#TRIED TO POST THIS BUT GOT DISTRACTED BY HOT WOMAN

[samixayn]

they went from the annoying young tag team to the annoyed veteran tag team 🤧

[froggibus]

Sex Rocks! - AMAB! Venture

Pairing: AMAB! Sloan Cameron x fem! Reader (reader uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Sloan is in for much more than they bargained for when they find a statue with magical properties—and you might be the only one who can help them out

CW: porn with plot, AMAB! Venture, sex pollen (but it’s a magical sex statue), dubcon, masturbation, showering, dirty thoughts (abt reader), slight voyeurism, blowjob, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, cock riding, mating press, multiple orgasms, protected AND unprotected sex, doggy style, multiple rounds, overstim, lots of cum, (think that's everything) use of the word shaft (im so sorry i hate this word but there’s only so many synonyms for dick)

yes the title is a pun ^.^ i meant to post this way earlier in the day but i got distracted and didn't end up finishing til tonight and it came out WAY LONGER than i thought. this is fr the longest smut ive ever written. anyway venture whores hope you all enjoy <3

It must’ve been Sloan’s lucky day. After barely an hour of searching, the glittering artifact they’d been looking for seemed to jump right out. Though the dusty gold colour blended in with the shimmering sand of the cavern, the three pink gems of the small statuette seemed to call to them. 

The figure was cold to the touch and buttery, barely bigger than the size of their hand. It was shaped like a beautiful curvy woman, with full breasts accentuated with the pink stones and a thick tummy—the likeness of some old, forgotten deity that Sloan could never remember the name of. 

They took out a soft piece of cut cloth and wrapped the statue before tucking it in their pack and beginning the short trek to the surface. Sloan buzzed the whole way up, that warm tingling washing over them. The kind they always felt when they found a new artifact, or when you laughed at one of their dumb jokes. 

As the surface came into view, the golden sunshine just beginning to dip below the horizon, the warmth grew stronger. It had been a hot day, and it seemed that though the sun was setting, the heat had not yet begun to dissipate. They took a long pause, letting themself rest on the rocks outside of the cave.

Wiping the sweat away from their forehead, they took a big drink from the canteen of water they’d brought along with them. It was a short trek, they weren’t usually this sweaty and parched from something so basic—but with the warmth of the day at its peak, they shrugged it off.

The car they’d taken was only just down the trail, maybe ten minutes away. With one last sip of their cold water, they tucked it into their pack and started the walk back. The sky was turning pink as they set off, but slowly turned to purple and then the rich black of night.

Despite the day’s end, the heat only grew more unbearable with the walk. Their thighs cramped as they made their way down the trail, their heart beginning to race. Whatever, they tried to ignore it and power through to the car.

Sweat coated Sloan’s forehead and chest by the time they made it to their vehicle. Their hair was slicked to the back of their neck, and the t-shirt they’d been wearing was rendered near see-thru. 

“Jeez,” they sighed, tugging off their t-shirt.

They tossed the sweaty fabric into their backseat along with their pack before sliding in the front seat to drive. They kept the AC on full blast the whole trip back home, though it did little to stop the boiling in their blood. 

Sloan was just pulling off the highway when a gasp forced its way out at the sudden tight feeling in their pants. They risked a glance down to their hard cock now straining against the thick fabric of their carharts. They shook it off, turning onto their street and trying to ignore the feeling of the bulge in their pants only growing with each minute.

It was almost painfully hard by the time they made it home. Sloan almost forgot their pack in the back of the car in their race to get inside and free their aching cock from the fabric that confined it. 

A sigh ghosted their lips when their cock sprung free from their boxers and they wrapped their sweaty palm around it. Their core was near sweltering, their cock throbbing in need. 

With a glance at the door to make sure it was locked behind them, Sloan spat in their hand and started to spread it across their aching cock. A shiver crawled its way up their spine, acting as a brief reprieve from the heat that threatened to consume them. They clamped a hand over their mouth and began to slide their hand up their length.

With barely a touch, they were already so sensitive. Pre cum dripped down the tip, pooling across their fingertips and mixing with the saliva already spread over their skin. They squeezed harder, dragging their hand up and down faster. Their muffled moans vibrated against the clammy skin of their palm, their eyes falling shut as their hand fell into a rhythm.

Thoughts of you filled their head. Thoughts of your smile, of your warm skin, of pinning you to the bed and using you however they pleased. Sloan gasped, opening their eyes as they came into their palm.

Fuck. Cum rolled across their fingers, down their still hard cock and collected into the hair at the base of their pubic bone. They smeared the remainder of the cum on their thighs, shaking off the aftershocks of their orgasm and deciding a cold shower would solve both the mess they made, and the throb between their legs.

With their clean hand, they dragged their backpack with them all the way to their bedroom, tossing it in the corner before grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom. They didn’t wait for the water to warm before stripping and stepping beneath the brisk stream.

The cool water settled the burning beneath their skin—but only just barely. Much to Sloan’s dismay, it also did nothing to soothe the ache between their legs. It was almost embarrassing, having an unrelenting boner for no reason like they were in school again.

They sighed, squeezing some coconut scented body wash into their hand and slicking across their cock. They didn’t bother to change the water back to warm, instead opting to let the frigid stream drip down their back. The nice smelling soap felt much, much better than their own spit—but they could imagine a few things that would feel even better.

Like your pretty lips wrapped around their tip, those kind eyes of yours pleading at them to cum in your mouth and—Sloan moaned, fingers clenching around their hard length. Just the thought of you touching them, or them touching you, was enough to have Sloan gasping and furiously jerking their cock.

Drops of soap flew away from their palm with every stroke, splattering the tile of the shower in front of them. God, wouldn’t they love to do that to you. What they wouldn’t give to do that to you. To have you lay down in front of them, completely at their mercy while they fucked you relentlessly and left you covered in their cum.

Their cock twitched, and then they were cumming. Wave after wave of hot cum burst out, coating the tile in front of them before being washed away by the water. Hard, shaking breaths wracked their chest as their senses returned to them and they could once again feel the cool water against their tanned skin. 

As they looked at the cum mixing with the water down the drain, all they could think was ‘what a waste.’

It only took ten minutes after their shower for the tingling in their cock to become unbearable again. The heat had returned almost immediately—and with a vengeance—but they’d managed to ignore the tenderness between their legs for only ten minutes.

Sloan was glad they didn’t bother putting their clothes back on as they settled into their bed and grasped their shaft once more. Cumming once or twice a day was normal for them, but this was something else entirely. Something had to be wrong.

Sloan pushed away their fears and started once again stroking their dick, leftover water and precum acting as a lubricant for their hand to easily slide around. They closed their eyes, and let themself think of you once more. 

How their cum would look running down your thighs, or splattered on your back. How nice your hands would feel gripping their cock, how you’d just beg them to fuck you.

Sweat dripped down their chest, wetting their tummy and the dark hair at the base of their cock. How long had they been jerking off this time? They risked a teary eyed glance at the screen of their phone—had it really been almost twenty minutes since they laid down in bed?

Twenty minutes and they were no closer to coming, but their dick was growing uncomfortably hard. A sigh passed through their lips. Their hand wasn’t enough, they needed something more, something hotter. 

Their mind went to you, pleasure hazed thoughts wondering if they called you, would you come? Would you help them? Before they could think it through, their fingers were dancing across the screen. Just the sight of the tiny contact picture of you at the top of their screen had them squeezing tighter, thick drips of pre cum rolling down their tip.

Sloan lets themself fall back into bed, their mind dancing away to thoughts of you sinking down on their cock. They roll their head to the side, their eyes catching sight of the bag they’d carelessly tossed in the corner just before their shower. 

Could the statue have done this? There were myths surrounding it, sure, but this? The thought was preposterous a week ago. Now though, with their insatiable lust, the thought doesn’t seem so crazy to Sloan.

Shit. They shouldn’t drag you into this. If it really is the statue, they don’t want to expose you to this. They reach for their phone to ask you not to come, to send you away, but just as their palm reaches the cold metal, the front door clicks open.

“Sloan?” You call, peaking your head in the front door. As soon as you’d gotten their message, you’d left your house. You’re talking more to yourself than them at this point, tiptoeing through the dark of their home. “I used the spare key you gave me to get in…are you here?”

Sloan bit their lip at the sound of your voice, risking a glance to the bag that contained the statue. Maybe inviting you here wasn’t such a bad idea after all. 

“In here!” they call. Their voice is raspy, dripping with the need radiating from their core.

You follow the sound of their voice to the closed door of their bedroom, warm light leaking out from the cracks. It’s Sloan, and they don’t sound like they’re in danger, but something about their voice…

You push open the door. It takes two seconds for you to scan the room, two seconds for your eyes to fall on Sloan—sweaty, writhing and desperately jerking their cock in bed—and two seconds for you to turn away, covering your eyes.

“Shit,” you gasp. “I–I didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

But it’s strange. They called you here to help them, they knew you were going to come into their room—was this what they needed your help with? You couldn’t help but clench your legs at the thought, a heat rushing to your core.

Sloan’s voice cut through the darkness of your hand. “I-it’s okay,” they say. “You can look.”

You slowly peel your hand away from your eyes. Though they covered themself with a blanket, you could still see the glistening skin of their chest, and the up-down motion of their hand beneath the fabric. 

Sloan knows it’s shameless of them to keep stroking their cock while talking to you, while you’re right there watching—but they can’t stop. Now that you’re here in front of them, the pressure’s increased tenfold.

You squint. “What’s going on?”

“I found that statue.” They keep jerking off.

“And?”

“The rumors about it were true.”

“Fuck,” you curse. 

When they’d been telling you about the myths behind the statue, you’d both laughed it off, stealing wanton glances at each other as you did. They’d assured you it wasn’t possible, that there was no scientific reason a statue would bear unto its users an insatiable appetite for sex.

Seeing them now, though, all sweaty and desperate, has you thinking they were wrong. 

“Sloan,” you say calmly, stepping in the room and gently shutting the door behind you, “what can I do to help?”

They bite your lip, and it’s just now that you notice their eyes are almost completely black in lust. A shiver runs up your spine. 

They pull back the blanket. “Touch me,” they swallow. “Please.”

You glance at their thick, throbbing cock dripping in precum. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted, wrapped up in the worst possible way. It wouldn’t be right—they’re clearly not thinking straight. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Sloan’s not sure whether it’s the statue, or their frustration, or some terrible combination of the two that prompts them to say, “oh don’t tell me you haven’t been wanting me to fuck you for months.”

Their brazenness sends another wave of heat to your core, your underwear suddenly feeling wetter than usual. “Sloan,” you say carefully.

“If you’re worried about consent,” they rasp. “I want it. All the time. For months, too. I think about it nonstop.”

Their words ease your nerves, and you find yourself approaching their bedside. Your eyes stayed glued to their cock and the hand furiously stroking it. “What do you think about?”

They watch you, dedicating each pump of their length to you. “I think about you while I fuck myself. I think about—about fucking you, and having you bounce on my cock and—god.”

You sink down on the bed next to them, wrapping your hand around the one rubbing their dick. “Let me.”

They slide their hand away, letting you take over. Already, your hand feels a million times better than theirs ever did, the ache in their core finally beginning to relent. They lay their head back, watching your hand glide across their sticky skin.

They suck in a breath. “Fuck,” they look at you through their lashes. “Use your mouth.”

You’re taken aback by their command. Their cock looks so inviting, dripping wet and throbbing in your palm. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever had which only makes you want it more.

You look them in the eyes while you lick a bead of precum away from the tip. Sloan shivers, wrapping a hand in your hair and pulling you down. You gasp as you take their cock into your mouth, wrapping your lips around it. It’s salty, a mix of sweat and precum, with a strange undertone of coconut—but it’s just how you imagined it.

Your jaw strains to take them into your mouth, their tip hitting the back of your throat after only a few seconds. You gag slightly, but Sloan only pushes your hand down further, groaning at the warmth of your mouth. This was exactly what they needed.

As soon as you start to see black spots, they pull you off. A strand of drool connects your lips to their length, dripping and coating your chin. They hum at the sight of you, so filthy already.

“Do you like how it tastes?”

You’re so flustered, so bewildered by the situation that you can only nod, clenching the base of their cock. You put your lips back on their tip and eagerly slide down for more. Their calloused fingers still tug at your hair, using the strands like reins to push and pull you how they see fit.

Sloan watches you intently the whole time, admiring the spit that coats your mouth and the way your throat bulges when they pull you a certain way. They’ve dreamt about fucking you for months now, but none of their wildest dreams could ever compare to this.

Despite the way your eyes water, Sloan pulls you down further. You look so fucking cute choking on their thick cock—they can’t help it. When you finally slap a hand against their thigh, they let go of your head and watch you gasp for air.

“Get on your knees,” they command.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice with the way your throat burns. The dominance in them only makes you wetter, a noticeable throbbing rushing through your clit. You’re all too eager to settle on your knees at their bedside.

They cup your chin, swiping their thumb across your lips to smear your drool and their pre across them. “So cute,” they murmur.

You lean back in to take their cock once more, but they tsk at you. Just as you tilt your head in confusion, you watch as Sloan grips their cock and rubs the messy, wet tip across your mouth. They smear it all across your face, making a mess all over your cheeks and nose.

A whine slips from your lips before you can stop it, but Sloan only laughs at it and finally lets their cock slap against your mouth. You open wide and take them once more, rolling your tongue over their length.

“So eager,” they tease, their fingers resuming their position in your hair, “if I’d known you’d be such a slut for me, I would’ve fucked you months ago.”

Sloan watches the shame glimmer in your eyes, followed by pure pleasure, and doesn’t miss the way you rock your hips against the floor. 

It only takes a few minutes of you on your knees before they’re coming, pushing your head down so you have no choice but to swallow their cum. Your eyes shoot wide as the hot cum spills in your mouth, pulling back from their cock and opening your mouth so they can see it.

“Good girl,” they purr. “Now swallow.”

You nod and obey without a second thought, licking their cock a few more times after to clean up the excess. “Sloan,” you say quietly, your voice raspy from the way they just fucked your throat.

“Hm?”

“Do you have condoms?”

They tap the nightstand that you’re sitting next to. “You wanna fuck me?”

You pass them the condom, eagerly waiting as they lay back in bed and roll it over their cock. Though they’re slow to put it on, you don’t miss the way their hands shake in anticipation.

Sloan watches you the whole time as you strip, discarding your clothes as quickly as you can. You climb onto the bed and straddle their waist, a knee on either side of their hips. Their hands clench your waist tightly, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise. 

Usually Sloan would be happy to let you adjust, but with the warmth of your pussy right there, they can’t wait any longer. Using your hips as leverage, they thrust up into you, the tip of their cock bottoming out against your cervix.

You cry out, burying your head against their sticky chest. “Sloan,” you whine.

“Sorry,” they pant, but continue thrusting into you.

You relax into them, slamming your hips into theirs to meet their rhythm. It’s painful at first, both the stretch of their cock and how deep it reaches—but it’s amazing, too.

Sloan barely thinks as they pound in and out of you, using your own body weight as leverage to get their cock deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your whines are like music to their ears, complemented by the rhythm of matching groans they loose every time their cock brushes your cervix.

You cum so hard you swear you go blind for a second. Everything is hot, your vision goes white, and all you can focus on is the way your cunt is gushing around their cock, juices coating their thighs. You go limp on their chest for a minute, letting them fuck you like a toy while you recover.

Sloan’s own orgasm isn’t far behind, their cock twitching as they spill into the condom—though they’d much rather spill into you. They almost draw blood with how tightly their nails dig into your sides, and the only word they seem to remember is your name.

Even though they’re unbearably hot and their cock is so sensitive it hurts, they still need more. 

“Can I keep going? Tell me I can keep going.”

You’re exhausted from the brutal pace they’ve set, but their cock fills you so well and they sound so desperate, you have no choice but to say yes. Upon your agreement, Sloan is flipping you onto the mattress beneath them and bending your legs to your chest. 

They can get deeper like this, and Sloan knows it too. They start their pace off slower this time, trying to give you time to recover before their own need takes over. They hold your hands, pinning them above your head while they fuck you.

Their eyes lock with yours as they increase the pace, the tip of their cock hitting that spot inside of you perfectly every time. There are tears in your eyes from the pleasure, but it only makes them harder. 

“Too deep,” you whine, squeezing their hands with as much strength as you can muster.

“You don’t love having me fill you up?” They mumble into your ear, “if I can’t stuff you with my cum, I’ll fill you with my cock.”

You gasp and squeeze your eyes shut, their dirty words sending you over the edge. You try to clench your knees together but Sloan’s body is in the way. They fuck you through your orgasm, squeezing your hands back with every bit of pressure you squeeze theirs with.

“That’s it,” though their words are soft, they punctuate each one with a thrust, “cum on my cock.”

They slide their hands down your body, resting on your hips once more. Their thrusts start to get sloppy, and you know they can’t last much longer like this. You reach up, desperate for something—anything—to ground yourself, your fingers coming in contact with their hair.

Sloan whines and cums in one sloppy motion, resting their head on your neck while they lazily thrust through their high. Soft groans and whines vibrate against your collarbone.

It takes a minute for them to collect their strength again, pulling their cock out of you. You look at them through tear blurred vision, eyes widening at the cum soaked condom dripping into the wild tangle of hair at the base of their length. There’s a ring of white around their cock from it all, and the only thought crossing your mind is how badly you want to lick it off.

Sloan can’t decide whether to admire the sheer amount of cum filling the condom, or be disappointed that they weren’t able to fuck it into you instead. They pull it off of their cock and toss it onto the floor—it’ll be a pain to clean later, but they don’t care. They reach into their nightstand for another one, but your hand wraps around their wrist first.

“You’re still hard?”

As if in reply, their cock twitches against your leg. Though the searing heat has finally begun to fade, the pure need coursing through their veins has not.

“You’re done already?” They counter.

“N-no,” you say quickly, though your pussy feels unbearably sensitive in the cold room. “But you don’t need to use that.”

They look down at the purple wrapper in their hand, then back up at you. Their eyes practically glitter in anticipation. “Raw?”

You nod shyly, reaching out your arms to beckon them back to you. You’ll never be able to match their insatiable pace—you know that—but you told them you’d help, even if it means letting them use you like a fleshlight.

They plant a kiss to the base of your throat, a devilish twinkle in the dark of their eyes. “Roll onto your knees.”

With their help, you roll onto your stomach and pull your knees up, arching your back to give them access to your dripping cunt. Too tired to keep your chest up, you rest your cheek against the single pillow in their bed and let yourself relax.

Sloan’s hands retrace the marks they left on your lips earlier, positioning you perfectly to line up with their cock. They land a harsh slap to your cunt with the head of their cock and slip it in all at once, relishing in the gasp that leaves your lips.

They rock their hips into yours, reaching up to tangle a hand in your hair. With one hand gripping your hips and another in your hair, they piston into you. You bite your lip to try and cover the onslaught of moans they fuck out of you and pray that Sloan doesn’t have neighbors—although at this point, they’ve probably heard enough.

“Feels even better raw,” they groan, balls slapping against your clit with a particularly brutal thrust. “S’like it was made for me.”

The burning in the pit of your stomach grows at their dirty words, your pussy utterly gushing around their length. Without the condom, you can feel the desperate throbbing of their cock, feel every twitch of their tip when they bottom out inside of you. They reach everywhere inside you, rubbing places you didn’t even know you had.

Waves of pleasure roll over you, each more intense after the last. Your pussy flutters around Sloan’s cock, but their pace doesn’t slow. They keep slamming into you, lewd slapping noises loud enough to cover your desperate moans. They tug your hair hard, pulling you closer, and roll their hips against yours.

Their cockhead brushes your cervix and your eyes roll back in the sharp pleasure that travels through your pussy. Drool leaks from the side of your mouth and your moans transform from fully formed words to stupid sounding babbles.

Sloan releases your hair from their grip and moves their hand to massage your ass. “Sounds so cute when you whine,” they coo breathily.

Your senses all come flooding back to you when you feel the first spurt of their hot cum inside of you. Your tummy flutters with butterflies, your pussy contracts, and you cum with them. Both of you writhe in bed against each other, Sloan’s desperate, near primal pants like music to your ears.

“Fuck,” you groan as you collapse into the bed.

They keep their cock inside of you, shallowly thrusting their cum back in. “Please don’t stop,” they whine. “Please, I-I need more. Please.”

Your whole body burns, your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you’d even be able to cum again. “Sloan,” you sigh, looking back at them. 

“Please. Please let me keep using you. Please. You don’t even have to do anything but please let me use this pussy,” they pinch your clit in emphasis. “Please.”

“Well, with begging like that,” you joke.

Sloan wastes no time slamming their cock back inside of you, and though you can hardly feel the harsh slapping motion, you can tell their pace has slowed. You lay there, sweaty and hot and with their cum dripping out and being fucked back in.

Sloan murmurs praises to you while they thrust, their mind half gone from how fucking horny they are. They can see cum dripping down your pussy, down your thighs and it’s so filthy and it’s so hot and all they want is more. They pound into you, chasing that final high they may or may not get, desperately gripping your sensitive skin until there’s marks.

Finally, they cum again, their hot cum gushing until you’re so full it starts to burst from the seams between your pussy and their cock. Sloan watches it leak out in a trance, as if in disbelief that not only did they fuck you, they also just fucked you raw.

The heat has completely faded from their body, and as they pull out from your cunt and watch the cum drip, their cock finally starts to soften. “Are you okay?”

You manage a weak thumbs up from where you lay in the bed.

Just as they go to put on their pants, their cock twitches again, and the heat comes rushing back. Sloan sighs, looking at you guiltily, “think you can do a round 2?”

overwatch masterlist | masterlist

(if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! comments, likes & rbs are always greatly appreciated ^-^ !!)

[mrsbarnesblog]

wakanda

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: You visit Bucky in Wakanda, and the hidden feelings are finally coming out.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18 ‼️ smut, sex in Bucky's hut, he has one arm, woman on top, unprotected sex, dirty talk, insecurity.

Author's note: posting my old fic, while I'm working on that tattoo artist x bookshop owner one👀 If any of you have smut ideas (with some kinks maybe), feel free to write your requests

You finally got permission to visit Bucky in Wakanda again since he was permanently living there to get rid of the Winter Soldier program and learn how to live a normal life again. Unfortunately, Princess Shuri and Ayo insisted that too much contact with other people might distract Bucky, so you weren’t allowed to see him.

The last time you were there with Steve and, even if you loved him to death, you couldn't deny the disappointment that you barely spent any time with Bucky alone. He was your best friend since you and Steve saved him in Bucharest, and you had the biggest crush on him for about the same amount of time.

At first, you had to visit Shuri and TChalla to talk through some moments, and that whole time you were bubbling with nerves and anticipation to finally see Bucky. 

You jumped right into his arms as soon as you walked down the hill and saw him standing near the lake. He hugged you back, burying his face in your neck, and it was truly the moment that you never wanted to end. Bucky smelled like fresh air mixed with some kind of seasoning, not to mention that he looked fantastic. In traditional Wakandian clothes that were covering his missing arm too, a low bun on the back of his head with a few springs of hair around his face, and smooth and tanned skin from the work under the sun.

You two rushed to his hut with the food you had bought from a local cafe owned by a kind old man. And somewhere after that, when you were eating on the floor covered with many blankets and colorful pillows and talking about your lives, everything went downhill. 

Bucky talked about his goats and the way he felt better living in Wakanda, while you unconsciously moved closer to him, needing to fill the void that formed while you couldn’t see him. Bucky just stopped in the middle of the sentence, as if he realized that you were too close, looking at him with your big, pretty eyes. 

Food was forgotten. Somehow, you ended up sitting on Bucky’s lap while you were connected in the most passionate and hot kiss you had ever had. Your hands were tightly holding his face, and his right one had a strong grip on your waist to keep you close.

“Bucky…” You moaned in his mouth; your hips were grinding into his hardness, which was so obvious through the clothes. You both were so lost in the moment, sharing a desperate kiss. Bucky couldn’t get enough of your taste; he bit your lip, then licked it with his tongue to calm down the delicate skin.

It felt so natural, like it was meant to happen a long time ago, and now you could not keep all of your emotions inside.

Bucky couldn't help but groan under his breath when your hand slipped into his hair, completely destroying his low bun. Your nails on his scalp felt majestic, and his brain became fuzzy with your gentle yet confident touches. Bucky moved his hand from your waist to your thigh, squeezing the soft and warm skin a little bit lower than your shorts. 

When he pulled away, you tried to follow his mouth, almost addicted to the taste and feeling of his lips on yours.

“Fuck, doll, that’s not how I imagined it.” His face became sad and almost apologetic, and you saw that the corners of his red lips moved downward in disappointment. “Not here, not with only one arm... Fuck, I can’t even touch you the way I want to.” His hand tightened on your hip, and you gave him a sad smile. Not that those things mattered to you, but your heart still hurt because Bucky felt that way.

“I don’t care about it. I just want you, Bucky, if you want me too, of course.” Your voice was soft and gentle, soothing his nerves a little bit.

“You can’t imagine how much I want it, but I can’t do much with one hand; fuck, it’s so bad, I’m so sorry...” Bucky’s eyes closed and his head fell lower, but you could still see a pink blush on his cheeks.

"I want it, Bucky; I want you, and your hand is not a problem, okay?" He deeply inhaled when your hands took his face and your lips were back on his. The kiss wasn’t so harsh and desperate; it was more deep and passionate, like you both tried to express your unsaid feelings. “Why don’t you just lay back on the pillows, and I’ll do everything?” You bit your lip, suddenly feeling slightly nervous, and put your right hand on his chest, pushing Bucky back on the pile of pillows behind him so he was sitting in a reclined position.

You saw the hesitation in his eyes, and you waited a few seconds, gently rubbing your fingers over his beard, so he could process your idea.

“Okay.” 

You got closer, sitting more comfortably on top of him. One of your hands pressed onto the pillows near Bucky’s body, and the other one landed on his firm chest, playing with the red clothes that he was wearing. Bucky lifted his hand, gently grabbing your face and kissing you again. His soft lips and slow movements of his tongue inside your mouth made you moan.

“Can I take it off?” You mumbled, slightly pulling down the red material. More of his soft, tanned skin was shown, and you tried to hold yourself together and not overstep the line. Bucky’s pupils were dilated, almost completely hiding your favorite blues. He was closely watching your moving lips, as if he couldn’t get enough. 

“Mhm, but— please, can we leave this on?” He pointed to his shoulder, covered in blue material.

“If you feel more comfortable that way, then we can. But we don’t have to, if you suggest it only because of me.” You started to untangle his clothes, still watching his face to notice any signs of discomfort. 

“Just leave it on, okay?” 

“Okay.” As you removed the clothes from his chest, leaving the cover on his left shoulder, allowing you to see his perfectly sculpted body, your lips left soft kisses on Bucky’s cheek, going down to his neck and to his abs. You stopped there, feeling how the body underneath you tensed, and his hand gripped the duvet so hard that his knuckles became white. “Bucky?” 

“‘M okay, it’s just been so long for me. Didn’t get used to feeling that way. And I want you so bad, doll, I can’t even explain it.” He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. You felt that his cock was painfully hard underneath you, and just thinking about touching it made you ten times wetter.

“You can have me, Bucky. Do you want me to take the rest of our clothes?” You moved your hips a little bit, getting an almost desperate whine from Bucky. He looked stunning with his slightly disheveled hair, flushed cheeks, red lips, and lustful and needy eyes. And he was completely yours, fuck.

“Yes, please.” 

You placed a quick kiss on his lips before getting up. Bucky’s eyes were following your every move as you took off your shorts and t-shirt, staying in the cooling air only in your simple black underwear. But Bucky was looking at you like you were the most delicious and precious thing in the world, like he wanted to make love to you and completely destroy your body at the same time. 

“Doll– fuck, everything else too, please.” He licked his lips, unconsciously moving his hips from the lack of attention. Your eyes slipped to his crotch, seeing how his cock was very visible through layers of clothes.

You just smiled at his desperation but still reached to the back to unclip your bra and then slide your panties down your legs. You didn’t waste any more time, going back to Bucky and finally completely taking off his clothes. 

“Holy fuck…” Your mouth went completely dry when you pulled down his black boxers. You never found this part of a man’s body that attractive, but it was the prettiest dick you had ever seen. Thick and long, with a vein going around it and a slight curve towards his press. The shiny drop of pre-cum on the head made you instantly want to lick it, but the mumble of your name and calloused hand on the lower part of your back brought your attention back to Bucky.

“You’re going to kill me, doll. C’mere, please, I want– need to touch you. Need to kiss you.” Before you could even say something or move, his hand slipped under your ass and, without much effort, lifted you on top of him. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I want to worship you and make you feel good; I’m so sorry that I can’t.” 

“Bucky,” you said, laying down on his chest. “I promise that when you get your new arm, I’ll let you fuck me however and wherever you want to, okay? But for now, I want to take care of you.” The feeling of your hard nipples pressing against his firm chest sent shivers down your spine, and the hand on your back made you want to grind on Bucky like a bitch in heat. “Please, touch me, baby.”

“You shouldn’t say shit like this to me, doll. I won’t let you go until you can’t even fucking think straight. Shit–  how are you so soft…” Bucky's hand was now exploring your body, gripping your ass, tracing your stomach, and reaching for your sensitive nipples. He never wanted to have both arms as much as he did at that moment—to touch every curve of your body and find everything that makes you feel good.

“Bucky!” Your hands pressed against his chest, and your head fell back with a moan when he pinched your nipple in between his fingers. He chuckled softly before sliding his hand down, right to your dripping core.

“Doll, look at you.” His eyes were glued to the place where his fingers traced your folds. “Is this all for me?” 

“Y-yes, Bucky, please…” You almost cried at the feeling that he gave you. Even if it was a long time for him, Bucky definitely didn’t forget how to please a woman. Your legs desperately wanted to close from the stimulation on the clit, but since you were spread on top of him, you couldn’t do anything but whine and dig your nails into the hot skin under your hands. “Don’t tease me, just—fuck!” 

“Taking my fingers so good, doll.” You knew that he was smiling because of your reaction as two thick digits slid inside of you, filling you so well but not enough at the same time. “You’re already ready for my cock, huh? Wanna feel how this pretty pussy stretches around me. C'mon, baby, help me.” Bucky moved his hips upward, and you felt how his dick was pressing on your ass.

“You have a dirty mouth, Barnes.” You laughed before reaching behind you, grabbing his cock, and lifting your body at the same time. You put the tip at your entrance, running his length through your folds and letting the head bump your clit as he collected your wetness, until you both couldn’t handle the teasing anymore. Bucky placed his hand on your ass, pressing on top and allowing you to slowly take him inside.

It was too much. The burn of him stretching you was slightly painful, but it made you feel so full, as if the two pieces of puzzles finally added up. You both moaned, your head fell back, and you tried to go slowly and adjust to his size.

Bucky’s hand tightened on your hip, probably leaving red marks. He breathed deeply to control his fast-beating heart. You felt so fucking good, all wet and tight for him, that it was hard not to move his hips into you. But it was obvious that you needed some time based on your tensed body and slightly opened mouth.

“Bucky…” Your eyes were flattering, and you were not able to completely focus on his face. You thought that you could just fuck him and take control, but you didn’t expect to be this cock drunk before either of you even made a move.

“So pretty lookin’ like this baby.”

“‘M so full…” You moaned, gripping Bucky’s hand and interlacing your fingers. 

You found a comfortable position, holding yourself with one hand on Bucky’s chest. The first movement of your hips was shocking, sending goosebumps all over your body. You both loudly moaned when you moved up, until he almost slipped out of you, and then down, burying his cock deeply inside. 

Bucky’s lower half slightly moved up when his non-existent left arm wanted to grab your hips, and you must’ve noticed the disappointment and anger written on his face because you leaned a little bit lower and freed your hand from his grip, moving it to his face. 

“That’s okay, Buck, just relax, please? Don’t worry.” You cooed in the softest voice. Your hips started to slowly move at a stable pace.

“You’re so perfect, baby.” He mumbled, and you felt that his body started to thrust into yours, so his cock perfectly touched your g-spot.

It became more intense with every minute. The little hut was filled with the smell of sex and the sound of your moans, as well as skin slapping against skin. You were too desperate for each other, trying to reach your climaxes but not wanting this moment to end. 

Bucky tried to touch you as much as possible; he wanted to make you feel good, give you satisfaction, and fulfill his own needs in your presence. He moved his hand from your ass to your stomach and boobs, then to your face, drawing you in for another hot and passionate kiss. He was all over you, hungry to get more and to remember every centimeter of your perfect body. 

You two moved in perfect rhythm, meeting each other's movements.

“Please, Bucky– it’s so good, fu-uck, I’m gonna cum.” You cried out loud, feeling that your body was starting to go numb from your approaching orgasm. 

“Such a good pussy, takin’ me so well. ‘M close too, baby; ride my cock, c’mon. Get what you need.” He slapped your ass, encouraging you to move faster. “So pretty wrapped around me. Can I cum inside you, hm? Will you let me feel you up?” 

Your head quickly nodded while you didn’t break eye contact with the man in front of you. Bucky bit his lip, trying to control himself and get you to the finish first, but you looked so fucking good on top of him, with your boobs jumping up and down, that he knew he couldn’t hold himself any longer. So he brought his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing his thumb against your swollen clit. 

That was the breaking point for you. You completely lost control over your body, barely being able to stay still when the waves of pleasure were breaking through you.

“Good girl. You can almost feel me in your stomach, yeah?” Bucky was feeling every thrust of his dick with the palm of his hand, and it felt fucking insane. “Fu-u-uck, you’re squeezing the shit out of me; ‘m not gonna last longer.” He moaned, losing his rhythm too, while you fell down on his chest, too overwhelmed and overstimulated. 

You felt the last movement of his hips until he froze, moaning into your ear, and emptied himself deeply inside of your spasming pussy. You unconsciously continued to squeeze around his cock, getting every single drop, as if your body was greedy to get more of his load.

“I don’t feel m’ body…” You mumbled, already feeling sleepy, and wrapped your hands around Bucky’s body. 

“Sleep, baby.” The soft material fell on your back, covering your naked bodies. You felt a light kiss on top of your head, and Bucky’s arm hugged your back, holding you closer to him. 

You weren't sure, but right before you drifted to sleep, you heard something that weirdly sounded like “I love you.” 

part 2

[shuastar]

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ (pt 2) (JWW)

ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴋᴇ!ᴡᴏɴᴡᴏᴏ x ᴀʀᴄʜᴅᴜᴄʜᴇꜱꜱ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴡᴄ: 8.2 k (consistency is key??) warnings: none for now?? hot wonwoo, lowkey obsessed wonwoo, theres like a part where he's like "oh i couldn't control myself" but it's not like a sexual predator sorta way i promise, joshua featuring!! ᴀ/ɴ: i told myself i would post this before the la concert BUT i got too distracted buying a clear fucking bag from target bc i didnt know you had to bring a clear bag to us concerts??? bc ive only gone to korea concerts??? anyways, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ᴘʟꜱ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ <3 OH also if you're confused by the (y/n) (wonwoo) parts it's like the perspective thing (the perspectives switch bc i got boredd writing only y/n pov sorry!!)

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ; ɴᴇxᴛ

y/n

“Your grace.” 

A silver fine-toothed comb gently brushed through your morning hair, untangling your curled knots. The winter air chilled the room and the hazy morning sunlight shined through the sheer curtains. 

You hummed in acknowledgement. 

Nai continued with her rhythmic brushing, slowly adding oils and perfumes to the ends of your hair. “I do not understand these rumors as of late, your grace,” Nai huffed, setting the comb down on the vanity desk with a little more force than necessary. 

You let out a breathy laugh, slowly running your fingers through your silken hair. “I do not think rumors exist to be understood, Nai.” 

Nai crosses her arms, the space between her eyebrows creasing. “But your grace! These rumors are absolutely outlandish! You! Infertile! I just cannot even begin to wrap my head-”

At her words, you notice a new cream-colored envelope sitting on the edge of the vanity. “-then don’t, Nai.” You look up at her. Her brown ringlets sit neatly against her shoulders and her wide hazel eyes are full of pure exasperation. It feels good, you think, to have someone care this much. It’s been a while. 

“You don’t have to understand anything for me. Rumors will remain rumors,” you hum, reaching for the envelope. 

Nai huffs in annoyance. You know it isn’t directed at you, but it still makes you smile nonetheless. Seungcheol might have been ruining your Society life, but at least he hired a maid right. Speaking of which, as your eyes glided through the contents of the palace-stamped envelope, it focused on the beginning: 

My darling archduchess y/n, 

I hope the duchy is prospering after my small present for your twenty third birthday. Speaking of, I have scheduled a tea for you in two days with Baron-

Again. Fucking again with the stupid engagement offers. If Seungcheol wasn’t the king, you would have already slapped him twice. He had always been somewhat of a parent figure in your life, especially after your grandmother’s death. But this? This was dangerously toeing the line of overstepping your boundaries. Actually, maybe the boundaries had been overstepped at your fifth engagement that ended with yet another cheating scandal. At this point, Prince Mingyu was right – how did Seungcheol even manage to conjure only cheating scandals for your shame to marinate in? 

“Whose ball are we attending tonight, Nai?” 

Nai tries to speak around the pearl bobby pin in her mouth. “Uck gong, er ace,” she starts, before she shakes her head. The bobby pin slides into your hair. “My apologies, your grace. Duke Hong’s winter season opening ball.” 

You hum, toying with the edges of the envelope. If it wasn’t considered palace property, you would have burned it. God. Seungcheol was really teething at your fraying nerves. There’s only a certain number of engagements a Society woman can go through before she is considered unmarriable. You were way past that point. 

If the king himself was not backing you, you would have already been the Society’s laughing stock. Because what failure of a woman cannot keep a man to herself for more than a couple of measly weeks?

At this point, you might as well just live and die alone. 

Duke Hong’s winter season opening ball. You wouldn’t have agreed to attend if it was hosted by anyone else. Duke Hong happened to be your fellow library attendant during your formative years at the National Academy. Really, it was a pity you could not just conjure up a lie and stay back in the safety of your room. You would, except you had a sinking feeling Joshua would send you letter after annoying letter until you finally decided to let up and attend. 

You don’t think you are fully ready for the full impact of the Society nobles just yet. To make matters worse, Nai had told you that she heard the people were giddy about the return of the Jeon Duchy to the capitol after the death of the previous heads of the house, and the return of the direct line, now the archduke, after his series of triumphant wins on the frontiers of the warring enemy country. The Society, you told yourself, was what you were afraid of. But a tiny (not so secret) part of you was not fully ready to see him again just yet.

The stuffy crowded ballroom seemed even more overpopulated under the yellow chandelier lights and the exponentially building pressure inside your chest. And Joshua’s estate’s not-so-hidden balcony did not give you enough coverage in the darkening night. If Joshua had not proposed for you to stay the night (“You should not be out after dark, y/n. Even if you have the best footmen in the world,” were his words), you would have retired to your own estate an hour ago. Actually, if Joshua had not been so adamant about your attending, you would have never left your estate in the first place.

But you could never say no to his face, especially when he pulled his little pout and sigh of faux disappointment that had followed him even out of the Academy.

There was a not-so-secret side of you that wanted to pull your hair out by the roots. The whispers, the gossips, the mumblings, the laughter that follows you wherever you go, you could do. You could live with it. You could do with it because that was what you had lived with for three years. Three miserable years of back-to-back engagements with all of High Society’s eligible men, hand-picked by the dear, beloved king. And no, of course, Seungcheol was not to carry the entire burden of blame. You blamed every single elder in your family and the royal courts. Every male figure in your life expects you to marry some rich, handsome man. If he knew how to dance, drink, breathe, and hold some semblance of self respect, he was eligible in their eyes. Even if, in the dark cover of night, they leave their homes and sneak onto the back alleyways of carnal desire. 

Each season of Society that passes by you is another couple of months in which your vain, naive, wishful childhood dream of wanting to marry for love!! could not come true. In some ways, it was because you fully believe that love has its time (and your time had passed away three years ago), but also because sometimes, you had learned to give up things you innately wanted for something that would benefit you a little more in the future. Something that would cause you less pain. Something that could slowly become something you love.

You feel the built-up tears fill your eyes, champagne flute resting loosely between your gloved fingers. For a moment, you wish your grandmother was back with you. She would know what to do, what to say, what to choose. You wish she could have been there, three years ago, when you tried desperately to balance the exhausting, choking, mountains of pressure of an archduchess and a fragmented heart, which slowly shattered into unmendable glass pieces. You wish she could have pulled Wonwoo aside then and told him how you had suffered, maybe bring up even a smidge of guilt, worry, regret, something. 

But that’s all wishful thinking, y/n, you chide yourself. Let it go, like you have done for the past three years. 

But he wasn’t here during the three years, you wish you could argue. You wish you could hope for something and follow the tugs of your heart, but there is a shallow part of your mind that tells you no. Because the first time ended in shambles. Made you the laughing stock for two whole seasons. Kick-started your rather permanent fixture in the Society’s rumor mills. And just as you thought you had figured everything out, he comes waltzing back into your life – as part of the same royal council – like he had never left. And that in itself left a gaping, bubbling hole of rage in your heart. 

The thin wooden door and curtain that separates you from the rest of the dancing ballroom flutters with the breeze. Your head pounds along with the bass of the cello inside – not too sure if it was caused by the champagne flute in your gloved hand or the incessant whispers that had followed your footsteps inside. 

“Why did you have to come back,” you mutter bitterly, gazing up at the darkened night sky. A disbelieving laugh and a shake of your head. “Stop thinking about-”

 You cut yourself off when the balcony door suddenly creaks open. You turn with half a mind to tell off whoever was bold enough to interrupt your obvious solitude. However, that train of thought very quickly comes to an end when you look back over your shoulder. The face you see almost makes you want to let out a laugh. 

The very man you were ranting to yourself about stands in the curtained doorway. You hate that you can’t see his eyes behind his glasses in this light. 

You open your mouth, nose scrunching in annoyance, about to say something along the lines of why the fuck are you here or do you find pleasure in giving me pain or can you leave, before the clouds move from the moon and you actually take him in. And not just take him in but take him in. 

Wonwoo is standing there, chest rising and falling like he had just raced to the ball on his horse or had run around the entire Hong Estate trying to find something. Now, in the soft rays of the moonlight and the biting early-winter breeze, you can see his dark eyes behind his glasses – guarded. But as you study his (rather chiseled) face, he’s changed somehow. Your last memories of a twenty-one-year-old Wonwoo do not show the sharp intense prick of his gaze as it holds your own. You don’t remember it holding the same sort of pain and weight – like he was Atlas, holding the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. 

Handsome, you think. But it’s gone before you can put a finger on it to hold it down long enough to fully think about it. You can’t really describe Wonwoo in words. That was something you had decided a long time ago. 

He was handsome in the old-fashioned sense. A straight nose, dark almond eyes, the slightest permanent downturn of his lips. His defined jawline and his glasses that he had grown into. He was handsome in the most eligible bachelor sense. If your mother was still alive, she would have wanted you to be courted by him – no one less and no one more because there was no one more. And perhaps that was why you had been so over-the-top with him before: he was everything your mom would have adored – tall, pale, smart, handsome, built. 

You steel yourself, letting a soft breath escape you before you say, “Your grace,” the title sounds oddly cold now coming from your parted lips, “this is hardly the place for a welcomed noble.” You hate how your voice trembles ever so slightly at the end. Perhaps you had not been as ready for this as you thought you were.  

Your voice seems to snap Wonwoo back to life. His lips twitch slightly but his expression remains frustratingly unreadable. “Just,” he starts, before his eyes glance at the floor, “I needed a moment,” he finally replies. And this time, his gaze is locked on yours. 

Your throat tightens at his reply. 

If you were nineteen-

No. You were not nineteen or twenty anymore. He had left. 

Like everyone else did.

“So did I.” You take a small step backwards before whispering, “I always do.” 

You think Wonwoo is going to continue the conversation, however strained, but he lets a silence hang in the air. It grows so thick you feel like it steals some of your oxygen away. You wonder if Wonwoo is also thinking about the past – about three years ago, about when you had nothing to worry about but being yourselves and completing school, when you had thought you would not inherit such a pressuring role until you were happily married for love. Like idiots. But even if he isn’t thinking the same thing as you, the silence is almost palpable in the air. Like it is giving room, a lost opportunity back. 

Wonwoo’s eyes linger on you – not just your face but you – like he’s trying to make sense of the very thing you had tried your best to bury deep inside of you. Like he wanted you to either throw it all back up or he wanted to personally haul it to the surface. And you hated how he could make you feel naked, vulnerable, weak and like a naive, stupid child with just one look. 

Finally, he whispers softly, “It’s been a long time, y/n.” 

His voice is deep and not at all how you remembered it from three years ago. It seems different from his soft murmurs you had barely heard during his royal reentry ball. Your pulse jumps traitorously. 

“Not long enough, it seems.” The words are supposed to come out icy, but it doesn’t come out as hard as you had hoped. Instead, your voice has a rather meek tone to it, as if even your vocal chords knew something you refused to admit. 

Wonwoo doesn’t answer. The only indicator that he heard you at all is the brief upward twitch of his eyebrows. 

You’re too proud, you know, to look away first. And you know what that will do. You can already feel the old memories – the ones you had (wished) long buried in the deepest parts of your fragmented heart – creep up: the warmth of the sun on your skin exposed on your sundress as you walked the grassy walkways of the park; the quiet laughs during an royal-sponsored opera; the knowing glances exchanged during another one of Mingyu’s complaints about a possible partner. 

A burst of sudden loud laughter and chatter from below the balcony makes you whip around in a speed your grandmother would have called “excruciatingly unladylike,” and catch the tip of your heel in the grooves of the marble flooring. You have one second to register Wonwoo’s eyes widening and another second that is wasted on trying to save your champagne flute, before your palms are flat against Wonwoo’s defined chest. Your shattered champagne flute glints against the thin moonlight, forgotten at the sudden intrusion of your privacy – a sudden casualty of his presence. 

His hands are barely there on your waist – the only things that are preventing you from falling off the rather low balcony railing are his arms, wrapped around your frame. His face is taut, as if he was actually worried about you falling off, and your corset feels excruciatingly tight around your straining ribs. 

His stare is heavy and it feels like that one time again. Like when he whisked you away for your first dance as a debutante and accidentally dipped you in the middle of your opening waltz and you stayed there until the eye contact became unbearably awkward. He is doing the same thing – mouth just barely open, eyes unblinking and hands fleeting on your waist. 

You can feel his entire chest under the thin fabric of his white button down. You go to push him away but something makes you hesitate. 

You look up at him, breath hitching automatically at the closeness between you two. 

“Wonwoo,” you whisper, fingers digging in just a little bit, “this is…” you trail off, too breathless and gobsmacked at this entire situation to continue. You just hope he is smart enough to fill in the rather obvious blanks. 

You try to shake off the small detail that your eyes keep wandering back to Wonwoo’s arms, straining against his tailored suit. Small military stars adorn his collar, and you briefly wonder if you can blame his new aura of attractive ruggedness on the war and not your own deprived state of imagination. 

You can feel Wonwoo’s grip on your waist tighten, a small crease appearing between his brow. His voice is a low murmur amongst the laughing crowd behind the curtain. 

“Are you alright?” he asks. His breath fans over your lips. His voice is quiet and gentle – too gentle, too familiar. 

You nod. You physically can’t bring yourself to pull away. You know, you know, what this would look like if someone just simply opens the balcony door. But in your proximity, Wonwoo’s cologne of some sort of earthy, gilded scent fills your senses and overwhelms your thoughts.

“Yes,” you manage, although it’s barely audible. “Your grace,” you add, hoping it would force distance, force out proximity. You swallow down the lump in your throat. Your lace-covered fingers pull at your gloves. 

The title stings the tip of your tongue as it leaves. 

The corners of his lips pull down at the utterance of the formal title leaving your lips. His forehead creases as if the formality of your words had disrupted some sort of intercontinental balance in him. “I apologize if I intruded and startled you,” he breathes, almost too quietly. Then, softer, as if he could not help himself, “y/n.” 

Your name flows off of his tongue like a familiar melody – as if he had never gone away. You want to argue that he had no right to say your name – let it roll off his tongue so gently, as if he had caressed every syllable of your name. You want to yell at him to use your title. But you don’t.

Your fingers tighten on the lapels of his coat.

Under his heavy stare, you can’t help but feel seventeen again: waltzing gracefully up and down the gilded ballroom floors of every season’s opening ball; laughing under the Jeon Duchy’s library’s dim chandelier candle-light; walking down the Capitol’s Main Road, disguised as the common people, during the Mid Autumn Festivals. It’s like everything you had ever experienced with the man standing in front of you crashes into your pressured body like a tidal tsunami wave. And it just keeps on coming. Wave after wave of endless memories that you thought you had wrapped and hidden in the deepest parts of your brain, being uprooted from their perfectly comfortable spot and forced back into the main chamber of your heart. 

To make matters worse, Wonwoo just stares. His expression is silent, unreadable. Not a single word leaves his mouth. Nor a noise. He just stares, like he knows what he’s doing. Like he knows exactly what’s going on inside your head. 

It’s as if the entire room – the whole world – comes to a timeless standstill. You can faintly hear the orchestra playing a classical waltz – your favorite – in the ballroom and the taps of heels as the ladies dance the night away. 

It’s as if Wonwoo’s gaze pierces you to your soul. As if he knew exactly how hard your heart was pounding against your rib cage. As if he could hear the stifled pants and gasps of breath you were trying to hide. His face moves ever so slightly closer to yours. Strands of black hair tickle your forehead. 

His glasses slide down slowly from the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, voice thick with an emotion you can’t place. Grief? Regret? 

You look up at him at his sudden apology. “For what, your grace?” You stubbornly keep the title. As if it could push you two apart. As if it could mask the thundering pounding of your poor heart. 

For a second, Wonwoo looks almost pained. But it washes over back to his vague expressionless face again. You briefly wonder when his youthful tugs of emotion had disappeared. 

“Everything,” he murmurs, and you feel his hand slowly make its way up – first your waist, shoulders, fingertips brushing against your neck – until his gloved hand cups your jaw, thumb resting lightly against your cheekbone. 

Your eyes widen at his touches. “Won-”

“-y/n.” Wonwoo holds you like you are the only thing keeping him grounded – keeping him from flying away into the dark night sky. You see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows, opening his mouth again, and this time, his eyes seem much deeper. A smile – a genuine one, unlike the one from his reentry ball – curves along his lips, dimples forming at the tips. “I missed you.” 

Your entire body stiffens at his three words, and you can feel tears against your waterline. Your mouth falls open in a small ‘o’ and your hands clench tighter against his coat lapel. Your nails dig into the thick fabric. 

Not fair.

Wonwoo looks at you like you just hung up the stars and moon in the twilight expanse. 

“Wonwoo,” you mutter, looking away from his eyes. You’re afraid that if you keep eye contact, he’ll find out what you truly feel – what your walls are hiding. 

“Y/n,” he replies, before his hand gently turns your head. He sounds so confident – as if he could protect you from everything – Society, marriage, whispers, gossip. His touch is so soft, so warm, so familiar that you let yourself be turned. You let his fingertips linger on your jaw, your cheek, thumbing your lips. You let his hair droop down to your forehead. You let his eyes trail down to the necklace that rests on the space between your collarbones and trail lower and lower. You let him do everything for a second. 

And your heart stops. 

Because in the next second, his head dips. His hand on your waist tightens its grip. His thumb caresses your cheek. And his lips are on yours. 

His lips are on yours. 

Eyes closed, Wonwoo presses his lips against yours like they never left. Like his lips alone could mend the gaping hole in your heart. 

And it’s almost as if you have no control of your body because you find yourself melting into his embrace, eyes fluttering shut and hands pulling him a little closer than necessary. 

Soft, is your first thought. 

Wonwoo’s hand suddenly wraps around the back of your neck, tilting your head up to meet his lips in a deeper embrace. He breaks away for the briefest of moments, eyes dark and breath coming out in small pants like yours. You feel like your lungs are on fire. You find your hands buried in his messy black locks. 

“Fuck,” Wonwoo breathes, and you swear he looks a little crazed. Like he had been starved off of something he desperately needed for the longest time. “I missed you so much,” he confesses. 

His words trickle down your throat like agave honey – like sweet distilled liquor. It’s everything you had asked for. 

Except he’s late. Maybe too late? 

But you don’t really have the time to delve into that train of thought before Wonwoo’s lips are on yours again, stealing your words and breath from the confines of your mouth. His tongue swipes testingly against your lips and out of habit, they open the slightest bit. 

Wonwoo’s grip against your neck, your waist, is tight, like he’s afraid you’ll fall out of his arms. Like he’s so afraid of you sinking into the dark. 

And then it’s as if your entire being is suddenly wide awake – out of this weird, hazy, wrong drunken stupor. 

Because at that moment, the balcony door that had once shielded you is thrown open and loud, half-drunken conversations flood both your ears. 

You don’t even have the time to step away from Wonwoo before a scandalized gasp allows itself to pierce and fill the silenced air. 

Lady Lim stands in the doorway, her fan dangling from her hand and another holding a champagne flute. 

Your eyes snap open first. 

Out of pure fight-or-flight, you shove Wonwoo off of you, breaking the kiss immediately. Wonwoo’s eyes are wide in shock, like he did not even expect himself to kiss you. Both of your chests heave (more yours than his), and you can feel your body tremble as adrenaline runs through you. 

“Oh my!” Lady Lim’s shocked voice pierces through the night. “Oh dear, please forgive me,” she stumbles through her words, fan snapping open. You hear the quick snap of another fan unfurling and the hurried click-clack of heeled shoes running the other way. She fans herself with a dramatic flare, though her eyes never leave the scandalous little tableau that she had walked herself into. 

It’s like all blood circulation is cut off from your limbs and any blood circulating in your head rushes to your thudding heart when you finally realize just how close, how unfitting, you and Wonwoo seem. Literally, you can already hear whispers form. And you can already picture it. It’s clear as a spring morning in your head. This scandal will ripple through every single fucking household by tomorrow morning. And if not tomorrow morning, then by afternoon tea. 

“Oh I am terribly sorry,” she starts, and without even a single glance towards her, you know she knows it is you. “So very sorry,” she repeats, though it is obvious her apology is directed more towards the laughable sight of you than the indecent situation itself and the mischievous glint in her eyes tell another story. 

You can physically feel your reputation, your dignity, your name that you had worked up from absolutely nothing shatter on the floor. You can feel your stomach twisting in on itself and every little thing you ate tonight makes its slow way back up your esophagus. Your honor is at stake. And although you had said something about not marrying (ever) and just living your life in your countryside ducal house, at the end of the day, you were nothing without Society. As a woman you were absolutely nothing without Society. But Wonwoo’s grasp of you doesn't seem to falter and your inhales quicken into an almost-desperate gasp of breaths when you start to see a crowd form and whisper.

You blame it on your imagination when you think you feel Wonwoo shift slightly to completely shield you from view. His body is still too close. It’s not what you think it is, you want to scream, but you know that will only worsen the situation. Your brain feels like a ticking bomb and you briefly wonder if Joshua will save you from this situation or if you will need to figure it out yourself. Now, your breaths are clearly audible – almost gasps of oxygen as you try desperately to not cry, scream, and throw up. 

Suddenly, you feel Wonwoo slowly move his hands up towards your shoulder, gently patting it, as if to calm you. It does absolutely jack shit to calm you. You shove his hand off of your skin.

His calm voice cuts through the chatter: “This is not what it appears to be.” 

But those words and his hands only serve to quicken your anxiety-induced breath.

Wonwoo’s been out of Society, not you. You don’t even have the time to think about your shit-show of a reputation, especially now that the entire three quarters of High Society has caught you so precariously positioned. So, you shove Wonwoo off of you with all your strength. It’s not much, but he stumbles backwards, leaving you almost shaking on the small balcony, under the wide-eyed stares and the gossiping lips beneath the fans of the ballroom. If anyone was drunk, they weren’t now. How could they ever miss another one of Duchess Y/n Park’s scandals?

Your mouth went dry. If this was anywhere but your current place, you could have scoffed and then broken down into tears. At least the high heavens are serious about not letting you find a workable marriage. 

Lady Lim slowly disperses back into the crowd, only the curtain closing behind her giddy form, no doubt to tell anyone who did not know the entire story. 

The moment the curtain closes, it’s like your soul returns to your body. You collapse into your skirts, back against the iron railing. Your hands tremble until you dig your nails into your palms. 

“This is the worst fucking thing that could have happen,” you whisper, a horrified look evident in your eyes. You dare to look up at Wonwoo and you feel a tear slip out. “Why would you do that?” Your voice is hoarse, barely audible. The only thing that circles your mind is reputation, reputation, reputation, on and on and on. You try to ignore the way you pulled him close just mere seconds ago. The way you breathily moaned into his lips as well. 

That seems to work on Wonwoo because his expression immediately softens and his eyes fill with what you haphazardly tack as genuine remorse. He reaches out to you, but then hesitates when you flinch ever so slightly. His hands fall to his sides. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but his fingers gently touch his lips like he can’t believe they were just on yours. “I’ll set it right,” he promises. And maybe it's the steadiness in his voice, but for some reason, a small, naive part believes him for a fleeting moment. 

Until the curtain was strewn open again. 

This time, Duke Hong filled the doorway. 

And it isn’t even a question to anyone who he cares for more because without even a second look at Wonwoo, he runs to your side. 

“y/n.” You allow his warm touch around your shoulders as he hauls you up. He gives you one quick look over and it’s like he knows how the entire situation ran down.

At least, you think bitterly, if I finally get ousted from Society, Joshua will still entertain me. 

“Wait-” Wonwoo starts, his hand going out again, only to be stopped by a withering glare on Joshua’s part. 

His usually warm doe eyes are dreadfully, terrifyingly sharp as they drill into Wonwoo’s. “I think you have done quite enough, your grace,” he forces through clenched teeth. 

Then:

“You’re okay,” he whispers, leading you through the parting of people. A thick fabric is tossed over your shoulders, the hood coming up over your face. It was as if stepping a foot into your space could contaminate them with the Disease of the Scandals. You barely register him gesturing off to the side and saying something before he guides you again, a gentle pat here-and-there on your bare shoulder.

“You’re such a liar,” you mumble, lace gloves going up to dab at your watery eyes.

When did I even start crying?

It does nothing to quell your situation. Instead, your tears run down your cheeks. “Don’t lie to me, Shua.” 

Joshua is quiet as he leads you down a hall and into his personal parlor. When you step into the room, the door shuts. He says nothing as he sits you down on a stuffed recliner and hands you a glass of tea. 

He is quiet until you swallow down your first sip and your tears have mostly stopped. 

He clears his throat as he stands above you, thick arms crossed and his hair falling into his eyes. “What the fuck was that?” His hand rakes through his hair and his sudden emphasis on the curse word makes you jump in your seat. His concerned doe eyes turn to you and he marches over, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Did he touch you?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing together worryingly. “Did he – God forbid – force you into that situation?” His grip on your shoulder tightens as you don’t answer. 

Your cheeks heat up. “No!” you splutter, setting the teacup down. “Oh my god, no! No, no, no, no!” You chant, slapping Joshua’s arm in retaliation. “Why would you– No!” Your fingers went to your temples and your eyes closed. 

“Then what? Did he pull you in and kiss you?” Joshua demands.

You hesitate. “Well…” you trail off, looking down at your skirts. It gives Joshua all the confirmation he needs.

His eyes bug out of their sockets. “He kissed you? Out of absolutely fucking nowhere?” Joshua’s voice raises an entire pitch, ringing through the foyer. 

You wince. “God, can we not talk about what just happened?” You beg, desperation seeping into your voice. “Actually,” you state, pushing Joshua’s hand off your shoulder and standing up, “I’m leaving. No way,” a laugh of pure disbelief escapes you, “absolutely no way I’m staying here.” You turn when Joshua’s voice rings out. 

“Y/n, wait. Are you okay, though?” 

“What?”

Joshua closes the distance between you two, bringing you into a hug. It is so sudden it takes you off guard and your first reaction is to pull away – leave the situation. Like you try to do every time. But Joshua keeps you there, stroking your hair. And it’s like the entire situation feels so much more real. You feel yourself shaking and it doesn’t register to you that you are crying again until Joshua’s murmurs fill your ears. 

“You’re okay. It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.” Joshua’s whispers, however fake they will be, offer a slant of confidence in your ruined Society life at least for one season. But even his words tremble at the end and you know he’s lying to calm your soul for this fleeting moment. 

“I’m ruined, Shua,” you sob, and your hands grab his coat, tears staining his beige silk shirt. You can’t even begin to think of what would happen tomorrow, the day after, a week after, at the next ball, even. You refuse to admit how much the consequences of tonight scare you. 

Joshua hums into your hair, swaying the two of you slowly. His pats encourage more caged words to tumble out of your mouth as your sobs die down.

A stuttered breath. “I don’t know why this keeps happening to me,” you murmur, your throat hurts from your gasps of breath as you try to maintain some sort of dignity in front of the older man. “I don’t know why- I just keep becoming the, the, the rumor mill of High Society. I don’t know why- – why can’t I just keep to myself?” Your voice cracks at the end as tears fall down your cheeks again, hot and wet against your porcelain blushed cheeks. 

Joshua’s hold tightens at your ending words and he mumbles, “y/n, y/n, this – any of this – was never your fault. Wonwoo should have been more careful. He of all people knows how Society works,” he comforts, pulling away slightly. A sad smile is on his lips when he sees your tear-stricken face, black smudging your waterline. He takes a handkerchief out and dabs at your undereyes gently, wiping the running makeup. 

You sniff, looking down at your feet. “Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper. When you look back up, Joshua’s eyes are wide as they take in your watery eyes again. “Don’t look at me with pity. I don’t deserve it.” Without wanting to, your lips stretch into a bitter smile. It’s always been like this. Ever since he left, people had always looked at you with a fleeting sense of pity. A sense of patronizing pity – oh, you poor, poor, naive little girl, it seemed to whisper. You should’ve known better. 

Joshua shook his head. “You know I don’t pity you, y/n.” His words are firm, like he has always been. You lean back into his comforting embrace, arms pulled close to your chest, letting his familiar warmth encase you for a moment. Briefly, you wonder if this was what it would have felt like growing up with an older brother. 

“y/n, if you don’t mind me asking,” Joshua trails off, swaying gently. His fingers comb through your hair. 

You hum, body-wracking tears dying down. 

He clears his throat and you know what he is about to ask before he even opens his mouth. “Are you truly over him?” a pause. Joshua continues, “Of course, I’m not saying I don’t believe you. Or that it’s wrong in any sense. Actually, I think Seungcheol would much rather you-” he cuts himself off like he just said something he wasn’t supposed to say. He coughs to fill the silence. “It’s just, maybe it’s not so simple, you know? Of course, I was never very close to the Archduke, even during our shared Academy time, but I’ve seen him more than you have, definitely, over his absence in Society. I don’t know, of course, fully, his true feelings, but I feel as though he’s always held a conflicted heart towards you.” 

You almost scoff at his words. “Conflicted?” You repeat. If anything, you were the one who was conflicted, not him. 

Joshua hesitates, as if he’s choosing the right word to continue his explanation. As if he knows with just one word, all the walls you have built over Wonwoo’s absence will come tumbling down, brick by brick. 

“Perhaps not conflicted, per se,” he hums, pulling away so he can look you in the eyes. “But maybe more so regretful? Sorrowful, I think, may be the right word to describe it.” He lets his words hang in the foyer air. 

Sorrowful, you think. It’s almost laughable how comparable that word is to how you felt – wrathful, destitute, longing for something you knew was never going to come true. 

You catch yourself before your thoughts go further down, shaking your head as if it would get rid of everything. “Whatever he feels, we are over. We are a scandal waiting to happen – even tonight! Look at us! Look at me! Whenever I’m around him, Shua, I just completely lose it! Fuck,” you sigh, and you sink down into your skirts. Your brain hurts from how much your two sides are arguing. One part of you wants desperately to tell Joshua how you feel. How, since Wonwoo’s return, every night as you laid in bed, you could only replay the image of him kissing your knuckles. How, since his greeting words, your fluttering heart started to stutter when the morning mail came in, as if waiting for a letter. Another part of you want to keep it all a secret – pretend it never existed. If you pretend hard enough, maybe it will slowly become the truth. That part wants you to stay in this cycle, and maybe one day, Seungcheol would finally find someone good enough that you could ignore all of their nightly walks for. 

Joshua looks at you. And this time, both of you know it’s with pity – not for you but for your conflicted state. “Be honest with yourself, y/n. At least for matters concerning love,” he advises, bringing your hands up to his lips. A quick kiss is placed onto your knuckles before he steps away, towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” you ask. 

Joshua gives you a tired smile and a knowing look. Then you register the faint hums of the orchestra from outside. “Ducal duties, I guess. I have a ball to run,” he laughs, before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Stay here for however long you need to. I’ll have the kitchen staff send something up for you.” He hesitates before adding, “I’ll try to clean up this situation the best I can.” 

You must be getting closer to your period because those simple words almost have you close to tears again. You give him a watery smile. “Thank you, Joshua.” 

Joshua just grins, stepping out. “Anything for my junior.” And the door clicks shut behind him. 

As soon as the door closes, you collapse onto the nearest couch. You swallow, head slamming into the nearest cushion. 

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it and maybe it’ll just die over. 

You laugh to yourself. 

When has it ever “just” died over. 

Wonwoo 

Wonwoo swears he didn’t even know y/n was on the balcony. He was just overwhelmed – overwhelmed by the sudden mass of people crowding him when he didn’t expect it. It made his heart thud in his chest and made him forget every noble etiquette he learned in his formative years. 

Wonwoo swears his first intention was to kiss you. But when he had you so close and you looked up at him with such honeyed eyes, everything he learned, he forgot. It was as if his years on the battlefield rid him of his confidence with you. It was as if he was back when he was twenty one, stealing a first (and last) hesitant kiss from you in the royal orchards. 

Wonwoo swears he didn’t mean for this entire thing to happen. He’s not praying for your societal downfall, of course not! He didn’t waltz himself into the stupid winter season opening ball just to kiss you and then have one of the biggest blabbermouths of Society walk in on you two. Hell, he didn’t even want to be at the stupid fucking ball to begin with. But Seungcheol said something about his duty as an archduke to show up to opening season balls or something and he found himself in a carriage, being dropped off in front of the Hong Estate. 

After Joshua had taken you away, it was like the world started spinning again. And he found himself trying to escape a crowd of people until Joshua had returned and concluded the ball. 

Which is how he finds himself in Joshua’s study, staring at Joshua’s back as he watches the last of his guests leave through the large study windows. 

The room is hushed, and a thick tension overlays the entire atmosphere of the room. It’s dimly lit and Wonwoo notices the sheer number of bookshelves and portraits of the previous dukes of the Hong line that decorate the walls. Joshua’s study is the epitome of tradition, of duty, of something he never saw himself to be. Joshua himself stands at the windowsill, arms crossed, and his usually calm demeanor obviously frayed at the end. 

It makes Wonwoo’s current situation that much more terrifying. 

Joshua breaks the silence first, his voice low but unmistakably sharp. 

“What the fuck was that, Wonwoo?” 

There is no preamble, no pleasantries. It was very unlike Joshua to get straight to the point.

The words are distinctly sharp but they very obviously carry a tone of accusation and an undercurrent of disbelief. Like he could not believe Wonwoo was here to begin with. 

Joshua turns slowly, brows furrowed and eyes narrowing. “You’ve been gone for years and this is the first thing you do?” A laugh of disbelief cuts through the air. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” 

Wonwoo’s jaw locks at his accusing words. His voice is tight with irritation. Joshua’s (in)advertent accusation pricks some shallow part of his conscience. “Maintain your-” 

“-Maintain my what? My position?” Joshua interrupts like he just heard the most outrageous thing from the night. He leans against a bookshelf, a shaking exhale leaving his body. “Do you even know what you just dragged the poor girl into?” 

“What exactly do you think I did?” Wonwoo blanches, straightening. He didn’t hold her against her will or force her into any situation. He was just-

Joshua steps a step closer and under this light, Wonwoo can very clearly see the barely-controlled anger in Joshua’s eyes. “You know what I mean. What you did tonight,” he gestures vaguely off to the side, “there is no excuse for that.” His arms cross, tone dropping to something quieter and much more piercing. “And you pull this shit after everything she’s been through?” he scoffs, “Do you know what this scandal will do to her? What she had to fucking live with for the three years you were conveniently gone from her life?” Every curse word that leaves Joshua’s unlikely mouth stings. Especially because during the entirety of Wonwoo’s fifteen years of knowing Joshua, he’s never heard a single curse word leave the man’s mouth until now. 

Wonwoo’s brows furrow in confusion. “What-” Joshua’s words echo in his head. “What do you mean by that?” 

Joshua’s frustration only deepens at his words. “The whispers that followed y/n?” He lets out a small, bitter laugh when Wonwoo stares at him like he just uttered something in a completely different language. “Of course,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “Of course you didn’t know. You weren’t even here,” he strains. “You have no idea – not even an inkling – of what she had to go through. The rumors, the scandals, the fucking engagements that all ended in-” Joshua cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes. 

Wonwoo blinks, a sense of dread overcoming his senses. ‘Engagements? What- what are you-” 

Joshua perfectly ignores him. “You think she can just simply brush off whatever you just did? That Society will let her brush it off?” 

Wonwoo’s gaze wavers as something tightens in his chest. It’s like every one of Joshua’s words hit something in him. He steps backwards slightly. His hands shake in fists next to him. “I never meant for this entire thing to happen,” he mutters. But he can’t help the guilt that begins to creep into his voice. “I never intended for any of this, Joshua.” 

At his shaking words, Joshua’s posture lets up the slightest bit. Instead of pure anger, there is now a quiet concern that mixes itself in.

“You think she’s been waiting for you this entire time, Wonwoo?” he asks. “No, your grace.” The title hits Wonwoo hard. “She’s been through enough, man. Let her live.” He takes a slow step towards Wonwoo, eyes softer now. “Do you know how each of her engagements ended, Wonwoo?” Joshua’s jaw clenches. “With each and every man going off with some other whore in the back alleys. Every. Single. One.” 

The weight of Joshua’s words hit him like a horse plowing through the fields. “I-” he doesn’t even know what to say. Each and every man going off with some other whore. The phrase repeats itself over and over and over inside his head. He doesn’t even know what the emotions that wrack his body are. Anger? Guilt? Some sort of combination? 

“She’s always been frightfully alone – against Society, the judgment, the pain of the engagements. The entire Society just sees her as a scandal waiting to happen.” Joshua lets out a breath, swallowing. 

Wonwoo is frozen in his place, every word that leaves Joshua’s mouth cutting a deeper wound into his heart. “I never wanted that for her,” he whispers. “I never wanted her to feel alone. I never-”

“-But you did, Wonwoo.” Joshua’s voice cracks and his eyes glisten with pity. “Wonwoo, when you left, you absolutely broke her.” 

At his words, Wonwoo stumbles back like it is a physical blow. 

“She cried almost every other night. She wouldn’t eat at her own estate so Seungcheol ordered her to stay at the palace. Mingyu,” he lets out a frustrated laugh, “Mingyu, he had to carry her up to a guest room every night because she would fall asleep in the library.” Joshua’s gaze is piercing. “But I guess you were too busy doing whatever.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes are wide, his breath still in his throat. He feels his stomach twist and his hands clench into fists. “I didn’t know,” he repeats, almost as if it's a mantra that keeps him afloat. As if he was trying to convince himself. He feels something break inside of him – a dam, a wall, something. Because for the first time since his return, he feels the full weight of the distance between him and y/n. No. Maybe it was always there to begin with and he had refused to face it. He can finally feel the missed years, the cut conversations, the things she had to endure without him. The things she had to endure because of him. It’s like everything is crashing down around him in pieces of broken glass, cutting small pieces of his skin. It’s like all of his mistakes, his failures, his greed that made him think only of himself, comes crashing down in full-force. 

“How do I-” Wonwoo mumbles. There is a strange pressure behind his eyes. “How do I fix this?” When he looks back up at Joshua, he’s at a loss for words. “I never meant to hurt her.” 

Joshua shakes his head slowly, voice firm in this. “But you did. You can’t change that now, three years later. Just fix it. She’s suffered long enough.” Joshua steps back, turning to the window. “Show her that you’re not leaving again. That she can trust you again.” 

“And if it doesn’t work?” Wonwoo’s voice sounds broken, even to his own ears. 

Joshua pauses. He looks over his shoulder. “Then it doesn’t. But if you feel anything towards her, you’ll try.” 

Wonwoo’s eyes close and his hands find purchase on Joshua’s desk. Stupid, he thinks, swallowing back lumps in his throat. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Should’ve stayed away. 

: ̗̀➛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴛᴡɪɴᴇᴅ -- ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ @syluslittlecrows @gaslysainz @meowmeowminnie @luvjichang @peachytokki @nicoleparadas @haneulparadx @mj-szaa @lilylikesthat @ppaia @ameliamirabela @tearsdntfall617

[wxshing-aep]

Hiii, I saw ur request post!! could you maybe

write some dating Ethan morales hcs??💖

Dating Ethan Morales Would Include

pairing: ethan morales x reader (all characters are 18+) AN: this will be dating college!ethan cause i thought it'd be more interesting, also didn't proofread this warnings: swearing, gets nsfw in the second half so 18+ (minors dni)

-

you met ethan when you were assigned to tutor him cause he was failing calc. you originally found him to be pretty obnoxious and got tired of his overly nonchalant attitude which culminated in you yelling at him about how he needs to start trying or he's gonna get kicked out. he made no move to respond to your angry rant and just stared back at you with wide eyes and blown out pupils. "what?" you question. "sorry, you're kinda really fucking hot when you're mad"

one of your study sessions ended with him pulling you onto his lap while you made out and his hands roamed your body

he got a little nervous asking you out on a real date even though you've already made out multiple times. he was a bit worried that you'd reject him. he wasn't sure if you'd want a serious relationship with him since he's got a bit of a womanizer reputation. (spoiler alert: you said yes)

his grades got a lot better once he actually started trying because he loved seeing how excited you'd get for him when he showed you a good grade that he got on a test

ethan's love language is definitely physical touch. he needs his hands on you at all times, normally around your waist or resting on your thigh. he's constantly drawing little shapes on whatever part of your bare skin he has access to. most of the time he doesn't even realize he's doing it

you go on a lot of late night drives that may or may not end with the two of you in the backseat of ethan's car

he loves when you wear his clothes but still consistently accuses you of robbing him. "wearing my jacket again, you little thief" "oh, did you want it ba-" "no"

he is your own personal hype-man, there is no shortage of compliments coming from him

"see you later, gorgeous", "damn, my girl looks sexy", "my girlfriend is the most beautiful person on the planet"

he lets you braid his hair when you're bored

he'll match his nail color to yours but will never admit that he did it on purpose and always insist that it was a coincidence

he gets very jealous, but will deny it if you call him out. you were once at a party very innocently talking to a male friend from your psych seminar about how hard your recent test was before ethan walked over to your conversation.

"oh hey, jack, this is my boyfriend ethan" you introduce him, "ethan, this is-" "yea, don't care" ethan interrupts before pulling you by the waist into a searing kiss until jack had left. "there's no reason to be jealous you know? he's just a friend" "i'm not jealous, but that loser was definitely eye-fucking you" "he was not eye-" "let's go make out"

ethan is very distracting when you're trying to study or do any homework

"baaaaaabe, i'm bored", he whines. "m'sorry but I really have to do this research paper" you respond. "or", he starts, closing the book in your hands and tossing it to the side of your bed, "you can take a much needed break and do me instead"

his friends call him whipped bc of how obsessed with you he is and he doesn't give a fuck cause he is in fact obsessed with you

he lets you color in his tattoos

he definitely tries to teach you how to skateboard and holds both your hands if you're too scared to let go of him

he got you a necklace with his initial on it and has a ring with your initial on it

nsfw 18+

that man definitely knows what he's doing in the bedroom cause, let's face it, he was a bit of a whore in the past

you guys have a lot of sex, like a lot of sex to the point where you might have gotten a few noise complaint's from the people that live next to your dorm room

he's a capital M Munch. ethan loves eating pussy, like he definitely does it for his own enjoyment. he could spend hours in between your thighs and any moans or whimpers coming from you just egg him on even more

ethan was so turned on when you agreed to sit on his face

"your face is pretty", you complimented him. "yea? you should sit on it" oh. "like sit on it sit on it?" "sit. on. it." "but what if I like suffocate you or something" "you won't, and if you did i'd die happy" so you did and holy shit does that boy know how to use his mouth. he wouldn't stop till you came on his face multiple times and your legs are shaking around his head

he keeps his hair long cause he likes when you tug on it while he's eating you out. it turns him on so much that he has to actively try not to cum in his pants while he's going down on you

ethan is very vocal, he's not afraid to let you know that he's enjoying it. he whimpers for sure. while he's definitely a giver he loves when you have your mouth on him. his mind goes fuzzy when you're blowing him, moaning your name, shaking under you

he's a bit of a sub and loves when you boss him around. ethan absolutely loses his mind when you choke him while you're riding him. he just loves seeing you on top of him, telling him what to do, using him for your own pleasure. he'll beg, especially if you're edging him

"baby fuck please i need it, i'll be your good boy i promise"

jealous!ethan is definitely more dominant though. "right there baby? look how wet you are for me. he can't fuck you like i can hmm? want you to cum on my dick like a good girl"

this man cannot hide when he's horny. he immediately gets super handsy and will be whisking you off to the nearest bathroom

he loves your boobs. holding them, sucking on your nipples, cumming on them if you're cool with that. your chest is rarely not covered in hickies.

you're obsessed with ethan's hands and he knows it. he knows how to use them and has no problem sneaking them into you under the table on a date night, only to remove his hands from you right before you finish and make a point of sucking the fingers that had just been inside you clean while holding eye contact with you and letting a smug look take over his face

he has a praise kink and definitely responds with "yes ma'am" when you boss him around. he's gotten turned on when you guys are arguing before, there's just something about you yelling at him that goes straight to his dick

if you wear a sundress, oh it's over for him. he'll have you bent over the nearest surface in seconds and the dress stays on.

[fictionalgap]

The Heat

(chapter 1)

Pairing: Chef! Abby Anderson x Cook! Reader

Summary: Abby is a chef and you are a cook working for her. You get distracted everytime she wears someting that shows her arms. Abby gets mad at you because you are not focused on your job.

Warnings: 18+ themes, swearing, sexual themes, nsfw, mdni

Song Recommendation: Delicious - Ruby Amanfu

Inspired by @d3arapril 's post

"Jesus! What's wrong with you?"

You took the potatoes one by one from the floor.

"Sorry, chef."

You got up from the floor, potatoes in your hands. You faced with your new chef for a couple of months, Abby.

You gulped as you cleaned the drops on your face with a cloth you usually tuck it in your pocket.

"Really, what's going on?" She raised her right brow.

"Nothing, chef. " You lied.

Abby sighed heavily. It was damn fucking attractive when she looked like 'she was done with it'.

You were even attracted to her breathing and it was getting really pathetic and serious at this point.

You were attracted to her since you saw her the day you came into this kitchen for job interview.

Her face, her voice, her smell, her presence, the determined and harsh look in her eyes…

Her arms…

It was the very first day of work when you first saw her arms. She was wearing a sleeveless light blue shirt that matched her eyes.

You knew working for her would be an honor. You just had to follow orders.

You thought It wouldn't be hard to follow orders If they are coming from her.

You did as she said without hesitation and quickly. She was pleased with you as much as you can tell.

There were times that you came up with ideas and those shocked her, probably in a good way cause she still didn't fire you and agreed on your adjustments on menu. She didn't comment on them in front of others. It was understandable. Jealously in kitchen caused mobbing.

The problem was, your feelings and your attraction started to grow more and more each day.

You would start to drool on job thinking her fucking you in the pantry against the shelves.

"I am sorry, chef! It won't happen again."

"You said the same thing the last time we talked about this. Do you need a break or-"

"No,no. I am good, chef. I promise!" you tried to convince the woman in front of you.

"Hm…" she made a sound that made your pussy cry for help.

It was really hard to work like this.

"Are you avoiding me?"

"What? No,no chef! Never. What made you think that? " you rambled in a breath with widened eyes.

"You turn around whenever I come... "

"No, no. I'm sorry It looked like that chef." You explained in desperation.

It was true though. You avoided her. How the hell were you supposed to work with this hot woman when she was beside you.

"Hm…" she held her own chin while she was thinking.

"Raymond! You take the order five, too." she told your coworker and pulled your hand to take you outside, to the back of the restaurant.

"Cigarette?"

You nodded and she held you a cigarette and you took it between your fingers.

"Thank you."

She lit up her cigarette and turned to you to lit yours up too.

"Y/N. whats going on? " she let the the smoke out to the side and then turned to you.

You wished she blew the smoke on your face.

You sighed heavily. How could you tell her that she should wear something with sleeves because her arms were so fucking distracting.

Every time she lifted her arm to inhale the smoke your eyes followed her arms.

This time it was too fucking obvious.

"What, is there something on my arm?" She asked obliviously. She looked at her arm then looked at you, questioning.

You blinked to her question. You instinctively licked your lips and gulped without moving your eyes from her arm.

"I-I I uhm I I just I, uhm... "

Her questioning, oblivious face turned into a playful smirk. Her eyes got smaller and shinier. There was something else.

Mischief.

No. . . Something darker.

Yet sweet.

She took a step to you as If she wasn't close enough.

"Now, that can't be the reason you were so distracted for weeks, can't it? " She looked like she was having fun. She looked amused.

You felt bad. Were you just a amusement to her? Something that she will tell her friends when they were hanging out.

Like ' Yeah, there was this girl who couldn't function because she was drooling over my muscles. '

You gulped. You couldn't answer. She started to laugh. She moved over and you could feel her breath over your face. You blinked again an again. Her smell was mesmerizing.

Her eyes darted to your lips and your eyes darted to her lips. You licked your lips.

"Chef! We need you inside! " Raymond came from the kitchen but stopped when he saw you two.

"Ugh.. Uhm I-" His thumb was pointed to the kitchen door. He had a shocked expression on his face.

He must have felt the tension.

"Coming! " Abby growled. Her jaw clenched.

He went back to the kitchen quickly.

She looked into your eyes with a smile.

"Don't worry sweetheart. I'll take care of it."

She did something you didn't expect.

She put her thumb on your lips and caressed them with it.

"I'll take care of everything..." she whispered.

You automatically opened your mouth and she took the advantage of sliding her thumb further into your mouth.

She got closer to your ear and whispered.

"That's all you can get right now. " then she left quickly without taking a look at you.

You looked dumbfounded at the door which is slightly moving back and forth because of Abby's entrance.

'What just happened? ' you breathed heavily.

Taglist: @valenftcrush @elliewilliamsgf69 @hayatistirahati @rubycruzsbitch @kyleeservopoulos @d3arapril @scarletchase1989 @chrry1ovr @scarletchase1989

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

The Dangers of Hope Ch. 5

Series Summary: When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

Pairings/Characters in the series: Endverse!Dean x Reader, Emma (OFC), Castiel, Sam Winchester, Lucifer, Michael, Zachariah, Risa, Johnston (OMC), Patrick (OMC), Theresa (OFC), other survivors and soldiers.

Series Explicit 18 +/Warnings: Show level violence, some gore, angst, smut, fluff all the usual for a series of mine. ❤️ Endverse!Dean (that's a warning for his anger and callousness as well as his extreme hotness. ����) Each chapter will have their own specific warnings.

Chapter Warnings: Nothing major.

Word Count: 5,402

A/N: So, I've had this idea for quite a while. Basically since I watched The Last of Us. I loved Pedro in the role of Joel, but I kept thinking how incredible Jensen would have been. Which then made me think of how amazing he was as Endverse!Dean which then led me to this idea. Lol! I've stolen the premise of Ellie's storyline from TLOU, but made her a grown up, a reader insert, and a love interest for Dean.

If you've never seen TLOU, don't worry - you don't need to have seen it to understand this story. 😊

I've taken some liberties with the Endverse in my story, changed a few things from canon, but kept lots of things too.

I sincerely hope you enjoy the story. It will be ten chapters and I will do my very best to post one chapter every weekend. ❤️

A/N 2: Sorry, this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. 😘

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

The dividers below were created by @saradika

Over the next two weeks, Dean did whatever he could to avoid being around Y/N.  He was determined that the morning at the river was simply going to be a weird one off. It was some kind of reaction to Y/N’s unfamiliar presence. Her emotions and her rose-colored outlook on the world had contaminated him somehow. 

He didn’t know why, but there was something about her that always made him question his decisions, constantly rework his plans. She just brought something out in him, so he stayed the hell away from her as much as possible.

He knew she’d set up the school and begun teaching. But there again, she’d made him change his plans. The plan had been to use the sheds behind the cabin for storage; that was the whole reason for building them! 

But apparently Y/N had worked her magic with Brandy and before he knew it the sensible, practical woman had him convinced to let Y/N and the kids take up one of their very limited storage spaces, just to sit around doing algebra and reading poetry - or whatever she was teaching them. 

It was ridiculous. 

But even though he avoided her during the day, there was no turning off his brain at night, when he closed his eyes and visions of her soft curves and the memory of her silky skin beneath his fingers plagued his thoughts. He told himself to smarten up, that he had so many more important things to be thinking about. 

He decided he just needed sex; it had been too long. So one night he showed up in Risa’s tent after midnight and she opened her arms to him the way she always did. 

But as he kissed her and moved his hands over her body, her gentle sighs and soft moans weren’t doing what he needed them to, and he realized he was being an asshole trying to replace one woman with another. Risa was a good soldier and she’d been a soft place for him to land too many times to just use her as a distraction. 

So he got up and left, giving her a lame excuse, “I forgot I have to be up early tomorrow to…go over things with Johnston.” He tried not to notice Risa’s frown. He couldn't tell if she was mad or sad, and he didn't really want to stick around to find out. 

As the days moved on, he realized it was next to impossible to completely avoid Y/N, whether day or night. Because no matter how he tried to ignore her, he saw her influence everywhere. He could sense a shift in the air, he swore people were smiling more and every once in a while, he could hear kids laughing loudly.

That was a foreign sound nowadays, and it unnerved him. And smiling seemed foolish. What was there to smile about? Being happy just invited tragedy. He knew in the old days he would have been called a pessimist. But he was simply being a realist as he'd always been. He called things as they were, and he wasn't about to let a pretty smile and a bouncy attitude change that.

One evening, about a month after Y/N arrived at the camp, Dean was headed to the storage shed to take a thorough inventory before they left the next day on a raid - one of their last before the snows came in mid November. He knew they were gonna need more propane than what they had stored in order to run the generator over the winter. The generator ran the fridge and freezer where they kept their food stored. 

It could also power the electricity in the big cabin for a little while if needed. There had been nearly a week last winter that had been so piercingly cold that they’d all needed to jam themselves into the cabin and run the electric heat as much as possible. It had simply been too cold for the little camp stoves in the tents; the wood-burning stoves just couldn’t generate enough heat to combat the intense cold that seeped through the thick canvas walls. 

So their generator had saved them, and it ran on propane, which meant they needed more than enough to last through another possible cold snap.

Dean had deliberately waited to start the task until it was nearly sundown since the school would be empty by then and he could avoid running into the teacher that worked there. 

But as he approached the small building he could see a wavering light in the window - a lamp moving towards him. Before he could turn and leave (he wasn’t going to call it running away) Y/N stepped out into the semi-darkness and gasped as she saw him standing there.

She put the hand not holding the kerosene lamp to her chest. “Oh my lord!” She breathed out raggedly. “You scared me half to death.” But she was chuckling as she said it and walked closer to him.

He cleared his throat. ��Yeah, I uh…I thought you’d be gone.” He knew he sounded slightly accusatory. “Why are you still here? Haven’t the kids been gone for hours?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. I came back to put up the gift we got from Tom Richardson.” She waved him towards the building behind her. “You should come see the school.”

Dean shook his head. “No, I’ve got…I have to -”

She cut him off with wide, pleading eyes. “Please?” She added a bright, imploring smile and Dean shook his head. Why was he even bothering to say no to her at this point? He gestured for her to lead the way into the little building and he followed at a distance. 

They walked in and she set the lamp on the small table in the corner and turned it up full so that it completely lit up the tiny room. She held her arms out to the sides, showing off her little schoolroom with pride.

“What do you think?”

He shook his head. “It’s uh…pretty empty.” He said looking around. 

Y/N shrugged and seemed a little deflated. “It’s a work in progress.”

Dean grunted his acknowledgement and continued his sweep of the room. On the floor against the back, Northern, wall were a couple of piles of wool blankets, and right above them was a mural of multicolored leaves stuck to the wall. 

When she saw him looking at it and frowning, Y/N explained. “I got the kids to find a bunch of pretty, fallen leaves, and then we used some tree sap as glue to stick them up. I got to teach them a little bit about trees and ecosystems, and we also made something pretty to hang on the wall.”

He nodded at the blankets. “Is that where the kids sit?”

“Yeah.” She said with another shrug. “We’re a little packed in, but it keeps us warm. The blankets just take the chill out of the floor and make it a bit softer to sit on.”

Dean nodded absently and looked left, his eye catching on the only other object in the room. It was a paper map hanging on the western wall, held in place by two small nails. 

Dean frowned again. “Is that a map of America?”

Y/N nodded excitedly. “Yeah, that was the gift from Tom Richardson. It was so kind of him. His son, Jonah is a sweet little guy, but I guess he’s been pretty quiet over the last year or so. He lost his mom just before he and Tom got to Chitaqua?” She said, clearly using the words as a question to see if he knew who she was talking about.

Dean nodded, a vague recollection coming to his mind of a big burly guy and a scrawny little kid. He remembered thinking the guy would be a hard worker, and the kid probably wasn’t gonna make it. He’d looked pretty sick.

Y/N continued. “Well, I guess since he started school he’s been talking more in the evenings, even asking Tom questions about The Knights of the Round Table. I’ve been sharing some of the legends with them this week. So, Tom was grateful and as a thank you, he gave us this map that he’d kept tucked away in his backpack all this time. Said it made him feel peaceful to look at it and remember better times. But he thought we could use it more.”

She smiled wistfully and gazed at the slightly ratty map.

“Why?” Dean asked with a slight jolt in his gut. He waved at the map. “It’s not like this anymore.”

Y/N nodded and lowered her gaze to the ground. “Yeah, I know, but the general shape of the country is still the same, and I can use it as half geography, half history.”

When she looked back up at him, her face was set in lines of disappointment. She waved her hand to encompass the whole hundred and fifty square feet. “You don’t like it?” She asked with a weak chuckle.

Dean shrugged. “No it's, I mean, it’s fine. You know, work in progress, like you said.”

Y/N nodded and smiled, looking a little bolstered. “Yeah, slow but sure. And you know,” her smile turned shy, “I’ve really wanted to thank you for giving up the space for the school, I know this wasn’t what the shed was earmarked for.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, Brandy made sense. Can’t have the kids wandering around outside after the cold comes.”

Y/N frowned. “I’ve wanted to thank you, but every time I’ve looked for you, I seem to have just missed you.”

Dean scowled defensively. “Just busy.” 

Y/N nodded.

“Well look,” Dean said, backing away, “I gotta get to…stuff.” He shook his head. “I mean, we’re leaving on a raid tomorrow and I gotta prepare for it.”

“Oh, be careful.” Y/N said, biting her lip in concern.

It was far too hard for Dean to rip his eyes away from where her teeth sunk into the satiny sweep of her bottom lip. But he jerked his head up and then spun away as he answered her. “Always am.”

***

The raid was successful; in fact it was one of the most successful ones they’d ever had. They’d traveled all the way to St. Louis, hoping to find some gas stations there that hadn’t been picked clean. But they had no luck. Since going home empty-handed wasn’t an option, they went North to Springfield and hit the jackpot. 

They found an old Costco on the outskirts of the city that had barely been hit. They filled and loaded up enough propane tanks to see them through the winter and then some. 

They also loaded up as much food as they could, and even found some usable meds left in the pharmacy there. They grabbed clothes and kitchen things like plates and pots, utensils, also managing to find a few things that had become rare and quite precious, like eyeglasses and sunglasses. They also found spare tires and car parts, and a few simple pieces of practical furniture. They took as much as they could load into the back of two trucks and a Jeep. 

Dean packed up one more big box, setting it on top of the others; it was just something he thought might come in handy. He refused to think too long about why he’d gathered together the things in the box.

They made it back to camp less than two days after they left, a record for a raid. They usually took a week or more because they had to scavenge through a bunch of different cities, and fight off masses of Croats. But this time, they didn't see any Croats at all, and they'd scored an incredible haul quickly, which meant that, barring some kind of catastrophe, they wouldn't have to go out again until the snow melted. 

They pulled into the camp around noon and Dean spent a few hours helping to unload the trucks and organize where everything went. When the campers saw the piles of booty in the trucks, people actually started clapping. An air of joviality pervaded as they all worked together to put things away until the next day. At which point they'd begin accounting for it all, sharing what was needed immediately, and then safely storing away the rest. 

Y/N and her students left their little schoolroom to come help as well and the kid’s eyes were wide and excited, looking at everything that had been brought back as though it was Christmas Eve. 

When everything was unloaded, Dean grabbed the box he’d put aside and brought it to Y/N who’d returned to the school to drop off the two folding chairs she’d claimed for the classroom.

He knocked on the open door, grateful for the hard wood beneath his knuckles this time. Y/N turned to face him and her eyes were almost as bright and excited as the kids’.

“Hi!” She said enthusiastically. “Wow, you guys sure brought home the bacon on this raid!”

Dean shook his head. “No bacon. It was fairly rancid.”

Y/N chuckled lightly and scrunched up her nose. “Yeah, wise decision to leave that behind.”

Dean nodded and set the big box on the plywood floor with a heavy thump. “This is for you. For the school.” He amended.

Y/N looked a bit dumbfounded for a moment and her eyes got even rounder before she dropped to her knees and pulled open the flaps of the box. 

When she saw what was inside her gasp was deep and her hands flew to her mouth. She looked up at him in complete shock before reaching reverently into the box to take out one of the books that sat inside.

“Books.” She whispered, as she stared at the paperback in her hands. She reached into the box again and pulled out another book and then another and another until her arms were full of them.

She looked up at him, tears falling and her gaze rapturous. “Oh my god, Dean.”

Dean felt his face flush and he looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just figured the classroom could use ‘em and they were just sitting there on the shelves. There’s a bunch of kids books underneath,” he said pointing inside the box. “And paper and pencils and some crayons, a few coloring books. There weren’t many of them so-”

He was interrupted as Y/N dropped the books back into the box and launched herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. He stood stock still for a minute before he patted her back awkwardly and dropped his arms back to his side.

She pulled back and brushed away her happy tears, sniffling loudly. “Sorry. I just…” She knelt down again and picked up another book, holding it tight to her chest. She shook her head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed books. It’s been years since I’ve even seen one let alone had the chance to read one.”

She reached in for one of the children’s books and laughed. “Oh my gosh, the kids are gonna be ecstatic.”

Dean shrugged, thoroughly embarrassed by Y/N’s joy and gratitude. He cleared his throat before speaking. “There’s a limited supply of paper and pencils, and I have no idea how long it will be before we find more, if we ever do, so…”

He trailed off and Y/N put the books back into the box and folded the flaps closed again. “So, we’ll be sure to write very tiny, erase a lot, and wear the pencils down to little nubs.” She said as she stood and bent to heft the box up from the floor. Dean stepped forward to grab it from her as she staggered slightly beneath its weight.

“You’ll break your back.” Dean barked at her as he reached for the box. 

But she just shook her head and turned away with the box still in her arms. “N’ah I’m stronger than I look.” She said, huffing and puffing as she dropped it onto the table. 

Dean shook his head. Yeah, I bet you are. He thought.

After a moment Y/N turned and walked slowly back towards him. “So, I can’t exactly buy you dinner as a thank you. But if you bring your rations over to our tent, I can cook them all up for us.”

She smiled at him, friendly and sweet, but Dean was backing away. “No, that’s not necessary.”

“I know it isn’t, but it will make me feel good to do this one small favor for you in return for this amazingness.” She said with a wave towards the box.

Dean planned to say no, had it on the tip of his tongue but when he opened his mouth what came out was, “Okay.”

So barely an hour later he found himself sitting at her table with dinner laid out in front of him. It was a sufficiently celebratory meal of salted venison from an eight point buck the camp hunters had taken down in early summer, boiled potatoes, and a can of green beans that was older than Emma.

It was the best meal Dean had eaten in a long time.  

After the food was finished and the dishes were washed, Y/N made them a cup of coffee and he sat drinking it as she settled Emma into bed with a kiss. His stomach was full of decent food, the coffee smelled old but still strong, and the sound of Y/N’s soft voice as she tucked her daughter in, was incredibly soothing. He found himself relaxing into his chair in a way he hadn’t in a very long time. His muscles lost some of their rigidity and he breathed out a long sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath for too long.

After a few minutes Y/N came back to the table and sat down with her own soft exhale. She took a sip of her coffee and then looked at Dean over the rim of her tin cup. “You know, I don’t think you really understand what you’ve done here.”

Dean cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, questioning her. She smiled and set down her cup, shifting slightly in her chair.

“Since all of this started, we’ve been on the move, Emma and I. In the beginning, when Emma was still a baby, I’d come across different groups of people and we’d travel together for a while or we’d manage to hole up somewhere for the winter and wait out the cold together. But inevitably the groups always fell away; sometimes we’d just decide to go in separate directions, but sometimes animosity or greed would take over and violence would erupt. People would fight over who was in charge and they’d fight over resources.” Y/N shook her head. “It almost always ended up a disaster.”

She shrugged. “So after a while, I just lit out on my own with Emma. It was scary as hell, of course - no back up, no partners, all on my own with a four year old. But it also meant no one stealing my stuff, or throwing me to the wolves at the first sign of trouble.” 

She took another sip of coffee and Dean wondered at the shadows in her usually bright eyes. What stories in her past had created them?

Her voice was soft when she continued. “It’s been incredibly hard and there’s been,” her eyelashes fluttered and closed, “there's been a lot of bad.” 

She set down her cup and sat back in her chair, rubbing at her eyes with her fingers like she was scratching out the images behind her eyelids.

When she looked at him again, her eyes were soft and warm. “So, to come here, to see what you’ve accomplished in just a few years?” Her voice was full of wonder. “Dean, it’s like a miracle. I mean you’ve made it safe here, at least a hell of a lot safer than anywhere else out there - there are guards protecting us! People work together, contribute their skills and strengths for the benefit of the group as well as themselves.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t seen anything like it in a very long time. What you’ve created here is an oasis.”

Dean snorted at that. “Oasis?” He asked incredulously. Her praise and wonderment made him feel an itchy kind of awkwardness. He didn’t deserve it.

But Y/N was nodding solemnly. “Yes. It’s a safe haven in a world filled with evil. What would you call it?”

Dean took a gulp of coffee and then licked his lips, looking at her for a moment before speaking. “Y/N this is only an oasis in the sense that it’s a mirage in a desert; it’s an illusion. We’re managing to get by through lucky choices and good timing. We push through from day to day, but I’m telling you this whole place could fall apart in an instant. One long, bad, winter, or one coordinated attack from another camp or a pack of Croats, and we’re done.”

He paused to try and let that sink in before continuing. “And the survivors here work together because it’s beneficial to them. But if things get desperate again,” he looked at her pointedly, “don’t think for one second that they'll hesitate to throw you to the wolves like all the others.” He shrugged. “It’s human nature, survival of the fittest, and anyone who thinks otherwise is gonna get trampled.”

He said it as a warning, still determined to dislodge the Pollyanna ideal of good and virtuous humanity from her mind.

But Y/N just smiled and leaned across the table to squeeze his hand. “Guess we’ll see. But in the meantime, you should be proud. No matter what happens, you’ve done good.”

Dean swallowed down the rest of his coffee in one gulp and stood up, pulling his hand away from her warm touch. He was desperate to get away from the softness and understanding in her gaze. He thanked her for cooking dinner and left quickly, promising himself as he walked back to his tent that he wasn’t going to do that again.

But as with most things to do with Y/N that decision didn’t last long, and soon enough that one evening turned into a bit of a ritual. Every few days or so Dean would show up with some of his rations and Y/N would combine them with what they had, and they’d all eat together at their tiny table.

Every time he left her tent, he told himself he’d had his last meal there with Y/N and Emma. Yet within a few days, he’d be back again. He told himself it was just something to break the monotony of camp life, just something a little different from the ordinary.

But the truth was he was beginning to crave the evenings spent across from Y/N, listening to her rattle on about her students and their achievements, or else answering her seemingly endless questions about the camp and how it had come to be. He even enjoyed listening to her talk to Emma, telling her stories before she tucked her in for the night. 

Once the little girl was asleep, Dean usually hightailed it out of there, because without the kid as a buffer it became much harder to ignore Y/N’s inviting lips and tempting curves.

But one night, three weeks after returning home from the raid, Y/N followed him outside as he abruptly left the tent. 

“Dean.” She called after him. 

The sun had set almost an hour before and the night was dark and cold; Dean returned to her side and admonished her. “It’s freezing out here, go back inside.”

Y/N just rubbed her hands up and down her arms and shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head at her stubbornness, and then waited silently. When she didn’t say anything right away he spread his arms wide.

“What?” He asked impatiently. 

“I just…” Y/N stuttered for a moment. “I just wanted to say that I really like when you come for dinner.”

Dean clenched his jaw as she looked up at him with heat in her gaze, an invitation in her eyes, plain as day. He told himself to walk away but instead, he raised his hand to trail his fingers down her cheek. 

“You should go inside.” He warned her again, even as he lowered his head towards her. “S’cold.”

Y/N shook her head. “I’m very warm.” She smiled and licked her lips and it was his undoing.

He yanked her up against him and crushed her lips with his own. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, inhaling her sweet scent and hardening at the way she clutched the front of his jacket and whimpered softly. He moved his hands so that one clutched at her waist and the other one grabbed hold of the back of her head so he could keep her pressed to him tightly.

He didn't know how long he would have continued kissing her, or whether he might have taken things even further. But luckily there was a loud noise of something crashing somewhere in camp, followed by laughter. 

The sound was like a bucket of cold water being poured on him and Dean ripped himself away from Y/N's mouth. They were both breathing heavily, panting really.

“Fuck.” Dean swore roughly before he turned abruptly and left. He fully admitted to himself that this time, he was definitely running away.

***

Dean barely slept and woke up the next day berating himself for the night before. For fuck’s sake he’d been making out with Y/N with her kid just on the other side of a canvas wall - kissing her in the wide open, where any other camper might have walked by. He didn’t need things to be more complicated than they were already. 

As the morning wore on, he made up his mind to talk to Y/N that very afternoon. He'd just tell her straight out that what happened between them just couldn't happen again. It was only going to confuse things and make everything harder than it needed to be. 

He nodded; he could do this. He was practical and he didn't hem and haw or tiptoe around things. He'd just tell her straight out how things were going to be. 

He knew she'd be in the big cabin as the school day ended, so he walked over and stepped inside the door, hoping she'd be almost done for the day.

Ever since he brought her the books, she'd been reading to the kids at the end of every school day. Parents had started swinging by the school, ostensibly to meet their kids, but really, they wanted to watch their kids' faces and listen to their giggles as Y/N read the stories in funny voices and occasionally got the kids to join her in acting out silliness from the books. 

But the crowd of parents and kids had gotten a bit too big for the tiny schoolroom, so on the last day of every week, Y/N had taken to reading to the kids and parents together in the big cabin. The adults usually sat on the floor behind the kids, keeping their hands busy with mending clothes or knitting, or else they stood at a table and worked on something like repairing holes in tents or making snares for the hunters. The work allowed them to justify their enjoyment of the stories. 

As Dean walked inside now, Y/N was finishing up the storybook in her hand. He could see it was The Paper Bag Princess and Y/N was on the last page.

“‘Ronald’, said Elizabeth, ‘your clothes are really pretty and your hair is very neat.” Y/N read aloud in Elizabeth’s decisive voice. 

“You look like a real prince. But you,” Y/N paused for effect, “are a bum.’”

All the kids were giggling as she read the last line. 

“They didn't get married after all.”

The kids clapped and even the parents were chuckling at the way the paper bag princess had put the snooty prince in his place.

“I love that story!!” A little redheaded girl in the front gushed. 

“It's my mommy's favorite story.” Emma said loudly. “Right Mommy?”

Y/N nodded. “When I was your age for sure.”

Dean pushed away from the wall he was leaning on, trying to signal Y/N so she'd hurry up and finish. But the little girl in the front demanded her full attention as she bounced up to lean against Y/N's knees where she sat in the chair.

“Cause your mommy read it to you?”

Dean was seriously considering ordering everyone out. He wanted to get this over with.

But Y/N's next words stopped him dead in his tracks. 

She was shaking her head as she tucked the little girl's red hair behind her ear. “No, my mommy passed away a long time ago when I was just a baby. So she never really got to read me stories.”

Y/N kept talking, but Dean only heard a hot, pulsing, rushing sound in his ears. A million thoughts were slamming through his mind at once as he felt a cold shiver run through him.

He yelled over the sound of the people around him beginning to chatter and get ready to leave.

“How?”

Y/N looked up at his bellow, her face shocked. “What?”

Dean was aware of his surroundings only just enough to brusquely order everyone out of the cabin.

“Now!” He barked and the mood in the room shifted quickly as parents grabbed up their children and gave The Boss a wide berth as his eyes burned at Y/N like green fire.

Everyone disappeared and it was just Y/N, Dean and Emma left. 

Dean felt his heart hammering in his chest as he took a step back from where she stood. 

Y/N's face was completely confused and clearly perplexed. “Dean what-”

He cut her off. “How?” He bellowed again before swallowing and asking in a slightly quieter tone. “How did your mother die when you were a baby?”

Y/N shook her head. “Why? What are you-”

“Answer me.” Dean's voice wasn't loud, but his words were clipped and he could hear the steel behind his words, feel the cold seeping into his bones as the tumblers in his mind fell into place, opening the lock concealing the reason behind Y/N’s miraculous survival of the virus.

Y/N blinked rapidly for a moment before exhaling slowly. “It was a - a fire. Some kind of electrical short or something.”

“In your nursery.” Dean said softly.

Y/N shrugged, her face scrunched up in confusion. “I'm not sure. My dad didn't really like to talk about it.”

As he stood staring at the woman with the bloodshot eyes, a moment from so long ago, once again from that first time they'd faced the Croatoan virus, materialized in his memory.

Again his brother's face bloomed in his mind, and he heard his own voice speaking.

“I swear I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean why here, why now?”

And Sam's bewildered reply. “And why was I immune?”

Well now he knew why his brother had been immune. Because Yellow Eyes had wanted him to be, to make him a better soldier, a better, more powerful psychic to lead his demon army. And of course, he’d needed to be sure Lucifer's true vessel was strong and able enough to withstand the demon germ warfare he planned to release upon the world as a way to kickstart the apocalypse.

Dean stared at Y/N, angry beyond belief. Angry at her and what she really was, angry at himself for taking so long to figure it out and for falling for her game, and unbelievably angry at the universe for proving once again that it was laughing at him. 

His voice was ice when he spoke. “What kind of psychic are you? What can you do?” He shook his head. “What have you done already?"

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

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Dean Fics Only:

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

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Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

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[valiantroeagleangel]

Body wash.

Will Ramos x female reader.

Fluff, bath, comfort.

From the sweet request: "We love post tour Will, so I was wondering, how about a nice, long bath with our favorite puppy boy? Will’s love language is touch and after a long tour that’s the one thing he needs the most to be able to relax. I can already see it: Will and his love in the bathtub (think of it Pretty Woman style - god I watched that movie way too many times when I was growing up lol). She’s delicately applying a hydrating mask on his curly hair, carefully untangling the knots, then slowly washing his body…*sigh* what a wonderful day that’d be."

Mama's tag list: @circle-with-me @malice-ov-mercy @darkhallcorner @loeytuan98 @witchyweeb34 @lyschko666 @emzandthevoid

Will's body was hot against yours, his skin slipping as his back hit your chest. Gently you started to massage his shoulders, hoping it would help him relax a little. Will's last few days have been rough and you hoped a hot bath would soothe him, even if it was for some minutes.

Softly he leaned more on your body, allowing the hot water to embrace more of his body. A little bit of music ran in the back, it was so low that you weren't even sure of what was playing but it was enough to distract his mind as he started to strum on the ceramic of the bathtub, all in rhythm.

He was feeling good between your arms, your presence was the only thing that could calm him down almost immediately. He loved his job but sometimes it got him so frustrated, among the arguments he could have with the other guys, the tour or the way the song wasn't turning how he wanted it to. Will loved his job and he knew how lucky he was to be able to have a very decent life thanks to it but sometimes, despite all of that, the only thing he wanted was to go home and feel you close. He wanted you to cuddle him, to tell him that everything would be alright, that he was doing a good job and that you loved him. That was what he longed for.

"Are you feeling better?" You asked when Will tilted his head back to let it rest on one of your shoulders.

He only hummed at you as a form of answer. His eyes closed for a second and he let your hands wander on his torso. Slowly, you brushed your fingers against his pectorals and Will sighed in pleasure as chills settled on his skin. His wet hair fell on his nape and the messy curls tickled your own chest

"You know-" He started then paused, taking one of your hands in his to admire your fingers. "I'm really grateful that you're here with me. Thank you."

You intertwined your fingers with his, twisting your hands as you kissed his temple. "And I'm really grateful that you're here with me."

Another silent moment passed while he played with your fingers, losing himself in his thoughts. "Do you want to tell me what's bugging you?" You asked and he sighed, dropping your hands back to the water.

"It's dumb. We fought at the end of the tour about a song and the way we performed it live." He sighed, his mood dropping. "It doesn't really matter now that it ended."

You wanted to ask more but felt that Will wasn't ready to talk about it. Touring was always hard on him. He loved it but these kinds of fights were ruining everybody's experience and he hated it. You wanted to give him your support but with the little pieces of information you had, you did not want to say something stupid or devoid of meaning.

"It'll pass Will. Don't worry too much about it." You tried to speak in a tender voice, to bring any kind of comfort, to let him know that you were here with him no matter what but it didn't seem like it was enough. Will hummed at you once again, his mind back to the racing.

Softly you kept leaving kisses on his temple as he allowed himself to let go of some tension, his body deepening more on yours.

"Want me to wash your hair?" You asked, your hands already reaching for the curls to start massaging his scalp.

"Yes please." He breathed out, closing his eyes in, his head tilted back to allow you a better access.

Still in silence, you grabbed the shampoo bottle next to you to pour some into your hands. The scent of it came rapidly to your nose and made you smile. You loved Will's shampoo, it smelled so good, it smelled like him. All of it was so comforting.

Your hands back on his head you cautiously washed his hair, giving it a quick massage. Will couldn't help but sigh every time you applied more pressure on some untouched part of his skull and you smiled to yourself, happy to see him finally give in and enjoy the moment without hating on himself.

Once you carefully rinsed the soap you leaned on to grab the hair mask on the other side of the tub, Will's body following you. Back against the ceramic he immediately laid back on you, as if he couldn't endure the distance between your two bodies.

Even if the water was growing cold his skin was still so hot on you, it was keeping you so warm that you worried he might be freezing. You hesitated to question him, not wanting to ruin the moment or bring it to an end but Will finally looked so comfortable that you did not even bother to ask.

The mask in hand you started to apply it to the end of his hair, carefully fighting with the curls and the mess they created. Everything was tangled and you were glad it wasn't on your head because you wouldn't have the patience to work it out on you. But the soft smile Will had plastered on his lips was enough to motivate you to untangle all the knots on his hand, hydrating his curls. You loved how good he was at taking care of his hair. He was really invested in it and you couldn't find that more adorable.

Some minutes later you successfully finished your art. Will's hair fell perfectly on his nape, the curls being defined and smooth as you liked them. When you let go of him he turned in the bathtub, his body now facing you.

Gently he leaned on for a kiss, his lips brushing yours delicately. You smiled into the kiss as he pressed himself more on you. "Thank you." It's all he whispered before grabbing the body wash. "Come here, I'll wash your back."

It was your turn to switch positions, your body now addressing the tiles of the wall as Will's hand gained your back. The soap was cold, giving you goosebumps. Will noticed it and immediately brought his lips to your shoulders, kissing them as he brushed your skin with his hot breath. "Are you cold?"

You only nodded and he pulled you closer to him. It was not convenient to wash your back but his hot torso was heating you a bit. Still, despite the position, his hands travelled your skin. He insisted on your ribcage and on the knot on your shoulders. Gently he rubbed his hands on all of your back, caressing, as much as he could, every part of you.

When he judged it was enough, and that he saw the chills getting back to your skin, he rinsed it all out, the hot water burning on your now frozen body.

"Let me grab you a towel first, hm." In a quick motion, he got himself out of the bath, swamping the floor with the water that dropped from his body. You wanted to warn him but it was too late, he already had covered all the bathroom in water.

When he got back to the tub he spread his arms with the fabric in it, waiting for you to jump in so he could roll you in it. In a second he got you tugged like a burrito which made you question the size of the towel as you didn't record yours to be big enough to roll someone entirely in it. But you didn't ask, Will was way too happy with his work for you to bother him.

When he finally deigned to cover himself you noticed how greasy his hair was. "Will! We didn't rinse the mask out of your hair, it's going to be crunchy when it dries."

You laughed and Will looked at his reflection in the mirror.

"Damn, and I thought my hair was looking extra handsome tonight." He faked a disappointment as he bent quickly over the bathtub. "Are you helping me or do you plan to let me drown?"

Desperate he tried to wash it off, water falling all over his face. Still mocking him you came to his height, taking over to help him even if you died to take advantage of the situation and splash water on him.

But you didn't try, his mood was not the best tonight and you did not want to bring it even more down. He needed your help, your presence and your comfort, not for you to tease him.

In the end, the rest of the evening was quite calm. Will's hair perfectly clean and styled you both headed to your activities and then to bed. His body curled over yours he hugged you tightly, afraid that you might disappear in the night, as he fell asleep peacefully in your embrace.

[dreamypqulson]

— and i know we got some potential, cause that look you gave me was so gentle

summary: cordelia tutors you when you fall behind in your herbal class unbeknownst to her that the reason your so lost is because you can't take your mind off of her.

pairing: cordelia goode x reader

word count: 1200

a/n: i know i haven’t posted in awhile and i have requests that i have to write but this was just a little scrap that i’m deciding to post so nobody forgets about me! :)

It was awful, really. And you felt bad for it. For wasting her time. This is not going to help. If you needed some extra help in your herbal class, then you need assistance from Zoe, or Queenie, or Myrtle, someone who is not this woman.

It was comical, and you almost laughed right in her face when she ask you if you wanted her to tutor you later in the evening. You didn't need help. You were a smart and powerful which. You just needed her out of you head. There was too much of her to even pay attention to the task at hand.

And it hurt too. There was no denying that. With the many obvious signs that she was helplessly in love with you, you ignored them all. She's the supreme for god sakes. She was so close yet felt so out of your reach.

You were just wasting time in this goddamn greenhouse. Every minute with her counts, but right now, you were just staring straight at the wall behind her, daydreaming of what you could be doing instead. What— no, who you could be kissing and showing you truth to.

You hear her snapping and it pulls you out of your deep trances. It's honey brown eyes and hair golden in the moonlight that's shining through the roof window that you notice first. "Are you even listening?" She doesn't sound annoyed, but she's clearly had enough of this. All this. What even is this?

"I'm sorry, Miss Cordelia. I am, I just—"

"You don't have to call me that, ya know." It hurts too much to not call you it. If you call her Cordelia then it seems to real. She's not your mentor, not your supreme, she's Cordelia. And so you stand behind that Miss Cordelia barrier that you build. The one that Cordelia tries so hard to break down.

"I know." As you stare into her eyes so warm that you feel as though your melting, as they soften as they stare back at you, she cups you heated cheeks. You know that she feels how hot they are, you know that she knows what is going on with you, but still, she asks,

"What's really going on? You're one of my strongest witches, sweetie."

You truly want to tell her that she's so distracting because you've unwillingly fell in love with her. Because, then, maybe you'll be able to pay better attention in class. But instead you tell her, "I just haven't been sleeping right," sugarcoating your love for her and letting it melt in your mouth.

It's not a complete lie; because you cannot sleep when she walks by your room to assure that you are safe in bed. You cannot sleep when you've see her only an hour before your rest in a simple pajama slip. Milky silk and see-through if it were any thinner.

"We should make you a sleeping potion then." She knows your lying, but she is not going to force you to be honest. That's not what she is here for. She just wants you to be ready. She would wait forever for you to tell her how you feel.

And then she's gathering the ingredients. Patting around the greenhouse as soft as a spring day, and you have to look to see if she is even walking. Look to see that she's not flying around instead of walking like an angel that you could mistake her to be.

She stands behind you and her arms are locking you in between the table and her body. She's wearing a nightgown like every other night and you can feel her breasts press against your back. Your breath hitches and you think she notices because she asks if you're okay. You nod, because you cannot speak, you cannot do anything besides stand there as if you were built with cement.

Her blonde hair falls against your shoulder and you get a strong whiff of her lavender shampoo. She smells so sweet and you feel like you are being embraced by a fresh pastry.

"Do you remember one of the key ingredients for our sleeping potion?" She tests you, because she knows that the day she taught this, her shirt seemed to be just a little shorter cut than usual. She knows you weren't paying attention to sleep and potions and herbs that day.

"Um...," you feel so pathetic for not knowing. So useless. "No, not really."

She smiles still. You can hear it in her voice, "That's just alright. Chamomile is one of the main ingredients." She speaks softly and begins grinding the chamomile into the mixture. Her freckled arms rub against yours with each movement. Bare skin against bare, and you yearn for more.

These emotions are too strong for your body to handle. They cannot fit as you are too much already filled with Cordelia. You are going to explode if you don't let it out somehow. And so you stand there and permit silent tears to roll down your face.

You assume that Cordelia won't notice, but a warm tear ends up landing on her hand and she cannot stand there and pretend that it didn't happen. She doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, but the only way she knows to make everything better is to be upfront and loving.

She grabs your waist, gently, and turns your body so your facing her now. It's so close; you can feel her soft breath against your face and her legs are practically intertwined with yours. "I don't want you to lie to me anymore," she doesn't sound angry still, just so desperate. And you know you look a mess right now but she thinks you're so pretty.

"I don't think I know how to not do that," more tears fall down. You are so afraid because you know that it's too far this time. There is no going back to what you once were with Cordelia just an hour before this.

"Show me?"

Your trembling hands cup her cheeks this time, smooth beneath your palm. You don't want to pull her forward, you need her to show you that she isn't the supreme right now. You always need her.

"It's okay," she merely whispers, nods, and smiles softly. And you forget about you fears, about the sugarcoated emotions on your tongue. You lean forward and everything's so fuzzy and blurry around you; like a fever dream, but it's oh so real.

She moans into your mouth. She sounds so pretty against you. It's the perfect combination of her vanilla chapstick and your strawberry one to create the sweetest taste.

Her hands are still on your waist and she pulls back, but only her lips so she can rest her forehead against yours. "Not so scary, right?"

"Well i'm scared that I just fucked everything up."

She shakes her head and smiles delicately at you. "You didn't fuck anything up. I would've been out the door by now." Your laugh and hers are a soft melody that echo against the four walls of the greenhouse. She grabs your hands and tangles her slim fingers with yours. "I. love. you."

"Promise me that it's what you want." You still can't believe it. But you can't have it if it's not real.

"It's what I always wanted. What I wanted when I met you. What I want, still, now."

"Then you should know that I always wanted it. I love you too. So much."

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[btheleaf]

Pemlin… idk if you do nsfw so my apologies and feel free to ignore but maybe Pema domming and edging Lin or giving her a spanking.

Well this got out of hand as it typically does when it comes to me and smut. So here is Pema domming Lin with edging and spanking Word count 1.6k Rating: Explicit Content Warning: Bondage, Edging, Denial, Spanking, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub dynamic

Lin tugged at the ropes above her head and wondered when and how Pema had learned how to tie such good knots.

The thought didn’t last very long though. Pema’s fingers circling her clit were quite the sufficient distraction. Lin moaned and her back arched. She was close. So close. Closer than she’d been all night. The ropes around her ankles and wrists creaked as she pulled on the posts of the bed. Pema stopped touching and waited until she visibly relaxed.

“Why?” Lin panted.

“That’s not the question you need to ask,” Pema reminded.

Lin moaned as two of Pema’s fingers began to pump in and out of her. Lin’s hips rotated. She wanted Pema touching her clit again. She wanted to come. She wouldn’t ask. She wouldn’t beg. She knew she had more resolve than that.

The fingers inside her curled up and rubbed her g spot with each thrust. Her walls clenched around the fingers and Pema pulled out. Lin didn’t realize her back was arched off the bed again until she began to settle down. She clenched her jaw and evened out her breathing. She felt Pema wipe her fingers off on her thigh and shivered from the patch of cooing wetness it left behind.

Pema settled over her completely flat, her breasts pressed against hers and the younger woman’s palms slid slowly up her arms to hold her hands above the restraints. Lin’s eyes practically rolled back into her head as Pema’s thigh slipped between her legs and began to create sweet friction there.

Lips found her neck and she turned her head to give Pema more surface area to work with. Her hips bucked up against Pema’s leg, trying to take the pleasure she desperately wanted. Pema smiled against her neck and pulled back just far enough to talk. Her hot breath tickled her skin and made her shiver again.

“You’re so cute humping my leg like that. Just ask for it. I’ll give it to you if you ask real nice.”

Lin’s whole body trembled, and she couldn’t help but pull on the ropes again. “No.” She shook her head. “I’m not asking for permission to come.”

“Why not?”

Pema slid down her torso and Lin gasped when the pressure from her thigh went away. Nimble fingers pinched and rolled one of her nipples and Lin bit the inside of her mouth to try to fight off the growing desperation. Even just the sensation of skin on skin as Pema slid over her was enough to drive her back up to the edge. Lin thought she might come from the pleasure washing over her from the simple touch of dainty fingers pulling on the hardened peak of her nipple.

“You always make me beg,” Pema’s voice was sultry, intoxicating, and at the same time she spoke with an innocence that contrasted the devious things she was doing.

Lin tried to twist away, suddenly feeling overstimulated. Pema laughed and moved her hand to the other nipple. Lin took a very deep breath. She wouldn’t break, even if Pema had her like this for spirits-knows how long with endless edges and not a single orgasm.

Pema’s mouth sucked on her nipple; her tongue flicked against the peak. Lin moaned and her hips wouldn’t stop moving. She needed to come. Now.

“Do what you want,” Lin’s voice was thickly laced in arousal, her words betrayed what her body needed. “I can take it.”

Pema hummed in approval against her skin. She kissed Lin’s sternum and got off the bed. Lin relaxed when Pema began to untie one of her restraints. She thought she won, that she’d be riding Pema’s face to as many orgasm as she’d like soon, but Pema only undid the one ankle and got back on the bed. She pushed Lin’s free leg up over her shoulder and licked at her soaked curls. Lin looked away, realizing she was completely screwed.

“Do you want me here?” Pema asked.

“Yes,” Lin huffed.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes.”

“Will you ask for it like you should?”

Lin shook her head. “No.”

“Hmm,” Pema hummed. “That’s okay. We’ll see how long it takes before you ask for it, and then we’ll see how long it takes for you to beg.”

Lin pulled on the ropes again. “You’ll get tired before I do.”

Pema slid her tongue up between her folds and Lin gasped. Her whole body was wrought with tension and every sensation seemed amplified.

“You could have had so many orgasms by now if you just asked nicely.” Her tongue darted out and circled her clit. Lin moaned obscenely and her hips bucked again. “You must like being teased like this. Only someone who wants to be treated like this would be so wet. Maybe I’ll keep you this way until the morning.”

“Don’t you dare—ah!”

Pema’s mouth latched around her swollen clit and began to work her to another edge quickly. Lin dug her heel into the back of Pema’s head to encourage her to stay there, but she pulled away again before she could slip over the edge into what would have been an earth-shattering orgasm. Lin had no control over the way all the muscles in her body contracted and tensed, the ropes creaked again as she pulled harshly on them. Pema rested her face on Lin’s thigh and stroked her leg as she came back down.

“Ready for more?” Pema asked.

Lin blinked a few times and took some deep breaths. She couldn’t take it. She needed to come. “No.”

“Want me to stop?”

“No!”

“Tell me what you want.” Pema’s fingers trailed up Lin’s leg, causing goosebumps to rise on her skin.

“I want to come. I want a fucking orgasm.”

“That’s not how you ask,” Pema chastised.

Lin took a few more deep breaths. She couldn’t believe this. “Can I come?”

“You can ask better than that.” Pema sat up and began to massage Lin’s hip bones.

Lin moaned. “Please,” she ground out, “can I come?”

“One more time.” Pema leaned down and kissed her stomach. “Ask for permission to come for me.”

“Please.” Lin hated how it actually sounded like she was begging. “Can I come for you?”

She trembled and moaned loudly as Pema’s fingers pressed down in evenly paced circles on her clit again. Lin focused on the feeling, just a moment longer and she would have her release. Pema pulled away and Lin squeezed her legs together trying to create enough pressure to bring herself over the brink.

“Fucking spirits-damned woman! I fucking asked!”

Pema was silent as she pried Lin’s legs apart. “Your heart wasn’t in it.”

Lin twisted her wrists harshly against the ropes until she felt a burn. A sudden smack on her breast stunned her enough to halt her movements.

“Stop that right now.”

Lin looked down at Pema over her own heaving chest and saw the red handprint blossoming over the soft flesh of her tit. “Please Pema, let me come.”

“You know,” Pema said slowly and stroked over the spot she just hit. Lin bit her lip to stop another moan. “This isn’t about what you want. Tonight is about what I want.” Pema slapped her other breast and Lin couldn’t see straight from the pleasure-pain hormone-fueled cocktail brewing in her mind. “What you should really ask me is if I want you to come.”

Lin whimpered. Whimpered. She couldn’t believe it. She went back to pulling on the ropes as a distraction.

Smack Smack Smack Smack

The sound echoed in the room along with Lin’s moans as Pema’s open palm came down on her breasts repeatedly. After a few minutes, Pema’s mouth began to soothe the reddened skin and Lin was gone. No more was the high-society Beifong woman and chief of police; her mind only knew the throbbing in her clit and the way Pema’s tongue danced on the abused skin of her breasts. She focused on nothing else, thinking she could come from stimulation if she tried hard enough. Pema pulled back and the ropes creaked again.

“Ask me,” Pema commanded.

Lin needed to take a moment to breathe and think. She needed to say the right thing. She needed her orgasm. “Do you want me to come?”

“I do.”

“Can I please come for you?”

“What will you do for it?” Her hand trailed down, and Lin spread her legs wide, asking without words to be touched.

“Anything,” Lin panted. “Please touch me.”

“Anything?” Pema smirked.

Lin shut her eyes tight and shook her head before looking around the room for something metal to cut herself from the ropes. There was nothing useful. Pema knew her too well.

“Anything,” Lin breathed on an exhale.

Pema hummed in approval. The pad of her thumb pressed against Lin’s core, unmoving. “Anything I want?”

“Anything you want.” Lin nodded rapidly as her hips thrust of their own accord. “Please.”

“Good.” The thumb pressed down, and Lin almost screamed from how good it felt. “Don’t ask to come again. It’s selfish. You’ll get it when you’ve earned it.”

Lin nodded and breathed heavily as the pressure left her again. “Okay. Okay okay okay.”

She didn’t resist as Pema tied her ankle back to the bed post and she didn’t dare ask for permission to orgasm again. She tried to relax even though she knew she was completely and thoroughly fucked. Pema had won this round, but Lin swore to herself that Pema would pay for what she’d done. She took a deep breath and settled in for more.

[firsttimewriter92]

My haven could be you - Part 3

Joel Miller x f!reader (18+) - Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Joel fights some inner demons about your relationship until you make him see that he is more to you than just a warm body in your bed

Word count: 5.072

Warnings: angst, flirting, pining, feelings, smut, dirty talk, PinV intercourse, rough, desperate, cursing, phisical fight, inapropriate behaviour towards a woman, injury

MINORS DNI!!!

Authors note: Here it is :) The highly requested Part 3. It´s gettin´ steamy again my loves. Hold onto your panties! Not proveread yet

The days trickled by like summer rain and Joel seemed to be more infatuated with you day by day. He´d cook for you, you´d provide the veggies and meats. He´d make sure you got home safe each night before kissing you goodbye passionately in front of your door. On more occasion than one you´d just walk backwards into your apartment and pull him with you. And although he tried to be a gentleman, sometimes your eyes, crooked grin and hands all over his chest made it impossible to resist another night with you.

Something was nagging in the back of his head though. Was he really holding back because he wanted to be a gentleman and take is slow or did he just not want people to see him emerge from your apartment in the morning? The both of you had been out in public together, sure. But you never held hands, kissed or acted couple-y at all. You hadn´t even talked about the status of your relationship. Yes, the sex was fantastic and the attraction was magnetic, earthshattering and simply an addicting feeling.

Still, you were quite a bit younger than him and sometimes when he looked onto your sleeping face in the crook of his arm he was painfully reminded of your youth. No lines or bags around your eyes, smooth skin, vibrant hair. Some scars here and there of course but they never distracted from your beauty in his eyes.

One particular night, he again was unable to resist your touch and little kisses and by the time you fell onto his sweaty chest panting, he once again wondered how in all the stars you were attracted to him. Your sweet little breaths still tickled his chest hair as you lightly chuckled. His broad hands moved soothingly over your back when he heard it.

“Oh, come on. I wasn´t that bad” he said with a smirk. Pinching his side and grinning wildly you lifted your head and looked at him. Rolling your eyes at his smirk you leaned up and kissed him thoroughly again. Your tongue was just as addicting as basically everything else. He groaned deep in his throat and enjoyed the post orgasmic laziness with you. When you broke the kiss you opened your eyes and smiled down at him. Your knuckles gently stroked his cheekbones.

“Would you stop making fun of yourself already? I can´t tell yet whether you´re serious or not.” Joel raised an eyebrow. “I´m making fun of myself?” he asked quietly. “Yes,” you said with a nod and lowered your voice comically. “…let this old man take you to bed. You´re only riding me because you want to spare my back. Old and fragile men need to be in bed early-“ Joel pinched your side with a chuckle before you could continue. “I guess I do make a lot of these comments, don´t I?” he said in a much more pensive tone. You hummed and looked at him curiously. “You…you know I don´t mind the age gap…right?” you asked carefully. Joel took a deep breath. So…it was today, huh? The talk.

“Why?” he asked with a sigh. If he wanted to feel more confident with you he´d had to ask. “Why don’t you mind? It´s not small.” You nodded. “True. It´s not what´s considered normal I guess but seriously…what has been in the last 20 years?” Your temper was flaring up a little. “I don´t care because you´re so fucking hot I can barely keep my hands to myself. I don´t care because you´re gentle with the people you love or want to protect and ruthless to those who harm the innocent. You can be so insanely funny when you let loose a little and I pride myself in the fact that I manage to tickle that out of you sometimes. I don´t care because you don’t give a fuck about what people think about you but care about what they think of me…that´s the reason you always leave and never stay the night, isn’t it? So no one sees you leave my apartment and judges me. Isn´t that right?” Your eyes were hard when you looked into his face again.

Joels eyes were wide with recognition and his mouth slightly open with surprise. He certainly didn’t expect this turn in the conversation. “I´m much older than you” he said lamely. “I don´t want people to think you don´t have other options or…I´m blackmailing you somehow. Argh, I don´t know” he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Joel” you said as gently as you could and it made his stomach spasm. “Joel, that´s not the case. No one is thinking that.” He scoffed. “And even if they did, they can suck some donkey´s ass for all I care!” You grumbled and kissed his chest. “I like you, Joel. I like you a fucking lot and if the last 20 years have taught me anything, it´s that we cannot make our happiness dependent on others. We have to make it on our own. At least until we find people that understand us and accept us.” You looked into his dark eyes. “If it helps…there are one or two people out there who´ve known about my… strong infatuation with you even before you asked me out. And they are very happy for me.” You didn’t know why you were blushing now. Joel had been inside of you only minutes before.

He looked at you a little dumbly but with a racing heart. “Y-You told people you have…a thing for me?” You shook your head. “No, not a thing, dumbass, you need to listen” you said sternly. “I told people that I´m infatuated with you. That I am besotted with you. That I like you! Do you get that now?” Beginning to get a little annoyed and also fighting your own insecurities, you waited for his answer. Under your palm you felt his heart pick up once more. It was like his whole body was kick starting as heat encased you yet again. With precise and quick movements Joel grabbed your waist and suddenly and with a little shriek you found yourself on your back, buried underneath him.

His eyes were the colour of coffee reflecting sunlight as he licked his lips and stared down at you. Well, you guessed this wasn´t a rejection then. “Woman” he growled. “I don´t know how you do it, but you…” he looked lost for words then sighed deeply. “I really” he kissed your nose “really” he kissed your forehead “like you too.” He kissed your lips deeply. Humming you snaked your arms around his strong neck again and pulled.

“Will you please st-“

“Yes” he interrupted against your lips.

“Yes. This is going to take until sunrise anyway so,” he grinned and descended to your neck as his tongue lightly tickled your skin. “I´ll be here all night.” You grinned and arched into him. “Don´t let me stop you then.”

The next morning Joel woke up to the smell of instant coffee and eggs, overpowered only by your scent that still clung to his skin and your pillow. Like a lovesick teenager he turned his head into the pillow and took a deep breath. Instant calmness and happiness washed over him. A feeling he´d almost forgotten. A feeling he could have sworn was lost to him, even before the outbreak. It hit him so incredibly hard he jumped out of your bed almost in a craze. With a pounding heart, almost in panic he swung open your bedroom door and stormed into your living room. To his left was your open little kitchen and there…you stood.

You held the pan with fried eggs in hand, spatula halted in the air as you looked at him with big eyes full of curiosity. “Joel?” His chest was heaving as he took you in fully. You were wearing a white top, no bra and plaid shorts that stopped mid-thigh. Driven by the promise of your warmth and still the almost impending panic in his system he moved forward, stretching his arms out to you. You let go of the pan and spatula immediately.

He crashed into you, pulling you so close to his chest you momentarily lost your breath. One hand came to the back of your head, burying into your hair, the other one rested on your waist, pulling you into him. Your own arms came around his waist immediately as you mumbled into his neck. “Joel? What´s happened?” His breathing was calm but his heart was not. “Bad memory…crept in on me” he said. It was only half a lie. He did remember something. But it wasn´t anything bad. At least, he hoped not. “I see” you said gently and squeezed him a little more. He rested his cheek onto your head and just stood there with you for a while. You enjoyed every second of it, your thumbs painting patterns onto his skin. Gently you kissed his neck. “Better?” you asked and lifted your head slightly. Joel looked down at you and lightly tapped the tip of your nose with his own. “Yeah” he drawled. “Yeah, ´s better now, darlin´.” Oh. Dear. Gods. Above. The accent…you felt your knees weaken as you tried to control your bodies reaction.

You cleared your throat and leaned back slightly. “Eggs are getting cold” you whispered. “Breakfast. Go sit down” you almost couldn’t look at him. He leaned down, looking at you so intently you forgot how to breath. “Yes ma´am” he said in a gravelly voice and hadn´t his arms still been encasing you, you knew you would have slithered down your cabinets. His lips where on yours the next second and far too quickly he released you again. Your lips tingling and a very strange feeling in your gut.

After breakfast, Joel wanted to work on the drain outside of his and Ellies house and you decided to visit Dakota in the bakery. She needed a well deserved update. The both of you exited your apartment, descended the flight of stairs and came to a stop in front of the bakery. Joel looked at you fondly although a nervous tick lifted the corner of his mouth. You took initiative. Smiling up at him like he was a precious price you´d just won, you leaned in, lay your hands on his chest and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek. Joel took a deep breath and as you leaned back reached out his hand and gently stroked the apple of your cheek.

“See you at the bar tonight for dinner?” he asked. You grinned and nodded yes immediately. Watching him leave into the direction of his house you turned on your heals and dramatically opened the doors to the bakery. Dakota was already sitting on the counter, flower in her hair as always and the most shit eating grin on her face you´d ever seen on a person. “You absolute devil of a woman. How the fuck did you do that?” she asked with more than just awe in her voice.

“Do what?” you asked, genuinely confused for a second. Dakota rolled her eyes. “Sweet cheeks. Joel doesn’t exactly have the reputation of lovey dovey boyfriend material. So, how´d you do it? Seeing that just now...that man eats out of the palm of your hand!” She cackled at her last statement while you thought about it. She was absolutely right. The man that you first met a couple of months ago and the man that had just said goodbye…they weren’t exactly the same. “Maybe that´s a good thing” you said defiantly, smirking at your friend. Dakota nodded and threw you a piece of freshly baked baguette.

“Maybe now he can let loose a little.” She said wisely. “The fucking must be glorious!” You threw your head back as you laughed and hopped onto the counter as well. “Oh, Ducky. You have no idea.”

______________________________________________________

Joel was looking at his freshly showered face as he buttoned up his dark green plaid shirt. His hand glided over his hair and his beard. You called him hot. He almost scoffed again but wrangled it down. If you said it was hard for you not to touch him, he´d do his best to believe it. For fucks sake, you had his dick in your mouth last night…twice... and he still thought about if your actions were genuine.

When he praised your body all night long he knew in his heart every word was nothing but the truth. So he really had to believe you too. That also meant that he should really start not giving a shit about what other people thought of their…relationship? Situationship? Maybe…if he made his interest in you known to everyone, situations like the one with Levi would probably not happen again.

His chest expanded in an involuntary growl thinking about the man that had dared to lay his hands on you. He remembered the hot white jealousy he felt and the rage when he saw it. A weird possessive feeling spread through him and somehow he marvelled in it. He couldn’t wait to see you tonight. He´d loved the time he had you all to himself in his or your room. It was time however to let the people know that you were his and he wouldn’t tolerate anyone’s hands on you except his own.

________________________________________________________

The moment you spotted him standing in front of the barn you knew something was different. He carried himself differently. He was talking to his brother who spotted you first, smirked and patted Joels back before entering the barn.

Joels head whipped towards you and he smiled. Your heart was in your throat all of a sudden. When you stood in front of him, admiring his broad body once again he hummed contently and gave you a firm hug. “Hungry?” he asked into your hair. “Yeah” you breathed in surprise. He let go of you and gently guided you inside the barn with a warm hand on your back. The feeling was indescribable. You had so idea how much you actually wanted him to show his affections in public. It made you feel like this wasn’t just pure attraction and sexual tension.

Joel guided you to one of the free tables and pulled out a chair, looking at you expectantly. From the corner of your eye you could see a few eyes on you. In the back at the bar were Tommi and his wife, watching and smiling. You thanked Joel and sat down with a soft smile. “I´ll be right back” he said and made his way over to the woman who gave out the food for that day. You watched as he gave her a polite nod and waited for her to prepare two plates. With a stinging feeling you saw how she was hungrily looking at Joels exposed forearms that he´d crossed in front of his chest. You saw her say something while leaning suspiciously close to him. A saucy smile on her lips that made your lip curl before you saw Joel´s mouth move. He had a tight lipped smile on his face and suddenly her saucy smile fell a little. You could still see her staring at him while he retreated. Another peng in your chest as you saw her eyes move way too low for your liking.

So, when he made his way back to you, you made a bit of a show of letting your gaze glide over his chest, neck and down to his crotch. Lifting an eyebrow he sat your food in front of you and sat down next to you. “Soooo” you drawled and turned your upper body towards him. “Wanna tell me what this is about?” you asked and gestured to him in general. “What do you mean, darlin`?” he faked a bewildered look. “Oh please,” you giggled. “You´re openly flirting, being incredibly chivalrous and look like sex on legs. What´s a girl to think?”

“Maybe what I want a girl to think is that I am completely under her spell and I think people should know that” he said earnestly. You felt your face heat up and resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands. So, you opted with staring at him a bit too long before you giggled and leaned in closer. “A girl is very, very happy about that.” Joel took a deep breath and nodded. “Eat” he said. “I plan on having a few drinks with you tonight. You know, to celebrate your victory over me” he winked.

“Victory? Was there a battle?” you asked curiously. He shrugged a little. “Momentarily.” His face became serious for a second. “I´m glad you fought for me, though.” Your heart all but melted when he said that. “I´d do it a million times over” you said. He exhaled through his nose, took your hand and gave it a quick kiss. With a roaring satisfaction you saw how the woman that was oogling him before suddenly looked very sour and turned away. A massive sense of “mine” invaded your body as you gave him a heated look.

All fed and happy you strolled over to the bar, Joels arm around your waist. You were glad that no one gave you any dirty looks. Other than one or the other disappointed glance from various women. But you could live with that. The evening proceeded and it was the most fun you had in ages. Music was playing, you were drinking and Joel got touchier by the minute. Nothing dirty or inappropriate but people had to be blind not to see how much he enjoyed being with you.

Around midnight however you spotted something that made your blood boil so bad, you almost threw your glass of whiskey against a wall. Joel was standing next to you talking to one of the horse handlers as you saw the uncomfortable face of a young girl across the room. She was trying to establish distance from a very persistent…Levi. He constantly reached out his hand to touch her in some way and her back made it unconsciously close to a wall. If he managed to corner her…

Your legs moved on their own accord. Bothering you for ages and making you feel uncomfortable was one thing. He´d been one more sentence away from a beating from you anyway. But bothering this young girl and cornering her? Fuck no. That beating was coming. You weren’t even thinking about Joel. Tunnel vision led you directly to the girl. Thankfully she moved back from him in another direction so you now came right up behind her. Levi saw you and an ugly grin made its way onto his sharp features.

As soon as you were in earshot and you could see that he once again was red in the face from too much alcohol he looked directly at you, liking his lips. “I knew a little jealousy would make you see reason,___.” He cackled. “Seriously, trying to make me jealous with that grandpa was just too pathetic.” Rage was coursing through you like fire as you gently pushed the young girl aside and gestured her to get away. She didn’t hesitate for a second whispering a quick thank you.

“As far as I remember that grandpa kicked your ass the last time you dared being disrespectful to me” you hissed in a deadly tone. Levi´s eyes squinted. “That dirty old fucker better watch nex-“ WHAM! With all you might your arm pulled back and your fist collided with Levi´s jaw. Pain shot through your hand but you paid it no mind. A red sheen invaded your vision  as Levi tumbled back, you following and WHAM, your next blow, quite uncoordinated collided with Levi´s ear. He fell to the ground as you panted above him, still standing and seething. “Let me get one thing straight, Levi” you spat. “If I see you one more time making some poor girl uncomfortable, I will personally see to it that you´ll be castrated in the towns square, do you hear me?!” Your voice got louder with every word. “One more time, Levi and I swear that´ll be the longest time you have balls!” You breathed heavily, lowering your voice considerably. "And if you ever dare to say another bad word about Joel, I´ll not only castrate you, I will showcase your balls in jar full of formaldehyde right behind the bar!"

Two men had already grabbed Levi by the arms and dragged him over to the door, smirking at his feeble attempts to fight them off.

The red sheen vanished from your eyes as you stretched to your full hight and turned around, shaking your aching hand. As you looked at it though nothing seemed to be injured. Maybe a bruise would form but nothing a little ice could handle.

When you lifted your head you stopped in your tracks. All eyes in the barn were on you. Heat crept up your neck when you realised that you had probably caused a major scene. Your eyes soughed out Joel´s. You found them immediately and a shiver ran down your spine. He stood still at the bar, glass in hand still and a look of pride, amusement and fiery passion in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact he set down his glass on the bar and walked over to you slowly. Your feet began moving as well, though much quicker as his.

Faintly you could hear how everyone picked up on their previous conversations again and the music became a bit louder. When Joel reached you he still looked like he was about to devour you and laugh his ass off at the same time. With a deep breath he held your face in his hands and with a not so quiet voice, swollen with pride he said “That´s my girl, baby!”

His kiss that followed was electric. Already shaking from its intensity you grabbed onto his shoulders and let him guide. Open mouthed, he took your lips with his in a persistent dance and groaned lightly when he felt your nails bite into his neck. When he let go of you, the ringing in your ears finally let you hear the several hoops and hollers from the spectators around you. You couldn’t help the massive grin that was forming on your face.

“Fucking finally!” you heard a bored voice next to you and saw Ellie smirking at you. Joel already gave her a warning glance. “What?!” she looked at him defiantly. “At least now I can stop lying to people when they ask me about who your date was with and I had to say I didn’t know!” She winked at you. “You owe me one. And now excuse me, I have to get this image out of my brain���and the one from last time as well!”

“Follow me” Joel growled in your ear and took your hand. Leading you towards the kitchen you thought he´d go get some ice for your hand but before you reached the kitchen he made a right and led you down a small hallway towards the backdoor. Your heart was beating out of your chest at this point.

The warm night air hit your face and you took a deep gulp. Joel stopped and quickly looked left and right. To your left where the paddocks for the horses and next to them, neatly stacked into a dark corner, some straw barrels. “Perfect” he muttered to himself and started walking again.

“Joel…erm...” you said with an amused voice. You could see how tense his shoulders were, heard his breath escape his mouth. “I´ll get you some ice for your hand in a minute baby but right now I hope you´ll forgive me…If I don’t fuck you within the next minute, I´m going berserk.” Fluid heat raged through your veins immediately and you already felt its effect on your panties. “Jesus, fuck” you huffed as you reached the barrels and Joel spun you around and pinned you to one of them. His mouth immediately went right to your neck and bit down hard.

A moan raptured from your throat as he licked the sting and groaned at the taste of you. “Sorry darlin´,” he panted against your chest. His fingers inside your cleavage already, searching for your sensitive nipple. “This is going to be quick and desperate. If you´re up for it.” Your head was hazy and leaned back. You spoke to the night sky when you said “Wouldn´t have it any other way.”

With your last willpower you turned around and leaned your elbows on the barrel bending over. Looking over your shoulder with half lidded eyes you wiggled your ass. “Come on, handsome. ´M ready. Quick and dirty.” You moved one of your hands and bunched your dress up to your thigh.

An animalistic growl escaped Joel when he saw the moonlight reflect off of your sweaty thigh. Like a vice his hand gripped yours and led it back to the barrel. “Leave it there” he hissed. Not a minute later your panties dangled somewhere around your ancles, your dress was hiked up over your ass and the sound of Joels belt buckle made your thighs quiver.

“My gorgeous fucking girl, look at you” he panted in awe. “You´re glistening, baby. So ready for me.” You nodded and whined pathetically as you felt the tip of his cock slowly inch into you. “Fuck” you heard Joel growl. “Be ready!” With these words and one powerful thrust he leaned over you and buried himself as deeply inside of you as he could. A shout escaped your moth as you felt his pure desperation in every movement he made. One hand came down next to your ear for support before the other grabbed your hip. “So fucking hot” Joel breathed as his hips snapped into you from behind with bruising accuracy. “Never seen something so hot. God, baby. You smashed that fuckers face in!”

You whined and tried to stay quiet but it was next to impossible. “F-for you. Ah! Shit…He was…he was talking shit about y-you. Oh, oh, hmm!” Joel growled again in a mixture of lust and fury. “I heard” he panted and picked you up by the shoulders. Pressing your back against his chest he picked up speed again and was now rutting into you like a man possessed. He grabbed onto your breast as his other hand quickly moved towards your centre. “Of fuck! Joel, Joel! I´m gonna cum…please!” Your voice spiralled to the beats of the music still coming from the barn.

“I know, doll. I know. Let me help you. I´m. There. With. You.” He accentuated every word with another grind against your ass. The moment he found your clit all you could see was darkness. And then it all exploded into a firework of sparks as you gasped for air, gripping his cock like a vice and trying to will your vocal cords to say his name. “That´s it! Fuck, sweet thing. That´s it! Fuck, yes. Fuck! Yes! Argh!” he yelled into your hair as he pulled himself out of you quickly and spilled all over your inner thighs. You felt his stickiness run along your skin and another wave of shivers wrecked your body. Joel was panting behind you, still holding you up with one arm and slowly relaxing his grip on you.

“Holy shit” he mumbled and kissed your temple. “Are you all right?”

You giggled and leaned your head back onto his shoulder. “Hmmm” you hummed with a smile. “Yes. I am so, so alright. That was incredible.” Joel nuzzled your hair again. “I´m glad” he said gravelly. “I don’t think I would´ve survived if I didn’t take you right that second. Fuckin´ hell.”  

You giggled and slowly turned around, the skirt of your dress falling over your thighs again. “Thank fuck, you did” you grinned and pulled him down for a long kiss. Sorting out your underwear while Joel put himself back into his jeans he suddenly grabbed and hoisted you onto the barrel. Looking down on him slightly you hugged him close with your thighs and looked at him expectantly.

“Got something to say” he whispered and stroked your hair affectionately. “Listening” you said and lightly kissed his lips. He chuckled and chased yours briefly. He opened his eyes and looked at you with affection and incredible softness. “I still know the exact moment I told a girl this for the first time. Needless to say it didn’t work out but…I´m trying to say that I don’t say these things lightly and sure as fuck, not often.” You nodded and let him continue. He took a deep breath. “I´m falling in love with you,___.”

You could have cried. Shaking fingers touched his jaw on both sides as you leaned your forehead to his in a gesture of pure affection and yes, love.

“So am I, Joel” you whispered with tears in your voice. He moved his head from left to right with immense gentleness and leaned in to kiss your lips sensually. His tongue moved over yours with precision and purpose. Minutes later the both of you came up for some much needed deep breaths and chuckled at the state you both were in.

Dishevelled hair, kiss swollen lips and crumpled clothing. “How´s your hand, my love?” he asked gently and took it in his hand. You shook your hand. “I´ll live. But some ice would be good I think.” Joel nodded and helped you down the barrel. He kissed your forehead quickly. “Wanna go to the toilet and…sort yourself out first?” he asked with a bit of a shy tone. “Sorry about the mess.” You grinned and took his hand, pulling him towards the barn again. “You know what? I think I´ll let it be as is for tonight" you grinned over at him. His mouth hung open. “Oh, you absolute temptress” he breathed with a dry mouth. “You better watch it before I put you over my knee.”

Opening the door to the back and the kitchen you turned around and pulled him down for another kiss and you spoke into his mouth. “We have all the time in the world for that, handsome. Let´s start with ice cubes” Joel growled against you. “And get to spanking later.”

That night, you fell asleep in each other´s arms. Sweet words on your lips, content, happy and for the first time in 20 years, with the feeling of hope for a content life.   

______________________________________________________

Thank you very much for reading. Please let me know what you think through a comment or reblog. Likes of course always make my day <3

Love you all and please be safe <3

Tags:

@farintonorth @moonlightdivine @sunshine-kittyy @imonmykneessir @cowboychickenlittle @luna-salem @leeeesahhh

@friendlyneighbourhoodgothicpagan @makingloveout @mxtokko @starybrainz111 @shadowtrick @manazo @stevengmybeloved @oliveg95 @iquitedislikeithere2 @twigleektribute23

[noelle666]

Ship/Kiss challenge - Heinrix van Calox/Noelle von Valancius

Original post with all options

A little post-Commorragh event, some time after escape when the team got time to recover. I'll try my best to not make it explicit, only some degree of erotica.

44. ... out of lust

She asked him to come to her quarters: she jokingly said she is afraid she might've forgotten how to play regicide after their misadventure in Commorragh, so a reminder would be very suitable for a quiet evening. Fortunately, a comforting atmosphere and a familiar opponent did their job, plus hands remember everything, some people say. When the match was over, the man took his lover's hand: his warm lips touched her thin elegant fingers and then the same fingers touched his cheek - a little ritual they invented as a gratitude for the game and an expression of feelings. Noelle came closer to Heinrix, she looked into his eyes, and psyker felt her gaze is different than usual, something deep behind her blue eyes was born, her pulse slightly raised and breath quickened.

"Heinrix, - she said, - Can you spend this night with me... please?"

Her yearning became clear, it lighted up a similar desire in the man, intoxicating and strong, but it's needed to be kept on leash until the proper moment comes.

"Your desire is my command, Lord Captain", - Heinrix bowed and left the quarters. He reached his room and tried to keep his thoughts clean and focus on his tasks: gathering information, analysing reports, anything that can occupy him and make time run faster until the moment he can forget about everything except only one person comes.

***

They agreed to meed in Lord Captain's quarters at ten, and Noelle decided to quickly take a shower before Heinrix arrives. A mechanic voice notification caught her right at the moment when her full body was covered in foam: "Heinrix van Calox has arrived". Noelle sighed - probably, psyker decided to show his extra punctuality or he, just like her, couldn't wait for their meeting any longer. Lord Captain's shower cabin was installed with a little communication device (for safety) which could broadcast her message to her quarters, senior officers and the voidship in general, and right now this device was just the right thing for usage.

"Heinrix, I am in the shower, please, give me a moment".

A familiar voice somewhere from above distracted the interrogator from glancing on Theodora von Valancius' portrait: it could've been removed completely or replaced with a portrait of new Lord Captain, but Noelle decided she doesn't want to change anything, so the heavy gaze of Theodora was guarding coridor, as it did when she was still alive. Heinrix grinned and entered the next room, the one he and Noelle were spending most of the time speaking, playing regicide and merely being together. He approached the usual spot and glanced at the regicide desk, he was about to start a match in his mind when he heard Noelle's voice once again:

"... or you can join me. If you want".

"Would be highly impolitely to decline such invitation", - Heinrix thought to himself and proceeded to Noelle's bedroom.

After sending second voice message, Noelle turned her head and looked through translucent glass of shower cabin's door, waiting. Young woman saw a silhouette, and even though the image was blurry, it was clear the man was undressing; when his body was completely uncovered, he headed towards bathroom. Noelle quickly turned her back to the door: her cheeks was burning, heart was about to jump out of her chest and a feeling of tenshion down below was getting stronger. Lord Captain heard the door slowly opened and then closed, she heard two steps of bare feet on a wet floor - he approached her, he hugged her from behind, one hand on her belly and another on her shoulder. Young woman leaned back and closed her eyes, her skin toucher Heinrix's; the man kissed crown of her head. Lord Captain then felt her lover's hot breath against her ear, his hands started moving, caressing her body, evoking feeling of pleasure which manifested with trembling breathing and soft moans. Even cool water raining on them couldn't stop the raising heat of two people desiring each other.

Noelle turned around, she put her hands on Heinrix's shoulders and looked him straight into eyes: his face expression for others would look the same, calm and serious, but not for the woman he was holding in his embrace. Psyker's gaze was slightly bleary-eyed, drunk on lust; he couldn't hold himself anymore. The man run his fingers along his lover's jaw and when he reached her chin his attention was caught by slightly opened pink soft lips. Without any hesitation, Heinrix pressed Noelle even closer and covered her mouth with his, inviting to share his passion ready to burn with all might for the rest of the night.

[ultwendyy]

mine

mikasa x f!reader

made a fic based on this prompt from

https://otppromps.neocities.org/

"mikasa and reader are playing a game unknown to the people around them, in which mikasa gradually moves their hand up reader's leg. the game is to see how far up reader will let mikasa's hand get between their thighs before they chicken out and stop them"

also posted at ao3

_____________________

You're all gathered at Jean's house for a weekly movie hangout.

"Babe, what are you doing???" You whispered to your girlfriend when you felt her hands creeping up on your leg.

"Nothing! Why are you so skittish?" Her eyes are showing a hint of mischief. Well who would believe you when you say that Mikasa—known to seldom express emotions around people—is a trickster when it's just between the two of you.

"Guys what are you two blabbering about? Care to share with the gang?" Eren shoots you two a teasing smile.

"We're just planning on what we would wear for our date on Valentine's day." Mikasa answered for the two of you.

"Do you really need to rub it in our faces how some of us are single here??" Connie threw a pillow at you.

That is the trigger for you to bicker with him, it's just so easy to get on his nerves. It was fun arguing with his dumbass. Sooner or later Sasha would join in, this would probably end with you all three laughing your asses off.

Now that you're somewhat distracted by them, Mikasa took this opportunity to level up. You're both cuddling on the couch now, watching whatever it is that Armin put up from Netflix.

"Babe!" You whispered to her as you felt her hands slowly moving upwards.

"What??" She loves to play with you once in a while. A great stress reliever, she says.

"You're distracting me." A pout forming on your supple lips.

"You say that as if you weren't distracting me wearing this short."

Oops, is it really that obvious? You're clearly not seducing her aren't you?

"They'll notice us."

"Nope, they won't if you keep quiet. We don't want them finding out right?"

You tried to stop her hands from moving up. Seeing how strong the taller woman is from you, her hands did not budge an ounce from it's position.

"Babe let's play a game, let's see how far you'll let me from touching you and if you did well I'll reward you."

"What's my reward?"

"Be a good girl and you'll see." A wink from her sent you into a blushing mess. Strong Mikasa is hot but confident and flirty? A sight to see.

You heard Armin calling your name after you fixed the pillow covering her hands.

"Y-yeah?" You answered him immediately to not arouse suspicion.

"Are you alright? You're turning red."

"O-oh I'm definitely a-ok! It's just a little hot in here right guys?" You tried to be convincing but all you got is Sasha eyeing you skeptically.

"I'll turn the AC's temp lower so you guys won't be uncomfortable, after all I'm the best host ever!" Jean boasted and got up from the couch to adjust the thermostat.

Shit that would mean getting cold and trying to steady yourself from squirming too much from her touch.

You clearly can't focus at all on the movie playing in front of you. Thank the gods above you're not ticklish because she's surely taking her time sliding her naughty hands. Now she's on your inner thighs.

A sharp intake before you abruptly stand up caught all your friends' attention.

"Guys I really need to go to the bathroom, bye!"

You hurriedly went to get away from your girlfriend. She's going to be the death of you one day that's for sure.

"I take that as my cue, so I'll follow her and ensure that she's alright.". You heard Mikasa give an excuse and went after you.

"But the movie is only getting to the good part guys!!" Jean complains but is told off by Ymir.

______________________

When you reached the bathroom, you approached the sink and splash yourself some water to calm down. A few soft knocks can be heard.

"Babe, I'm coming in." Mikasa says in a singsong tone.

"Why are you so red?"

"You're really asking me that?" You tried to intimidate her with a playful glare as if she would be threatened by it.

"I admit I'm a bit sad that our little game has ended abruptly." A pout appeared on her beautiful handsome face making you want to kiss her but then you remember why you're here in the first place.

"You're too mean! What if I accidentally moan? That's embarrassing Mikasa, aren't you afraid that their teasing would be endless." You crossed your arms as if to really prove your point.

"I can't help it, you're just too cute and irresistible." She now has you cornered and away from the door.

"W-why are you trapping me here?"

"Can't I spend time with my girlfriend?"

"But we're already spending time together??"

"I don't want you to share with our friends. Plus since you lost, isn't it only fair for me to get my reward?" A stupid smirk is plastered on her face.

"Your reward?"

Mikasa pretended to think for an answer but you both know what she really wants and her little game is just a hint.

You felt her arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into an embrace. She put her face on your shoulders mumbling about recharging her battery.

"We can cuddle on the couch and let you recharge if you want."

"Babe you're not getting out easily if you think you're so sly." A kiss on your collarbone is placed as her form of warning.

You felt your back hit the countertop near the sink.

"Can you be a dear and sit on the corner for me? Please?" Who can say no to her?

You obeyed her and sat on the counter awaiting her next request or order.

"You're so obedient, it makes me feel kind of bad for teasing you." She leaned in for a kiss and without anyone to interrupt you both, you finally succumb and let yourself be carried away.

Her right hand on your face, caressing your cheeks with gentleness and admiration. A nibble on your lower lip signifies she's getting more desperate. Couple seconds pass and you feel like oxygen is getting scarce so you regretfully pull away.

Without wasting any time, Mikasa slowly kisses down your neck. The smell of her lavender shampoo fills your lungs and makes you remember the first time you made out in her backseat.

A whine emitted from you, alarmed, you put your hands over your mouth to prevent any embarrassing sounds escaping.

It gets her attention,

"You shouldn't deprive me of your desires, I want to hear you." Her hands slip under your shirt and are slowly touching you, a pinch on your waist, they gradually settle on your chest.

"But we're not alone, they could definitely hear and maybe they're wondering what's taking us long?"

Lips busy sucking on skin, her hands fondling your breasts, leaving a hot and heavy feeling on your lower stomach.

"Then would you like me to stop?" She paused and looked you in the eye. You noticed they're full of want, her lips swollen and breathing hard as if she is restraining herself.

You shake your head and averted your gaze but she held your face and made you look at her,

"I need you to say it."

Silence filled the air, you could almost hear your own blood pumping.

"No, please don't stop."

______________________

The movie finished without you two returning. When you both get back, Ymir is smirking and all of your friends are either looking at the ceiling or they're busy doing things on their phone but with their cheeks tinted pink.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 7 - Spirits, sorrow and surprise

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 6 -- Part 8

Summary: The boys celebrate the beginning of their Christmas break with a drink (or several) at their regular bar.

Warnings: (Vague) mention of blowjob, consumption of alcohol, fluff, some angst? Mentions of domestic violence. Tell me if I'm missing any.

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: This one was fun to write! Lots of interactions between the boys, intro of the next girlfriend, and for anyone who's been curious; by the end of this you'll know how Sy and Dani know each other.

Timeline-wise we're in the weekend after the first 6 chapters. I'd planned for ch7 to be a Charles-chapter, but I have 5 Christmas chapters and a NYE party to write and post (not including this one) meaning I'm hopelessly behind. Please forgive me.

@peaches1958 @keanureevesisbae Sorry if I'm keeping y'all busy ;)

“Fuck me, one more quiz from Laferrier and I’m switching majors,” Charles groaned as he and Walker left the lecture hall. 

“Be glad you missed the last one, that was much worse,” August replied sourly. 

“You aced the last one.” The surprise in Charles’ voice caused August to shoot a confused look at his friend.

“I fail to see how those things are mutually exclusive,” he shrugged, his voice thick with the kind of arrogance only types like Walker or Napoleon could get away with. 

“Whatever, we’ve got two weeks of sweet freedom ahead of us,” Charles laughed. Walker happened to know Charles was hopelessly behind on nearly all assignments for all of his classes, but he couldn’t feel bad. The man couldn’t balance business and pleasure for shit, and all of this was his own fault. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart - he always passed, and with minimal effort - he was just distracted a little too easily. And he was nothing like Mike, either, who was an idiot when it came to most things, but a borderline genius when you put him behind a computer. 

“Sounds like a cause for a celebration,” Marshall turned up next to Charles, somewhat out of the blue, followed by Sherlock, who looked far more awake and confident than his friend. 

“You look like you could use a drink,” Charles laughed, slapping Marshall on the back. He did look tired - not that that was unusual, but today it was striking. 

“Just handed in a ten page psych-paper.” Marshall yawned. From the looks of it, he’d been up for the bigger part of the night, if not all of it.

“Keppler?” Walker asked - he was careful, not sure if Marshall had forgiven him for last weekend’s little episode yet. “Liebermann,” Sherlock said. The reply was accompanied by a groan from both Marshall and Walker. The fact that she was insanely hot didn’t make up for the fact that that woman was a fucking harpy. As the four of them walked home, Walker and Marshall talked about the paper some more - Walker had taken the course as an elective the year before. Sherlock gave up on trying to convince Marshall that his assignment was absolutely fine after about six tries. 

“What’s up with you and the orchestra-girl,” Charles grinned. Making Sherlock feel awkward wasn’t the sole purpose of his question, but it was a nice bonus - and easily achieved. 

For once, Sherlock decided to forego his regular answer (‘nothing’) and tell the truth: “Her name is Elena, and we… kissed.” 

“And last week’s rehearsal went so poorly because you were imagining what her boobs look like?” Charles rolled his eyes. It’s not that he was trying to be a nosy, gossiping git, he was just curious. Inappropriately so, according to some - alright, according to most. 

“I don’t have to imagine, I know what they look like.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he’d even opened it. Walker and Marshall each raised an eyebrow and half-listened to the conversation between Sherlock and Charles while continuing their own. 

“I’m impressed, Holmes. Mildly, but still. I was beginning to think I’d have to take her off your hands,” Charles laughed. The laughter was replaced by a sharp gasp when five fingers suddenly dug painfully into his shoulder and Sherlock appeared in front of him. Walter and August paused their conversation when they noticed what was going on. 

“You so much as look at her wrong and I swear to you, Brandon, you will not walk away in one piece, do you hear me?” Three pairs of eyebrows were raised at this outburst: It very decidedly wasn’t like Sherlock at all to react like this - emotional and rash. He had a far better handle on his temper than August or even Geralt - in fact, none of the guys had been aware that Sherlock Holmes had a temper. Turns out he did, and it was quite intimidating. 

“Sherlock,” Marshall said carefully, “I’m sure Charles was just joking.”

“I’m quite sure he wasn’t.”

Charles looked at him in disbelief. “You seriously think I’m that bad a friend?”

“I don’t think you are, but I can’t trust you aren’t.” Quite frankly, nobody could disagree with that statement. 

“Solo, you have five minutes to finish up with whoever is underneath your desk right now, we’re going out for a drink.” Leon made a face at Walker’s remark - either he was too predictable, or August knew him a little too well. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t know how to knock,” Leon growled through gritted teeth. Walker barging in unannounced was unwelcome at the best of times, least of all when you were halfway through getting your dick sucked. When August disappeared and slammed the door shut, Leon looked down at the pretty blonde between his knees. 

“Baby, I don’t need five minutes,” she purred, and with a devilish look in her eyes, she returned her attention to what she’d been doing. It wasn’t a lie; barely ten minutes later, Napoleon pulled the door of his room shut behind him. 

“Sorry I’m late!” Mike threw his jacket over the back of the last available chair. 

“No need, we’re grateful,” Sherlock said dryly, “had you been on time, all of us would’ve died of shock.” Everyone laughed at the joke. Nobody seemed to mind that he was the last to get there, but Mike couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about it. 

“Ask Elena what she thinks of guys who come last.” That one earned him a smack in the head from Marshall as soon as he sat down. 

“Don’t get comfortable, you’re getting the next round,” Marshall told him. A round of drinks for the lot of them was usually an odd combination. The beers were the easy part, but the sometimes unusual whims of the guys who preferred something more decadent - usually August, Napoleon, Charles, Sherlock or, God save the poor bartender, all of the above - had on multiple occasions gotten you desperate looks from personnel. Occasionally, some of the more attractive female bartenders had even refused to sleep with Charles because of the tables consistently time consuming orders -  and Charles rarely struck out. 

“I’ll bring ‘em over, Mike, shift’s almost up, anyway!” Anjelica shouted from behind the bar, signaling you to sit back down. She’d been around long enough to know that waiting around by a bar could make Mikey annoying very quickly. He raised a hand by means of a ‘thank you’ and turned back.

“... as terrible as last week, practice somewhere else.” The group laughed at Leon’s remark, and even though Mike hadn’t heard the beginning of that sentence, he could guess that it was about Sherlock’s unusually bad rehearsal from last Saturday. 

“Yeah, what was that all about?” Sy asked. His voice sounded genuine enough, but his face told a different story. 

“Elena, of course,” Mike said - suggestive eyebrow-wiggle included - as he sat back down. Geralt scowled at both of them, annoyed at how immature they were being. Sherlock looked slightly uneasy, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Leon doubled down on the teasing by bringing up the bets that had been made about the situation between Sherlock and Elena. Right at that moment, Anjelica walked over to the table with the drinks and set them down. 

“Can I sit?” She asked. Without waiting for an answer, she sat down in August’s lap and leaned her elbows on the table, dropping her face in her hands. 

“Soooo?” 

“Anjelica, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Sherlock, my friend Isabelle is on the volleyball team with Elena’s best friend Lahela’s roommate Susanna’s boyfriend’s sister Joanne,” Anjelica said with a sickly sweet smile on her face. Reactions to that sentence were divided between the Got Its and Got It Nots - as was proved by Sy’s eloquent response: “Huh?”

Leon was the one to answer, because he saw Anjelica open her mouth and she would no doubt try to explain the whole thing: “If she wants to know, she’ll find out.” Anjelica approved the summary with a meaningful shrug and another smile. 

“Angie…” Sherlock rarely used Anjelica’s nickname. 

“For God’s sake, man, you snogged her, you didn’t murder her mother,” Charles chuckled. He often shared the more intimate details of his life a little too freely, so this was getting on his nerves.

“Charles, when were you planning on leaving for Christmas?” Geralt interjected - he was thoroughly fed up with the entire conversation. His one-on-one with Sherlock on Friday had been awkward enough - and neither had had to worry about a whole table (and the rest of a room) full of people then. Anjelica was about to protest, but August wasn’t having that. 

“Ange,” he said softly. When she turned to look at him, he just shook his head. The look in his eyes said it all. Charles also finally took the hint. 

“I’m leaving tonight, Henry’s driving me and his sister Mary back. I’ll be back on the twenty-eighth, though. Can’t miss New Year’s Eve here,” he shared a meaningful look with Leon as he said that last bit. The conversation quickly turned to sharing holiday plans with each other. Leon was leaving the next morning, and returning on the 27th, just like Marshall. 

“August?” 

“He’s coming with me,” Anjelica answered before he could say anything. August didn’t look particularly happy about the whole situation - no one dared to suggest he was terrified to meet Anjelica’s family, though they did all consider that a very valid reason to be afraid. 

“That whipped, huh?” Mike said jokingly, already preparing to duck in the event of flying glassware. It was probably a good thing that the man was on his third scotch and he was generally a pretty laid back drunk. 

“What about you, Mikey?” Anjelica asked. Mike just shrugged and told her he wasn’t going home, indicating he didn’t want to talk about it any further, and despite being incredibly curious by nature, Anjelica felt it best not to press the matter. She moved her eyes to Sherlock and nodded at him to ask the same question. 

“Staying to practice for the concert,” he said simply. Under his breath, but poorly disguised, Charles muttered some remark containing the words ‘snog’ and ‘Elena’, which earned him a swift kick in the shins from August - which in turn earned August an approving nod from Geralt. 

“Sy?” Anjelica was now genuinely curious about the last few people at the table. 

“Long as I ain’t plannin’ on apologizin’ to ma’s son of a bitch boyfriend, I ain’t welcome,” he growled. From the look on his face, everyone could tell he had no intention of apologizing. 

“Apologize for what?” Anjelica whispered to August, knowing she probably wouldn’t get much of an answer out of him. She was right: he just made a gesture that meant something along the lines of ‘ask him yourself’, so she repeated the question out loud, to Sy. 

“You ever wonder why I don’t use my first name?” He asked in return. She shook her head. 

“I don’t even think I know your first name.” 

“Nathaniel Evan Syverson,” Sy said, “Evan’s the name of my uncle, ma’s brother. He’s alright. Nathan’s ma’s boyfriend. He takes a li’l too kindly to beatin’ the shit out of her for my taste, so forgive me if I don’t exactly like the guy. She defends the piece of shit tooth ‘n nail, though. You can take that literally.”

“Shit, Sy,” Anjelica put a hand in front of her mouth. He said it so casually, as if it was the most normal thing. “What about you?” She couldn’t quite find the words to ask what she wanted to, but he understood perfectly. 

“Oh he beat on me, too. Think I ain’t got a single rib that he ain’t broken at some point.” “No one ever suspected?”

“Oh, school knew. Never did nothin’, though.” Sy chuckled grimly. “Kept beatin’ on me ‘til I grew too big for him to take. Tried to hit ‘m back once…” 

“What…” She couldn’t say anything else. 

“Ma protected him. Ended up catchin’ my fist herself. That’s when she told me I wasn’t welcome no more ‘til I said I was sorry for tryna hit Nate.” Sy had been staring at the bottle in his hands for the entire duration of his story, which meant he was surprised and a bit startled by the arms that wrapped around his shoulders all of a sudden. He patted her arm softly. 

“‘S alright, Ange, but thanks.” He was even more surprised when Anjelica pulled in a chair and sat next to him. 

“Is that why you and August…” She had no idea how to finish the sentence she started, and she didn’t have to. Sy knew exactly what she was asking about. Everyone at that table did. 

“Anjelica, what’s that?” Sy carefully grabbed her hand to get a better look at her wrist, where bluish-purple peaked from under her sleeves. She shook her hair back and smiled at him. 

“It’s nothing, Sy,” she said sweetly, “nothing to worry about.” Everything could have been alright, if Mike hadn’t come into the kitchen at that moment, which made Anjelica turn her head. Sy’s eyes went wide when he saw the four spots on the side of her neck, and he grabbed her chin to search the other side for a matching one. When he found it, he stared at her for a while, connecting the dots as he gently raised his hand to her throat and hovered his fingers over the marks. 

“Where is he?”

“Sy…”

“Where. Is. He?”

“Where is who?” Unfortunately for August, it was August who asked.

“You…” What came out of Sy’s throat was more vibration than sound; a low growl, dripping with pure, unadulterated rage. “I’m gonna kill you.” And without further warning, he lunged forward - practically through Mike - toward August, grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him against the wall. 

“Fuck!” Mike yelled as he jumped out of the way to avoid being tackled. 

“Sy!” Anjelica was on the verge of tears, looking helplessly at Mike as she reached for Sy’s arms and tried to pull him away from August, “Sy, it’s not what you think!” 

“Sy, let him go, man,” Mike tried. From the look on his face, Anjelica could tell he was shocked. August, on the other hand, looked completely calm. 

“Please let go of me, Syverson, so I can explain.” He said it so matter-of-factly it was almost comical in this situation. 

“If you think I’m gon’ let you justify beatin’ the fuck outta ya girl, you’re fuckin’ insane!”

“Sy,” Anjelica tried again, “that’s not…” He ignored her pleading again. When Sy pulled his arm back to punch Walker, Mike grabbed his arm. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the muscle to deal with a guy of Sy’s size, especially not when he was angry like this. Fortunately, they’d been making enough noise for the whole house to check out the situation, which quickly escalated to a full-blown fight between the two. 

It had taken four guys - Geralt, Marshall, Charles and Mike - to pull the two apart, and they hadn’t managed before Sy got a couple of good blows in. Leon had taken care of Anjelica, who had curled up in a corner, scared that Sy would make good on his word to kill her boyfriend - friend, date, hookup… whatever they’d been back then. What had followed the fight was a lengthy and awkward conversation between the guys about the nature of Angie and August’s relationship, which ended with Sy stating very clearly that he neither understood nor supported the dynamic, but that he’d accept that it was their choice and none of his business. He’d never explained, though, why he’d had such a strong reaction to begin with. 

“Yeah,” Sy finally answered Anjelica’s half-asked question. She gave him another hug - letting him know that she understood now - before walking back to August, who pulled her back into his lap. 

“You knew.” It wasn’t a question: The look in his eyes was more than enough for Anjelica to figure it out. 

“I did.” 

“Why did you never tell me?” 

“Wasn’t my story to tell, Angie.” Anjelica replied to that by rolling her eyes and then turned back around. 

“Alright, where were we?” She asked cheerfully with a hint of that thing women did when they told you ‘it’s fine, do whatever you want’ when in reality, it wasn’t fine and you definitely shouldn’t do whatever you want. August knew he hadn’t heard the last of this yet, but for now, they were going to let it rest. “Geralt, your plans?”

“One moment,” he replied while holding up his phone. He answered it at the table, which Anjelica had found rude when she’d first met Geralt, but now she knew exactly what he was going to say. 

“Sol? I’m at the bar with the guys, can I call you back?” He barely waited for an answer before he hung up. 

“Sorry about that,” he said, “to answer your question: Me and my brothers don’t celebrate Christmas, so there’s no real reason for me to leave here.”

“You have brothers?” Anjelica asked, surprised that this had never come up before. According to Geralt, it was rather a long story, but she wanted to hear it nonetheless. 

The other side of the table had moved on to a different subject altogether. Over the past hour, Sy and Marshall had been looking at Mike, who checked his phone nervously every five minutes. He seemed kind of sad. 

“What’s up with you?” Marshall asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“Dani,” Mike sighed, “we’ve barely talked since last weekend, and I have no idea what could’ve happened or if I did something wrong or something…” If there was anything he wanted to add, it was put on hold by Charles asking about the next round of drinks. 

“Sucks,” Sy said dryly - a little too much, even for his doing. 

“Can’t think of anything?” Marshall half-joked. He raised his hands apologetically when Mike shot him a dirty look. 

“Alright, assuming it’s not you - ow! - I noticed she freaked out when she saw you,” he nodded in Sy’s direction, “what was that about?”

“I thought I saw something! Wasn’t sure though…” Mike said almost triumphantly. Sy looked at the beer in his hands, nervously tearing at the label. The atmosphere turned more awkward with every passing second. 

“Look, Mikey…” That didn’t sound good. In fact, it sounded so bad that Marshall’s mouth fell open when he realized what Sy was trying to tell Mike. 

“You fucked her,” Mike groaned in disbelief. Then, he fell silent for an uncharacteristically long moment before he started laughing and wondered out loud why he and Sy always went for the same girls. 

“Dunno,” Sy laughed in reply, “good taste?”

“The most we can say is that you have similar taste,” Sherlock interjected, “that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s good.”

“At least now we know that Dani has terrible taste in men,” Marshall noted, “sleeping with just one of them could have been a lapse of judgment, but both of these jerks?”

“We can’t rule out charity,” Sherlock chuckled. 

“Watch it, Holmes,” Mike said, obviously faking the threatening edge to his voice. 

“So, we alright, Mikey?” Sy asked with an apologetic smile on his face. 

“As long as it wasn’t somewhere in the past month,” Mike laughed - he clearly wasn’t mad, which made Sy sigh with relief. 

“Orientation party,” he said, “we’re good, then?”

“Yeah, no big deal!” And he meant it - Mike was easy going even on his worst days. 

The boys got louder with every new round of drinks. August, at some point, even abandoned his extreme aversion to PDA, which the others found quite amusing. 

“God, Walker, keep your hands to yourself,” Geralt sneered. It surprised the others; he was usually the last person to care about others’ inappropriate behavior - and certainly the last to ever comment on it. Anjelica, Sherlock and Marshall were the only ones to pick up on the hint of jealousy in his voice. A gust of icy wind rolled into the bar when the door opened, but other than some shivers, no one took too much notice of it. Charles, Leon and Sy, who were sitting on the side of the table that faced the door, saw and recognized the tall blonde woman who entered the room. She was quick to raise a finger to her lips to signal that they should remain quiet, and then made her way over to their table, until she was standing right behind Geralt. 

“You miss her.” Sherlock said when he heard the tinge of jealousy in the dark voice of his friend. Geralt just scoffed and nodded by means of a reply, not looking up from the glass in his hand.

“You don’t have to,” the blonde behind him said. Geralt jerked his head around so fast that any normal human would have pulled a muscle - or broken their neck. Part of it came from the sheer surprise of being snuck up on - that was a very hard thing to do to Geralt, even when he was a few drinks in - and partly because he recognized that voice immediately. He’d been dreaming of hearing that voice this close to him for weeks. Another fraction of a second later, he stood up - without much subtlety; she had to step aside to avoid taking a chair to the knee. 

“Sol?” He stared at her in disbelief. Was it really her? Was she really here? He reached one hand to the side of her face, slowly and hesitantly. Whoever looked closely enough could see that he almost trembled. It was as if he didn’t trust his own eyes. Until his fingers touched her skin. In a split second, he pulled her against his body and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was far too passionate - and involved entirely too much tongue - to be appropriate in public, but the boys let it slide. Even Walker, who clearly fought with the desire to throw Geralt’s comment from earlier back into his face. These two hadn’t seen each other in months - they deserved this. 

“Solveig,” Sherlock answered the unasked question on Anjelica’s face, “Geralt’s girlfriend of… at least two years, they were together when I moved in.” 

“We’re indulging them because they’re long distance and he hasn’t seen her in four months,” August added. Anjelica chuckled and seemed to decide that that little fact made the entire situation endearing rather than gross.

“Five months and two weeks.” Geralt and Solveig had finally managed to tear themselves away from the other and sat down. Unlike Anjelica, Solveig grabbed a chair and sat between Geralt and Sherlock. “And we’ve been together for three years.”

“Three years, today,” Solveig added, “December twenty-second. Midwinter.” 

“A long night, indeed,” Charles joked.

“Hm.” It was Geralt’s favorite multi-purpose remark. This time, it was mostly a chuckle, while the expression on his face suggested there was at least some truth to the statement. After congratulations from everyone, and a quickly squeezed in introduction of Solveig to Anjelica and vice versa, Geralt got up to get his girl a drink.

“Are you staying with us, Sol,” Sherlock asked. 

“For the holidays, if that’s alright,” she looked around the table; nobody seemed to have any problems with it. 

“I’d have loved to see them do anything about it,” Geralt laughed. Everyone shuddered at the thought of having to deal with an angry Geralt. “You’re staying two weeks, then?”

“I’m staying until I graduate,” she answered shyly - it was clear that this hadn’t been brought up between them before, “I was offered a place to finish my master’s here.”

“You never…”

“I didn’t want you to think I did it for you,” she whispered apologetically, “I didn’t want me to think I did it for you.”

“Did you find a place here?” Geralt asked it carefully, but everyone knew he was praying to any god who would listen that she wouldn’t ask to move in with him. Not that Walker or Sherlock wouldn’t be quick to point out that the lease didn’t allow that, but still. 

“I did, I will get the keys on the second of January,” she smiled. Solveig knew exactly what the intentions behind that question had been. Talk at the table shifted to dinner - Mike and Sy were getting hungry, which meant one of them got jittery and the other cranky. Luckily, the bar served good burgers. 

“Geralt, why don’t you take Solveig home to get settled in,” Marshall said casually, “she looks beat from the flight.” Mike opened his mouth to say something but was shut up by a kick in the shins from Sherlock. 

“Don’t you need to eat,” Anjelica asked Solveig with a hint of concern in her voice. Both Napoleon and August answered, suggesting takeout and leftover pasta from the day before, respectively. 

Solveig and Geralt didn’t linger - as per everyone’s expectations. Anjelica wondered out loud whether the guys had a problem with Solveig, which resulted in laughter from her audience. 

“They haven’t seen each other for nearly six months,” Sy chuckled and, after he finished his beer, started taking orders for the next round.

“We owe it to them to give them the house for a few hours,” Napoleon added with a grin on his face. 

“We owe it to ourselves to stay away for a few hours,” Mike snickered. Everyone cracked up at that; truer words had never been spoken.

-> Part 8

[blackacre13]

hi please continue the Notting hill au🥺🥺

15 is here: https://blackacre13.tumblr.com/post/692789693985718272/would-you-update-notting-hill-au-pleassee-tysm

Here's part 16:

She didn’t know what career she wanted. What interviews she should do. Did she need a stylist? Should she use a nutritionist?

She wanted to run away. She wanted things to be simple again. But she couldn’t. She wanted Lou. She wanted to run straight into her arms. This was simple. Choosing Lou was simple. But now everything was so vastly complex.

She had decided to clear her head. To try her hand at shopping as a distraction. A new date night outfit would do her some good. But that was how she learned she had a chauffeur. And that Lou had booked her private time at a selection of shops with pre-selected outfits. And that Linus liked to talk a lot. And help a little too much. And that wasn’t this showroom a bit hot and this dress material was a little thick.

Debbie blinked her eyes slowly—the sound of mechanical beeping filling the air and the weight of something on her shoulder.

She tried to take a deep breath, but her chest felt tight. Her forehead sweaty and her hands clammy as she clenched and unclenched them. The last thing she could remember was that swanky shop that she certainly didn’t belong in, but there she’d been. Ushered into a chair, handed a glass of champagne. An over eager shop assistant pushing out an overflowing clothing rack of expensive looking dresses and smart pantsuits. She remembered wondering if all of this was for her one date night outfit or if she was supposed to be picking out an entire new wardrobe from scratch?

There had been a try on of two or three dresses and Linus had been asking her some responses for canned questions that he could feed to reporters himself without having to bother her and the assistant has been zipping her into a plum colored sheath dress that wasn’t at all her and screamed legal conference more than it did dinner and suddenly she couldn’t breathe, and the zipper was too tight, and then—

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” a voice whispered, chuckling quietly.

Debbie let her eyes blink again, searching for the voice. Lou.

The blonde was leaning over her in a velvet suit, much like the one she’d worn on the day they’d met in Debbie’s bookshop, but this time it was blue. Debbie made a mental note to ask whether it was her or her stylist that had managed to find a shade of blue that matched Lou’s eyes exactly. On second guess, Debbie had a sinking feeling that 99% of Lou’s suits would be custom made and that any color was achievable. They’d probably whip her up a matching dress in the same shade if she just casually mentioned it to Linus.

“Debs?” Lou asked, her face drawn with concern as she peered down at Debbie. Debbie looked down at their interlocked hands and realized that she was gripping the life out of Lou’s, blotched with white spots from too much pressure, but Lou barely seemed to mind. The pressure on her arm turned out to be an IV. She floundered around looking at the room. It hardly seemed like any ER she’d ever stepped foot in. “Private suite,” Lou grimaced. “I told Linus you’d be pissed, but they didn’t want the tabloids saying anything and this was the only way we could sneak you in without calling attention to either one of us.”

“Lou,” Debbie breathed, lifting her other hand to stroke the blonde’s cheek.

“You ruined my joke.”

“Kiss me,” Debbie murmured, trying to pull at the other woman as Lou laughed, shaking her head.

“Watch that IV, Ocean,” she grinned. She leaned into Debbie’s space, meeting her lips halfway as she kissed her softly.

“What was the joke?” Debbie asked sleepily.

“That we have to stop meeting each other because one of us is on the ground,” Lou frowned. “Speaking of, is there a habit of you getting wasted on champagne and passing out in dressing rooms that I need to know about or is something going on?”

“Definitely not trying to make this a habit,” Debbie grunted, trying to sit up higher as Lou rushed to help her. “Fuck. Did I ruin your schedule?”

“You’re the only thing on my schedule,” Lou promised, adjusting her pillow before glancing at each of the machines with a look of concentration and then checking Debbie’s forehead with the back of her hand.

“We both know that’s a lie,” Debbie exhaled. “That Linus kid…he’s—he’s a lot. It’s all…a lot.”

“It was too much,” Lou shook her head, squatting next to the bed as Debbie gaped at her. Who the hell made themselves level in a hospital room by crouching in…her eyes scanned the floor for a second…rhinestone encrusted chunky heeled boots? “I threw it all at you all at once and I left you with a puppy to go over it with you. That should’ve been my job. We should’ve done it together. We will do it together. I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Debbie smiled, squeezing Lou’s hand. “I know you’re here for me. It’s just a lot to adjust to and it’s such a weird world. I mean, private wing in the hospital for fainting? I’m more of a smelling salt and a gatorade to heal at home on the couch kind of girl.”

“Linus may have overreacted.”

“Oh god, did he like—call an ambulance?” Debbie groaned. “I can’t even remember—“

“No,” Lou blushed. “But I didn’t help. I sort of tried to carry you here?”

“Lou,” Debbie laughed. “I’m in a private wing to not draw attention, but you tried to carry me here?”

“I wasn’t there for you. It’s my duty to—“

“Your duty?” The brunette raised her eyebrows. “Damn, you’re chivalrous, Miller.”

“Thank you, m’lady,” she grinned. “But luckily, my driver thought better of it, and after following me for a few blocks, helped us settle into the car and drove us here. I even allowed a nurse to escort you in a wheelchair instead of carrying you through the doors. See? Self control.”

“I think we need to evaluate what you deem normal and exercising self control, babe.”

“Just promise me, you won’t go disappearing on me like that. I’m worried about you. And I know it’s a lot. It is. But I can’t lose you. And I want you to be able to talk to me about these things, Deb.”

“I will,” she nodded. “Promise. Honesty. Key. I know. Which, please don’t be offended, but I never really picked out an outfit  and I don’t know if I can handle a whole restaurant or—“

“Honey, I’m already ahead of you,” Lou grinned, motioning to brown paper bags on the other side of the room. “The only decision you need to make right now is wonton or egg drop and egg roll or spring roll.”

[author-a-holmes]

Find The Word Tag Game

Thank you @primroseprime2019 for tagging me <3

My Words: hello, welcome, goodnight, morning and day

I'll be doing a Changeling Search, because I don't want to risk posting Darkling spoilers :D

If you like the snippets from Changeling, it's currently available for purchase as an ebook in all stores, and as a paperback & hardback via Amazon.

Hello

As she moved, a thick braid fell over her shoulder. The style wasn't unlike Mistress Gladstone's, but the young woman's braid of honey-brown hair was thick and chunky. Lizzy suspected when worn loose, her hair would be a veritable cloud around her.

"Uh... hello?" the vampire said, eyebrows lifting as she finally focussed her attention on Andric.

"I'm Hunter Roche," he introduced himself. "Are you Cara Evelyn?"

The woman's features fell into a concerned frown, "I am. Is there a problem?"

Welcome

He wanted to know what she'd been thinking. What had been going through her mind behind those entrancingly electric blue eyes, but Andric didn't know how to ask her, so he just nodded.

"You're welcome. Can't have half the school getting distracted with the scent of fey blood now, can we?" he teased, keeping his voice light before nodding towards the door. "Come on. Knowing you and Booker, I can't see either of you going to the rest of your classes for the night. I'll walk you back to your room. I'm sure he can find you there."

Goodnight

I didn't have 'Goodnight' so I searched for night instead.

"Nothing," Lizzy answered, wincing. It was too short, and too sharp, and she hoped he was still drowsy enough to miss her tells.

Her hope sank when Booker paused in his grooming to blink at her owlishly. It took a couple of seconds before her abrupt answer seemed to register, but when it did his frown deepened into an outright scowl.

"Lizzy, you're fully dressed in the middle of the night, with a bag packed, and the best you can come up with is 'nothing'?"

Morning

This is one of my absolute favourite exchanges between Booker and Lizzy, showing their bantering backchat. <3

"There are lights," she told him, "and where there are lights, there are people. If there are people, Booker, then there's going to be an inn—"

"A hotel."

"—a hotel, and then we can stay there for the night, and figure out where to go next in the morning."

"With what money, Lizzy?" Booker prompted, and she shot him a glare.

"I have gems to trade, of course. I'm not a complete idiot."

Day

"Think of it like the first day of school, all over again," Booker tried reassuring her across their bond. His mind brushed light and gentle against her own, as though he could sense how fragile she felt.

He probably could, Lizzy mused. Her head was a mess of emotions, and she had no idea which of them Booker might be responding to, or if he was responding to all of them, and she pushed back as much gratitude as she could muster before responding.

"No. We've got that delight to look forward to tomorrow."

Tagging forward to: @ashen-crest @world-of-fire-and-flight-admin @faelanvance @blind-the-winds @tzipor-feather-blog and anyone else who wants to play!

Your words are: Hot, Damp, Shiver, Blink, and Green.