couch," you call back. You don't sound sick or anything so that's not it. He pops into the kitchen to set down your dinner before shucking off his jacket and padding to the living room. When he spots you something in his chest loosens. God, he's so gone for you.

"Hey," he says lightly.

You look up at him from your book with a small smile but it's dimmer than he expects. "Hi, Steve," you say. You're pressed against the arm of the sofa with your legs stretched out, a book in your lap. You reach for him with one hand over the back of the couch. "Did you bring dinner?"

"Sure did," he says. He twines his fingers with yours and leans over to press his lips to your forehead. You sigh. "Nah, screw it," he says. "I'm coming over."

You know what he's going to do. "Be careful --" you try to say but he's already hoisting himself over and onto the couch. You pull your legs to your chest just in time as he bounces on the cushions a little bit.

Steve likes to be close to you. Everyone gives him shit for it when you're out, how he's always on you so much. Arm around your shoulder, thigh pressed to yours at the table. Hand in your pocket or holding yours. You've told him you like it, too, that it's grounding, so that's what he's aiming for. You shove your socked toes under his thigh and he wraps a hand around your ankle.

Time to see what the hell is going on with you. "So," he says. "Who do I need to beat up?"

You look moderately amused. "What do you mean by that, Steve?"

He reaches for you with his free hand. You've got a crease between your brows and he smooths it with his thumb. "You seem...down."

You hug yourself with your arms and sink deeper into the couch and lose his gaze. "Do I?" you say softly. "Sorry."

"Woah," Steve rushes to say. "Woah, no, hey, don't apologize. I just want to see what's wrong."

You say no more. His thumb strokes your ankle lightly and he wonders what the hell he's going to do to make you feel better. He's not very good at this part. You're always the one to bring him out of bad moods, to remind him of all the good stuff he's got going on. He can do this for you.

Steve gently pulls the book from your lap, folding the corner of the page before he puts it on the table.

"I was reading that," you say lightly.

"Yeah, well," he says. "You know I need attention to survive." You huff a laugh. Okay, progress.

Steve reaches for your face again. He lets go of your ankle this time so he can cup your cheek, your knees pressing into his chest a little. It's not a great angle but he can work with it.

"Baby," he says. It's your favorite thing he calls you other than your name since he saves it for moments like this -- when it's just the two of you. "Can you tell me what's wrong? So I can help?"

Your eyes shut and you lean into his palm. You take a deep breath and it shudders a little in your chest.

"I don't know, Steve," you whisper. "I know I'm usually so -- so -- happy, but I just got kind of sad this afternoon." You pull the words from yourself like a confession and Steve hates it. He hates how you sound disappointed in yourself.

"That's okay," he says. "Christ, that's more than okay. You can feel however you want. I mean, come on, you know I'm grumpy basically all the time." He hopes yet again it will make you laugh but he fails miserably as you sniffle. "Okay, come here."

You pull your feet from under his thigh and he hauls your legs over his lap so he can give you a real hug. He can feel your nose in his neck as you inhale deeply. He rubs his palm up and down your spine. He's had bad days, too. Hell, he has lots of them. It just happens, he just never realized it could happen to you, too.

"So, and correct me if I'm wrong here because you know me, but what I'm hearing is you just feel like shit and there's not much more to it."

You nod into his embrace. "That's about right."

"What can I do ?" You pull back at his question and give him a real smile, brighter than anything in the room.

"Just this," you say. "I'm sure it'll go away." Your fingers trace the line of his nose, his chin.

"It's okay if it doesn't," Steve reminds you. You tell him the same thing all the time. "Seriously. I know we have this whole dynamic or whatever but you can feel like shit forever, if you want. I hope you don't, obviously, but I'll take care of you if --"

You press your fingers over his mouth. "It's okay, Steve," you say. "I'll be fine. But I know you would."

Your own lips replace your fingers and you kiss him sweetly. He isn't ashamed to say he melts into it a little. He wanted to kiss you the second he walked in the door.

He's about to turn this into something a little less sweet when your stomach grumbles between you and you both pull back with a laugh. "Okay," he says. "Well, that I can fix."

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[perseephoneee]

hot cocoa [ficmas day 9] [dean winchester x f!reader]

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2024

anonymous: Hot cocoa w/ Dean Winchester pls 🙏🥺

author's note: this is awful, i'm so sorry. i had the worst writers block with this. it makes me want to die. someone come into my inbox and shoot me.

playlist:

i won't be home for christmas -- blink 182

underneath the tree -- kelly clarkson

santa baby -- laufey

The bunker was exceptionally quiet for a winter day, and you were spending that time relaxing. It was cold inside to save on electricity, so you had brought a space heater into your room. You had hung up colorful lights around your room, but that was the extent of your decor. You had your laptop open to Netflix and were re-watching some of your favorite Christmas TV episodes. You had also made some jiffy pop and hot cocoa and were bundled up under blankets with a thick sweater. It was the coziest you’d been in a while. 

It didn’t last long. 

“Hey, did you– what are you doing?” Dean asked, barging into your room. You paused the episode and glared. 

“Having a relaxing winter evening.”

Dean lay down right next to you and stole a handful of popcorn. You continued to glare at him. 

“Do you mind?”

“I like popcorn,” Dean shrugs. You acquiesce, putting the bowl in between the two of you. You keep your hot cocoa tucked safely to your side. You don’t trust Dean not to also steal it. 

“I’m going to be gone for about a week. I leave in two days,” you comment, shoving some popcorn in your mouth. Dean pauses the show.

“Going where?”

“Home…for the holidays,” you blinked, taking a sip of your cocoa. Dean took notice of the movement, and you licked the whipped cream from your lips. You realize that didn’t help the situation. 

“I didn’t realize that…,” Dean trailed off.

“Didn’t realize I had a family?”

“Most hunters don’t.”

“I make it a priority,” you respond. You realize you’re one of the odd ones out. Since you mostly stay on the research side of hunting, you feel a lot safer keeping them in your life. They found out about your hunting a while ago. Your parents weren’t thrilled. Your grandfather, the former marine, was excited you were ‘doing good work.’ He tried to give you a gun afterward. Your mother wasn’t thrilled about that afterward. However, they didn’t kick you out of the family, so that was a bonus. 

Thinking more about it now, you realize Sam and Dean have nowhere to go for the holidays. They’ll probably just stay here, drink beers, and exchange gas station gifts. 

“Do you and Sam want to join me?” you asked. Dean looked at you in surprise. 

“I, uh, well we…”

“I promise you won’t be a hindrance,” you said. “I don’t want you guys here by yourselves.”

You could tell Dean was torn. But you didn’t push him. Dean never did well when he was told what to do. You let the episode resume as you snuggled deeper into your pillows. Dean sank into the pillows, too, and you felt yourself start to sag against him at some point. You spent the rest of your cozy night watching sitcoms and finishing off the popcorn. And at some point, you fell asleep with your head on Dean’s shoulder. 

You woke up the next morning to find that Dean had cleaned up your movie-watching area. This was probably for the best, as you would’ve spilled hot cocoa. 

You came out to the main kitchen to find Sam drinking coffee and checking the news like always. Dean was cooking some bacon. You made a beeline to the coffee pot.

“Dean said you invited us to Christmas?” Sam inquired, looking up from his paper. You turned to him, nodding. You poured some coffee into a mug and added a dash of creamer. “Dean and I have talked and…if you’d still have us.”

Sam motioned to Dean, who paused his cooking to look at you. 

“We’d like to go.”

“Great!” you exclaimed. You were excited to have your boys with you for the holidays. Plus, your Mom had been begging you to bring them around sometimes. You finally had a good reason to have them. You stole a strip of bacon from the pan. “Be prepared for probing questions.”

“On second thought–”

“Dean!” Sam snapped. 

You guys loaded into the Impala the next day. You had to bring a bunch of presents you had been accumulating over your travels for the family. Sam was worried he needed to have gifts for everyone. You reassured him that he didn’t.  

You arrived in a timely fashion. Your legs were cramping when you arrived, and you unceremoniously fell out of the Impala the second you arrived. Dean didn’t help you up, so you grabbed his leg and pulled him down with you. Sam stepped over you both. 

Your mother came out a second later to help you guys bring in stuff. She immediately hugged you, suffocating you with her tight embrace. She also hugged Sam and Dean despite their protests. She was a tiny thing next to the two boys, but you could feel her energy overwhelming them anyway. 

The two guest rooms were taken with the whole family in town, so you offered your room to the brothers. Being themselves, they refused to take it and opted for the couch. They still demanded to see your room. 

“I still would’ve thought you were hot in high school,” Dean said as he kept picking up things around your room. You flushed.

“I was a total nerd in high school,” you coughed, taking a figurine out of his hands. You were fortunate there were not any embarrassing posters on your walls, only those of bands you like. Sam was going through your book collection. 

“You annotated The Great Gatsby an unreal amount,” Sam chuckled, flipping through the pages without white space. 

“I mentioned I was a nerd, right?”

“Who’s that?” Dean asked, pointing towards a stuffed animal on your bed. 

“You in fifty years,” you answered. Dean’s expression dropped. You were saved a response by your Mom calling dinner. Dean still looked grumpy when you went downstairs. 

You were nervous about the Winchesters meeting your family but were relieved that it didn’t go too terribly. Your Dad only asked two inappropriate probing questions, and your grandpa challenged them to a fistfight at some point, but otherwise, things went fine. Later, Sam got roped into finding things on tall shelves.

You made yourself some hot cocoa and sat in the living room, staring at the fireplace. Your Mom always spent an exceptional amount of time decorating the home. She watched Empire Strikes. Back in the day, she and your Dad got their tree. The fireplace had all the stockings (including ones for Sam and Dean) and a collection of snowmen. 

“Space for one more?” Dean asked, coming into the room. You moved over and patted the space next to you. Dean got himself settled. “Thanks for letting Sammy and I stay here.”

“You guys act like you aren’t my family,” you chuckle, taking a sip from your drinking chocolate. “You’re always welcome here.”

Dean kept eyeing your drink. 

“Do you want me to make you hot chocolate?”

“Yes, please.”

Dean was like a child when it came to food; he must always have what you’re having. You used the gourmet cocoa powder and whisked it with the milk, adding a shot of whiskey, whipped cream, and sprinkles. Dean was frothing at the mouth by the time you gave it to him. He sipped it and immediately burned his tongue. 

“You’re an idiot,” you smiled, watching him put the hot coco down and fan his mouth. 

“Don’t make your drinks so hot.”

“It’s called ‘hot’ coco, genius.”

“You’re a genius, you–” Dean trailed off, the heat had burned some of his brain cells. You quirked a brow. You bit your lip to hide your laughter at the whipped cream on Dean’s nose. 

“You have a little,” you gestured towards your face. Dean frowns, wiping at his face. He takes whipped cream from his cup and puts it on your face. 

“Really, I literally made you hot cocoa.”

“And then insulted my face.”

“I have to. Otherwise, I’d compliment it.”

“You like my face enough to compliment it?” Dean questioned. Your expression dropped, and you cleared your throat. You picked up your discarded cocoa mug and took another sip. The whiskey was the only thing saving you now. Dean stepped closer to you, taking the mug out of your hands. “You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Don’t say things like that,” you murmur. 

“Why not?”

“Because,” you trail off. You have a hard time focusing on anything when Dean is standing so close to you. You hate his stupid green eyes for looking over every inch of you. 

“I’m being serious,” Dean smirked. He brushed the whipped cream off your nose with his thumb. You watched with rapt attention as he proceeded to lick it off his finger. The wine from dinner and the whiskey from your hot cocoa was going to your head. 

“How do you feel about women making the first move?” you asked, gulping. Dean looked surprised, which you took as a sign to stand up on your toes and kiss him. It was quick, and you looked at him with wide eyes when you settled back down. You worried you made a mistake and tried to step back. Dean grabbed your waist, pulling you back in. Your hands fell on his chest.

“How do you feel about guys making the second move?” Dean breathed, breath hot on your skin.

“Love it,” you stuttered, eyes fluttering closed as Dean kissed you for a second time that night. You understood why he always got lucky; he knew what he was doing. He nipped your lip and deepened the kiss, leaving you breathless in his arms. You would’ve melted to the floor if he wasn't holding you. One of his hands went to cup the back of your head, and you felt yourself stumble slightly backward. 

“Dude, in the kitchen?” your cousin, Kellan, interrupted, standing in the kitchen doorway. You pulled away from the kiss, looking around Dean to glare at Kellan. “We eat here, you know.”

“Kellan, do me a favor and fuck off,” you groaned. Kellan just rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever, Grandpa is probably going to come back in here soon, and he will kill him,” Kellan said, taking candy out of one of the jars and exiting the dining room. You looked back at Dean a second later. 

“I’m so sorry for my family.”

“Have you met mine?” Dean chuckled, and you couldn’t help but laugh with him. You glanced past him to the kitchen doorway.

“Do you want to make it in my room?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

taglist: @awnmaknees @lover-of-books-and-tea @qardasngan @evasmlp

[she-walks-on-starlight]

You Ruined Me (Do it Again)

a/n: Part 2 is here! I promise it will get juicy! Thanks to all who have liked it so far! My inbox is open for requests at the moment ✨

Warnings: drinking alcohol, referenced cheating, smoking, gambling, possessive!sevika, referenced sex (explicit!), choking kink, sexually explicit teasing.

Summary: Your first night out in a while after leaving your cheating ex does not end how you expected it to...but then what did you expect, going to her club?

Word Count: 1.3k

18+ | MEN AND MINORS DNI | 18+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

You stomp out of the bathroom, thoroughly worked up and now angry as hell. The temptation to find Sevika and slap the smirk off her face was overwhelming. She’s gone back to her poker game, dealing the cards effortlessly, barely sparing you a glance as she lights up a new joint. You watch as she clenches it in her teeth, moving it around her mouth as she inhaled. A lump formed in your throat as a petite brunette with a short pink skirt and matching halter top teetered over and sat in Sevika’s lap, whispering in her ear and sharing the joint with her.

You recognised her, one of Babette’s girls. Exactly the kind of company Sevika preferred.

Jinx appears out of thin air it seems and squeezes your arm. “You okay, sparky?”

You grinned at your nickname, courtesy of being an electrician in the lanes. You turned away from the poker tables, willing the urge to vomit away. You were here to dance with your best friend, not worry about whatever games Sevika was playing.

“I am now you’re here! Wanna dance some more?”

You spared one last fleeting glance at the gambling area. That’s when you saw her, glaring intently at you and Jinx. You frowned, not sure why she’s suddenly so fixated on you when you realise her eyes are trained on Jinx’s hand, still squeezing your arm. Her eyes narrowed as Jinx moved to take your hand instead.

“Sure am! Come on!”

As you both began to dance to the music, Jinx pulled you close. “You sure you’re okay, sparky? I saw you know who over there giving you the stink-eye.”

You sigh. “One minute I’m in the bathroom minding my own business, putting more lippy on when she grabs me outta nowhere and kisses me-”

Jinx’s grip on you tightens. “Wait WHAT?! Are you okay? Did she hurt you? Where is she? I’m gonna tear her a new a-”

You laugh and pat Jinx’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mind really…”

You bite your lip as you remember the thrill that tingled through your veins, becoming a wanting ache between your thighs, begging for Sevika to make it better.

Searing bites to your neck as she claimed you, possessed you, marked you for all Zaun to see. You were hers, nobody else’s not that you’d ever want anyone but her.

You remembered her strong hands around your throat, squeezing tight as she reminded you that you were hers while she made you come around her fingers.

You had been hers, willingly. You would’ve followed her anywhere. It was just a shame she didn’t seem to feel the same way, in the end.

Jinx is staring at you incredulously, clicking her fingers at your dazed expression. “Y/n! You can’t seriously be telling me that you’re getting on that train again!”

You sigh, the throbbing of your pussy and the feeling of Sevika’s eyes on you making it hard for you to concentrate. Deep down, you know Jinx is right. You and Sevika had passion, fire, and raw sexual energy. You had never had better sex but that was all you two could offer each other. You’d tried the relationship thing, and it had crashed and burned just like your friends had said it would. Sevika was a player, and old habits die hard.

“I know, I know. I won’t go there. Just felt really good to be kissed by her like that, just like old times.”

Jinx huffed. “Please spare me the details. She’s no good for you, sparky. In fact, I know just how to get her off your mind.”

She pulled at your hand, leading you towards the bar. Jinx was a ball of excitement, as per usual. “We need shots! Hey, bar boy, we need tequila over here, stat!”

A group of girls giggling nearby caught your attention, one of them the cute blonde Jinx had danced with earlier. You eye Jinx knowingly as she stares in wonder at the cute blonde. You nudge her forward.

“Go talk to her, Jinx! Buy her a drink!”

Jinx grins at you. “Don’t need to tell me twice, sparky!”

She bounds up to the girl who giggles cutely as Jinx introduces herself, and you smile proudly as she accepts Jinx’s offer of a drink. Leaving Jinx to her impromptu date, you thank the bartender as he delivers two shots of tequila with salt and lime, as well as another espresso martini. You know the bartender well; he knows it’s your favourite cocktail.

As you sip, you survey the other people clamouring around the bar, spotting a woman leaning leisurely against one of the tall tables. The woman certainly looked older, older than Sevika even, but she was a smoke-show. She towered over most of the other club patrons, with dark, smooth skin accentuated by her white peplum dress. She was clearly a gym lover, her arm and thigh muscles bulging, much to your appreciation. Her hair was a dark grey, with silvery highlights, curled ringlets forming a beautiful afro. She sipped lazily at her drink, swirling the glass, clearly unfazed by the dancing partygoers around her. She was stunning, and the way your core dampened at the sight of her meant that she would be more than adequate. If Sevika was gonna mess you around, you’d find someone else to fuck you right.

You approached the table under the guise of putting the drinks down somewhere, while you put on a show of looking for Jinx even though you knew exactly where she was. You’d watched her lead the cute blonde out where the alleyway was about 5 minutes ago. Now it was time to cast a reel and see if the woman was interested. She hadn’t acknowledged you when you moved to the table but that didn’t mean anything. You innocently dropped the straw for your espresso martini onto the floor, allowing a gentle blush to grace your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m so clumsy.”

You bend over to pick up the straw, and wobble ever so slightly in your heels. You feel a presence at your back, sturdy hands holding you in place as you stand straight, the woman looking at you curiously.

Bingo.

You smile coyly. “Oh! Thank you, nearly went over then, didn’t I?”

The woman cocked her head to one side, analysing you. She ran a large hand from your exposed collarbones, up your neck until she reached your face and stroked your cheek.

“My, my, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

Her voice was low, and very sexy. Your cunt pulsed as her warm hands caressed your face, imaging those long, thick fingers taking you to the brink and pushing you over the edge.

You arch an eyebrow at her but smile warmly in thanks. “I do try my best to look pretty, you never know who might be looking.”

The woman leaned forward, her scarred face grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Well, I’m certainly looking now, darling.”

Hook, line and sinker.

You flutter your eyelashes at her and push one of the shots towards her. Time for your winning move.

“Tequila?”

The woman smirks, nodding her acceptance. You pass her the saltshaker and a lime wedge. You watch as she licks the salt, observing her wide tongue and revelling in the coiling feeling in your lower belly. She drinks the tequila with no fuss, biting the lime wedge hard.

“I haven’t drunk tequila in an age! Delicious! But it is your turn now, sweet thing. I’m Ambessa, by the way.”

You wink at her. “I’m y/n.”

You take the saltshaker from her, making a show of curling your pink tongue as you licked salt from your wrist. You swallowed the shot of tequila with ease, years of drinking with Jinx meant tequila was basically like water to you now. Bringing the lime wedge to your lips, you teasingly rubbed it against your plump lower lip before biting into it with a salacious moan.

Ambessa isn’t the only one in the club watching your little game with keen interest. You’re too busy flirting with Ambessa, failing to notice Sevika’s eyes on you, her expression positively murderous.

Ambessa’s eyes were dark with lust. “Would you like to dance, sweet girl?”

[loaksky]

tw : ptsd

hi I love love love your work, may I make a request: abby comforting reader with ptsd after a nightmare/episode 🧸 only if you’re comfy with that of course angel!!

— 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒊𝒔𝒆 | 𝒂. 𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏

roommate!abby x fem roommate!reader, fluff / mild angst, wc: 2.3k

synopsis: oftentimes when you’re lost in the darkness, abby’s your light.

content warnings: language, sprinkled mentions trauma and implied ptsd ! talks of death, brief mentions of canon-compliant violence. this is set in the tlou2 universe, but is canon-divergent (did i use that term right lmaooo ??), abby & reader get off to a rocky start, but they’re so fucking cute & i wanna write more of them ????

author’s note: sugar !! you don’t even know how excited i was to see you in my inbox bae ! ilysm thank you so much for requesting ! hope i did this justice <3 ALSO this is my first time writing in the tlou universe ?? usually i write modern!aus so i'm like pissing myself lowkey ansjkdnfjasf

main masterlist | tlou masterlist

YOUR PRESENCE ON BASE SENDS a ripple of whispers from wall to wall. The circumstances pertaining to your arrival hadn’t been uncommon, but they were brutal, had people eyeing you with equal parts sympathy and disdain.

Truthfully, you don’t remember much of it, had blacked out after the first death, but the murmurs speculate that your entire family had been ambushed, turned and then picked off in a raid.

You don’t know how true that is.

Abby doesn’t really pay you much mind at first, isn’t all that thrilled when she finds out that you’re taking the spare side of the spacious room she occupies, but she keeps her mouth shut when she sees how fragile you are.

And it’s not like she sees you much, not even in the evenings when most people are turning in for the night. Your bed’s always made, your side of the room in pristine condition. The only indication that you lodge with Abby is the beat up backpack that hangs on the hook by your desk.

On occasion she’ll wake up in the wee hours of the night to find you tucked under the blankets, still as a statue, but come morning, you’re gone.

For a while, she appreciates the distance, but when she sees you only a handful of times in the nearly two months you’ve sought refuge at the stadium, she begins to grow curious.

First it starts as asking passive questions to those patrolling, then she starts briefly combing any areas she enters, but you’re like a fleeting wisp of smoke, gone with a gust of wind.

She happens upon you by chance one night, right as the sun is setting. She’s on her way to the weight room when she notices you. The library is relatively quiet around this time, everyone usually in the dining hall or working on their evening duties.

But there you are, going through a carton of what looks like newly arrived books from the most recent raid.

Abby acts against her own better judgment, door whooshing as she presses her weight against the pushbar.

You’re looking up from your sorting, eyebags still prominent, but the color has returned to your face and you look like you’ve been taking care of yourself.

“This where you disappear to everyday?” Abby asks, pulling an early 2000’s almanac from the shelf to distract herself from the sear of you gaze.

She glances back at you when you don’t respond, finds that you’ve returned to shuffling through the box instead of humoring her question.

She clears her throat, takes another step closer, and you’re looking up at her again.

“Any good titles?” she tries. “I’m kinda in a slump right now, think I—”

“You don’t have to pity me,” you say flatly, voice a lot different than Abby’d expected.

She’s floored, regardless. Doesn’t know what would compel you to say such a thing when she’s barely spoken a dozen words to you since your arrival.

“I’m not following,” Abby admits.

You’re small in comparison, but the look you level her with is mighty, makes her cheeks bloom red because a woman’s never looked at her in such a way. She feels like she’s in trouble, but maybe she likes it.

“I hear what you all say about me,” you say firmly. “That I’m probably batshit crazy, that the patrolling team should’ve just left me to die with the rest of my family, that I’m useless.”

Abby flinches, brows drawing together and lips parting incredulously.

You don’t expect her reaction.

“I’m lost?” she says in confusion, then adds, tone stony, “who’s been saying that shit?”

Frankly, you don’t really look convinced, but your shoulders are relaxing a fraction. Perhaps you won’t admit it, but Abby’s quiet outrage provides some semblance of comfort.

You shrug.

“Doesn’t matter,” you say quietly. “But you don’t have to go out of your way to be nice to me. I’m fine on my own.”

And Abby doesn’t know whose neck she has to wring, or how many for that matter, but despite initially being lukewarm towards you, she wants to squash every single person who’s made you feel like you can’t find a place among them.

“That’s bullshit,” she replies frankly, and you’re looking at her sharply. “People are bored, like to run their mouths. There’s a place here for everyone, you included.”

Such simple words shouldn’t make you feel warm, but you’re pausing, frozen like a hurt pup experiencing affection for the first time. You’re glancing up at her, lips pressed in a thin line.

Abby’s fidgeting because fuck, did she overstep a boundary with this interaction? Should she have left you alone instead? She wasn’t necessarily mad at the distance between you two, but the establishment of having a roommate makes her feel like she’s been living with a ghost recently.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

Abby’s shoulders deflate in relief, chest hitching as she takes in a shaky sigh.

“Have you...have you had dinner yet?”

Abby learns that regardless of breaking the ice, you’re still reserved. It’s quiet breaths of laughter when she cracks a joke, learning how to settle for the silence when the two of you are spending prolonged periods of time together (which is a lot more frequent that Abby had expected), and being the buffer between you and most things you find uncertainty with.

Not only that, but you’re a nocturnal creature of habit that she usually finds cooped up in the library.

It’s half past one in the morning some weeks later when she wakes up and groggily squints over the railing that divides the room to find that your bed is empty.

She’s pulling on a hoodie, slipping on a pair of sneakers and brushing her hair from her face as she slinks out into the hallway. And, of course, you’re in the first place she thinks to look, curled up against the cushions of an oversized chair with your eyes drooping over a children’s picture book.

She enters almost silently, only catching your attention when she’s a few paces away.

“Hey, A–” A yawn pulls from your chest. “Hey, Abby.”

She smiles softly.

“Hey, sleepyhead.”

She leans against the armrest of the chair, peers down at you as you flip lazily through the pages before she’s pulling the book from your grasp.

You let out a sound of disapproval.

“M’not done,” you tell her.

“You look like you’re about to knock out,” Abby observes. “Why don’t we get you to bed.”

You yawn again, then sigh deeply.

“I won’t be able to fall asleep anyways,” you admit quietly.

Abby shifts and you look up at her. She notices the glimmer of vulnerability that glosses over your sleepy eyes.

“Is it because...” she trails off, swallows down the rest of her question because she doesn���t want to seem insensitive, but you seem to get the gist anyways.

“Among other things,” you admit.

“Oh,” Abby whispers. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug tiredly.

“Can’t be helped, really.”

And Abby’s learned to really like you these past few weeks, has felt for you and your journey here. It makes something tug hard at her heartstrings, especially when she sees little slivers of peace dawn you for a few moments at a time, only to be weighed down by the gravity of it all.

“Why don’t we go back and you can at least lay down?” she asks softly. “You need to rest.”

And you want to argue, tell her that it really is no use, especially when the darkness can be one of your sensitive triggers. But the look that Abby is giving you is pleading, like she can’t bear the thought of another one of your sleepless nights, so you nod carefully and let her guide you out of the seat.

“I know it’s touchy,” she says after a few silent moments down the hall. “But, you can...you can talk to me if you ever, y’know, need to get anything off your chest.”

You don’t mean to, you’re just caught up in the moment and Abby has a way of making you feel safe, but you’re grabbing gently at her fingertips as the two of you walk down the corridor.

“Thanks, Abby,” you swallow.

If Abby looks hard enough out the window, she can see the beginnings of the sun as it starts its ascent. She’d spent the latter half of the late evening murmuring to you in the dark, hoping that maybe the sound of her voice would lull you to sleep.

And it does, miraculously, she thinks to herself, when she hears the light puff of your steady breathing. She stays still for moments that bleed into several minutes, monitoring the tandem of your breaths. She doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until the sky begins to ooze from midnight to burnt swathes of orange.

She hadn’t slept a wink, too busy wanting to make sure that you’re snoozing well enough in the short period of time since you’d laid your head down. So she decides to get dressed in the dark, is in the middle of sliding her belt through the loops when she hears it.

It’s most imperceptible, the murmur that slips from your lips, but Abby’s been hyperaware recently. She thinks that maybe she’d been a little too loud, jeans rustling a little too hard, belt buckle clanging too much. But even as she stills in the dark, she hears the whimper that echos against the exposed rafters.

“Please...” Abby freezes, lump lodged deep in her throat.

Your body jerks, mattress squeaking under the sudden movement as your sheets rustle once, then twice.

“No.” Your breath catches so hard in your chest, Abby’s worried you won’t take another.

She’s crossing the room quickly, pawing around your nearby desk for the small lamp. The dim bulb casts a yellow glow over the surroundings and Abby finds you damp with a sheen of sweat.

“No, no, don’t—”

When her hands find you, you’re shooting up, shoving her away with so much force, she’s knocked to her ass. Before she even blinks, you’re straddling her, dagger she hadn’t even known you had on you, drawn.

“Hey,” she whispers shakily. “It’s me.”

Your eyes are wild, cheeks streaked with tears as you take in your surroundings. You touch base with your senses to ground you; the sound of your ragged breathing, the smell of Abby’s pine-scented soap, the taste of blood on your tongue, the feel of Abby’s shirt bunched in your fist, and the sight of her rigid frame clearing from the fog.

“Fuck,” you choke. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You’re dropping the dagger, fist loosening as you scramble to climb off of her. But her fingers are closing around your wrist to stop you, mooring you to place.

“It’s okay,” she says breathlessly. “It’s fine. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

Her hands slowly come up to brush over the sides of your arms comfortingly, and when you don’t flinch away, she’s reaching up to smooth the hair from your face.

The softness of her touch makes you melt, makes you wrap your arms around her shoulders and fall into her as her arms wind around your waist.

“I’m here,” she assures you quietly. “You’re safe.”

And when she feels your body shake against hers, her chest is squeezing, feels all those tamped down emotions from a loss that feels like such a distant memory resurface with every quiet sob that wracks your body.

She feels like she’d processed her grief well enough over the past few years after losing her dad, was buoyed in a consistent state of anger that manifested in a deep-seated need for vengeance as of late. But this makes her sad. Makes her want to take away everything that’s ever made you feel hurt in the world.

She’s squeezing you so tight, nose nestling into your hair as she rocks you gently.

Abby still doesn’t know how much time passes, but your heaving breaths turn into spaced hiccups as you sink further into her hold. She doesn’t realize that the exhaustion has crept over you until one of your hiccups fades to a sigh, until she’s pulling away to see that your cheek is pressed against her shoulder and your wet lashes brush the apples of your cheeks.

For once, it seems like one of those slivers of peace has found you in a moment of sleep and Abby wants to preserve it.

She’s shifting your weight, arms banding tight around your waist so that she can slowly stand. And when you stir, she cringes in defeat. But your breath puffs against the column of her throat, and while your proximity makes her cheeks burn, she can only focus on settling you back into bed.

“Abby,” you whisper groggily, as she sits on the edge of your bed to kick her shoes off. “Don’t leave, please.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assures you softly, leaning back against your pillows and taking you with her. “I’ll be right here.”

True to her word, when you wake up, she is, one arm propped underneath her head, the other splayed between your shoulder blades.

The sun sits high in the sky, analog clock reading well into the morning and nearing the afternoon.

“Oh, fuck!” You’re leaning up abruptly, jostling Abby from her slumber and she’s gazing up at you with bleary eyes.

“Shit, are you okay?” Abby asks, voice thick with sleep.

“They’re probably looking for you,” you say frantically. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I—”

The hand on your back hasn’t left yet, rubbing slow circles there, the other mapping across your shoulders to pull you into her chest.

“S’okay,” she reassures you. “They won’t miss me for a day.”

“Abby—”

“Shhh,” she mutters. “M’sleeping.”

And you want to cry. Equal parts because of embarrassment and equal parts because Abby’s showed you the most kindness you can remember anyone ever showing you and it makes your heart swell in your chest.

“Abby?”

“Yes, ________?” she grumbles.

“Thank you.”

She squeezes you tighter.

neng © 2023

[lychniis]

⚘ ― EVENFALL ! ( valentines day event ).

( # )ㅤ evenfallㅤ —ㅤ twilight ; dusk. the period or the light from the sky between full night and sunrise or between sunset and full night.

syn. a valentines day / white day event inspired by hozier lyrics ( and also seconding as my 1000 follower event i suppose XD ). feel free to drop by and select a prompt from the list below alongside a flower / genre. you could always opt for more flowers. however please note that minors are not allowed to request for / interact with nsfw works. please note that the maximum character limit is three.

this was more of a last minute bout of silliness, but i'd love to write some requests for you guys after supporting me and my bs for nearly two years now XD. so hey hey, my inbox is open to be raided! i'm currently taking this event for genshin impact and honkai star rail!

prompts. the prompts and flowers available are listed below. you can request a single prompt + one of more flowers of your choice! you could also add some additional suggestions if you'd like, say a setting or an au or a scenario! requests close by the 20th of febuary. i'll start posting on white day, march 14th.

daisy — fluff.

hyacinth — angst.

tulip — crack / humor.

orchid — smut.

i. ❛ there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. ❜

ii. ❛ no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her. ❜

iii. ❛ you knew who i was with every step that i ran to you. ❜

iv. ❛ some like to imagine. the dark caress of someone else. i guess any thrill will do. ❜

v. ❛ honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes. i feel like a person for a moment of my life. ❜

vi. ❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

vii. ❛ honey please, try to love me. my love will never die. ❜

viii. ❛ know that i would gladly be the icarus to your certainty, oh my sunlight. ❜

ix. ❛ you don’t understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need. ❜

x. ❛ idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword. ❜

xi. ❛ honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. ❜

xii. ❛ i'm so full of love I could barely eat. ❜

xiii. ❛ honey you're familiar, like my mirror years ago. ❜

xiv. ❛ i know who i am when i’m alone. i’m something else when i see you. ❜

xv. ❛ there’s something tragic about you. ❜

xvi. ❛ there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. ❜

xvii. ❛ still my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man’s beliefs. ❜

xviii. ❛ i’ve known the warmth of your doorways. through the cold, i’ll find my way back to you. ❜

xix. ❛ screaming the name of a foreigner's god, the purest expression of grief. ❜

xx. ❛ i couldn’t utter my love when it counted, but i’m singing like a bird about it now.

xxi. ❛ the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you. ❜

xxii. ❛ i’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. ❜

xxiii. ❛ i have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me. ❜

xxiv. ❛ honey please, try to love me. my love will never die. ❜

xxv. ❛ i had been lost to you, sunlight, and flew like a moth to you. ❜

xxvi. ❛ it’s not my arms that will fail me, but this world takes more strength than it gave me. ❜

xxvii. ❛ i need you to run to me, run until you feel your lungs bleeding. ❜

xxviii. ❛ i will not ask where you came from. i will not ask and neither should you. ❜

xxix. ❛ be still, my foolish heart. don't ruin this on me. ❜

xxx. ❛ honey, i wanna race you to the table, if you hesitate, the getting is gone. ❜

( all the dialog prompts presented here are taken from songs by hozier. i own none of them. )

EVENT WORKSㅤ •ㅤ ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

[seiya234]

happy tauniversary

this post is kind of late, because i was out with my kid all day at the corn maze.

a lot has changed since we started TAU

ten years ago I had been in maryland all of two months. my then-fiancee and i had moved from texas, where we both had lived our entire lives. i was not only planning our wedding (in texas!) but i was also starting my ph.d.

to say that i had a lot going on would be a huge understatement.

i had just gotten into gravity falls via tumblr- shout out to whoever made a gif set from 'the hand that rocks the mabel'- when i ran across zoey's original two to three posts. to this day i couldn't entirely tell you why my brain seized on this au, other than it did and it immediately went into hyperfocus mode.

before TAU, i hadn't really written any fanfic except for some discworld au and some drabbles here and there. but a post about future niblings really inspired me and before i knew it i was writing.

i started messaging @zillychu a LOT and god bless their heart they humored me and answered back. after about a month of accumulated posts they created the blog and began to mod it with @homebeccer and @ghostfiish . There was a brief period where @zillychu was thinking about stepping back from the blog and because i was an extremely over eager beaver, i practically kicked down the door of their inbox and begged to be a mod.

the rest, as they say, is history.

i had absolutely zero idea that this would last ten years. when i joined, i had no idea that we'd have a skype channel and then two (two!) discords, that there would be a wiki, that there would be fanvids and tiktoks and cosplay and of course the literal terabytes of fic and art.

to this day, it still thrills me to no end that y'all make art and fic of my OCs. never in my wildest dreams as a tiny baby weeb would i have ever thought that THAT would be a possibility.

a lot has changed for me in these ten years. i got married. i recently got divorced. i had a baby, and now that baby is a big girl and in kindergarten. it took dont-ask-how-long but i finally got the ph.d and now shamelessly introduce myself as Dr. Seiya everywhere i go.

and i made friends. @haberdashing and @avafalls from our early days (hey habby and avagator!) @skia-oura sent me a beautiful baby kimono from their home in Japan and I still have the beautiful log and flower arrangement @oreramar made me one christmas. (the hot chocolate is long gone lol) i've enjoyed so very deeply getting to know @toothpastecanyon, @feferipeixes and @avespecora (sorry i missed the eclipse!) i almost got detained at the canadian border for @marypsue (spoiler alert, don't tell canadian immigration you're staying with a friend from the internet but you don't know their home address)

the blog almost got deleted. we've had mods come and go as life happens and moves on. the blog is old enough i've been able to see trends happen, and characters become popular, fade away... then coming roaring back again. i've personally told the mods two times that i was stepping back from the blog For Real For Real (for real this time) because life was catching up to me and I just wasn't as in to it as I used to be only to come slinking back like the dirty liar I am. i see in your notes all the time that you all have been reading this since you were tweenagers which ngl does make me feel the cold breath of the grave on my mid-thirties back but also warms my heart.

@transcendence-au changed my life, and for the better.

thank you @zillychu for making a random one off hc post that exploded into something i don't think you could have ever predicted.

and thank you all (yes, you. you in the back. i like your shirt.) for your support and your love.

[cinematicgf]

Breaking the Girl~ 18+ dom!joel

Summary: as a casual photographer, you find the opportunity to go with your neglectful boyfriend to his hometown for the summer thrilling. Taking photos of his neighbors and friends whilst not blowing money on a huge vacation sounds perfect, a small job with his mum, neighborhood summer get-togethers and weekend beach trips accompanied by your trusty camera, why not?! But when a certain charming Southern man, known as your boyfriend’s old boss, enters the mix, you cant take your lens off the fine older man, and he cant seem to take it off you either.

Pairings: (no-outbreak) dom!joel miller x sub f!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smutty smut, dom!joel and sub!f!reader, piv, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, doll, darling), dirty talk, drinking, swearing, oral sex (f! receiving), arguments, age gap (reader is afab! in their early 20s and Joel in in his mid-early 50s), reader in uni, bit of a praise kink ngl, boyfriend being an asshole and Joel being just as charming as ever, reader has some cunty thoughts but good for her honestly, just pure unbridled filth with a semi developed backstory<3 no use of y/n

~ 7.2k (oops)

A/N: hi all<3 I wanna thank you guys for the support of my previous Joel fic, I appreciate it so much<3 this is just a string of pure filth with limited backstory. my inbox is open for requests as usual, your feedback is always welcome and if you enjoy this fic please like, comment and reblog<3

~

She was the girl Left alone Feeling the need To make me her home

I don't know what, when or why The twilight of love had arrived

~

Summer was approaching quick and with your exams out of the way and all the stress of the last few months, the final week of university seemed kinda pointless. Yet here you were in class, daydreaming about all the things you would get up to. Perhaps you could rent a sea-side batch and spend your warm afternoons in the ocean before settling down with a book and a bottle of wine for the evenings. Or maybe, you could blow your barista allowance and go to Florida for the sweltering months. Truth is, you didn’t have any plans for the summer, and with the days counting down much too fast to comprehend, you found yourself at a loss for what to do on your break. No matter what you did, however, you know your trusty camera would be tucked to your side, film loaded in and an extra pocket in your bag to store the developed photos. Photography had been a passion of yours for as long as you could remember. You had saved up birthday and Christmas money for years in order to afford a camera for yourself and you had never gone anywhere without it. Unfortunately, the impending doom of your hobby “having no jobs”, as your father put it, meant that you had to change your uni major. Although, you had been cheeky and added in a photography paper here and there, just to satisfy yourself and to no knowledge of your father.

The sound of a backpack being thrown down next to you made you retreat from your thoughts with a jump. Your boyfriend pushed himself into a seat next to you, “So babe”, he began; god, how many times had you told him you hated being called that. “I was thinking, for the summer, you could come back home with me?” he finished. You looked at him with a frown, the last thing you wanted to do was spend another summer cooped up in a small town like the one you grew up in, the one you visited every holidays, just to be wrapped in uncomfortably tight hugs from elders commenting on, “well well, I haven’t seen you since you were this big”, making their hand level with their knees, “look at how pretty you’ve gotten, you have your mothers eyes dear, you must be so proud of her”, they would always say, giving a warm smile to your father as he too looked at you with a grin, knowing how insane you must think these strangers were. You loved seeing your father on breaks, but c��mon, sometimes you yourself needed some time to yourself.

You contemplated his offer briefly, “Hmm I don’t kno—” “Cmon!” he insisted, unwarily cutting you off, “It’ll be great, we can stay in my parents sleep out, I’ll be working for one of my neighbors who I had a job with in high school, and I’ve already asked my mom if she can find some work for you around her office. On weekends we can walk to the beach and go to the mall and whatnot, c’mon babe, it’ll be fun”. Great, a summer working in an office and hanging out with your boyfriends’ rich parents, sounds… delightful. But truth is, you didn’t have anything else to do over the summer, and maybe this would be a way to relax without spending a boatload of your hard-earned money on a shitty trip. “Hmm... fine, you’ve convinced me”, you pretend to be annoyed about it. He smiles and gives you a quick peck on the cheek which you ignore. “It’ll be great, we can go up Saturday afternoon. First day of summer, the adults in the neighborhood usually throw a barbecue at Joel’s, the guy I’m working for. Yeah, it’s a little rowdy with drunk adults and a pool thrown into the mix but I always find myself actually having fun”. At this point you felt a little excitement creep through you. You arrive and immediately there’s a party, hell yeah. Who cares about drunk middle-aged people when at least there are free drinks. “I’m sure we will have a great time”, you force a smile as he gazes at you, “as long as I’m with you”, he replies earnestly before adding repulsively, “can you bring something hot to wear, like those little shorts- I wanna impress everyone in town that you’re mine”. You cringed at the sudden ruin of the mood and his claiming you as his. It sends a nauseous feeling straight to your stomach with a hint of rage.

Six months ago, you may have laughed and slapped him lightly on the shoulder, but truth is, you had been meaning to break things off with him for a couple of weeks now. His constant unawareness to vile comments and the fact that you were always treated as an accessory to him, as if you weren’t a person at all, had just brought you to your breaking point. Not to mention your friend Em, who dated his much kinder friend, had broken the news that him and a girl in another one of his classes had been fucking on the regular. This should’ve hurt, but truth be told, you two had been distant for months now. The only reason that you hadn’t broken it off sooner was the slamming of exam period, as you spend two weeks with your head buried in books, barely seeing anyone, including him (you had kinda forgot about him over that time, if you were honest with yourself, and, you know you weren’t supposed to say it, but it felt kinda nice, not having the responsibility of constantly thinking about a significant other). Remembering all the outliers in your relationship, you cursed yourself for saying yes to the trip and not just calling it quits to spend summer alone. Well, you guessed you wouldn’t be seeing him all that much, with both of you working and you could use the excuse you wanted to check out the town to get away for a bit. God, you felt like a major bitch, but still, it was a free trip. So, fuck it. Call it compensation for how neglectful he had been of your relationship.

The trip back to his hometown was draining. You couldn’t help but wish your boyfriend would just ease up on the constant chatter so the two of you could sit in comfortable silence with the music blaring instead. He told you all about his neighbors and his parents and you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by this Joel Miller character he was working for. Single parent, self-made wealthy contractor with a charm about him, or so your boyfriend complimented, as he told the story of how Joel had offered him a job in high school when times were tight through his parents’ divorce. “Listen okay, literally everyone in town swoons for him but I’ve never seen him with anyone, I don’t know, maybe he’s just not looking to settle down. I personally don’t see it, he’s just an old man”, he mentions offhandedly. You were a little nervous to meet him after the string of admiration by your boyfriend.

Once you had arrived and his stepfather and mother had showered you with acclimation (“My goodness Sammy, look at this gorgeous thing, how did you manage to lock her down”). Getting ready for the much-awaited barbecue, you settled for simple, as the humid evening approaching told you that anymore layers, and you would be drenched in sweat. You added some accessories, equipping yourself with your camera and extra film as you and your boyfriend headed across the road to, supposedly, Joel’s house.

Already there was a congregation of neighbors and friends, all gathered around a pool in the backyard, beers in hands, chatting enthusiastically with others they, presumably, were all familiar with. It was utterly suburban, the sight bemusing you slightly as you force away a smirk. Making your way across the lawn and through already intoxicated neighbors you find a full cooler, preparing yourself with a beer before observing the strangers. Your boyfriend had taken off to greet friendly faces, taking the opportunity, you fixate your lens to your eye to capturing the action.

A sweep of the back garden and a few shots later your lens focuses on a tall man leaning on a porch pillar. You can’t help but stare through the disguise of your camera. The cross of his tanned broad arms stretching his t shirt against his chest, making the expanse that much more noticeable. One hand jammed into his pocket, the other superlatively cradling a beer.

His patchy beard lined his structured jaw, squinting as he laughed, dimples inverting the sides of his mouth exquisitely. All these featured crafted the most handsome man you think you had ever laid eyes on. Pressing the shutter, you snap a photo of him mid-laugh as a neighbor entertained him. His admirable laugh carried across the garden, a melody to your ears, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“Babe!” you boyfriend calls from across the lawn, cringing once more at the pet name, you wander across the garden after being summoned. “This here is Joel”. Your eyes meet the older man finally greeting the stranger who has piqued your interest the past few hours. He had a southern charm about him, and the closer you get, you can see how broad he really is. His muscles sculpted through his shirt, the veins in his arm mimicking those of Michelangelo's David. What the hell was your boyfriend talking about “just an old man”, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, allure and all.

“Ah, so this is she”, he envelopes your hand in his, his calloused palms connect more gently than you expected with your own young, soft padding. “I’m Joel”, he introduces himself, “I noticed you snapping photos over there”, his smile softens his features, you can’t help but mirror his beaming. “Speaking of”, you say, reaching into your pocket, you hand him the photo you had taken earlier; his attractive face radiating from the Polaroid, “Here”.

Taking it, he inspects it closely, you hold your breath, faintly, always nervous of reactions to your craft, no matter how friendly the gathering. A mesmerizing smile breaks out on his feature, “Probably the best photo taken of me ever. And that’s saying something”, he adds, grinning. “Its all yours”, you offer, watching him pocket the photo with pride.

Joel and you fall into conversation seamlessly. You tell of your uni and photography endeavors as Joel starts telling you about his contracting business. How he got it off the ground with the help of his brother, Tommy, who was lounging on a pool chair beside Joel’s daughter Sarah, who he mentioned with a sparkle of joy in his eye any proud father would have. “So, after Sarah’s mom left, I decided to get my shit togeth—”

“Holy shit”, your boyfriend interrupts. Joel raises his eyebrows in confusion, and you sigh in question, as you were enjoying talking to Joel, “Listen, my old high school buddies are having a boys night at theirs”, he raises up his phone, showing the brightened notification on the screen. You don’t bother to read it. “I gotta go babe, sorry. Ill see you later on tonight, okay?”, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving you standing there speechless before weaving through the crowd of people in the back garden and leaving. You’re shocked, frankly. Sure, he’s been neglectful of you, but this was a new low. Ditching you at his neighbor’s party to go hang out with other people… you are truly dumbstruck. Tears of humiliation and pure anger burn on your lashes, threatening to leak down your face. You turn your attention to Joel leaning next to you, the same stunned expression accessorizing his features, brow slightly furrowed. “Well,”, he sighs after a beat, “that was a bit fucking rude. Sorry about th—“

“Excuse me”, it was your turn to interrupt him, as you fled from his domineering presence, frankly, embarrassed by your bastard of a boyfriend. Tears lighting a fire behind your eyes as your blood boiled.

“Fuck”, you took a look at the bottom of your empty beer bottle, heading over to the cooler. “Fuck!!”, you repeated to yourself upon opening the now empty chiller. Adults really did drink a lot huh, you thought, glaring daggers at the once full bin before wandering across the garden and inside the house.

You navigated the modern, utterly suburban house plan until you found a garage. Damn middle-aged men and their garages, you swear every dad you knew decorated their garage better than their own rooms. Thank god Joel was no different, because you knew there would be a fridge there filled with the good stuff. Once alone with your new full beverage, you let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. You were here, alone now, with people only he knew, did he expect you to just stand in the corner and drink by yourself, observing the party? Did he expect you to just go home? Honestly, the mere thought of it sent a rush of anger traversing up your spine. “Asshole”, you muttered to yourself, taking a swig of your stolen beer.

“Didn’t think pretty girls were thieves”, you heard a teasing voice behind you. You whipped your head around to make out Joel in the doorway of the garage, muscular arms tucked into his sides again, one supporting his almost empty beer. Had he… followed you? He uncrossed his ankles and made his way over to where you stood by the fridge.

“The door was open, arrest me officer”, you retort sarcastically, already over this whole shindig after being ditched by your boyfriend.

He chuckled lightly before noticing your peeved demeanor. “Ah”, he whispers to himself, “boyfriend troubles huh? More so, than the whole ordeal before hm, darling”. You glance at him through your lashes and roll your eyes, “You don’t know the half of it.” Sighing, he moved closer to you, his elbow caressing yours slightly, he looks down at you with an expression you cant quite make out, “All I can say is”, he begins, his voice low and gravelly, “if I had a pretty thing like you for myself, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight”.

Was he… making a move on you? You couldn’t tell. In your drunken state, you didn’t really care either, why not pursue it. Your boyfriend hadn’t touched you in months, the least Joel could say was no; so, fuck it, right?

You inch toward him, “and what would you do if you had me, Mr. Miller”, you coo, your voice tantalizing, wavering on a whisper as you gaze at him.

“Maybe one day I’ll get to show you”, he smirks. The two of you are unbelievably close, you can feel his breath fanning on your face and can smell his cologne. He is inundating your senses and you can’t get enough. You take the opportunity to weave your hands around his waist. He reaches an unbearably large hand up to your face and skims your cheekbone, his sizeable thumb halting on your bottom lip. You use the opportunity to take his finger into your mouth, suckling gently before releasing it with a soft kiss on the padding of his digit. You can feel him harden against you through his jeans.

“Fuckkkken hell”, he drawls, “temptress,” a darkness scintillates in his eyes.

A loud bang of a door close by followed by a whining, “Daddddddd”, has the both of you jumping apart as Sarah appears in view of the doorway. The young girl is rubbing her eyes, messy curls adorning her cute face. Slumping, she complains again, “Dad, I’m tired, can you tuck me in, please”. Joel gives her a warm smile, “I'll be right there baby girl, go get into bed okay, gimme a second”. She notices you for the first time, “I like your hair”, she grins, you cant help but smile at the young girl, “thank you honey, I like yours too”. With that, she disappears back through the door and up the stairs as Joel’s attention turns back to you, his former dark, eager look has returned.

“Come around tomorrow.” It’s not a question. Rather a demand. One hand engulfs your upper arm, giving it a light squeeze as he plants a soft kiss to your cheek, leaving you in the garage to comprehend the exciting conversation you had just had. Before he does, however, he stops in the doorway and turns back around to face you. “For the record, your boyfriend’s an asshole. Has been since high school.”, he gives you a grin but there’s a hint of concern behind his eyes. It was a shitty thing for your boyfriend to do and he understands that.

Your boyfriend had passed out on his parent’s couch when you left Joel’s house, so you made your way to the sleep out, thrilled to have some time alone to think about the events of the night. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that the entire conversation with Joel felt good. Right, even; like Joel was actually trying to talk to you as any decent human being would. And maybe the bar was on the ground for your after your shitty relationship, but you didn’t feel guilty about wanting the older man. And he wanted you too. Maybe it’ll only be for a quick fuck, but it felt nice to be wanted. You thought about the conversation again before slipping a finger down through your wet folds, rubbing quick fast circles to the nub of your clit, exhaling soft moans. You imagined your hand wasn’t your own but Joel's.

The next day you woke up early. Your nerves shot as you take a shower, taking the opportunity of seeing Joel again to dress in lacy, barely there lingerie under your clothes (why you packed it… just in case, you supposed). If nothing happened between the two of you, or he admitted that perhaps he was drunk and just fucking around, then nobody would know your effort but you. However, if he did get to undress you, the choice to dress up would be an ideal one.

The door is open when you arrive, the summer entering uninvited through the hallway of the cozy home. Entering the doorway to the living room, you knock on the door frame, Joel appearing moments later behind you on the stairs. “Hi again, doll”, he greets you with a genuine smile, walking to the kitchen. Those dimples, carved by Donatello himself, you supposed. “You want something to drink?”, you nod as he leads the way past you. Handing you a dewy beer, you make your way to the couch to sit on the edge like a nervous child and admire the man in front of you. His t shirt tightening at the sleeves, barely able to fit over his muscular, slightly tanned arms. Jeans, ungodly tight around his crotch. You blush at the realization that you’re staring at him in all his glory. Your breath hitches as you focus your gaze on the skew of family photos dotted around the living me.

“Why’d you ask me over?” you come right out and question. In your drunken state last night, you didn’t care if it looked like you were coming onto him, if he said no, your intoxication dulled your embarrassment. But now, in your sober state, you needed to know, so as not to do just that. “I wanna take care of you”, he expressed nonchalantly, his focus occupied on finding a bottle opener. “And how do you presume to do that”, you continue, bemused by his confused expression lightening once he found what he was looking for, popping the cap before coming to sit next to you on the couch. He crossed his ankle over his knee, your eyes unfortunately for you, travel straight to the bulge in his jean. Perv, you curse to yourself. “Well, it just seems like your boyfriend isn’t doing a very good job, is he sweetheart?”. An exasperated sigh emits from your throat, your eyes roll unwillingly at the mention of your partner. You lean against the back of the couch, head resting on his forearm relaxing lazily behind you, as you take a sip from your bottle.

You realize you really do want him… badly. “Maybe I do need your help, Mr. Miller”, lolling your neck to look at him through your lashes, putting on a sad face whilst the hint of seduction in your breathy tone communicates everything to Joel.

He leans in and kisses you, gently at first. You deepen it, needing more of him as you moan into his mouth, giving him easy access to slide his tongue across your teeth. Tongue and teeth collide in a hot, messy kiss. His hand glides up your waist to your throat, where he cups your jaw with two giant fingers and squeezes gently. Quickly realizing you’re in the middle of the living room, gasping pulling away. “Shit, is Sarah home?”, you pant. “Friend’s house”, Joel says shortly, reconnecting your lips to his.

“Then, make me feel good Joel”, you coo, teeth running over his bottom lip. He exhales a low animistic groan, watching his eyes darken to a lust-filled gaze. “Yes ma’am”.

Next thing you know, he is walking you backwards to the spare bedroom downstairs. Both of you are so needy, you can’t even wait to make it upstairs to his own bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress, he works at your panties, lips connecting with your throat, neck, collarbone, a symphony of needy groans accompany your pleasureful sighs quickly filling the empty space of the room. Slipping a calloused hand between your thighs, he begins working to collect your arousal, coating the tips of his fingers before slipping a digit into your cunt. You exhale a gasp, he swallows into a groan, “Fuck, doll,” he breathes softly, watching his finger pumping in and out of you, “does this pussy ever get this wet for your boyfriend?” He palms himself through his jeans, relieving some of his building tension. “No Joel”, you gasp, “not like it does for you”. Mascara gathers at your lashes as you squirm on his sheets. Joel’s touch fills you with ecstasy, but you still need more.

“Joel—” you whine, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, desire and devotion flooding his features, you follow his line of vision to the sight of his digit fucking you, then to your camera lying on his bedside table. You see the gears turning in his head, barely able to comprehend what he is up to before he grabs the camera, taking it in one large hand, positioning the base on his palm as he bends his fingers to the shutter button. You turn your head away in bliss, all you can focus on are his expert fingers rhythmically pumping in and out of you. “C'mon baby, you don’t need to be shy around me”. The camera looks miniature in his hand, the flash blinds you, snapping your pure pleasure, freezing it as a passionate moment in time. Joel holds the strap by his teeth, yanking the filthy portrait out, throwing it on the bedside table. Fuck, that just made you even wetter, if that was even possible. “Joel—ah- Joel” you continue to whimper, unworried about the physical evidence of your filthy endeavors due to your young, committed cunt clenching unwilling around his fingers by how good it feels.

“I know, sweetheart”, he whispers understandingly, “Just gotta warm you up a little longer, okay sweet girl”, he slips another digit between your walls. Your back arches against the mattress, head thrown back as a string of moans and whimpers tumble from your lips. Joel’s eyes darken into a hungry, heavy look with every squirm and curse that falls from your lips. Your eyebrows knit together in pleasure as his filthy words and his tantalizing, skillful fingers aid the coil in your stomach to release slowly. Joel, camera in hand, snaps two more of him fucking you with his fingers, discarding them on the table again. “Fuck, my own little cam girl”, he drawls in your ear, smirking, “we got four left, gotta use them wisely now”.

Joel abruptly pulls his fingers out, leaving you gasping for air, whining, as the bliss slowly fades, your arousal still hot and heavily in need of him like the air you breathe. He drags his jeans and boxers off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor by the bed. Taking in his girth, you understand why he had to warm you up first. You damn near moan at the sheer side of it as the slick from your pussy assists his thick fingers to pump himself a couple of times. He smirks at your needy expression. Cocky bastard, he knows he’s big too. Settling between your legs, his tip of his cock teases your entrance. You can feel his pre-cum mixing with your slick, creating an exquisite cocktail. Repetition falling from his lips in an unsteady gravelly tone as he coerces you to take ever inch of him inside your cunt, with a melody of “good girl” and “you’re doing so good for me, pretty baby”.

Joel slides inside you so easily, with how wet you are for him. A soft hiss, and then his features mold into a symphony of pleasure and hunger. His capable fingers tangle in your hair he glides his length in and out, painfully slow. You finally find your voice amongst the soft gasps and ah’s. “Joel— need more, please”, your voices emerges as a breathy whisper; making his features darken with craving. “I know baby, I know”, he coos, “you’re so full right now, aren’t you. That’s it sweet girl, you’re so good, taking every inch of me into that pretty little pussy”.

Your mind is whirling 100 miles per hour as he whispers filthy phrases in your ear, the promise to fuck you hard and slow being almost unbearable to comprehend. His thick cock stretches you out, rock hard, forcing your legs wide open as your ankles cross around his waist for support. It’s too much, fuck! After a few seconds of adjusting to this size, he pulls all the way out. You whine slightly at the loss of him inside you before he slams back into your cunt, filling you all the way before repeating again and again and again. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses your g spot like no other mans has before. All the while he has one large, veiny hand around your throat providing a slight bit of pressure, his thumb caresses your lips, opening them to slide a finger inside. You take the hint as a call back to last night at the party, slipping his fingers to the back of your throat and sucking on them. He groans out a string of profanities, eyes glued to you as you feel his cock twitch inside you at the image before him. You release his fingers, a string of spit still attaching you and him, he uses his thumb to spread it around your lips before dragging your chin down to open your mouth, pressing his lips to yours delicately. You can barely keep up with his kiss as he continues to slam into you at a rapid pace. You’re moaning out his name, a chorus of Joel, Joel Joel-, he smothers your whines with his lips. Rocking his hips up into you slowly, he brings his thumb down between the two of you, his calloused finger after years of contracting, makes contact with your clit, rubbing circles to your neglected nub. You push his hand away after your body jolts from the stimulation and he lets out a low chuckle. “You about to come, sweetheart?”, his voice is restrained and needy. You can feel your orgasm building inside of you, teasing you as the crescendo builds. You nod quickly. Squeezing your eyes shut, your moans begin to become rapid sighs on your tongue.

“Eyes on me, doll”, Joel demands, you open them to be met by the southern man, slamming his hips into you. Fuck he looks so good on top of you right now. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead and chest, his hair messy, two curls decorating his forehead. You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a beautiful sight. He lifts himself up on his knees, grabbing the camera once more, he takes a selection of photos of you taking him deep into you. He thumbs lightly at your clit for a shot, before the film runs out, a satisfyingly dirty collection of photos to remember your time together by lying next to the both of you.

Your hips move together in conjunction. His hands weave around your back, pulling you into him as his lips attached to your breasts, he anchors his tantalizingly expert fingers into your hair, the plush of your ass, circling your waist— Joel holds you as close as physically possible, his muscular arms crush you, teeth grazing the nub of your breast. There’s a starving kind of desire laced into his kiss. Involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, you slide your hands around his neck to hold yourself steady.

Then, he’s pulling away slightly, his hungry eyes watching his length pump in and out of you, as he plants a strong hand on your thigh, spreading you open to receive impossibly more of him. You are simply a toy at this point, as he dictates the sheer brutal pace of how he fucks you. “God, you look so beautiful, full of my cock, doll”. He moves his lips wetly up your throat, your head thrown back. He smiles against your mouth, you give him a shaky “mmm”, he ardently peaks your lips, releasing after each kiss to watch your cock-drunken expression, his name the only word you can attempt, like worship on the edge of your tongue. “Joel- Joel- Joel, mmm”, you stutter a praise for the captivated audience, who is relishing in the sound of your pleading gasps.

“I wanna see how appreciative you are for this cock, baby, keep your eyes on me”.

His voice is firm as his hardened hands caresses the length of your spine. You feel him flex inside you, his dominant gaze securing you as he speeds up, watching as your tits bounce with his rough strokes. “Ohmygod–Joel–”, the promise of your climax rapidly approaches, the ache undoes all the tension inside you, overtaking every inch of you, causing your thighs to squeeze him impossibly tighter.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it to me now, Darlin, you’re doing so good, come around me, doll”. The praise, the pet names, him inside you, all sends you over the edge. Your cunt starts to flood and shudder around him, your eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm release. You squeeze around Joel’s cock so tight; your lungs can only gasp out a mixture whines as you come around him. Joel continues to fuck you through your orgasm, its hard and fast to the point where you can feel another coil build inside you. He can feel it too, shifting your hips up slighting in a way that makes your mind blow, you nearly scream out at how good it feels. “That’s my good girl, I need another one, baby. You can give me another. That’s it, Yes, give it to me pretty girl”, his lips attach to a soft spot behind your ear, making you moan his name, your delicate hands rake through his hair. He pulls out for a brief second, flipping you onto your side as he lies behind you, sliding back inside you again. Its almost as if he never left, you’re so drunk off him fucking you that you can barely comprehend what is happening. Just that it feels so good, his hand weaves around you to play with your nipple, squeezing it slightly as his lips pepper kisses to your neck. he gently hooks your leg over his, stretching you open impossibly wider. “I wanna feel that pussy squeezeing me again, baby”. He continues lacing a string of filthy words into your ear while retreating back to his signature move when the two of you first started, pulling all the way out and slamming into you again.

“Lemme, feel you comin’ when I fill you up, good girl.”

Your second orgasm blinds you as you moan through your bliss. Joel’s gravely groans behind you sound like a melody. His warm breath in your ear and progressive sloppiness, encasing the room in leud noises, accompanied by his broken moans signals to you that he is close too. You turn you head to capture his lips as the aftershocks of your orgasm spark through you, your thighs twitching against his. He meets them brutally, and you know you’re going to be bruised inside and out when this is over. By the time he’s pumped you full of his cum and pulled out, it’s leaking down the inside of your thighs. You attempt to catch your breath, as his cock settles between the two of you on your lower back. You cant help but smile as he rubs lazy circles to your bare hip.

“Fucken hell, that was incredible”, he whispers, more so to himself than to you. “You are something else, doll”, he breathes, still catching his breath. You turn yourself around so that you’re half on top of him, throwing your leg over his so his cock is resting between your thighs. “You’re not so bad yourself”, you retort, smirking up at him.

“You know, you look so fucking pretty on top of me like that, darlin’. Next time, ill have to get a shot of you riding me”. Your heart jumps slightly at the promise of a next time, which he notices, following up his sentiment.

“Are you staying the whole summer”, he questions, his roaming hands worshiping your waist. “Sure am”, you respond hopefully. “Well then, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon”, he gives you a genuine smile, capturing your lips against lip for a delicate kiss, his patchy,lightly groomed beard scratching softly at your cupid’s bow.

You’re still unable to form a coherent sentence, as you feel his slick cocktailed with your own leaking out of your cunt. You slide off him, propping yourself up on a trembling elbow, watching Joel pull his jeans back up over his hips. “Until next time then”, he promises, gliding your panties up your still-weak legs, a wet patch already forming on the fabric. Aren’t you glad you decided to wear these. He hands you the photos and your camera as you attempt to dress yourself again, feeling weak and so empty without him already. Handing them to you, he slips one into his jean pocket with a cheeky comment. Walking you to the door, he kisses you deeply, his grey-flecked beard scratching your cheeks. After your goodbyes you can’t help but miss him. Hell, you’d only known the older man two days; still, you wanted his company more and more as the hours went by, so you reached for what he had given you to remember you by, “until next time”.

You stand in the sleep-out kitchen, admiring the Polaroid’s he had taken of you. You filter through them, blushing more at the sight of each one, dirtier than the last, too caught up to hear the door open. “Hey”, the familiar voice makes you jump. Your boyfriend, out of breath comes stalking through the door. You scramble to hide the photos, collecting them in a bundle, attempting to put them in your jean pocket. You force a smile at him as his eyes travel down to the photos in your hand. “From the party right, lemme take a look at those,” he says enthusiastically, closing the gap between the two of you as he reaches for them. “No”, you try to brush it off, “the lighting isn’t right, they didn’t turn out great, ya know, night shooting is a bitch”, you try to pull the photos further from his grasp, but he has a firm hold on them, yanking them slightly. You gasp as they flutter gracefully to the ground, face up, dropping to your knees to quickly pick them up but he’s already seen. “What the fuck”, he whispers, grabbing one and gazing it, a deep-rooted frown carved into his brow. It was you, mouth frozen in a pleasureful ‘ah’ as a peak of Joel entering you was seen at the bottom of the frame. “You wanna tell me what the fuck this is”, his voice was wavering on a yell.

You decided not to try to explain, “you wanna tell me about the girls you’ve been fucking these past few months, huh?”, you retort. “Everyone knows, everyone has told me to break up with you because of it, shit, you don’t even try to keep it a secret”. You voice is laced with venom, it was high time this discussion was happening, you just wished you had the courage to bring it up on your own, and not in this unwanted circumstance.

“Dont change the subject, who is he?”, he demands, his tone reaching shouting point. “Take a wild fucking guess. Do you need a hint? He stayed with me while you ditched my ass at your neighborhood party. While you humiliated me by just fucking leaving me there with strangers like the asshole you are.” You can feel rage-filled hot tears collecting at your lash line reminiscing about the event. “I know you’re going to try to break it off and think its your own doing but trust me, this”, you direct your finger between yourself and him, “this, has been over for a long time”. You push past him with force, grabbing your bag which you hadn’t even bothered to unpack, thank fuck, what a nice coincidence. You stomp toward the door.

“Fine”, he responds, “but as if he’s going to want you. He’s a middle-aged man with a kid, you were just a fuck”. It spirals you. You turn on your heels to look at him, he is frowning on the verge of tears (how many times had you been there before in his presence) and there’s a contortion of anger in his face, “At least he actually made me come”, you retorted hotly, walking out the door before you remember an extra detail. You pop your head back through the door to utter, “three times, actually”. And then you’re off. You ask his mother to drive you to the train station, explaining the split, briefly, and that you didn’t feel comfortable to stay. She insisted you did, kind lady, but didn’t pry into the details.

Once you had boarded and the train sped away from the dreaded events of the town, you felt relief course through you, no longer chained to that asshole. Sure, you know you should’ve done it sooner, and yeah, it wasn’t an ideal option what had happened, but this meant you could have some time to yourself this summer.

As you were back at square one, you daydreamed of the handful of friends who usually spent their summers on campus to call once you got back. Your phone screen lighting up with a ding, caught you off guard, the name causing your heart to skip a beat.

“It’s Joel. I heard the rundown from his mother, got your number in the process. Are you alright, doll?” he writes. You read it in his voice, subconsciously smiling at how his pet names aren't limited to face to face conversations.

You look at the bright screen in disbelief. He asked your exes mother for your number, meaning he wanted to stay in contact. Perhaps? One could only hope. You didn’t let your excitement get the better of you, however.

“Guess word travels fast. I’m fine, it should’ve happened sooner, honestly. I’m so sorry I got you involved”. You put your phone down, not expecting a reply after your apology. But the immediate ding had not only butterflies, but a whole zoo trampling around your stomach.

“If you’re going to be at your dorm over the summer, let me come visit sometime darling? Tommy offered to work more after your ex quit, so my plate is free”. He adds, much to your delight, “plus I think Sarah would love to see the campus.”

You smiled at the thought of showing the young girl around your college, she would be in awe of the library, you thought, remembering a glimpse of a large collection of books strewn across the table and shelf in the living room. You started to type a reply to Joel before another message comes through.

“and, for the record, those photos were hot, sweetheart”, he adds, a blush coloring your face, your gaze immediately drifting to the pocket of your bag where they lay, safe, sound, and where no one would be able to see, thank god.  

“I suppose I could work something out, for you” you reply, a smiling creeping across your features before double texting, “you know, I have extra film in my dorm... for emergency”. Discarding your phone on the table in front of you, you watch the countryside melt into a blur, feeling the most relaxed and content you had in a while.

~

if you enjoy this fic please like, comment and reblog! your feedback is always appreciated<3 thank you for reading

[its-time-to-write]

Hi there!! I absolutely adore your writing, and I was wondering if I could request a little something about Jamie being your guest to a wedding?? Just something sweet and fluffy because I feel like he’d be a spectacular wedding date. Love you!!

Here you go! Haven’t been able to write as much this week, I had finals and in between tests and papers, I’ve been pretty much living at the doctor’s. My brain is feeling a little fried, so I hope this is a coherent fic because I’ve tried to proofread a bunch and it all just looks like squiggles to me, so… anon, if you read this, send me your honest feedback in my inbox. Love ya!🍊💚

i’m glad you exist

“What’s this?” Jamie asks from his position on your kitchen island. 

You glance up from the stove. “What’s what?” 

He holds up an envelope rimmed in gold. 

“Oh, that’s an invite to my old roommate’s wedding. Remember I told you about her? Calls everyone ‘queen?’”

Jamie’s face shows recognition. “Right, yeah, she the one dating that motivational speaker?”

You laugh. “Yeah, they got together a month after I met her. He lived one floor down. Anyway, their wedding’s in a few months so I left the invitation out so I’d remember to RSVP.”

Jamie’s engrossed in the details on the invitation. “Says you can bring a plus one.”

“Yeah,” you reply, “probably won’t though. It’s back home, so, it’s not just a weekend-type deal. My mom and dad want me to come stay for like a week and a half.” You turn back to the stove and narrowly avoid burning the food. “You like your dinner a little crispy, right?”

“Babe,” Jamie says slowly, “you stayin’ with your parents?”

“Nah,” you say, transferring the food onto plates, “too crowded. And loud. My mom always has all the grandkids over all the time.” Your older sister has two kids, and your older brother has three. “She offered, but I told her I’d just get an AirBnB or something.”

“Y’know,” he says, taking the plates and moving to the table, “it’s on the off season. Don’t have any branding deals that week either.”

“Jamie,” you begin, a smile beginning to spread across your face, “are you offering to go to this wedding with me? And meet my parents?”

Jamie shrugs nonchalantly. 

“You are!” you say gleefully, “Oh my god, my mom is going to lose her mind. You know she absolutely loves you, right? She talks about their trip out here all the time. And this time you can meet my whole family, like my sister and her husband, they’re definitely my favorite because my niece and I have the same middle name. Plus my brother is always busy with work and his wife is cool, I guess, but we don’t have a lot in common? Except one time we watched High School Musical together, and she knew all the dances and all the words! It was crazy. And we’ll definitely have to go to the beach, do you know how to surf-?”

You ramble on happily as Jamie just grins at you, digging into his food. 

—

It’s wedding week, and your dad picks you up from the airport. You and Jamie are on your way to your parents’ house before checking into your own house and you’re confident that most of your family is going to be there. Your parents are the only ones who have met Jamie in person, and right now your dad and Jamie are in the front of the car chatting on about who knows what. You just know you’re tired, and you’re grateful that your dad picked you up a coffee. You’re probably going to steal Jamie’s too, because he does not need more energy and yours is gone way too quick. It’s nice to be home. The sun is shining, and the streets are familiar. You’re looking forward to seeing your old friends, and showing off your gorgeous footballer boyfriend.

They’d all heard about him of course, and were more than thrilled that you had finally found someone who actually liked being around you. That sounds terrible. You’re not annoying. You just have a habit of being with men who see you as a chore, not for the wonderful person you are. The person Jamie sees you to be.

You’re pulling into the driveway, and just as you suspected, the entire family is there. You notice your brother’s Range Rover and your sister’s Jeep. You smile to yourself. How very like them.

You hop out of the car, grab Jamie’s hand, and the door is open before you even make it all the way up to it. Your mom’s arms are open for a hug which you reach for except she turns away at the last moment and hugs Jamie first?

“Mom!” you say, laughing, “I’m your literal daughter and I haven’t seen you in forever!”

She smiles and pinches Jamie’s cheek. “I’ve spent more time with you than with him. You’ll survive.”

She wraps you in a warm hug then says, “Come meet the family, Jamie! And you’re staying for dinner. You can get to your house after you’ve taken a break.”

You shake your head and Jamie just grins. Poor boy has no idea what he’s getting himself into.

—

Jamie was thoroughly interrogated by your family, including your nieces and nephews (“Why do you call it football instead of soccer? Did you bring us candy?”). You’re both so exhausted that as soon as you walk through the door of your AirBnB, you collapse onto the bed, fully clothed.

—

It’s the day of the wedding, and you’re stressed. You’d been fine until the exact moment that you and Jamie began walking up to the venue. Everything is fine, you’re walking hand-in-hand, but then you just stop. 

“Jamie,” you say, tugging on his hand, “Jamie I can’t do this.”

He turns to you in surprise. “What d’you mean you can’t do this?” 

“I mean, it’s a lot of people I haven’t seen in forever and I don’t know, I’m just freaking out.”

Jamie laughs of all things. “Babe, it’s all right. Look, you’re with me, yeah? And I’m fucking amazin’. And you’re fucking amazin’. So whatever you’re worried about, ain’t a problem.”

Sometimes you forget how cocky Jamie can be. And how much it can boost your confidence. 

You blow out a breath. “Thanks babe. You’re right, it’ll be fine.”

—

It was more than fine. Like, way more than fine. Your friend looked lovely, and she was overjoyed to see you, and Jamie was the absolute best. He befriended your entire table and insisted you dance with him for every song. He was weirdly good at it, too. 

“It’s all in the hips, babe,” he said.

It definitely was.

Your favorite part, though, is the last dance. 

It’s a slow song, and the only people left were couples. The bride and groom had left, sneaked out a back door because she hated send-offs, so everything was winding down. 

Jamie has your hands in his, and brings them to loop around his neck.

“You alright?” he whispers. You nod. “Good,” he says, voice still low. “Wanted to make sure you had a good time. I fucking love weddings. The dancing, the food… you.” He grins and you smile back. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Not sure I mentioned it earlier.”

You’re blushing now, swaying to the music as his hands circle your waist.

You say, “Thanks for coming with me, Jaim. I don’t think I would’ve had as much fun without you.”

Your hands are on the sides of his face now, thumbs tracing his cheekbones.

You lean up to kiss him and right before you do he whispers, “Gonna be us someday, yeah?”

You forget how to breathe for a moment, opting to nod instead.

Jamie smiles, and leans down to finish what you started. 

[thespacesoffalseandtrue]

Body Paint

i am back and better than ever with something that has been in my inbox A LOT. hope this fills all of the fantasies in each of your pretty heads. my inbox is open, all the feedback is wanted

warnings: PERIOD SEX!!!! fluff jake, demanding jake, oral (m) receiving, unprotected sex, MINORS GET LOST.

You were taking it easy today, the sun was shining through the windows when you woke up and you had a visit from your period to greet you. Your cramps came and went as the day went by, not really bothering you but present enough to remind you.

You were putting the dishes in the dishwasher when you heard the front door open. You turn to find Jake standing in the corner of the kitchen. He had been gone all day, leaving a note on the fridge with the word “studio” scrawled on it with a heart.

“Hey,” you say, washing your hands at the sink.

“Hi pretty girl,” he said, coming up, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“How was the studio?” You ask him as he makes his way to the fridge. He grabs a bottle of water, opens it, takes a long swig. You can’t help but watch his throat as he does this. He seemed tense, pensive almost. Something must have happened at the studio today.

“It was good,” he says to you, putting the cap on the nearly empty bottle. “But I could think of something else I would rather be doing.”

His eyes lazily trail your body. You were wearing a cropped shirt and yoga pants, but with the way hunger sparkled in his gaze, you might as well have been naked.

“That bad?” You ask him. You move around him to go get the folded laundry you left on the back of the couch. You knew that there was usually no place Jake would rather be than at the studio playing his guitar.

Jake simply shrugged, unwilling to talk about what did or didn’t transpire today. “There’s been better days.”

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, “is there something I can do?” You turn to him as he follows you, grabbing the rest of the clothes off the back of the couch and into your shared bedroom. He doesn’t answer, instead he silently helps you put the clothes in their drawers. You’re about to ask him again when he finally answers you.

“Come over here,” he says from across the room with a hand outstretched to you. You oblige, obviously, when you’re close enough, you take his hand and he pulls you into a hug. He buries his face into your neck and takes a deep breath.

You wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back slightly. He reaches down and squeezes your ass while kissing your neck. When you shiver, he backs you up until you feel the bed on the back of your legs. You don’t move to sit down, instead his lips crash to yours, fiercely. Your arms tighten around you and he moans low in his through. His hands play with the hem of your shirt, his fingers find the bare skin of your waist causing you to shiver. He breaks the kiss and pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor beside you. His eyes darken when he finds your chest bare, your nipples peaked, begging for his attention.

When he bends down to take your nipple in his mouth do you finally say, “I started my period today.”

“That’s good for you.” He says moving to lick the other nipple. His calloused fingers pull at the other one, not wanting it to feel abandoned.

You groan in pleasure and arch against his mouth. “I have a tampon in, Jake.”

“Noted. Now be quiet.”

Your period didn’t seem to bother him or turn him off. His mouth was still working hard on your chest. But you couldn’t help but feel self conscious, sex on your period wasn’t something you had ever tried, for a reason.

“I will be quiet after I say this one thing. The idea of sex on my period doesn’t make me feel sexy.”

He stops and looks at you.

“Allow me to change your mind then.”

He pushes you down until you’re sitting on the bed. He unzips his black pants, takes his hard cock in his hand, and uses his other hand to hold your hair back.

“You’re so pretty, I’ve been thinking about your pretty mouth all day.”

A thrill ran down your body. You knew what he wanted, no, what he needed. Giving him a sly smile you encircled his shaft with your hand and lick the engorged head, you loved the familiar and slightly salty taste of his skin. You close your eyes when you take him all the way into your mouth. He groans in pleasure.

He cradles your head in his hands and flexes his pelvis, slowly sliding his hard cock down your throat. You take it all, mouth open wide.

“Fuck,” he whispers raggedly. “You are a dream.”

You swallow around his length and he moans out your name.

Setting a slow, steady pace, you take him in and out of your mouth, sucking and licking the crown and stroking his rigid shaft, sliding your tongue along the throbbing vein that runs under the length of it. You suck and swirl and stroke, your head bobbing and your nipples aching, so turned on, you think you might be able to cum from the friction of your panties against your clit alone.

He fucks into your mouth until he’s panting. Low helpless groans come from deep in his chest. His cheeks are slightly pink and his eyebrows are furrowed. He wraps a hand around your throat.

“I’m close baby, are you ready?”

When you make a small sound of agreement around him, he begins to thrust harder and faster until he’s moaning your name, his head thrown back and his eyes shut. He climaxes, spilling himself on your tongue in short bursts, every one you swallow, looking up at him through your eyelashes in a lust-filled haze.

He’s still for a moment, catching his breath, slightly rubbing the scalp of your head with his fingertips. He opens his eyes and looks down at you as you clean him off with your tongue. He smiles down at you and runs his thumb across your bottom lip.

He pulls you up from your sitting position and flush against his chest. His lips hover over yours, you can feel the heat radiating off of them. You wanted to press your lips to his and tangle your hands in his hair.

“Okay?” He asks you. You knew what he was asking.

“I don’t know,” you said, feeling heat rush to your face at the idea. “I am so gross, Jake and it will be so messy and the sheets…”

“Let’s make a mess of them, yeah?” He presses his lips to yours, in a gentle kiss. “Nothing about you is gross, okay? This is a normal part of life but it shouldn’t stop you from living.”

“From fucking you, you mean?” You say jokingly.

“That too. It is my favorite part of living at least.” His eyes were so sincere, so warm, so familiar. You trust him completely, knowing he wouldn’t do anything to make you feel uncomfortable.

“Okay,” you tell him. He smiles at you big and guides you down to lay flat on your back. He yanks his shirt off over his head. His pants and underwear follow closely behind. He bends down to trail kisses from your neck, your breasts, your stomach. When he reaches the waistband of your yoga pants he looks up to you, making sure you are still okay. You nod and lift your hips, allowing him to pull both your pants and panties off.

He slides his left hand under your hips, to situate you, and then presses your clit between his thumb and forefinger.

You gasp in pleasure at the sensation. Keeping his left hand between your thighs, his right hand moves and grips your breast. You feel as if your body was on fire. He looks up at you with hooded eyes as he continues to lazily stroke your clit.

You bite your lip and close your eyes. He moves up and begins to pepper kisses around your nipple. He begins to bite and tug at the bud and his tongue smooths over the stinging spots he leaves in his wake. You begin to rock your hips against his hand.

“Good girl,” he says, his thumb and forefinger moving faster against your clit. You can feel yourself being brought over to the edge of pleasure. Right as you’re about to tell him not to stop, does he stop. You whimper at the loss of friction.

“I’m going to take care of this okay?” You open your eyes and see him holding the string to your tampon.

“No, Jake, let me-” before you can finish your sentence he had already removed it and threw it away in a trash can beside the bed. You could feel your cheeks begin to warm.

“Hey it’s okay, it’s just me,” he says, bringing a hand up to your cheek.

“I know,” you say, bringing him down to cover you. You expected yourself to be more embarrassed or turned off but this was Jake and the way he felt against you, over you, nothing could ever compare.

“I love the way you look under me,” he says, lining himself up to your entrance. He thrusts into you in one swift motion.

“Fuck,” he groans out, “you take me so well.”

Your hands move to his back, looking for an anchor as he begins to move against you at a smooth and even tempo.

You try very hard not to make a sound, but you can’t help how hard you’re breathing. You keep your eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure builds. Heat ripples through your lower body in waves, intensifying with each stinging blow and stroke of him inside of you. Soon, you’re biting your lower lip with the effort to keep from moaning.

“I want to hear you, don’t be shy.”

You can hear how wet you are, your ecstasy and your period mixing together. You look down and see that your slick has coated him from the small patch of pubic hair that sits at his navel all the way down to his thighs. He looked like you had painted him a scarlet color. The sheets underneath you were once a light gray and are now stained in crimson. You should be embarrassed, disgusted even but your body was pulsating with pleasure.

The pad of his thumb found its way back to your clit and he began to rub it in smooth circles. You weren’t sure how much longer you were going to be able to wait.

“Jake,” you gasp out between pants.

“Cum,” he commands you, moving his thumb faster to match his thrusts. “I want to feel you cum around me.”

You feel your walls contract around him. You buck and cry out, convulsing helplessly. He’s growling something in your ear that sounds filthy, but you can’t concentrate on anything else but the pleasure exploding through your body. He grips your hips tightly.

“Fuck I’m going to fill you up.” He fucks you through your orgasm and does exactly as he says, fills you up just as he did your mouth minutes ago.

When you return to yourself, you’re weak, feeling emotionally exposed, and shaking all over.

Jake looks absolutely fucked out, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, skin slick with sweat as he leans over and kisses you so softly as if you were going to break.

“Who do you belong to?” He whispers softly.

“You,” you tell him.

“Who fucks you better than anyone ever has?”

“You,” you say again.

“Who loves you more than anything in the entire world?”

“You.”

He smiles softly at you and peels his body off of you. His eyes glance down to the mess the two of you made. You could feel the coppery stickiness between your legs and you can’t n help but smile slightly at the mess on his legs too. He smirks up at you and pulls you up to his chest so that you’re standing beside him pressed to his side. He kisses you once and then spins you around so that you can see the bloody mess on the bed sheets.

“Damn hottest thing I’ve ever seen, you looked so beautiful, ethereal. Thank you for letting me experience you.” He whispers in your ear. He kisses your bare shoulder.

“Can we go shower?” You turn to ask him.

“Should I change the sheets before or after?”

“Why would you wait until after? Just do it now and I will help you?”

“No I just don’t want to go through all that trouble changing the sheets if we are just going to mess up another pair,” he says with a grin and a playful slap to your ass.

You can help yourself you grin up at him and all but skip to the shower, hearing him follow closely behind.

[mayhemhq]

Our event, Grim's Hollow Haunt, is just 11 days away, and we're excited to share all the details of what's happening that weekend! The 19th & 20th is the is the weekend that it will take place. All shows and ppvs on this day are prerecorded, regardless of if your character participates or not.

The setting takes place in a secluded cabin on the outskirts of Salem, MA. We’re bending reality a bit for this experience. The sprawling three-story cabin is isolated, surrounded by vast open land and eerie trees. Despite its remote feel, it’s just a short drive from Salem, where your characters can explore the city if they choose.

We invite you to click THIS link to read the fictional tale of Barnabas Grim and the legendary events that inspired this experience. It’s designed to feel like a local legend—stories pieced together over time through rumors and hearsay, blending elements of the supernatural with Salem’s own rich history.

With that in mind, we’ll be sharing starters the 19th and at least posting one dash game on the 20th to spark interactivity and creativity. Starters / prompts will mostly be one-liners inspired by the story and the cabin. During this trip, feel free to let creepy, unexplained things unfold—have fun with it!

Again, both important links worth checking out: here and here!

Now, to explain how the weekend will go:

We're all staying in the cabin—or at least, that’s the idea! There are plenty of rooms, and even multiple couples can share if they’d like. Remember, this isn’t just about romance; it’s about enjoying the experience together. When else will you get to do something like this? Of course, it’s perfectly fine if your character isn’t affected by the supernatural—after all, not everyone has those experiences in real life. But, at the end of the day, it’s all for fun!

Saturday during the day, feel free to explore Salem and whatnot. Do whatever you wish until nightfall.

The carnival kicks off Saturday night around 6pm CST. In canon, it will be set later to capture the feel of darkness and mystery. We encourage everyone to dress up in Halloween costumes for the event! Feel free to share your character’s look, but it’s not mandatory. For those managing multiple muses, use this time to draft posts or brainstorm outfit ideas. You can find all the carnival highlights on this page—just imagine a spooky yet thrilling carnival atmosphere. Keep in mind, this is the only October event featuring Halloween costumes, so take advantage and get inspired by the attractions listed!

Sunday night around 6pm CST, we’ll be hosting the final dinner: Grim’s Last Supper. You can find more details about it here. We encourage everyone to wear Victorian Gothic-inspired attire—think dark, rich colors, suits, dresses, and the like. Feel free to get creative, but keep in mind it’s a dressy, elegant, and formal dinner party. To keep things lively, we’ll also share a drunken Truth or Dare / AMA dash game that night for a bit of fun. One of us will link a drunken text generator if you really want to embrace the vibe!

Please, please make sure to reach out to inboxes that night and get as wild and weird as you want! Just keep in mind that it’s all for fun, and we want everyone to have a great time. Also, be considerate and avoid reblogging the game IF you will not be around to participate. Reblog to only the number of muses you can handle, too. Don’t get overwhelmed. Let’s make the most of the night!

We know there’s an NJPW PPV that weekend, but we decided to host this event a weekend earlier since the actual holiday weekends tends to be packed. Many of us have other OOC gatherings then, and some will be busy on Halloween night itself, so this felt like the best choice for an engaging and interactive event!

Quick question for everyone: would you like to have a plot twist during the final supper? Maybe something fun and unexpected, like a dare gone wrong or a creepy scenario that could (somewhat) realistically unfold? There’s always the classic power outage, but we know you all are super creative and might have other ideas! It’s not a must, but feel free to share your thoughts below so we can brainstorm together if something comes to mind.

[marveltrumpshate]

★ THE 2024 MTH AUCTION IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED ★

The auction is officially over! Phew. We’re exhausted and in need of some delicious shawarma.

We hope you all managed to win the auctions that you really wanted and that this week has been as thrilling and enjoyable for you as it has been for us.

Firstly, we’d like to say a huge thank you to everyone who supported us this week: creators; bidders; signal boosters; our design, dev, and server mod teams; and everyone who cheered us on. We’re immensely touched by the kindness and generosity you all showed in contributing to the auction and giving encouragement to creators and bidders alike.

Emails will be going out to winners as soon as possible, with instructions on how to submit your donation. As there are so many of you, it may take a while for everyone to receive the email. Keep your eye on your inbox over the next four days even if you don't think you won; some creators take on more than one winner and you might get lucky! We'll announce when all the winner emails have gone out, so please do not contact your creator or make a donation preemptively. We also ask that you refrain from asking creators if they're taking on a second winner for their auction(s); not everyone is eligible to do so and not everyone is able or comfortable even if they are, so we don't want creators to feel awkward or pressured. Creators will also be emailed about the next steps of the donation process within the next 48 hours, and we’ll be posting further instructions on Tumblr shortly.

This past year has been one of the most difficult years in recent memory, and it feels like many of us are full of trepidation and despair over what’s happening and what’s to come. It’s easy to feel defeated or small in the face of such heartbreak and seemingly insurmountable odds, to question one’s place in the world and what you can do or be in the grand scheme of things. But what we’ve seen over the years is that many of the people in our fandom show up anyway, no matter how much or how little we believe we have to offer, because we have to. And that’s enough. We’re enough.

Because if enough people feel that way and enough of us find others who do—even if it takes some persuading—if we stick together and fight, not just for ourselves but also for others whether they know it or not, we can do something good. And often, even in the darkest of times, we’re able to find joy in small places by doing so—just like Wade in our Auction Week banner when he saw Mary Puppins (he really, really loved and wanted Dogpool just like we all really, really loved and wanted the auctions we fiercely bid on for MTH 2024). And like Wade and Logan, who were lost, by putting aside our differences and stepping up because of how much we care, we find our purpose. Our place in the world. Our people. (Even if we get into tussles along the way, but hey, those tussles over auctions can be fun and aren't as bloody as the Honda Odyssey fight. ...Right?)

Thank you again for making the auction as wonderful as it has been. We can’t begin to express how much it meant to us to have the fandom we love so much come together to make a positive impact, and we’re looking forward to the creation of many beautiful fanworks over the coming year!

[loudhousewriting]

PLEASE PLEASE MAKE A LONI X READER X LOKI AND THEIR BOTH FLIRTING N WE ARE OBLIVIOUS TO IT SO PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏 (when you can <33)

oh my god! i never saw this lol. sometimes inboxes get lost istg Tw: Slight Language

Loki is a cheesy romantic. Lots of gifts and chocolates

^ So, for you to not pick up on his advances you have to be really love blind

Now Loni, Loni is.... Well, he's a cute lover. Compliments and words of affirmation are his love language. With him you just think that's how he is

Loki flirting is more obvious, but as previously mentioned, you're an idiot

You work at the mall, so whenever the family goes to the mall for the outings, they do everything in their power to ditch the family and see you

Loki is forced to watch his younger siblings, much to his frustration, but not Loni

Loni was thrilled when seeing you leaning on the counter chewing some gum while fiddling with your phone. He mentally prepares himself before approaching you

He is blocked though, because a customer captures your attention and they are pissed. Loni felt really bad, because they were yelling and getting aggressive, but you handled it surprisingly well. He recognized the customer-service act, because he pulled it when people were mean to him

^ He finally approached you when they [The 'Karen' ] left, but as he got closer, he could hear your annoyance and mockery and he was worried that it was a bad time. Though, when you saw him, you quickly called him over

"You just missed this crazy woman! It was terrible."

"Yeah... I saw"

You laugh, shaking your head, "She was fucking crazy"

"Yeah... Yeah, she was," He laughs and you both continue a conversation

"Hey, I'm about to clock out, do you want to hang out?"

It must have been his lucky day, or perhaps he had died and gone to heaven, and he was quick to agree

Loni tries to flirt with you, but it's mostly just stupid puns or flirts that don't land or he says the punchline wrong

"Are you from Pennsylvania, because you're the only ten I see- Wait, no... That's not right"

Lucky for him, you think he's rather funny and think it's kind of cute how he keeps messing up. He reminds you of a puppy

Loki sees you two together and is fuming

He wants to go over and talk to you, but he's stuck with the kids

He would have gone over with the kids to hopefully embarrass Loni, but he [Loki] was smart enough to know he'd embarrass himself too

Loki knows exactly how he'll get to you too. You're in Loni's grade, so Loki will offer to help you with the excuse of 'I've already done the work, so I know how to do it.'

^ Lucky him it works

He's so obvious about his flirting, calling you pretty and such

You just think he's being a sweet friend

It's very frustrating for both of them

They're siblings stay out of it, because they don't want to get involved with their brothers' love 'V' [It's not a triangle]

^ That is until they're threatened with losing certain privileges, but it's pointless, because you're clueless

You could have it spelled out that they like you and you would still think it's just a friend thing

[goodneighborxfallout]

Sole getting caught by Hancock by pickpocketing him or stealing his caps which leads to a misunderstanding as sole gets turned on by the thrill of the situation which Hancock didn't know about.

Thank you for requesting! I'm not too happy with how this turned out, but my god this request has been in my inbox for literal years so it was about time I answered it. Sorry it took me forever!

It was a random Tuesday evening. You and Hancock had just gotten back to Goodneighbor to check how the place was holding up without their mayor present. Hancock had gone off to talk to some of the more important people in town while you decided to just hang out in the Old State House. You were tired from traveling and your legs were heavy, but you weren’t sure about sleeping arrangements. Before Hancock became one of your traveling buddies, you’d stay in Hotel Rexford whenever you spent the night in Goodneighbor. You weren’t sure how things would go tonight, so the only thing you could do was wait for the mayor to return from his business talks. In the meantime, you were walking around the second floor, checking out the decorations of the place while twirling a canister of jet in your hand. However, suddenly a hand wrapped around your wrist and with a hard tug your body spun around to your captor: Mayor Hancock himself. Took him long enough. 

“What’s that you got in your hand, sunshine?” the ghoul asked, his voice low and raspy. 

You didn’t notice yet that something was up. 

“Just some jet,” you answered plainly. 

“Some jet that doesn’t belong to you.” 

Your eyes narrowed slightly. Was he pissed? Sure, you found the jet on his coffee table but you didn’t see the problem. He frequently gave you chems while traveling so why would this be any different? However, you also didn’t mind angering him. 

“Of the people, for the people, right?” You mocked him. 

Hancock chuckled, and your heart jumped in your chest. 

You and Hancock had a strange relationship. At first, you didn’t really like him. The way he towered over people from his balcony, and rewarded them with free chems for answering simple questions as if they were dogs doing tricks he taught them rubbed you the wrong way. So when Bobbi tricked you into raiding Hancock’s strongroom, you stuck with her. You thought you’d no longer be welcome in Goodneighbor after killing Fahrenheit, but Hancock was strangely chill about it. That was when your dynamic changed: He ordered you to kill Bobbi. It was intimidating, threatening even. But it was the first time you understood why people were attracted to him. You’ve been traveling together ever since and unfortunately, you never saw that side of him again, until now maybe?

“You know damn well I don’t tolerate people stealing from me. Now if this was your first offense against me, I’d let it go, but it’s not, is it? Can’t have this turning into a habit.” 

Your heart was racing now. 

“So what will you do about it?” You said it in a challenging way, but you were full-on ready to obey his every command. 

“Good question.” Hancock took the jet from your hand and created some distance between you two. He leaned against the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze was stuck on you. “How about some community work, huh? Heard Daisy could use help dealing with some bigots.”

Community work??? If this was a movie scene, the music would now be cut off abruptly by a record scratch. 

“You’re joking,” you deadpanned. 

“I’m not. Now get out of my sight.” 

You didn’t move, however. Stubbornly, you crossed your arms over your chest and pulled your eyebrows up at him. “And what if I refuse?”

Hancock chuckled and looked down to the ground. Your heart was racing, anticipating his every move. You knew you’d be in real danger if you pissed him off too much, but this entire argument was about 1 canister of jet, so you were pretty sure it wasn’t going to escalate. “I’m tired, sweetheart. Let’s not do this.” 

“Come on, Hancock, it’s one canister of jet that I didn’t even use. You’re the one making a big deal out of this.” 

“You know what, you’re right,” he said. No. No, no, no. “I guess I really am tired. I’ll let it go this time, just don’t do it again.” 

You almost sighed out loud. This was not how it was supposed to go… Guess you’d have to steal from him again… 

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

A few days passed. The two of you were still in Goodneighbor and random chems kept mysteriously disappearing from Hancock’s stash. Of course, he suspected you, but you deliberately had been sneaky about it to rile him up. 

Now it was finally time to let him catch you. You took some jet - as that was the chem that had started this all - and kept it in your pockets to use at the perfect time. That time was now: You were hanging around Hancock’s bedroom, door wide open, and had just heard him come up the stairs. 

“Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?” 

You turned to Hancock who was leaning against the door post with his arms crossed over his chest. You had just taken a hit and let out a relieved exhale before throwing the empty canister of jet to the ground. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Hancock chuckled lowly and pushed himself away from the doorpost, after which he started to approach you. Your heart was racing in your chest. This time, you couldn’t screw up.

“Which part of ‘don’t steal from me’ is too hard for you to understand, sweetheart?” 

“Oh you said ‘don’t’? I must’ve misunderstood,” Your tone was dripping with dishonesty. “Thought you were all about sharing.” 

“Do we have a problem here?” It wasn’t clear if it was supposed to sound threatening or if he genuinely wondered if things had gone south between you two. But one thing was obvious: He still wasn’t catching on. 

“A problem? Us? I don’t think so,” you said innocently. Then you took a step towards him. Your bodies were almost touching now and you let one of your hands rest on his chest. You were done being subtle. You thought he’d figure things out quickly, but so far it had failed so it was time to just make things plain obvious. “But it seems you’ve been having trouble with some chem thief. You should do something about that.” 

Hancock hummed. "And seeing as you're always so helpful, I'm sure you've got some suggestions for handling this thief?"

You bit your lip and let your hand slowly travel down his body. Though you were behaving confidently, deep down you were a nervous wreck. "I guess you could punish them."

You could see it in his eyes: a sudden realization. He had finally put two and two together, but his reaction wasn’t what you had anticipated. You thought he’d get a bit cocky, instead, his nickname for you quietly left his mouth and he took a step back. Or well, he tried to, but your hand that was now close to his abdomen took hold of his shirt and pulled him back. “Don’t you dare back off now,” you growled lowly. “I keep trying to piss you off because it’s hot as fuck, but you keep forgiving me.”

Hancock chuckled. “What can I say? It seems I just have a soft spot for you.” Then he turned serious. “You sure you want this, sweetheart?” 

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Ever been with a ghoul before?”

“What’s it matter? I-”

“We look different.”

“I’m aware,” you said with a small smirk and raised eyebrows but it clearly didn’t set him at ease. 

“Everywhere, Sole.” 

“Okay, let me spell it out for you: I. Want. You. That clear enough?” 

Hancock let out a small chuckle. “Fine. But you suddenly change your mind? I do something you don’t like? You tell me, okay? We’ll stop immediately.” 

“Okay. Now can you please go back to threatening me?”

[minisugakoobies]

Ashes Falling | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: smut, crack, DadYoongi!AU, BadCop!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: weapons - guns, switching POVs, angst!, allusions to murder, mentions of blood/wounds, fighting (hand-to-hand), shooting, Yoongi shows off that tongue technology (oral sex - f receiving), rough fucking (protected sex), Yoongi is not a good guy (ymmv)

Word Count: 5.3k (whoops)

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: I see the ashes falling out your window There's someone in the mirror that you don't know And everything was all wrong So burn it till it's all gone

A/N: And we've reached the end! This series came out of absolutely nowhere thanks to @minttangerines's beautiful brain and it's been fun just writing with no plan and no expectations. Thank you for riding along! 💜

Chapter title and summary from Agust D's masterpiece Burn It 🔥

Unbeta’d as usual. I’d love to know what you think - my inbox is always open! 💕

Part 6 💵 Bad Cop Masterlist

Then

Yoongi sits across from you, one hand resting on the dining table, the other playing with a glass of whisky. Around and around, the caramel liquid swirls. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear he was trying to hypnotize you. 

And it might work, if you were anyone else. Of course, anyone else would already be under the handsome man’s thrall. Especially the way he looks tonight - in his tailored suit, bespoke undoubtedly, since money is apparently no object for him, and with his dark hair slicked back to reveal more of his gorgeous face.

When he’d asked you to dinner tonight, you’d felt a slight thrill of victory, knowing that your plan was working. You’d succeeded so far in inserting yourself into his life. All the secrets the Bureau wanted so desperately for you to discover were practically within your grasp. You just needed a sign from him to confirm that you’re in. 

“So are you thinking of extending your contact?” Yoongi asks, sipping at his drink. You’d told him when you’d first met that you were working for Da-som’s school for a year, with the option to extend if the school agreed. He speaks casually, almost disinterestedly, but you can hear the true question beneath - are you staying?

“I think so. I really like it here.” 

A hint of a smile crosses his face at your answer. Long fingers reach into the inside pocket of his jacket and produce a cigarette, which he lights with the click of a flashy silver lighter. There’s not supposed to be any smoking in this restaurant, but no one’s going to stop the chief detective of the city’s police force, and he knows it. It’s a power move. 

“Good,” is all he says, blowing a smoke ring towards the ceiling. 

Anyone other than you would be affected by his reaction. By the heated look he gives you, gaze slipping down your face, down to your waist, and back. Not you, though. You know better than to fall for any of this. 

This is what you remind yourself as you push your thighs together, trying to still the sudden throbbing there. 

Your waiter returns with the bill and Yoongi simply reaches into his pocket, dropping a stack of cash on the tray without looking. Another power move. 

“Thank you for dinner,” you smile shyly, setting down your dessert fork. “I’m - I’m glad you asked me. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you better these last few weeks.” 

He leans forward, reaching his hand across the table to where yours is resting. When his fingers tap you, you flip your hand over and he slides his hand on top of yours. You immediately register something cool and hard between your palms. 

“Me too,” he says softly. “And I don’t want to stop.” 

He pulls his hand back a little, curling your fingers around what he’s left behind. Yoongi stands, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it as he bows. 

“I’ll be waiting,” he murmurs, lips humming against your skin, and then he walks away. You track him as he saunters confidently through the crowded room, until he reaches the entrance of the restaurant and vanishes. 

Opening your hand, you stare down at the piece of plastic lying there. A room key, to the hotel next door. There it is - your sign. 

The excitement that blazes through you is the ecstasy of knowing you’ve succeeded. Of realizing that you’re one step closer to the win, and nothing else.

This is what you tell yourself as you rise to your feet, and follow. 

Now

Your bag rests on the passenger seat as you hurtle down the highway. The car you’re driving is a piece of shit, but you were in no position to barter when you’d asked Seokjin if he had anything you could borrow to finish your mission. He’d called a friend of a friend and mere minutes later you were on your way. 

The police cruiser is still at Seokjin's, along with Jungkook. Your partner had been sleeping when you’d left, whispering a quick goodbye, telling him to stay put and rest while you finished the job. Seokjin promised he’d take care of him and you had no doubt that he would be safe there. 

The car’s shocks are fairly worn, meaning every little bump in the road sends your satchel bouncing. Instinctively, you reach out, searching until you find the little key tucked away in an inner pocket. The cold metal soothes you as you clutch at it anxiously. This is it, the final key to bringing Yoongi down. 

Your plan is, frankly, insane. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Thankfully, Seokjin gave you access to his personal arsenal, which is not small. But even if you’re strapped to the teeth, you’ll practically need a miracle. 

However, you’re not the praying type. Your faith resides solely in yourself. So you breathe deeply, and keep your eyes firmly on the road as you run through your plan again and again in your mind. 

As the bay comes into view, you pull over, parking the car near the entrance to the neighborhood where Yoongi’s second house resides. You’ll have to go on foot from here, to remain unseen by his men. Yoongi’s too careful to leave this place unmanned. 

You approach the fence bordering his mansion, peering between the iron bars. His vacation home is massive, a sprawling ode to excess, flaunting his new wealth. The layout of the place is fresh in your mind, thanks to floor plans stolen from the developer. Unfortunately, that’s not going to help you much if you’re outnumbered by Yoongi’s men. If only you could’ve waited for sundown, to give you more cover, or waited for backup, but right now you don’t have the luxury of time. 

A hand suddenly slips over your mouth and your eyes widen as someone presses their body against your back. Fuck! You grasp at their arm, readying yourself to attack, when a familiar voice hisses, “Don’t scream! It’s me.” 

“Jungkook! What the fuck!” 

Your partner releases you. He’s a little paler than usual, but otherwise looks like himself, even in Seokjin’s clothing, a black t-shirt tucked under a Kevlar vest, colorful sleeve of tattoos bright in the midday sun. 

“Did you really think I was gonna let you do this alone?” He grins, ignoring your scowl. “Now what’s the plan?” 

There’s no point in arguing with him. He’s here now, and even though you’re full of conflicting emotions - anger that he didn’t listen to you, guilt that you’re the reason he got injured - the feeling that overrides them all is pure, intense relief. Of course he’s by your side. You’re not alone.

It doesn’t take long to fill him in. You’re basically just going in there with guns blazing, hoping to fight your way to where you believe Yoongi’s safe sits, holding the box with the secrets that little key will unlock. 

Jungkook just nods when you’ve finished. “Got it.”

“We should probably call for backup.” 

“Already did, on the way here. They’ll be here as fast as they can, but something tells me that you don’t want to wait.” 

“I don’t.” You need this to be over, now. 

“Okay then. Ready when you are.” 

“Jungkook.” You pause, unsure how to say this. “I’m sorry. For everythi- ”

But he stops you with a shake of his head. “None of that. We’ve got a job to do.” He cups his hands, waiting to give you a boost over the fence. “Come on. You lead. I’ll follow. Like always.” 

With a nod of your own, you step onto his hands, and climb the fence.

Then

Yoongi glances at his watch. It’s only been five minutes since he left you sitting at the table, but it feels much, much longer. Too long. He loosens his tie a bit as he waits. His suit jacket is folded over the back of the chair beside the bed. The room is quiet. 

Is he rushing things? It’s very like him to do that. He could move more slowly with you. But, well, he doesn’t want to. He wants you now.

Which is why he’s here, perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the door. Waiting.

It’s not just about sex. If Yoongi only wanted to get his dick wet, he wouldn’t have to take anyone out on several dates first. That’s not arrogance - it’s a fact that he radiates power, and women are attracted to that. And he knows he looks good. He has mirrors. 

No, it’s more than that - although he’d be lying if he said he hasn’t been imagining this moment since the first time he saw you in Da-som’s classroom. He’d been so distracted by your beauty at the parent-teacher conference that he’d accidentally agreed to chaperone a class trip, just nodding along to whatever you were saying while picturing what you’d look like if he bent you over your desk right then and there. But beyond his baser needs, there’s something else. Something that draws him to you. He senses a kindred spirit. He needs to know how deep that connection goes.

There’s a loud click and the door suddenly opens. Yoongi stands as you enter. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” you say, biting your lip before smiling sweetly. 

In just three steps he’s across the room, pulling you into his arms for a passionate kiss. 

He quietly orders you to lift your arms, and the gorgeous dress you’d worn to dinner crumples into a soft ball of fabric on the ground. With sure steps he maneuvers you towards the bed, helping you sit on the edge, kindly freeing your breasts from the confining corsetry of your bra as he goes. While you settle onto the soft sheets, he slides your panties down your legs, taking care to rake his fingers along the soft skin there, delighting in the way you shudder at his touch. 

The plush carpet gives way beneath his knees as he kneels, leaning over to kiss you, getting lost in the incredible softness of your lips for a moment, until your hands reach for the buttons on his shirt. His hands lightly push yours away as he shakes his head. 

“Not yet, baby.” 

“But I wanna see you,” you say, pretty mouth turning down in a lovely little pout. “It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re not.”

He just chuckles. Smoothly, he undoes one cufflink, then the other, rolling his sleeves to his elbows. His forearms flex with the motion, drawing your attention, and he smirks. 

“Don’t worry,” he assures you, “I’ll still put on a good show for you.” 

He kneels again, gently pressing his fingers into the bare skin of your stomach, urging you to lie back. One of your thighs comes to rest on his shoulder, then the other. With one hand he spreads your folds, saliva flooding his mouth at the glistening sight in front of him. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look good enough to eat.” 

You mewl as he kisses your dripping cunt, over and over, getting his mouth all sticky with your desire. Yoongi always follows through on his promises, and this is no exception. You can’t tear your eyes away from the dark-haired man as he rubs his lips, his tongue, his nose all over you, maintaining eye contact the entire time. Occasionally your head drops back, your eyes closing as if overwhelmed by the sensations, but then they immediately open again, not wanting to miss a second. 

“Yoongi.” 

Panting moans fill Yoongi’s ears as he drowns in you. When he finds the right rhythm with his tongue on your clit, a rapid lapping that has your hips lifting off the bed, he slides a finger inside your slick warmth, then two, three, and your moans become cries. Pleas, broken and desperate, begging him for more. 

Impatience roars up inside him again and he lets your legs slide from his broad shoulders. His cock aches as he tears off his clothing, sheathing himself with the condom waiting in his pocket, and you’ve barely moved up on the bed to make room for him when he’s sliding inside you. Fuck. So warm, so tight. A space carved out just for him. 

The headboard smacks into the wall repeatedly as Yoongi thrusts into you, hips slapping your ass with every sharp snap. You’re babbling, an endless stream of words pouring from your mouth, but the only words Yoongi can make out are “Yoongi” and “more.” 

“You want more, baby? I’ll give you everything. Anything you could ever want.”  

He goes harder, faster, driving his cock deeper and deeper. His hands grope at your breasts, your ass, as you take everything he has to give. When he feels your walls start to constrict, it’s almost a relief, because he’s not going to last much longer. And sure enough, when your orgasm hits, your cunt grips his cock so tightly that he cums, head dropping onto your chest as he fills the condom with his hot release.  

He lies that way, cheek pressed into the curve of your breast, breathing heavily as you both come down. From here, he can feel your heart pounding. It’s not identical to the way his own drums, but instead compliments it, a wild syncopation beating along to the steady pulse of his own tempo. His fingers tap along your sternum. 

“Is that morse code?” Your voice is just barely above a whisper, as if you don’t want to shatter the peaceful stillness of the moment. 

He lifts his head, smiling. “That’s your heartbeat. I’m playing along.” 

“Playing what, my collarbones?” 

“My piano.” His fingers dance over imaginary keys, caressing your skin so, so gently. 

“I didn’t know you had a piano. Or that you could play.” 

There’s so much you don’t know about him. So much he wants to show you. But he knows that it will take time. He has to ease you into his world. 

“I’ll play for you sometime,” he says, crawling up your body until his face hovers over yours. “If you’d like.” 

“I would like that. Very much,” you reply, lips curling into a shy grin, and he kisses it away until you’re breathless. 

Eventually, he has to go. He needs to get home to Da-som. Yoongi can defeat any enemy - except a babysitter with a curfew. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, fixing his tie, as you watch him from beneath the sheets. “The room’s paid for until tomorrow, so you can stay all night if you want. Order some room service in the morning. Treat yourself, sweetheart.” 

The corner of your mouth twitches. “You keep calling me that.” 

“Is that okay?” 

In reply, you pull him in for another kiss, and he sighs, wishing he could stay. Or take you home with him. But he’s not ready to have that conversation with Da-som yet. Even though he’s rushing everything else. 

He taps his fingers on your chest. “Sleep well, sweetheart.” 

He starts to rise, but you grab his wrist, holding him in place. 

“Yoongi. I don’t…” 

He says nothing, waiting for you to find your words. 

“I don’t do this with every father I meet, you know,” you finish, flashing that beautiful bashful smile again.

“Just me?” 

“Just you.” Your hand reaches out to straighten his tie, but then you gently brush your fingertips over his chest, mimicking his actions from earlier. Tap-tap-tap. 

In that moment, Yoongi knows. He’ll do anything for you. Like he told you earlier, when he was wrapped in your arms - he’ll give you anything you want. 

All you have to do is ask. 

Now

Bodies. So many bodies, scattered around the grounds of his house. Yoongi blinks dispassionately at them all. He thought he’d hired the best. Clearly, he was wrong. 

Yoongi honestly hadn’t known what to expect when he and Jimin arrived at his house on the bay. One of his guards had called him while he was on his way here and alerted him that you’d been spotted near the fence bordering his property. He’d hoped that when he got here, he’d find you waiting for him, tied to a chair by one of his guards. But it appears that he’d underestimated your skills, if you managed to take out so many of his men at once. 

No one appears to be dead, but they’re all knocked out or wounded. Interesting. Are you afraid to use lethal force? Or are you just saving your best shots for him? 

Together, he and Jimin sweep the first floor, finding nothing but his more useless guards. With a few silent signals, Jimin indicates that he’s going to scout ahead, and begins to climb the stairs. Yoongi watches him disappear down the hallway with a growing sense of unease. He tightens his grip on his gun. 

Jimin reappears after a moment, shaking his head. There’s only the other end of the hallway to explore now. The master suite is down that way. Where, in one of the walk-in closets, nestled in the corner, sits Yoongi’s safe. 

Maybe you’re not here. Maybe you’re already gone, with the contents of the safe firmly in tow. Maybe it’s all over, and any second now, this place will be swarming with feds. For the briefest of moments, Yoongi feels the strangest sense of relief at the thought. 

And then the moment is broken as a very loud “God damn it!!” rings out. 

Jimin instinctively points his gun in the direction of the screaming. It’s coming from the master suite. Yoongi joins him at the top of the stairs. 

“It’s her,” he states in a hushed tone. “That’s her voice.” 

“Sounds like someone might be giving her a rough time?” 

There are no other sounds coming from the direction of the suite. No more curses, no scuffling, none of the sickening noises that a human body makes when someone else is beating the shit out of it.

“Nah. She’s working on the combination.” 

“At least it sounds like it’s not going well.” 

For the moment. You have the key to the safe, but it’s a dual lock system, requiring a combination as well. Yoongi has no doubt you’ll figure out the date he used. It’s just a matter of time. 

So he’d better not give you any more. 

Yoongi grimaces, the gun suddenly heavy in his hands. “You ready?” 

Jimin nods. 

Silently, they creep forward. The door to the master suite looms at the end of the hall, and Yoongi feels his already frantic pulse increasing with every step. 

And then a floorboard creaks under Yoongi’s foot. Loudly. 

Both men pause, staring at one another. Listening. Waiting. 

The door at the end of the hall starts to open. Jimin dives into an empty room to his left, while Yoongi dashes into the bathroom on his right

The mirror mounted on the wall faces towards the end of the hallway. As Yoongi hides, he stares at the reflection of the person emerging from the suite. Shit, it’s Jungkook, gun drawn as he carefully sweeps the other open rooms down the hall. So much for Jimin’s incredible marksman skills - the rookie cop slash undercover agent doesn’t look any worse for wear, let alone dead. 

The door at the end of the hall opens again. Yoongi’s breath catches. With a fiercely determined expression on your face and that gun in your hand, you look nothing like the sweet, shy teacher he met all those months ago. A mirthless chuckle bubbles up in his chest. He clenches his jaw to keep it down. Funny how he was right - you are a kindred spirit, after all. Just a funhouse version of one. Staring at him from the other side of the mirror.

“Jungkook,” he hears you whisper, tracing your partner’s footsteps. “Where are you?” 

“In here. Did you crack it?” Jungkook reappears, gun lowered, and - 

BANG!

A bullet slices through the air between you and Jungkook. The two of you immediately dive, raising your guns in the direction of the gunshot - which, of course, was just Jimin announcing his presence. 

“Drop your weapon and come out!” you shout. 

Jimin just laughs, shaking his head. “Does that shit ever work?”

“Goddamn it, it’s that maniac again,” you hiss, loud enough for Yoongi to hear. 

“Did you miss me, love?” Another wild cackle. Yoongi glares at the younger man, but says nothing, not wanting to give away his location. 

Faster than lightning, Jimin fires another shot towards the end of the hall. 

“Fuck!” Jungkook yells, placing himself between you and the line of sight to the room where Yoongi can see Jimin crouching just inside. “Get back in there and keep trying! I’ll handle this asshole.” 

As soon as the door closes behind you, Yoongi looks at Jimin. He points to himself and then the door at the end of the hall. Jimin nods. 

“Oh, you will, will you?” Jimin taunts Jungkook. He grins at Yoongi. “I think - HEY!” Jimin dives aside as a bullet pierces the doorway, embedding itself firmly in the open door that Jimin was just leaning against. “You son of a bitch, you almost clipped my hair!” 

“Next one’s going in your forehead!” 

“As if you could hit my forehead!” 

“How can I miss a target that big?” 

“THAT’S IT!” Jimin roars. “YOU WANT A PIECE OF ME?” He rolls up his sleeves, giant snake tattoo on his arm practically dancing as he clenches his fists. 

“Yeah! You already took one from me! It’s time for payback!” 

Jimin unbuckles his harness, letting the weapons hit the floor. “Then let’s do this! I’ll tear you apart with my bare hands!”

“LET’S GO, MOTHERFUCKER!” Jungkook screams, and suddenly there are two blurs flying down the hallway towards each other. They collide with a loud “whump!” and Yoongi quickly slips out of the bathroom and towards the master suite. 

He opens the door slowly, much slower than the adrenaline coursing through his body wants him to, but he doesn’t want you to hear him entering. The two men behind him pay no attention, lost in their frenzy, powerful blows landing left and right. Yoongi closes the door just as carefully, twisting the knob so the lock clicks quietly into place. 

Gun raised, he takes one step towards the closet. Then another. The door is wide open, but the closet is so big that he can’t see the safe in the corner. Or you. 

As soon as he crosses the threshold, there’s a loud shriek as you jump out from behind the door and tackle him. His gun goes flying. He lands on his side, the breath in his lungs whooshing out hurriedly as you roll on top of him, thighs straddling his chest. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” You cock your gun, aiming it straight at his head. “I knew that maniac didn’t come alone.” 

Although your hands are steady, your chest rises with every panting breath you take, Yoongi notes. He feels his entire tensed body relax. You’re scared.

Good.

Yoongi smirks. “What are you gonna do, sweetheart? Shoot me?” He grabs the barrel of your gun as you gasp, but your finger doesn’t squeeze the trigger, even when he pulls it down until it presses into his forehead. “Go ahead.” 

“Stop it!” You try to yank your gun free, but he refuses to let go. You tug harder and harder, until he finally relinquishes his grip, and the force of your momentum throws you off balance. Yoongi scrambles to grab his gun as you’re knocked into a pile of hangers and clothing lying in a heap on the ground. When you rise, there’s a bright red line of blood seeping down your cheek, from where a hanger has cut you.

The two of you face off, guns drawn. Yoongi tuts. 

“Oh, sweetheart, your face. That looks nasty.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you snarl. 

“No? But I thought you liked it?” 

“I never did.” 

“Ah. Right. All part of the game, huh?” Yoongi laughs. “None of it was real, huh.” 

“It’s all over now.” Blood trickles down your cheek, dripping onto the pristine white carpet below. “Put the gun down, Yoongi. Think about Da-som. Think about -”

“No!” Yoongi takes a step forward. You hold your ground, but he swears he catches a flash of fear in your eyes. He should know, he’s seen it many times before. “Don’t you fucking tell me what to do! No one tells me what to do! I make the rules around here. I call the shots!” 

“Not anymore! We know everything. Everything. Your empire is burning down, Yoongi - don’t throw your life away trying to protect ashes!” 

“Oh, you know everything?” The mad laughter that’s been choking him finally slips past his lips. “Do you really? Fuck! You have no fucking idea!” Another step forward. He keeps his gun raised, but he’s cackling so wildly that his aim is all over the place. “Do you have any idea what I would’ve done for you? What I would’ve given you? Anything you wanted, anything you needed, it all would’ve been yours!”

“It wasn’t real, Yoongi!” 

“IT WAS REAL TO ME!” 

You freeze, eyes wide, as his shout echoes through the suite. Faintly, Yoongi can hear Jungkook and Jimin still fighting in the hallway. But it’s dead silent in the closet, where you’re still gazing at his face, as if searching for some sort of sign. 

Yoongi lowers his gun. He closes the gap between you, ignoring that your gun is now pointed directly at his heart, and reaches out with steady fingers.

Tap-tap-tap 

The silence in the closet is stifling, pressing in on him. But then you take in a shuddery breath. When Yoongi dares to look up, he sees tears in your eyes. 

But time, it seems, has run out. 

In the distance, but growing closer, he can hear the blaring wail of sirens. 

“YN!” Jungkook yells. The doorknob rattles. “Are you okay in there?” 

Yoongi’s fucked. He’s going down, and -

“Go,” you whisper. “You have to run.” 

There’s a loud thumping. Jungkook must be trying to break the door down with brute force. He’ll probably go grab his gun and try to shoot his way in next. Or any moment now, agents are going to come crashing through the windows. These are the panicked thoughts that race through Yoongi’s mind and prevent him from understanding what you’ve said. You drop your gun and grab his arms, shaking him. 

“Yoongi! Do you hear me? You have to run!” There’s a ferocity in your eyes that Yoongi’s never seen in anyone’s gaze but his own. “I know you have a back way out of here. You have to go now. Yoongi? Hey!” 

SMACK!

There’s a white-hot sting on his cheek. 

“Fuck, sweetheart!” He rubs away the pain left behind by your slap. 

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. The door has stopped shaking. “Listen, Jungkook will be in here any second. My team is likely already setting up a barricade and surrounding the place. You have to get to the water. Grab Da-som, start running, and never look back.” 

Da-som. Son of a bitch, he can’t lose her. The weight of everything he stands to lose finally comes crashing down. “Fuck, what have I done?” 

There’s a shout from the hallway, a berserker cry, and Yoongi realizes Jimin must have rallied for one last attack. Quickly, you take Yoongi’s hands, guiding him to stand again, and then lead him to the far corner of the master bedroom, where you push aside a bookshelf to reveal a darkened passageway, hidden from the outside. You really did know everything.

Or at least, now you do. 

The screaming sirens have stopped. Yoongi can hear voices out on the lawn. 

“I know you said you’re the one calling the shots, but you need to listen to me now. I’ll take care of everything else. But you - you can’t ever resurface, Yoongi. This is a one-time deal. Take Da-som and disappear. Please,” you whisper, clutching his hands. “Please, do this. If not for Da-som, if not for you - do it for me.” 

Even with his impending doom hovering just on the other side of the bedroom door, Yoongi can’t stop the way he feels. Of course he’ll run. 

Anything for you. 

Footsteps begin to echo throughout the house. Yoongi pulls you into his arms, embracing you one last time as his lips crash onto yours.

And then he runs.

Epilogue

You open the door to your apartment, kick off your shoes, and flop onto the couch. Another fucking long day. The planning for your latest mission is completely draining your energy. For not the first time in recent weeks, you wonder if you should listen to Jungkook’s advice and put in for that time off request. You could definitely use the break. 

Unconsciously, your fingers rub at the scar on your cheek. It hasn’t hurt for years, but in the last few weeks, it’s been itching like crazy. Jungkook always jokes that he can tell that it’s going to rain whenever his bullet wound aches. You wonder what the scar is trying to tell you. 

Eventually, you drag yourself off the couch and shuffle down the hallway towards the bathroom, dying for a shower. But then you hear a soft sound coming from the door behind you, like something’s sliding along the floor, and you freeze.

There’s an envelope laying in the entryway. Instinctively, you place a hand on the holster of your gun as you peer through the peephole. No one there. No one in the hallway, either, when you open your door. 

The envelope has your first name on it, nothing else. With careful fingers, you tear it open, and read the scrap of paper inside:

35.9285° N, 128.5774° E

Coordinates. To what location? 

You flip it over: 

I’ll be waiting.

You sink onto the couch, staring so intently at the words that you’re surprised the paper doesn’t burst into flames from the intensity of your gaze. 

It’s been five years with no word on Yoongi’s whereabouts. Once Jungkook finally knocked out Jimin and shot the door open, he’d found you lying on the floor, pretending to be unconscious. Yoongi had given up and fled the scene. The Bureau believed your story, likely helped by the fact that Yoongi had left behind his safe and all the secrets it contained. His empire crumbled.

Even though Yoongi’d evaded your capture, you were hailed as the hero of the day and moved on to the next case. And the next, and the next. Days turned into months turned into years. 

Once the mission was over, you never brought it up again. Occasionally, Jungkook or Seokjin would try to get you to talk. But you simply told them that you had nothing to say. The case was closed. 

(To say nothing of your heart.) 

And yet… it wasn’t entirely true. If you’d chosen to talk to your friends, you might have told them that you still found yourself thinking about it from time to time. About Yoongi. And where he was. That sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d scour countless resources, searching for him. Yet no matter how much you looked, you never found a single sign.

Until, maybe, now. You glance at the paper, and it dawns on you what it really is.

A key. 

…

You rise to your feet.

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© 2022-23 by sunshinerainbowsbts/minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.