#Theme: Blast From The Past

[willowser]

getting to a point with nerd bakugou where you're not even playing games online together anymore, you're just — chatting, all day 🥺

and you've gotten close enough that you'll send him a mirror selfie and even if your phone is mostly covering your face, he's ZOOMING IN ON THAT BABY and over-analyzing the hell out of it 🥺 trying to figure out what you look like 🥺 and every single photo he sends in return is assessed for a minimum of 20 minutes, because he wants to make sure his reflection isn't showing anything or his body doesn't look weird, that his posture is right 🥺

and the first time you send something back like, "you look nice today 😊🩷", even though he's just showing off his shirt from a movie you both like — he's having to put his phone down on his desk and put his hands over his face because he feels so airbruqoabdka about you !!!!!

[that-turk-laney]

I just spent two hours coding a box onto my tumblr theme (I don't know how to code).

BUT I got it where I want it and it's a navigation button that WORKS!

Women in STEM. I can do anything. I'm invincible actually.

[uwudonoodle]

Ghostwriter Theme Song (The Full Cast Version)

Was just reminded this show existed. God, I'm old.

[elixirfromthestars]

A Night of Frights & Delights

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: It’s Friday the 13th and the college kids in town decided to host a weekend camping trip on the outskirts of town. Your best friend convinced you to go much to your reluctance. What could go wrong when the one guy you can’t stand is also there?

Word Count: 7k

Warning(s): slight horror themes / suggestive tones + implications / mentions of a past murder (not in graphic detail just campfire storytelling) / slow burn / suspense + other elements of spookiness / touch starved elements / be prepared for lots of back and forth + tension

Prompt: Campsite + forced proximity + “ It’s not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we’ve gotta have a full moon too?”

a/n: here’s my entry for @witchywithwhiskey ‘s summer slasher writing challenge. Any chance to celebrate summerween and I’m there 🤭✨ I got carried away with the spooky element of it and this ended up longer than expected. Thank you for reading! 🧡 Feedback is always appreciated!! 🎃🧡

a steamy part two ❤️‍🔥

“ It’s Friday the 13th! Gather ‘round, for some good ol’ scary campfire stories!” Sam Wilson called out to anyone who would listen. A task that wasn’t the easiest thing to ask for when all the college students in the area were trying to have their last bit of fun before fall semester started. Amongst the ones that weren’t already drunk or passed out, a few were trying to find the perfect opportunity to sneak away into the night.

You on the other hand sat near the bonfire, appreciating the warmth it provided on this chilly night. Your back was resting against a log. The scratchy surface grazes against your black sweater at the slightest movement. Camping wasn’t your ideal choice for a weekend getaway, but when your best friend Jane insisted on you coming along it was hard to say no. Especially, since you had already said no to multiple get-togethers throughout the summer. 

It’s not like you didn’t want to hang out with her. The issue was that wherever she was her boyfriend was—and wherever he was his friends were. And his friends included one smartass star pitcher for your university’s baseball team who made it his life’s mission to be a thorn in your side. 

Needless to say, you couldn’t stand the man.

“ It was actually 1982, not 1985,” Jane whispers her comment to you, nudging your arm lightly. You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, your clueless eyes meeting her amused ones. 

“ You’re not paying attention to Sam’s story, are you?” She quietly calls you out, leaning slightly closer. You shake your head sheepishly,“ No. Kind of got lost in thought,” you admit. Jane nods in acknowledgment,“ You’re not missing much. He’s just telling the story of the murders that happened here in ‘82,” she explains. You nod slowly, an eerie chill creeping up your spine. Everyone within fifty miles of the town knew of the horrific crime. It was the worst the town had ever seen. 

A group of teenagers had snuck off into the woods to party a week before their senior graduation. They brought their camping gear to spend the night under the full moon to celebrate the milestone. They had gone so deep into the woods no one heard their music blasting all night. 

No one heard their screams either as their life was taken from them. 

You took a shaky breath, your fingers tracing random patterns into the dirt beneath you. Even though you could recite this story from memory it was different hearing it told in gruesome detail. Something Sam was not shying away from doing. 

“ Don’t let Sam’s story get to you—here have a s’more,” Thor spoke up, handing you a small disposable plate with a freshly assembled s’more. His way of trying to comfort you. 

“ Thanks,” you shot Thor an appreciative smile, taking the sweet treat. Jane’s boyfriend had always been kind to you and you got along well. The mutual friendliness extended to all of his baseball friends.

Well, the friendliness extended to all his friends except for one.  

“ He’s telling it wrong anyway, so don’t pay it any mind,” Jane says causing you to let out a small laugh. Leave it to Jane to alleviate your nerves by just being herself. 

You try to drown out Sam’s true crime retelling and focus on the sugary gooeyness on your lap. Jane and Thor snuggle into each other beside you and a small smile appears on your face at the sight. You take a bite of the s’more, letting the flavors melt into your mouth. 

“ The next morning the cops led a search party into these very woods. Everyone searched day and night for three days straight. Scouting every inch, no stone unturned, to find them. And then one day, one member of the search party found something. That member being my Titi—so listen close,” Sam sets up the big reveal. 

“ Wanna know what they found?” A voice you know all too well whispers into your ear from behind. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as his breath fans your ear. 

“ I already know,” you grit out, turning your head to glare at him. Bucky can’t help the cocky grin that overcomes him when you look at him like that. He makes his way over the log and sits right next to you. You don’t hide the displeasure on your face. 

“ Couldn’t find anyone else to annoy, James?” 

 “ None worth my time, sweetheart—and it's Bucky.” 

You roll your eyes biting back a snarky comment. No matter the number of times he insists on you calling him by his nickname, you refuse to. Only his friends call him Bucky, and you're not friends—far from it. So to you, he’s James and nothing more. 

“ We’re not friends, James. Friends don’t make you miss your biology final,” you remind him bitterly. He looks at you with slight disbelief,“ You’re still stuck on that? How is it my fault the party went until four in the morning?” You bristle at his defensiveness. 

“ I don’t know. Maybe by not kicking everyone out of your apartment?” you retort, taking another bite of your s’more. Hoping to lose yourself in the sweetness of it before the distaste of his presence taints it. 

“ At least the professor let you make it up…” he mutters under his breath. 

“ That’s not the point,” you snip, unable to let him have the last word. You pretend to focus on Sam’s story, but really your attention is on the flames in front of you. The way they dance and crackle as if telling their own story alongside Sam’s. 

Bucky stares at you, his eyes scanning every detail of your face. His favorite pastime is finding all the ways to push your buttons. There’s something about your reactions that he can’t help but want to see more of. He openly enjoys being the only one who can elicit such responses from you. Hell, you could say he was proud of it. 

“ Stop it.” 

“ Stop what?” 

“ The staring.” 

“ Don't want to.” 

You turn to give him a piece of your mind but abruptly stop when you see the way he’s looking at you—or more so the way he’s examining your lips. His eyes reflecting more than just the golden flames in the bonfire. There was something deeper and not entirely unfamiliar. He had looked at you this way before, and yet it was still unrecognizable to you. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint, but that was heartstopping nonetheless. 

His hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing away at something on the corner of your mouth. Your tongue instinctively darts out to lick your lips and remove whatever remnants of the s’more are left. Something unreadable flashes in his eyes. You wonder what he must be seeing in yours when his eyes drift from your lips to your gaze. 

“ You had a little something there,” his voice has a deeper cadence to it, contrasting the cheeky grin plastered on his face. That damn grin. It’s all you need to snap out of whatever trance you were just in. 

“ You’re insufferable,” you hiss out, getting up from your spot on the ground and stepping away from the bonfire. You hate how he does this—how easily he’s able to mess with you. It’s like it's his second nature to know exactly how to get a reaction from you. Almost as if he knew you better than you knew yourself.

The vulnerability of it all is what ground your gears the most. Bucky was used to this. The flirting, the back and forth, the teasing, and having girls wrapped around his finger. The last time you were in a relationship was your freshman year of college—a few years ago. It had been too long of being touch-starved that the slightest of touches or gazes brought about a yearning deep within you. One that you swore Bucky could see right through and it made you detest the man more. 

You hated feeling like you were being toyed with. But above all, you hated how much you actually didn’t hate the attention he gave you. 

You make your way over to one of the many trashcans around the campsite and dump the last bits of your s’more in along with the disposable plate. Your appetite for the treat long gone after his little stunt. 

You use your phone as a flashlight as you walk over to where all the tents are stationed. It’s not too far from the bonfire, but far enough that the voices of everyone drown out into a low hum. A few people are already in the tents enjoying the night without the warmth of the fire. 

“ Y/n! Hold up!” Jane calls out to you from behind. You face her confused expression, “ Everything okay?” You nod, your hands hiding in the pockets of your grey sweatpants,“ Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna call it a night,” you say tiredly. You don’t want her to worry or keep her from enjoying her night. 

“ Okay…Are you sure? Because you seemed off after Bucky—” 

“ Please for the love of everything don’t mention him.”

Jane drops the subject entirely, “ Okay, okay. I won’t,” she assures you and pauses for a moment before she adds, “ By the way, I’ll be staying with Thor tonight, so you have our tent all to yourself.” 

“ Oh? Oh…behave yourself, Foster,” you warn her playfully. She rolls her eyes waving off your tease,“ No promises.” You laugh together—the exchange alleviating the heaviness in your shoulders.

After a light farewell, your best friend retreats to the bonfire. You find your eyes drifting from her figure to the back of Bucky’s head. He’s still sitting in the same spot, right next to where you had sat. He was drinking away at a beer as Sam continues his story. You look away, ignoring the way your heart feels a small pang as it wonders if it would have been so bad if you had stayed.

Only Bucky had this way of infuriating you, but enticing you at the same time. A magnetic push and pull that tugs at you whenever you’re near him. 

You crouch down and unzip your humble abode for the night. Gazing up at the sky before heading in. The moon is bright and full amongst the dark hazy clouds. 

“ It's not bad enough to have Friday the 13th, we've gotta have a full moon too?” you grumble before entering the tent. The knowledge of being in here alone all night sounds less appealing now. You wish Sam had told a different story to set the mood for tonight. 

For the next couple of hours, you lose yourself in your sketchbook. Every corner of the tent became your makeshift desk as the soft scratches of graphite filled the air. A small LED lantern casting just enough glow to guide your intricate curves and shadows across the paper. At first, you were sketching a flower you had seen earlier in the day along a trail. You don’t recognize the species, but the cluster of pretty violet petals vividly lived in your head and you wanted it forever memorialized in your sketchbook. 

At some point, however, the petals turn into doodles and then unrecognizable scribbles. The creative flow taking a life of its own. You soon find yourself drawing a pair of eyes on another page. Giving them a space of their own. These eyes you recognize deep down, but they still have the same unreadable expression from earlier. Almost as if you hoped to decipher it by putting it on paper. 

Maybe then it would be easier to look at them without being affected—without feeling that pull. 

There’s a loud thump that echoes close to your tent. You freeze at the sound. By this point, everyone had called it a night and retreated to their sleeping arrangements. It had been at least half an hour that you hadn’t heard a single sound except for the chirping of crickets amongst a chorus of other creepy crawlers. 

When no sound followed the thump you decided to ignore it—acting like you hadn’t heard a thing. And yet, your fingers swiftly moved to turn off the lantern and close your sketchbook, neatly tucking it beneath your pillow. 

Another noise rang out—the skidding of dirt. And this time it was closer to your tent. Not directly outside it, but almost. You don’t know why your heart dropped or why your fingertips went cold, but they did. You tell yourself it’s probably just someone going out to use the bathroom or some other related activity. 

Your body betrayed your mind as it started to feel enclosed in the tent. Like a prey caught in a trap. Hopelessly awaiting the moment the predator decided to take them out. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and with numb fingers, you grab your phone. The tent shrinking around you as your heart pounded in your chest. Going out to investigate the source of the noise wasn't the smartest idea. However, continuing to be a sitting duck in the tent was distressing you more—and that helpless feeling overpowered anything else. 

You slowly unzip the tent, trying to make as minimal noise as possible. You slip on your moccasins, putting one foot in front of the other as you step out into the night. Your surroundings are cast in shadows as the moon seems to be hiding behind a gloomy cluster of clouds. You look around and notice no one else is awake. Only dormant tents with sleeping residents inside accompany you in the night. 

You scan the area, training your ear to see if you can pick up any noise. 

That’s when you hear it—a rustling in the bushes. 

You peer into the woods, your eyes narrowing hoping to center on something, but you can’t see anything. There’s a slight fog that encases the lines of trees encircling the campsite obstructing your view. 

You take a few steps forward, hugging your sweater closer to your body. The outside air catches you off guard with its falling degrees. The shadows at every corner of the woods become creatures of the night if you stare at them for too long. 

Why were you doing this? Why had you decided this was a good idea? 

You questioned yourself. An unpleasant shiver goes up your spine at the thought of you walking straight into a creature’s claws. Your footing stumbled, and yet you found yourself walking further in the direction of the sound, the faint glow of your phone illuminating your path. You decided against using the actual flashlight on your phone as it could easily alert whatever was hiding in the foliage of the woods. 

You don’t go too far from the campsite. Your legs only take you a few feet away from the perimeter of it before tensing at the way the hoot of an owl cuts through the stillness of the night. Your breath caught in your throat, and you gripped your phone tighter. The edges of it digging into your skin. 

“ What are we looking for?” A voice too close for comfort whispers behind you and it causes you to shriek, your phone tumbling to the ground as you jump away from the source. Your eyes zero in on the culprit—your blood boiling when your gaze meets his ceruleans. 

James Buchanan fucking Barnes.

A deep chuckle erupts from Bucky at your reaction. Not only at the way you jumped, but also at the way you’re now seething. He stands there in a basic white tee and black joggers, his hair slightly unkempt from lying on it earlier in the night. 

“ What the hell is wrong with you?” You hiss, bending down to pick up your phone from the ground. The anxiety from before dissipating into irritation. 

“ Me? What’s up with you? Sneaking around in the woods at night. That’s kinda creepy, sweetheart,” he jabs with a smirk. You roll your eyes, exhaling to steady your breath,“ Stop calling me that. And I'm not sneaking around—I heard something.” 

“ And you came to check it out?” 

“ Yeah.”

“ You have no survival instincts, do you?”

“ And you do? You're out here too.”

Bucky crosses his arms, his eyes roaming over your figure. He’s thoroughly entertained by your attempt to catch whatever is out there in your cozy outfit. It’s not exactly monster-hunting material. 

“ I let my buddy have the tent for the night. He’s got a girl in there. Thought I'd sleep under the stars like nature intended,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. A wry smile appears on your face,“ Aren’t you a great friend,” you reply sarcastically. He’s about to give you a snippy retort when a branch breaks ahead of you, causing you both to snap your attention to it. 

You both go silent—wondering if you’ll hear anything more. Bucky takes a few steps forward to stand in front of you. Positioning himself between you and the unknown noise. 

“ Is that what you heard earlier?” He asks, his voice a hushed whisper. Your eyes drift up his form and the way his arm is slightly outstretched in your direction in a protective stance. He’s looking in the direction of where the sound came from, but then his head turns back to look at you. 

It takes you a second to gather your words,“ Sort of. At first there was like a loud thud by my tent and then some rustling—and now this,” you describe the unfolding events thus far.

He frowns,“ Is your tent the one by Wanda’s?”At his question you nod,“ Yeah…why?” He tilts his head slightly as he tries to recollect something. 

“ The two-person one with the purple edges?” 

“ Yeah…” 

His features soften, dawning on a sheepish expression. His protective stance faltering as he scratches the back of his neck,“ The noise was me then—sorry. I tripped over something while looking for a place to piss.” 

“ Oh…” Is all you manage to say. Feeling utterly foolish for getting so worked up over nothing. What you had thought was something going bump in the night ended up being Bucky stumbling to relieve himself. 

Another branch cracks in the murky fog. Reminding you that although the noises you heard outside your tent were explained, the ones here, not too far from you and Bucky—weren’t. 

“ I’m gonna go check it out,” he takes a step forward, but you stop him. Your hand shoots out to grip the hem of his shirt,“ Don’t! Are you crazy? You’re going to get yourself killed or something!”

His eyebrows raise, not expecting you to have that reaction.“ Are you worried about me, sweetheart?” A smirk spreads across his face, a twinkle in his eye.“ As if—screw you,” you deny harsher than you intended, removing your hold from his shirt. This only provokes him more, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin,“ You wanna?” 

“ You know what? I hope whatever is out there gets you.” 

“ Oh, you’d miss me if it did. But don’t worry—if it gets me, I’ll make sure to let it know you’re the one worth chasing." 

Bucky doesn’t give you a second to process what his words really mean. Instead, he takes out a small flashlight from the pocket of his joggers. He turns it on, shining the area ahead of him. A brazen expression is the last thing you see before he wanders into that direction of the woods as if there wasn’t potentially something dangerous up ahead. 

You wanted to protest, but you didn’t. Rather, you end up standing there amongst the wilderness, watching as his form gets smaller and smaller until it disappears into the haze of the fog. 

You feel uneasy as soon as you don’t see him. Your chest feels heavy with the unknown. You call out to him. Thinking maybe he’s doing this to prove something or to mess with you. When he doesn’t call back you find apprehension in the sinking pit of your stomach. 

Behind you, the campsite is still in sight. The smart thing to do would be to go wake someone up—like Thor—to go after Bucky. However, your feet work faster than your mind does, pushing you to follow after him. 

This time you use the flashlight on your phone to light your path. The luminescence cuts through the fog as you trudge through it. Leaves crunching beneath your feet, and hands outstretched lightly to use the passing trees as support to persist onward. 

You walk for a good few minutes before you finally spot him. He’s standing by a tall pine tree, his right hand tracing over something etched into the bark. 

“ James! Come back to the campsite!” You whisper yelled, approaching him. He hummed,“ So you are worried about me,” the smugness in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed by you. When he turns to face you his eyes tell you he was expecting you. Like he knew in the end your stubbornness and pride wouldn’t matter because you’d end up following after him after all.

You are worried about him. He needs no further proof than your actions. 

There was a prickling of annoyance building up in your system. More than anything, you wanted to get out of the woods as soon as possible. The campsite feels like a haven awaiting your return. 

“ Can you stop being so insufferably cocky for one second and just come back to the camp before I drag your ass back?” You say through gritted teeth. You wanted to have more bark to your bite, but the inkling dread of what could be out here stopped you from crossing that line. 

He stepped closer to you, the glow of his flashlight reflecting in his eyes in tiny glimmers,“ Why? I thought you didn't care if ‘whatever is out there’ got me.”

“ I don’t—but I’d hate to be an accomplice to that thing.” 

“ Admit it. You’re worried about me.”

By now Bucky was mere inches away from you. Having slowly sauntered right up to you. His eyes were daring you to speak the truth—his arrogant smile tempting you to do even more. 

“ I came to get you back, but if you’re determined to stay here then stay,” you huff, spinning on your heels to storm off. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out and encloses your wrist gently. Just enough to keep you from walking away. He sighs with defeated ire. 

“ Sweetheart, why won't you admit—” he’s cut off by the swift movement of something dashing past the both of you. He immediately pulls you in closer, his arms encasing you protectively—his body a shield. One arm is wrapped around your waist while the other holds your head. Your own body leans into his as if bracing for impact. 

From the corner of your eye, you can see the culprit of the racket. A deer dashing through the woods like it had somewhere to be. You held back a laugh at the revelation. 

This is what had you so worried this whole time? A deer? 

Even so, your heart races in your chest. And Bucky has you so tightly pressed into his that you can feel the way his own heart is thrumming rapidly. Both of your breaths work to steady from their instability as you realize there is nothing truly to be worried about. 

You stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Finding comfort in each other’s arms. The fog dances around your figures as if pushing you closer. The tips of your fingers tingle from where they’re pressed at his chest. 

When you finally register whose touch it is, you pull away. Bucky reluctantly lets you go. His arms awkwardly falling to his sides. You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t know where to start.

Why was his instinct to protect you? To keep you from harm’s way? 

And why had you felt the safest all night in his arms? 

You swallow the questions that desire to escape. There’s a part of you that feels like you should thank him, but then the other part feels stupid for wanting to do so. Knowing how much it would feed his ego to vindicate him as a hero. 

“ Guess it was just a deer, huh?” Bucky tries to cut through whatever tension is starting to build. 

“ Yeah…silly us…” you reply, half-heartedly. Your mind still reeling from his touch. 

You both go quiet again. The silence welcomes you where words fail to. 

Out of nowhere, you feel a tiny bead land on your head. Followed by one on your hand and then your cheek. It's beginning to drizzle. The rain cutting through the trees and promising to kiss every inch of your skin. 

“ We should get going,” Bucky says, his palm cupped to catch a few droplets. 

“ Yeah, that’s a good idea,” you agree, clearing your throat. In other circumstances, Bucky would rejoice and point out how, for once, you aren’t arguing with him. But not right now—not at this moment. Not when the memory of holding each other stirred something within you both. 

No, now instead you walk back to the campsite in silence. You’re a few steps ahead as Bucky decides to tow along at a slower pace. Seemingly lost in thought. 

When you’re back at the campsite your eyes dart to your tent. It’s within reach. A safety you can hideout in until the emotions Bucky arose in you fade away.  

“ Can I chill in your tent for a while? Just until the rain stops,” Bucky surprises you with his request. Until you remember he gave up his tent to his friend for the night. 

“ What? No,” your response is immediate. The thought of you and Bucky alone in your tent causes many scenarios to run through your head. You didn’t think you’d make it through the night with him in it. You were barely hanging on as it is. 

“ I just saved your life.” 

“ You did not.”

“ Did too.” 

“ James, you absolutely did not–” 

“ Please,” his soft plea tugs at the very part of you that wants to say yes. He’s not the kind of guy to beg, but he’ll do anything to not stand out in the cold rain. You being in an enclosed space with him was just a bonus. 

An extremely tantalizing bonus. 

“ Fine…but only until the rain stops,” you concede. You weren’t heartless enough to leave him out in the rain. 

You zip open the tent and climb inside. You remove your moccasins and leave them by the entrance. The inside is spacious enough for the two of you, but you still find yourself going into the furthest right corner of it. You sit crossed-legged as you turn on the small LED lantern to illuminate the tent with its muted glow. He makes his way inside, his hair glistening from the rain. He leaves his muddied slides by your moccasins. 

“ This tent is way nicer than the one Sam and I got,” he comments, running a hand through his hair to dispel the droplets. He’s trying to make light conversation, keeping his distance as he sits in the corner by the entrance diagonally from you. 

“ Jane’s family is really into camping so she had this one laying around…” you mention. The oddity of small talk between you fills the space with a foreign dynamic. The rain goes from a sprinkle to a pour. Hitting the top of the fabric cacoon in harsh strokes.  

He chooses to pivot the conversation.“ Do you have everything ready for fall semester?” He asks you, maneuvering to sit with his knees bent, his shirt hiking up the smallest bit to expose the skin at his hips. You avert your gaze when your heart does a little flip. 

“ Almost. I still have one or two textbooks to get,” you reply, playing with a few loose threads of the blanket beneath you. Anything to not have your eyes wander back to him. 

He scoffs lightly,“ You already got your textbooks? There’s no way. I always get ‘em after the first week.” Unlike you, he can’t seem to keep his pretty blues away from you. Your features heightened in the gentle sheen of the lantern. Intricate shadows scattered across your figure that made you look ethereal. The way his heart hammered in his chest romanticizing the sight of you.

“ That's because I’m responsible and you’re not.” 

“ I am responsible. As captain of the baseball team—”

“ Spare me the team leader speech, please,” you groan, stopping him from continuing. There’s only so much you can take for one night. And hearing Bucky light up as he talks about the one thing he’s passionate about—the one thing that humanizes him to you beyond his usual cheeky self. It would do more to you than just make your heart do a little flip.

You’d end up saying or doing something you wouldn’t be able to take back. 

“ Look, Y/n, I’m just trying to make conversation here. You don’t have to be so difficult all the time. Just talk to me,” Bucky brings you out of your thoughts not only by his exasperated tone, but by the way your name rolls off his tongue. He so rarely calls you by it. He’s called you sweetheart endlessly—and he’s even slipped a few sunshines in the mix—but your name was foreign to his vocabulary.  

 Bucky is usually good at dealing with your constant back and forth. Some days it's the only thing he looks forward to. However, right now it was irritating him how much you pushed back. He wanted you to give in. To what, he wasn’t sure. But he wondered what normalcy felt like with you—what just a damn friendly conversation felt like. 

You sigh, meeting his eyes.“ I don’t want to talk. Sorry, I think I’m just tired. Maybe we should go to bed,” you suggest, hoping that if he says yes you can sleep away the bubbling of emotions in your chest. 

You can see the way he contemplates something, biting the inside of his bottom lip. Now he’s the one holding back. A beat passes and you nervously wonder if he’ll turn down your suggestion. 

“ Fine—it's late anyway. But only if I get to sleep next to you. I promise I’ll keep my distance. It’s just there’s water leaking through the zipper at the entrance,” he mentions, his hand motioning to the entry. Your eyes dart to where he’s pointing and sure enough there’s a small puddle of water pooling by it. Not knowing how long the rain would continue, you knew you had to deal with the issue.

You grab Jane’s camping gear that holds numerous amount of supplies in all of its various pockets. She always came extra prepared no matter the occasion. You take out a washcloth, scooting over to the entrance to soak up the forming puddle. You decide to leave it there neatly tucked underneath where the water was finding its way in.

“ Alright, but if you snore I'm kicking you out,” you warn, but it’s more playful than serious. Something to lighten the mood before you go to bed. A way to dissipate whatever tension’s built up so you'd be able to fall asleep. 

It’s hard to cut through the tension and alleviate its symptoms when your shelter from the storm seems to shrink the more you chat with Bucky. And now sitting right next to him—shoulder to shoulder—it seems like a damn near impossible task. 

" I’ll take my chances. But just so you know, I don’t go down without a fight,” he winks at you, your shoulders brushing. Your heart rate picks up and it takes everything within you to stare into his eyes and not focus on the way that simple contact sent a shiver down your spine. 

His eyes drift to your lips causing your breath to hitch. The implications of where this could go are enough to pull you away from his spell. 

“ Goodnight,” you choke out. Subtly rushing over to your sleeping bag and settling into it. You don’t see when he shakes his head, but you do hear how he chuckles lowly. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t pick it up. 

He makes his way over to Jane’s sleeping bag, but lays on top of it instead of nestling into it. Choosing to cover himself only in the maroon fleece blanket that was draped over your body too. 

“ Goodnight,” he finally says, his body turning to face away from you. You respond by turning off the lantern. The space is now engulfed by darkness. Only the faintest of light shines in from the outside, letting your eyes trace the outlines of objects. 

 You turn to your side. Your back facing his. You take a deep breath, concentrating on the sound of the rain to hopefully lull you into a slumber. But the air felt too thick and your body was burning up from the heat radiating under the blanket. There was a good foot or so separating your body and Bucky’s. And yet, you could feel the heat radiating off of him as if he was pressed up right against you. 

It was too much. You swore you started sweating, so you shuffled under the covers and out of the sleeping bag. Every movement slow and deliberate as if to not snap the rope keeping the palpable tension in place. 

When only the plush fleece covered your body, the heat radiated less. But the fluttering of the blanket caused Bucky’s cologne to waft your way. A pleasant scent of musky woodiness with a hint of something that was entirely him. You gripped the cover tightly and counted to ten in your head. You were going mad. 

“ Would you stop hogging the blanket? ” Bucky muttered from beside you. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell you to stop doing. Because you and your constant fidgeting were driving him crazy. Every fiber of his being holding back from doing something to snap that rope. 

You didn’t realize you had been pulling it your way until he mentioned it. Your grip on it loosened,“ Sorry. I wasn’t hogging it though,” you argued for no reason other than to fill the silence. 

“ Yes, you were.” 

“ No, I wasn’t.” 

There was something about the proximity of your bodies that made the blanket seem smaller. Like there was no possible way it could equally cover both of your sleeping forms. Maybe this is what caused you to then tug at it, however, he holds it firmly to himself too.  

Persistently you pull at the blanket again. He pulls back—a tug of war ensues between you. You can hear him huff in the darkness, but you're not letting up. Bucky couldn't care less about the blanket. He only cared about not letting you get the upper hand. His competitive streak showing.  

While you solely really didn’t want to let him win. 

You wrap the end of the blanket around yourself—almost like a cacoon. The delicate fleece encases you. Leaving the bare minimum amount for Bucky to cover himself with. 

“ You have got to be one of the most stubborn people I have ever met in my goddamn life,” he practically growls as he yanks forcefully on the blanket. A tiny yelp escapes you as you get pulled along with it. 

You underestimated the strength of the star pitcher. 

You end up on top of him. The blanket now an extra cushy barrier between your bodies. In the dim light, your eyes lock, and you can faintly see the outline of a boyish grin on his face. You don’t move away. There’s like an invisible force that keeps you there. Your body pressed against his feeling his warmth tenfold. You can’t tell if either of you are breathing because all you're aware of now is how his heart beats in time with yours. 

“ You’re insufferable you know that?” you swallow hard, your voice lacking its usual bite.

“ You sure about that, sweetheart?” he challenges, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips brushing against yours with feather-light contact.

When had your lips gotten so close? 

You don’t know who leans in first. The one who finally breaks the standoff because your lips seem to meet at the same time. The kiss is sweet, but with a slight hesitance to it. As if neither of you are completely sure the other wants this. Or more like neither of you believes this is happening. However, when his hands grip the back of your thighs, sliding your legs from on top of him to his sides so you straddle him—you believe it. And when your hands find themselves threading in his hair—he believes it. 

One kiss that tests the waters turns into one that slowly sinks into the feeling. Until the two of you fully submerge into the depths of whatever has been simmering between you for what seems like too long. Delicate kisses that get more heated—more intense as your lips continue to meet. Bucky beams at the fact that you’re no longer pushing, but pulling into him. His craving for you only increasing now that he’s had a taste. 

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, slow and gentle. Asking for permission to deepen the kiss. Bucky Barnes isn’t the type to be slow and gentle—but when it comes to you he finds himself wanting to relish every second he gets. Not knowing when he’ll get another moment like this with you again. 

Your lips part enough for him to slip his tongue in to truly kiss you like he wanted to. As soon as you grant access he takes full opportunity to explore every corner of your mouth. His tongue molding with yours in fervor. Your fingers lightly tug at his hair while his hands roam your body memorizing every curve and dip. Wherever he gripped and caressed, his touch left heat in its wake. 

A heat you had to contain before it consumed you both. 

“ If you think you’re getting lucky tonight—think again. This is the most you’ll get,” You say breathlessly, pulling away to help your lungs remember what oxygen is. 

He groans, breath panting, the outline of his pout evident in the dim light,“ Don’t do this to me, sweetheart. Can’t leave me like this.” His voice a desperate whine that allured you to keep going. 

“ Too bad. You're dreaming if you think this is going any further.” 

“ God, you don’t wanna know what I've dreamed about.” 

“ Shut up,” you cut off his groan with another kiss. Fierce enough to silence him immediately. He hopes you shut him up like this more often. 

Your lips meet again in a hasty lock. No hesitation now as your tongues meet quicker. You seem to be obsessed with his hair as you run your fingers through it again. He shivers at the touch. His hands slide under your sweater to trail along your soft skin. Keeping his hands along your back and waist. Teetering around the boundary you drew, so he didn’t get carried away. But it was hard when kissing you felt as good as throwing the perfect game—maybe even better.

He realizes the emotions you bring out of him are worth a lifetime waiting for.

He pulls away this time to catch his breath, his hands sliding up your body to cup your face,“ I’m in no rush, sweetheart. I’ve got all the time in the world to take it all the way—make you fall for me.” 

You hum, leaning into his touch,“ You seem sure of yourself. ”

His voice is rough yet affectionate when he speaks,“ I’m sure of you, sweetheart. You’re worth every second, and I’m not stopping until you see it too.” 

He gives you one final tender kiss. One that's full of promise for the future. You weren’t sure if it was his words or the meaning in the kiss that stole your breath away. 

After a few seconds, you both pull away. Separating your bodies from each other to provide that much-needed space before lines were crossed.

“ Goodnight, Bucky,” you say, staring up at the ceiling, wondering how you would keep your hands and lips to yourself come tomorrow. Bucky’s heart skipped a beat when you called him by his nickname. Bringing a genuine smile to his face, loving the way it sounded coming from you. 

“ Goodnight, Y/n.”

Even after saying goodnight, the two of you can’t fall asleep immediately. You try to, but there are small moments in the night where you drift back to each other. Where in the darkness your lips meet again and again—satiating the tension in parts. Where your hands find themselves under the covers and layers of clothing. Flaming the fans of desire just enough so it doesn’t completely burn out, but smoldering to be reignited at any moment’s chance. 

You don’t realize when you fall asleep. Your eyelids growing heavy at some point tangled up in his body under the covers. Your face in the crook of his neck. His head resting on top of yours. Your bodies fit like puzzle pieces like they were meant to be connected in every way. 

It’s not until that morning when you wake up and find yourself in his arms, snuggled into his side, that the events of last night sink in. You pull away the tiniest bit. Merely enough to be able to get a look at him. The brown strands of his hair tousled and clinging to his forehead. The slope of his nose, his dark lashes fanned delicately against his skin, and the tiniest parting of his lips. He looks peaceful—almost angelic as he slumbers. 

You’re itching to sketch the image in front of you. 

You can’t stop yourself from reaching out to touch the strands at his forehead. It’s enough to have his eyes flutter open, their color brighter in the daylight. He gives you a lazy smile the instant he realizes last night wasn’t a dream and you really were here, nestled in his arms. 

No words were exchanged, but both of you were conscious of the line you had drawn last night. And yet, you both also knew that in time, that line would be crossed again and again. Until the line blurred into oblivion.

[ready-to-read7]

The Ice Prince

(I am not the best writer But I’m doing my best)

the nuke that the GIW had created, was devastating and catastrophic, destroying Danny’s entire home universe with only a few survivors and unfortunately none of them were human only the halfas had survived.

And the blast had even reached the infinite realm, but the ghost King Phantom/Danny had used his own power to stop  it from causing any devastation to the realms but in return he was weaken and badly injured, every ghost was terrified of what would happen to the king but clockwork had a solution, he used his powers to de-age Danny down to maybe a month old so that his body would have enough power to keep him alive in a  smaller form. Every ghost was terrified for the safety and well-being of  their king especially considering he was not fully ghost so they knew he couldn’t stay in the ghost zone for long especially now, so while clockwork and the  yetis was looking for a dimension for Danny to stay in Vlad, Dan and Dani as his only remaining family were making preparations for his new living circumstances, preparing caretakers creating a layout for his new home and even picking out and having toys and clothing created.

 Clockwork in the end with the help of the yetis end up successfully finding a dimension that will both meet Danny’s ghost needs and human needs perfectly and with the designs provided by Danny’s family, they started creating a beautiful ice castle for him, and once it was finished it was transported to the dimension in the Arctic.

_________________________________________________

Meanwhile at the watchtower the alarm started going off alerting the justice league on a unknown entity/entities in the Arctic near the fortress of solitude, alarmed supermen wants to immediately go to the Arctic but Batman refuses him to go alone offering to go with him.

Once they reached the fortress of solitude, they do not notice anything out of the ordinary, but as they search, they find a small Castle not too far away in the crevice of a cave, Superman at first tried to use his x-ray vision to see you what or who was inside but something was preventing him from doing that so both determined to figure out if the beings inside are a threat they enter the castle.

As they explore Batman and Superman come across many different rooms, first they find a kitchen, then they find the storage room, a living room, and a few more before they hear footsteps, they decided to hide in the closet nearby and what they see is a bunch of living ice statues walking past them with trays blankets and many other things, they decide to go in the direction opposite to that of the living ice statues.

They eventually come across a large room with two green-skinned humanoid creatures with dragon-like features inside, the two creatures were looking down at something that neither Superman and Batman could see what it was, after a few minutes, one of the Dragon like creatures turned off the lights and unfolded there large wings, gave a few flaps and flew out alongside their companion out of a large window.

Once Batman and Superman were sure the Dragon like creatures were gone, they entered the room, and, Batman would be looking around while Superman would look for the light switch, and once he did what they found was confusing, the largest room in this building was a nursery with a  crib in the middle with a space theme mobile above it, and they both would be confused why the largest room in this building was a nursery, they would then approached the crib to find a baby more shockingly a human baby by its appearance,   Black hair with the faintest of freckles across his face accompanied by his light skin that could mistake him as dead, wrapped in the finest silk blanket they have ever seen  while wearing some sort of Greek clothing.

Batman terrified that the child might be dead turns to Superman to silently ask whether the child has a heartbeat or not. Superman would take a moment to listen and would then inform Batman that the child does have a heartbeat and unnaturally slow one but a heartbeat, nonetheless.

While Batman’s trying to figure out what the situation is, Superman is fearing that the child was kidnapped, he would pick up the baby wanting to take him back to the watchtower to have a proper checkup done on the child, when Superman told Batman that he wants to take  the baby back to the watchtower for a proper checkup Batman would counter saying that the�� Dragon like creatures are probably his parents, before Superman can protest they hear the Dragon like creatures returning, and in panic they both flee and Superman not realizing that he still has the baby in his arms carries the baby away from the castle.

Somehow neither Batman or Superman realized that Superman had the baby until they reached the JL base, and once they do realize Batman start scolding Superman for stealing a child especially from a species that they aren’t fully aware of or know anything about. Superman counters that the child had no features from either of the possible parents and could be an infant that the two Dragon-like people stole from Earth so that they could playhouse.

While the entire Justice league is split on siding with either Superman or Batman who are both giving valid reasons for why their point of view is correct, the Green Lanterns are trying to find the origin of the Dragon-like people or more specifically where they are from.

As they argued the volume continued to increase eventually resulting in the child waking up still cradled in Superman’s arms. The most beautiful pair of blue eyes like ice shards reflecting the beauty of the sky looked up at them and as the infant yawned it gave a cute grumpy little face indicating that he was upset that they interrupted his nap time.

Once everyone noticed the baby was awake, they started cooing and absolutely adoring the baby and the flash that was literally vibrating from excitement would run up to the baby so he can hold the infant, but the moment Danny spotted the slightest amount of electricity coming from the flash he immediately started crying and wailing.

The cry was loud, not loud enough to destroy the JL base but loud enough that anyone with enhance hearing had to cover their ears to try and avoid going def, Batman then immediately grabs the child from Superman and thanks to his years of experience with helping calm down small children and infants he calms the baby down, which is a relief to everyone.

After Batman managed to calm down the baby until he was only slightly whimpering, a very pale and panic Constantine,Dr. fate and  zattana burst into the room, as they entered they started searching and scouring each nook and cranny of the room until their eyes landed on the whimpering child still in batman’s arms, Constantine immediately goes even paler something no one knew could happen and in his frazzled state he would scream demanding to know why there was a child of the infinite realms in batman’s arms. but nobody knows what the infinite realms are so while Constantine was drowning in his own panic, Dr. fate and zattana would explain to everyone what the infinite realms are, and Batman would explain the situation back telling them how Superman had taken the baby from an ice castle near the fortress of solitude.

Superman realizing his mistake offers to take the child back immediately but before he could the alarms at the base started to go off again, cyborg who was the closest immediately started typing across the computer in order to see if there was any world ending threat but what they see made all the magic users take a double take on what they were seeing.

A man with a blue skin tone whose hair is unbound by gravity and behaves like fire and blood red eyes alongside two more people, one of them who looks like a vampire who also has a bluish skin tone and the other one looks like a female version of the first one but younger and also with green eyes and a more humanoid skin tone.

Zattana would then stutter out loud and ask herself why on earth King Phantom is destroying government facilities alongside the Count Masters as well as Princess Spector, of the Infinite Realms. she would also ask herself why they were specifically targeting government facilities.

But then a giggle along with some clapping of tiny hands would catch their attention as they turn around to see the baby still in Batman’s hands happily giggling and clapping their hands as they started grabbing out towards the screen specifically towards the three people on the screen.

Constantine would look at the screen and then at the child  and he would see similarities between King Phantom and the child, the dots will then connect in his head and he would start having a strata panic attack and before anyone could realize what was going on Constantine would scream at Superman telling him that he just kidnapped the son of the king of the infinite realms.

________________________________________________

Dan, Vlad and Dani were all frantically searching for Danny since he randomly disappeared from the ice castle and due to past experiences, all three of them thought it was some form of government who took him so they immediately start destroying every government facility they could find so that they could find Danny.

They had gotten through 15 government facilities with no luck of finding Danny, until they were approached by three weirdly dressed individuals who addressed dan as King Phantom Dan was obviously confused at first and so was Vlad and Dani but Dan eventually realize that they probably think that he is Danny because of their similarities and the fact that no one knows that Danny is now in infant, Dan thinking that it would be funny decided to play along and he used his core to communicate with Vlad and Dani.

Funny, play along, funny, help find Danny,

Dan would then float over to the three weirdly dressed individuals and ask them what they want because he’s kind of busy,

The very strong looking woman would bow down to him and ask him if he is looking for his child.

Dan then applies himself properly telling them that he is indeed looking for his child and if they try and stop him, he won’t hold back.

The strong looking woman then introduces herself as Diana/wonder woman and reassures Dan that they are not here to stand in his way, she instead tells him that she actually knows where his child is.

Dan raises an eyebrow, and addresses wonder woman telling her to describe the child, so he makes sure that they are talking about the right kid.

Wonder woman would then talk describing Danny, black hair, blue eyes, pale skin with freckles and she would even mention the unbelievable loud cry that left many members of the JL disorientated.

Dan realizing that they actually have Danny and would ask her who they are and why they have Danny, wonder woman seeing the rage billed in his eyes would invite him back to the watchtower so he could retrieve his child and that they can explain the situation to him, dan agrees.

As they were going up to the watchtower dan, Vlad and Dani would speak in ghost dialect to each other.

Dan: so, these people think I am phantom, and I think we should keep up the act because it’s safer for Danny if they believe I am him and that he is my son.

Dani: that makes sense but what am I then?

Dan: while we don’t have to change the fact that you are his sister so just continue just pretend to be his older sister.

Dani: ok :D

Vlad: what about me?

Dan: I don’t know old man pretend to be his grandfather.

Vlad: ok :/

once they reached the main room of the watchtower, Dani immediately zooms into the room right in front of batman politely asking him if she can have her little brother, batman who had gotten Danny to fall asleep again would then give the baby to her.

 She would then float over to Dan and gives Danny to him, Dan and Vlad then look over Danny to make sure he has no injuries and then Dan would address the group asking them what happened and why his son was here, Batman would then explained that they got an alert about something near the fortress of solitude and that alert would be the castle where they found the baby and Superman thought it was a human child that was stolen so he ended up accidentally kidnapping the baby.

Dan would have given Danny to Vlad as he uses  his fingers to rub his nose in annoyance before giving a sigh of relief thanking the ancients that it wasn’t some government facility that kidnapped him wanting to experiment on him, the justice league especially the magic users would get very concerned by the comment and dani realizing that they might be confused, would explain that in another world a government facility had labelled all beings from the infinite realms as not sentient  and started kidnapping and experimenting on them, but that universe no longer existed mainly due to the idiotic actions of the government facility blowing up their own universe.

Dan would then turn to Vlad and tell him that they’re going to need to move the castle and maybe add a bit more security, Superman would then speak up saying that they could keep the castle where it is and they will make sure no one will go near it without authorization.

Dan would look at Superman and nod his head, but would still remarking to Vlad that they still need to increase the security since no one should be able to get near his little sunshine (he holds back the need to throw up after saying that), batman  would look at Dan wanting to ask questions but even he knew now was not the best time also he could feel someone staring daggers into the back of his neck something that didn’t bother him nor cared about but he didn’t want to give Constantine a heart attack not yet at least.

Dan would then open a portal directly to the ice castle and would give his farewells to the Justice league as he went through Vlad with Danny in his arms following close behind and dani  just after them and once the portal closed all the magic users in the room gave a sigh of relief along with a few of the other heroes who based on Constantine’s reaction understood the severity of the situation

And in the meantime, Dan, Vlad and Dani would be settling Danny back in his room and would be arranging more security and more caretakers since they do not want another situation like this.

@unadulteratedsoulsweets

(If there are any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes or anything like that just ignore them I'm not going back to fix them)

Original prompt here 

[cimmanonrowl]

Focus

It’s hard to please Daddy when it’s finals season and everything feels overwhelming. There were stack of books everywhere, unwashed mugs of coffee piling on your study table, and there seemed to be not enough time to revise for every course. And when Aaron finally had enough of your attitude, he decided to take the matter into his own hands.

Pairing: aaron hotchner x student!reader

Theme: smut heaven

Content: mention of starvation & hair pulling, academic pressure, huge age gap, consenting adults, edging, cockwarming, unprotected sex, daddy kink, ddlg dynamic, soft daddy dom!aaron, bratty!reader, powerplay: older man x younger woman relationship.

Note: Read the content warnings and proceed with your own discretion. If it's not your cup of tea, scroll up and have a good day.

The door clicked softly as Aaron stepped into your shared apartment.

The weight of his busy day still clung heavily to his shoulders. It had been one of those days in the office—long hours of reviewing reports, draining meetings with the board; the kind that gnawed at your patience until you only had so little left to give. Some days, he’d prefer to be out on the field so he can freely stretch and move his body. Most days, he doesn’t— simply because he doesn’t want to be away from you.

He kicked off his shoes, heaving a deep sigh of exhaustion as he did so. The usual sense of relief for being home hadn’t yet settled in as he glanced around the dimly lit space, his thick eyebrows pinched together in a confused frown.

It was quiet. 

Too quiet.

“Honey? I’m home,” he called out, his voice bouncing off the walls of the small apartment. 

Worry trickled down his spine with the unusual sight. He had hoped to come home to something different— a warm meal, maybe, with the sound of your favourite songs blasting in the background. Or better yet, you wrapped in his favourite lingerie; the one that barely covers your pussy and clings to your body in a godly sight, kneeling on the living room floor with a sweet smile, ready to take his cock deep down your throat until he was shaking and begging to finally take your tight cunt.

Just anything– anything to signal that you had taken a break, that you weren’t still buried under the mountain of stress he’d seen building in your eyes over the past few days.

But the apartment was as silent as it had been when he left that morning. 

Aaron’s brow furrowed as he made his way down the hallway, the muted light from your own study spilling out into the corridor. He had an idea, a feeling more like, as to what might greet him as soon as he sees you.

Goddamn, this girl.

The door creaked quietly as he pushed it open. And he felt his heart sink as he found you exactly where he had left you that morning— hunched over your desk, the same thick textbook open in front of you, surrounded by the same clutter of mess. The only difference was the growing pile of empty coffee cups at your side.

Had you even moved all day?

“Honey…” he tried again, softer this time, as he leaned against the door frame. 

You didn’t respond. Your eyes were locked on the page in front of you, and he could see from the tension in your shoulders that you were anything but focused.

Aaron’s gaze traveled over your form, noticing the same clothes you’d worn earlier, and the half-eaten sandwich he had left on the corner of your desk that morning. His chest tightened, concern quickly overshadowing the fatigue he had brought home with him. He could make out the tension looming over your crouched figure.

“Honey…” his voice came out a whisper, curiously watching you as you murmured the words you were reading in your textbook, memorizing every word earnestly.

Aaron stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the way your hand was gripping your hair, pulling the strands tangled tightly around your fingers. You didn’t even seem to realize you were doing it— too caught up in your own world to understand what you were doing.

“Hey!” 

You jumped, your hand releasing your hair so suddenly that you winced as a few strands were pulled free.

“Aaron! Y-you scared me!” your eyes finally lifted to meet his, wide and startled, as if you were seeing him for the first time that day.

He crossed the room in quick strides, worry etched into his features as he reached out to pull your hand gently away from your head. His thumb brushed over the raw area where your hair had been yanked, and he felt a pang of guilt for not noticing sooner. 

“Darling, you’re doing it again,” he said quietly, his voice tight with concern. “I thought we talked about this.”

You blinked slowly. “I—I’m sorry. Yeah. I didn’t notice. I didn’t mean to.”

“You’ve been here all day, haven’t you?” he scanned his eyes over the desk for any sign that you had taken a break, had eaten something, anything. The half-eaten sandwich was evidence enough that you hadn’t.

“I was just trying to finish this stupid chapter,” you mumbled, your voice small, almost ashamed. “I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I’ll eat after, I promise.”

Aaron sighed heavily. “You didn’t eat. You didn’t move. You’ve been sitting here, pulling your hair out over these stupid finals all day, and you didn’t even notice?”

Blood rushed through your warm cheeks. And you felt the sudden urge to yell at his face. 

Stupid finals? 

Stupid? 

You looked down at your hands, irritation slowly flooding in as his words sank in. He wasn’t wrong— you’d been so consumed by the pressure to finish everything as quickly and efficiently as you could, to get everything right, that you had lost track of everything else. But stupid… really? What you were doing was far from that word. How insensitive could he be?

You bit your lower lip, trying to control your rising temper.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a heavy heart, feeling the weight of his words like a stone in your chest. “I just wanted to do well. I didn’t mean to…”

Aaron’s expression softened at your words. He’s as frustrated as you were yet he’s concerned more than anything else. He crouched beside you before reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sighing softly as his warm gaze lingered over your face.

You look tired, he noticed.

“Baby…” his voice was soft it almost made you tear up. “I know you’re stressed, but this isn’t healthy. You know that, right? You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

You nodded slowly. “I know. I just… I don’t want to mess up. I want to make you proud, Daddy...”

“Oh, sweet girl. You already do,” he took your hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “But you’re more important than your grades. Daddy needs you to take care of yourself, sweetheart,” he added, gently rubbing the spot where your hair had been pulled. 

“But… I don’t want to slack off...”

Your pout deepened as Aaron frowned down at you.

“You’re the most hard working girl I know in this world, baby,” he said seriously. “What I need you to do is promise me that you’ll take breaks, eat on time, and stop… this…” 

Whatever this is, you knew what he wanted to say.

“But—”

“Are you talking back to me?”

Hesitation clung to you with the sudden drop of his voice. The promise felt heavy on your tongue. There’s still a lot to do, deadlines to beat, too much reading to finish, papers to write and revise. You know with the current state of events, you can’t carelessly promise anything to him, but the way Aaron’s eyes squinted at your defiance was enough to make you nod quickly.

“S-sorry, Daddy. I promise.”

Aaron searched your face for a moment longer, then finally relaxed, though the worry didn’t entirely leave his eyes. 

“Good. Because if I come home tomorrow and find you in the same spot, I’ll drag you out of here myself and punish you, baby. And no more coffee after 5 p.m.,” he added, eyeing the empty cups with disdain and disapproval.

You managed a small smile, the first genuine lightness you’d felt all day, and nodded again. “Yes, Daddy. No more coffee.”

“There’s my good girl.” Heat dusted over your cheeks as you giggled at his praise, and this time there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He stood up, pulling you to your feet with him. “Now, enough of that, come on. We’re ordering takeout, and you’re taking a break. No arguments.”

Panic settled on your heavy bones.

“Huh- what–” you stammered, peering over your books and the half-finished paper on your laptop. “Daddy, I nee– just one more chapter, please. I need– just another paragpra–”

The stern look he gave you made you stop. He didn’t have to say anything. Just seeing the scowl on his face; his thick eyebrows tugged together, his eyes narrowing in silent warning, was enough to put you back in place.

You pursed your lips immediately, and finally let him lead you out of the study, the tension in your shoulders beginning to ease just a little.

That night, Aaron let you use his cock for relief. He’s always been true to his words. He ordered a take out from your favourite Chinese restaurant down the block, ran a bubble bath and joined you shortly to wash your body, massaged your scalp and shoulder, showered you with praises for being his good girl, for being hardworking and smart, and for being the prettiest girl in the world. Then you let Daddy fuck your wet, needy cunt with his thick fingers until you came and writhed against his soft touches.

It was almost midnight when you heard your neighbor pound angrily on the thin wall separating your apartments, screaming in frustration to tone down your fucking. Which you only giggled. Daddy gave you permission to ride his big, fat cock the way you like it. And you did. But it was only after he lapped and ate your pussy like a starved man that he made you cum twice on his tongue, until your legs were spasming uncontrollably from the blinding pleasure.

The next few days were just as rough.

It was an underestimation on some angle, but nothing but the truth as a whole. You and Aaron were arguing nonstop. He was scolding you too much. You cry nearly every night. But he never stopped breathing down your neck: reminding you to take a break, eat the food he ordered for you from his office, drink your vitamins, don’t drink any more coffee, eat the fruits he bought instead of potato chips, rest your eyes, take a bath, take a walk, threatening to punish you if you don’t.

“Are you seriously fucking kidding me?” His voice was flat, his weariness laced with something sharper, though you couldn’t tell if it was frustration or concern. Maybe both. Or maybe he’s seriously just pissed off.

Slowly, with brows pulled in a tight frown, you glanced over your shoulder.

You didn’t hear Aaron walk down the hall, didn’t hear the way his pace slowed just outside the door, or how he lingered there for a moment, leaning against the frame to watch you in annoyance. His frustrated sigh filled the room, deep and full of exhaustion, but that you heard. 

Your hand went limp, your fingers still tangled in your hair as you stared back innocently at him.

Aaron stood there, quietly observing you from your seat, still in his work clothes— his tie loosened, shirt untucked from where he’d probably tugged at it during his long day. His expression, however, was fully focused on you, and the hint of gentle smile he usually carried whenever he comes home to you was absent, replaced by a frown etched deep in his rugged features.

“What, Daddy?” you asked in a small voice, as though you hadn’t been doing anything wrong.

You felt the pull of your own hand still gripping your hair. Slowly, you released it, lowering your hand to your lap.

Aaron let out a sigh, running a hand through his own tousled hair before crossing the room to you. “It’s almost eleven,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. 

“Have you been sitting here all day?”

What?

You blinked, looking around for a clock to confirm what he was saying. You barely remember anything that happened. All you can recall was being kissed on your forehead before he head out to work, reminding you to eat the breakfast he prepared for you, and to keep your promise. But now the light outside had faded into complete darkness, the street lights illuminating the crossroads outside, streaks of moonlight painting the night sky. 

Almost like an afterthought, your stomach growled faintly. You suddenly realized you hadn’t eaten since… that morning… 

Maybe.

“I… I guess so,” you murmured, as if admitting it out loud will make everything worse. 

He crossed his arms, thick muscles bulging against the tight fabric of his dress shirt.

“You guess so? Try again, little girl.”

“I—” You wandered your eyes over the pile of untouched notes, the cold cup of coffee still sitting on your desk, and the empty plate from a hastily eaten sandwich. “I… I didn’t, sorry. I didn’t notice the time.”

Your mind was wrapped too tightly around the fact that you still have one more essay to finish before the due date. It was a frustrating day. You caught yourself a lot of times staring mindlessly at the words printed on your book, though they blurred and danced right before your eyes. You stared at the same paragraph for… how long each? Minutes? Hours? You weren’t even sure anymore.

Aaron’s eyes narrowed as he crouched down next to your chair, his gaze level with yours now. 

“I told you to eat proper meals, didn’t I?” He pointed out, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. His thumb brushed under your eye, and you realized how dry and tired your skin felt. “And you still haven’t eaten, have you?”

You bit your lip and shook your head slightly. “I wasn’t hungry, Daddy. I just wanted to get through this part—”

“No,” Aaron cut you off, shaking his head as he firmly gripped your shoulders, turning your chair so you faced him fully. “No. Enough of this now, little girl. You’ve been doing this to yourself all week. Staying up too late and skipping meals. This is not good for you.”

Your eyes started to burn—not from exhaustion this time, but from something heavier, something you’d been holding in for days now. 

“You don’t understand, Daddy. This is important to me!”

The stress, the pressure, the sense of being completely overwhelmed. You felt like you were sinking, and somehow, it all spilled over the moment Aaron looked at you with those tired, worried eyes.

“I just…” Your voice broke, and you looked away, blinking rapidly. “I have to do well, Daddy. I can’t mess this up. I have one semester left until graduation. I can’t– I have to do well.”

Aaron’s expression softened as he listened, and his hands moved to cradle your face, gently turning you back to meet his gaze. “Baby, Daddy knows how important this is to you,” his voice was calm and steady. “But you can’t do well if you’re running yourself into the ground. You’re hurting yourself, and you don’t even realize it. I’m not doing this to sabotage you, honey.”

His thumb brushed over the spot on your scalp where your hair was still tender from your unconscious pulling, and you winced slightly. 

“Sorry—” you apologized quickly. “I don’t realize I’m doing it, daddy. I’m sorry.”

His brow furrowed at that, and he lowered his hands, his worry etched into every line of his face. “Just promise me you’ll stop,” he whispered, as if the words themselves could break you. “Or else I’m putting mittens on these little hands of yours.”

You nodded quickly, stifling a giggle. “I promise, daddy. I didn’t even realize I was doing it—”

“I know,” Aaron cut you off gently before you could finish. He stood up then, his hand dropping to yours, tugging you softly up to your feet. “C’mon. You’re done for the night.”

“But—” You glanced back at your desk, at the still-open textbooks, the unread chapters waiting for you. “I’m not done. I have so much left—”

“What do you still need to do?” He asked, following your gaze on your table.

“I’m halfway through this paper and I still have to revise them. Then…” your lower lip prodded a little as you stared up at him. “I need to review for my deptals. I just finished making flashcards on my iPad, Daddy, but I haven’t checked them yet…”

“Then we’ll do that tonight,” he said as he steered you out of the room and down the hall toward the kitchen. “First, you need to eat. And then, we’re going to bed.”

“Daddy, I just said I need to revie—”

“Yes, yes, you will, honey.” He squeezed your hand gently as he led you to the kitchen table. “You’re not doing this alone, okay? You’ve got Daddy. I’ll help you tonight. So be a good girl for me and eat first.”

You sat down heavily in the chair as Aaron started pulling out some leftovers from the fridge, reheating them with quick, efficient movements. He didn’t ask you to explain yourself or demand an apology. He just moved around the kitchen with an ease that came from his conscious effort to know you— knowing when to push, and when to just be there quietly.

When he placed the food in front of you, you hesitated for a moment before picking up the fork.

“Daddy…”

He hummed. “Yes, my love?”

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled between bites. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Aaron pulled up a chair beside you, leaning forward on his elbows as he watched you eat; a small, tired smile playing on his lips. “I know you didn’t, little one. But you did. And I’d rather see you take care of yourself than get another A.”

“You’re just saying that, Daddy. You said I’ll always get a reward if I do well in school. You were bribing me.”

“Maybe…” he grinned, the tiredness in his eyes easing a bit. “But I still mean it.”

As you continued eating, Aaron reached across the table, brushing his fingers against your hand again. “Remember your promise?”

“Yes, Daddy. I’ll try harder not to do it anymore.”

“Good girl,” he leaned back on his chair with a relieved sigh. “Now, finish your meal. What would you say if Daddy help you study?”

You smiled wider at that, nodding your head quickly. “I’d like that, Daddy.”

“What if you sit on Daddy’s big cock while I ask you your reviewer questions? Would my little girl like that?”

Heat pooled in between your legs as you listened to the vulgarity of his words. He gave you a small smile, reaching his hand to your face before gently tucking the stray hair behind your ear.

“S-sounds good, Daddy,” you said weakly, blushing as you crossed your legs under the table. “D-do I get to come?”

“If you answer the questions correctly, yes you will,” he said lowly, lightly caressing your exposed neck with his thumb.

A low whimper rumbled on your throat.

“But wha– what if I don’t, daddy?”

“Then we’ll just have to see, don’t we, little girl?”

Aaron laid on his back, looking so comfortable and snug as ever, with the soft glow of your iPad casting a faint light in the dimly lit bedroom. The night shirt he previously worn was already discarded on the floor, completely unforgotten. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he scrolled through the flashcards you’d painstakingly made for your departamental exams, his fingers gently swiping the screen.

“Alright, honey,” Aaron said, his voice low and focused. “Define ‘morphological productivity’ for me.”

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to pull the answer from the jumble of concepts crammed into your brain. A low whine escaped your lips under the intensity of his gaze; exactly just as you felt his thick cock twitch against your walls.

“Daddy… f-feels so good…” you shook your head weakly as the pad of Aaron’s calloused palm traveled your bare thighs.

“I know, honey. But I need you to be a good girl and focus right now.”

Your heart raced, though it wasn’t just from the pressure of not knowing the answer to his question. His presence—so close, so steady—and the familiar heady smell of his bodywash was making it harder to focus. The warmth of his body underneath you, his big cock inside your wet cunt, the way his voice dropped whenever he asked a question, all of it felt heavier, more instense than usual.

“Morphological productivity…” Your mind raced to remember the specifics. “It’s when the… morphology is productive—oh fuck!”

Aaron barked a hearty laughter, sending shivers down your spine with every twitch of his cock inside your hole.

“Just joking, Daddy…” You pouted adorably, slowly grinding your hips to feel more of his girth. “It’s… it’s… t-the guide that control how words are formed and structured in a l-language, r-right?”

“Hmm. I don’t know, baby. Can you give me an example?” 

“One e-example is affix… affixation…” You moaned softly, stopping your hips from grinding back and forth as Aaron gripped your thigh in a silent warning. “Sorry, Daddy. F-for instance, you can add ‘-ness’ to the root word ‘happy’ to make ‘happiness’ and it still makes sense.”

Aaron gave a small nod, his lips curving slightly in approval, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Close enough,” he said, his voice steady. 

His eyes flicked toward your bare chest before returning to the iPad, and you felt wetness pooling in between your legs intensify.

“Next, baby,” he said, swiping to the next card. “What’s the difference between a free morpheme and a bound morpheme?”

You shifted slightly, pressing both your palm on his stomach, trying to stifle a moan.

“A free morpheme can stand alone as a word,” your voice came out a little softer, distracted by the way his fingers moved so casually across your thighs. “Like ‘book’ or ‘run.’ A bound morpheme can’t… it… it h-has to be attached to something else, like pre… oh, Daddy… pre…fixes or s-suffixes. Like ‘-s’ or ‘-ing.’”

Aaron’s eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. His gaze was heavy, like he was weighing more than just your answer, and the quiet that followed hung between you, thick. You could feel the heat of his body underneath you, and his pulsating cock inside.

“C-correct,” he murmured, but his voice had dipped lower. 

His fingers lingered over the screen, not moving to the next flashcard right away. The air between you seemed to hum, each small movement or breath amplified in the quiet room.

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. The weight of his gaze was now making it difficult to focus on anything but the heat of your skin together. Studying had always been stressful, but this… this was different. His serious, deliberate tone, the way he was so focused, so intent on helping you, made it all the more difficult to not cave in to your crushing desire.

“Now, this one should be easy. What is a washback?” he asked, his voice still low, though his eyes hadn’t left yours.

You hesitated, distracted by the way his lips formed each word. “It’s also… uh I think it’s also called the washback effect. It is the influence of an assessment on teaching and learning. It can be both beneficial or harmful, and is a common phenomenon in institutional learning.”

“Mm-hm,” Aaron hummed in approval, his eyes darkening slightly as he nodded. “Good girl.”

He didn’t move to the next flashcard right away. Instead, his hand shifted slightly inches slightly to your hips, his thumb rubbing soft circles. It was such a subtle motion, but it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Daddy… please…” You bit your lip, trying to refocus. “Are you… Are you going to ask me the next one?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying your growing distraction.

Aaron’s gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest second before he looked back at the iPad, though the movement wasn’t lost on you. He cleared his throat, as if remembering the task at hand, and swiped to the next card, though his thumb lingered on the screen a little longer than necessary.

“Define… vowel harmony,” he said, his voice slower this time, before gently bucking his hip like his simply adjusting his position.

You whined loudly, the tip of his cock hitting the special spot inside, your mind scrambling to pull the answer from the depths of your memory.

“It’s… uh… Daddy… stop m-moving…” You swallowed, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s when… when… vowels within a word need to m-match in some way. Just… just l-like in certain languages, all the vowels in a word have to be either front or back vowels.”

Aaron nodded, his lips curving just slightly in a faint, knowing smile. “Very good.”

His hand shifted again, this time closer, brushing down your inner thigh, right where your bodies meet. The heat from his touch seeped through every fiber of your being, flooding your senses with heat and desire. And lust. Overflowing heat and lust.

Your breathing quickened, your mind no longer on linguistic theories or exam questions.

“Do you want to keep going?” Aaron asked, though his voice had lost the strict, studious edge it had earlier. His hand still rested on your inner thigh, his fingers ghosting against your throbbing clit, as if waiting for your answer to decide where they might go next.

“D-daddy…” you said in a whisper, slowly grinding your hips again. “N-need you… plea…please… daddy…”

Aaron didn’t move for a moment. He kept watching your desperate movements with that same heavy gaze, his fingers slowly teasing their way to your needy cunt, sending another shiver through your body. 

Then, slowly, deliberately, he set the iPad aside, his hand resting fully on your hip now.

“My little girl’s been studying hard…” his voice was low and rough, the pad of his big, calloused hands against your skin. “And you’ve got all these answers down.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body instinctively leaning into his touch. The anticipation was almost suffocating in the best way, choking you. He started to rock his hip slowly, the trail of hair from his cock grinding against your clit in a heady way. 

“F-fuck…” your voice trembled as you impatiently increased your pace. “Y-yes, D-daddy… please...”

He sat up to lean towards you, his lips just a breath away from your ear. “Baby, you’ve earned a break,” the words filled with a promise that made your pulse quicken. “I’ll fuck you nice and good, hmm?”

As Aaron’s lips brushed ever so lightly against the sensitive skin of your neck, your world crumbled and you couldn’t focus on anything else.

His lips trailed down your exposed neck, his nose pressed against your skin, taking in your scent as he left a soft trail of light kisses. A heavy sigh escaped your lips when you felt his hands tighten around your waist, guiding you in back-and-forth motion. The way his big and girthy cock was stretching your leaking cunt was intoxicating. You whimpered in embarrassment, hiding your flushed cheeks at the crook of his neck as you felt the tip of his cock deep into your belly.

“D-daddy… can you move, please?” you whispered in a weak voice.

“You want Daddy’s cum inside you, sweet girl?”

You nodded, feeling Aaron move gently to fix his position. “I d-do, Daddy… s-so much… please...”

“Then you’ll get it, princess.”

With a yelp, Aaron’s girthy cock rammed in and out of your waiting cunt. The shrill sound that escaped your lips made Aaron smirk in satisfaction. This is where you belong; in his arms, perched on his lap with your warm, velvety walls wrapped tightly on his cock, his name leaving your lips like a desperate prayer.

Deep grunts and small whimpers tangled in the air like harmony. Your voice was raw, and your throat dries as he assaulted your greedy, little cunt with deep thrusts. His breathing was ragged and heavy.

“Da…Daddy…” Your fingers tightened on his hair, pulling a little with every plop of your sweaty skin. “C-close, ‘m close… Daddy…”

Aaron let out an amused laugh. “No, not yet. Wait a l-little more, you can do that f-for Daddy, princess?”

You whined.

“N-no… I-I want… Daddy… come, p-please… Want to c-come…”

A sharp slap on the side of your thigh stilled you.

“Who fucking own you, little girl?”

“Y-you... Daddy…”

“And who fucking own this greedy cunt, huh? Who get to say when you’re allowed to fucking come?”

A particular thrust set your nerves on fire. “Y-you, Daddy! Only y-you… fuck… that feels g-good! There- t-there! R-right there! H-harder, Daddy! Fuck– f-fuck me!”

“There’s my good girl.”

You felt the familiar coil twisting in your belly. The squelching sound of your wet hole being pounded hard and fast was dirty and somehow humiliating. He kept hammering his hips into you, the tip of his throbbing cock nudging the most sensitive spots deep inside your body. Parts you never knew existed until you met Aaron. He has always loved you hard and always fucked you even harder. Like you’re nothing but a fleshlight. A toy. A fuckdoll he could use just the way he wants it.

“Y-yes! Yes! D-daddy! Right-r-right there! F-fuck!” Your release inched closer, roused by his pained grunts and heavy breathing. “Please! P-please! Please, Daddy! Come in-inside me! Breed m-me… please! I’m a g-good girl, r-right? Fuck m-me full of c-cum, please! W-want it s-so bad— want y-you so bad!”

“Come, princess. Go on. Let go.”

Your orgasm ripped through you like an avalanche. Your eyes rolled at the back of your head. Aaron’s loud grunt and your whiny moan pierced the silence of the night, his fat cock spurting ropes and ropes of warm cum into your waiting womb. Shivers ran down your spine, your bones weak, legs trembling.

“That’s it... good girl... my sweet girl...” Aaron murmured against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. “Just take it, princess. Daddy loves you.”

A loud pounding on the wall startled your calming heart. It even made Aaron jump a little. Seconds ticked in and the familiar voice of your angry neighbor echoed inside your sweaty, sex-filled room.

“Stop fucking in the middle of the night, for fuck’s sake! Some people have fucking exams tomorrow unlike you fucking horny crackheads! Fuck!”

You could only giggle in exhaustion.

Guess who’s back, bitches! (affectionately) Please give me some love and appreciation in the form of your thoughts or reactions. Also, don’t forget to drink your water and keep slaying, babes!

Tag list: @downbad4reid ,@roseydoesypoesy, @pastelpinkflowerlife, @justyourusualash, @hotchsmutrecs, @msfreedom, @birdysaturne, @gghostwriter, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @fore45fore, @actualdeemon, @diksy1112, @jethro-mcgee-tony, @hotchnerbau, @iniyalovesall, @222hwilsss, @balariie, @oliviabbb, @ncis0mrs0gibbs, @jasonswhitetuftofhair, @m4pl, @zaddyhotch, @fandom-garbage, @obsessed-oops, @ujws5, @babybluelrh98, @anime-lover-forever-1127, @hazel-babbit, @3amcloudss, @seraphinlover

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday request

Another chapter of Alley Boyfriends, if you don't mind, I love it so much. If not, no worries. I love your work and love to reread your stuff. May your food be filling and your bills be paid!

Danny carefully adds the finishing touches to the seahorse he’s carefully designing on the surface of Tim’s mug of coffee. He’s been practicing his latte art because business has been slow at Heart Attack in secret. The previous week, he had seen Tim watching videos of strangers creating works of art using the foams of their coffee with blatant awe.

The Halfa will admit to the sight of wonder on Tim’s face when the flashier artist created swans with colored foam, and his heart gave the oddest flutters. It had been so brief but intense that Danny had feared a new power was unlocking in their living room.

Thankfully, the moment passed quickly, but Tim’s expression lingered in his mind. Danny had abandoned the piano to search somehow for videos of latte art within the next minute of that strange heart flutter.  

Danny had learned how to play from Wes in an ill-fated attempt to get the ginger to date him. Danny hadn’t been able to get the ginger to be his boyfriend, but he learned a skill he enjoyed. His parents bought him a second-hand stage piano that he had used for the few years he lived with them.

It broke sometime in senior year- he thinks Young Blood had blasted him through it- and he hadn’t bothered getting a replacement. Mainly because he couldn’t be concerned, as it was a hobby he hadn’t time to participate in once he got close to graduation. It would have remained a forgotten past time had the apartment not come with the grand piano.

The sound was so much richer, with a resonating tone that bypassed his skin and sunk into his soul. Danny could not let the thing of beauty go to waste. He often found himself sitting on the bench, letting his fingers dance off the keys, finding melodies and rhythms that welcomed him home like a returning hero of a fairy tale.

He didn’t think he was skilled at it, but sometimes, when he played, Tim would move closer. His eyelids would flutter close, lying on the nearby couch and listening to Danny play with a half-smile on his face. Sometimes, Tim would fall asleep, seemingly at peace, as Danny strung through Dance of the Blessed Spirits only a few feet away.

Despite all the coffee Danny had provided him with, Tim was starting to develop a better sleeping schedule. The bags under his eyes slowly faded, and he was physically fit. Tim used their apartment building gym all the time, but his skin was gaining a glow previously not there.

He also seems much happier. Danny checked off another box of Tim being a ghost in development, with his Heart Attack Coffee being a big part of his obsession.  Maybe it would not be his sole purpose when he passed, but Danny suspected that the coffee was associated with a good memory that fundamentally shaped Tim’s sense of self.

Danny didn’t like to think too hard about it. He’s gotten comfortable with death, seeing it as a natural part of life now that he spent so much time around the Death-Brought Ghosts, but the idea of Tim passing always twisted his heart into knots.

Sharp, painful knots that leave him fleeing from the dark thoughts as fast as possible. It would be years before Tim would no longer be part of this world. He had better things to do, like adding bubbles and seaweed around the seahorse and taking time to add as many little details as he could to create the scene of a lovely underwater image.

Danny finishes just as the kitchen clock- an expensive cuckoo clock that had golden trimmings, blending so well with the dark wood and gorgeous forest theme carvings that Danny had fallen in love with the second he spotted it at a street art festival that the pair had stumbled upon during a drive they took. Tim bought it when he realized Danny liked it, and it hung up that night. - goes off with a loud chime.

Another day has officially ended. 

His roommate would be up soon for whatever he does at nighttime, where he vanished for hours, coming home nearly always after witching hours, exhausted and bruised. Danny would linger in the living room for a bit if he was awake before heading to his room with a half-made excuse.

Tim would then sleep for a few hours before he was up again, rushing around the apartment to gather his things and be out for his daytime work. A lot of his job he can do at home, but Tim was important enough that he sometimes had to go to work in person.

In the three weeks that the two have moved in together, Danny hasn’t been braved enough to ask what his roommate did for a living. He knows Tim held some big corporate job- where and what he did there was a mystery- but his second job was vague and downright denied at worst.

Whenever Danny hinted so much about what he was doing at night, Tim moved the subject away. He didn’t flat out deny answering Danny’s probing, as more as he danced around the question so well, Danny found himself waltzing in a different direction before he realized what had happened. Tim had a silver tongue that was wielded like a sword, sharp, cutting, and deadly.

 It was mildly alarming, mainly because Danny had no idea what Tim was involved in. Something big, something likely bad. It could be the only explanation for the large amount of seemingly never-ending funds and the odd hours that Tim kept.

A boring office worker by day and who knows what by night.

He also always came back home half stumbling over his feet. There was even that one time when Tim had been half-dressed, his knuckles split, and hard anger set at his jaw. Danny had been caught up with a new show, only realizing the late hour once his roommate had practically shut the door.

The pair stared at each other. Danny bathed in the glow of the TV while Tim was shirtless and standing in the shadows of the front door. He wanted to ask thousands of questions, but Danny had only lifted the heated blanket- a gift from Tim- when he learned how affected Danny was by the cold. 

Tim’s face softened as he barreled into the warmth and snuggled into the couch cushions, joining Danny in watching a Korean rom-con that the Halfa had been in the middle of. He had no idea what the plot was or who the characters were, but by the end of the third episode, Tim’s head had fallen on Danny’s shoulder so deeply asleep that he didn’t feel Danny wrapped up his knuckles or carried him to his room.

Despite this, Danny didn’t move out. He didn’t stop providing Tim with his much-loved coffee. If anything, he took his worries, boxed them up, and stubbornly turned a blind eye to the worrying signs that Tim was showing.

A door opens behind him. Tim walks out, an overnight bag thrown over his shoulder as he speed walks through the living room. His roommate is scrolling on his phone, tapping a rapid-fire response to whoever he is chatting with. Danny could see the bubble messages screen even if he couldn’t make out the words before sighing. “I’ll be out all night. I’ll probably be back tomorrow around noon.”

A pool of dread piles in his stomach, but Danny pushes it away. “Alright.”

He holds out the mug, drinking in every facial feature shift as surprise blooms over Tim’s face before it melts into tenderness when he sees the shape of the latte art. It was painstaking to learn how to make a realistic-looking one on such a problematic canvas, but Danny is happy he spent time on it. After all, Tim’s favorite animal was the seashore, so he needed to make sure it looked good.

Only a few people knew that from what Danny gathered from Tim's few mentions while working on their three notebooks. He also thinks Tim doesn’t often tell people his favorites, but Danny has been paying close attention whenever Tim reacts positively to the world around him. The way Tim’s eyes sparkled when Danny clicked on a sea documentary where the small, shaped fish had been a main feature. Danny had found it adorable how Tim seemed unaware that he would randomly blurt out a new fun fact about the seahorses in the following few days.

“When you learn to make this?” Tim asks, curling his fingers around the mug. Danny’s heart leaps in his chest at the tender warmth glowing in Tim’s eyes as he gazed at him. Coughing into his hand, he waves his hand.

“I had some time since there hadn’t been a lot of customers lately. Ever since that Dr. Freeze threat, people have been avoiding the café.” Danny ignores the guilt he feels about that.

The other day, his powers had gone out of control after he made the mistake of going too long without using his ice, and when he developed that stupid head cold, he accidentally froze the street.

One coughing session later, the entire neighborhood ran to take shelter, panicking that the rouge had chosen their homes for his newest mayhem. Thank goodness the villain had actually broken out of Arkham the previous day, so no one batted an eye at the fact the ice surrounding a single barista was in the middle of closing up for the night.

“It’s amazing, Danny,” Tim tells him, quickly snapping a picture with his phone before he takes a sip. His eyelashes flutter as he savors the flavor, this one is the original Batman theme coffee that Heart Attack discontinued.

Danny found the receipt in an older binder while doing inventory. Tim had tackled him in an enthusiastic hug the second he tried it and recognized the familiar taste.

“Thanks.” He blushes, trying not to notice that the bubbles have shifted slightly, resembling hearts instead of circles. Moving his eyes away from where the foam disappears into Tim’s lips, Danny mentally kicks himself for being weird about his fake boyfriend’s drinking.

He picks up the mug lid on the counter, turning it around in his hands while Tim takes another quick sip. There is some leftover steam milk on his lips when he pulls away, and the colorful seahorse is gone now. His core pulses, making a shiver run down his spine as Tim’s pink tongue darts out to lick away the teal green.

Danny coughs again as frost gathers on his back. Thank goodness he can feel it on his skin, which means it likely hasn’t passed through his comfortable sweater. He hasn’t told Tim about his powers, and he isn’t sure he wants to.

Gotham is an anti-meta city. Tim was as Gotham as they came. He can’t stand the thought of his roommate growing to hate him, especially for something that wasn’t precisely meta, but was the closest thing he was.

He leans forward, carefully sealing the mug. This was one of Tim’s favorites among his collectible mugs, primarily because it could shift into a traveling beverage holder.

Tim smiles at him. “I’m heading out then. See you tomorrow.” 

“Bye, stay safe,” Danny tells him to walk him to the front door. He stands there, feeling like he’s waiting for something to happen. But he isn’t entirely sure what that is, so all he does is lean against the wall as Tim slips on his running shoes, juggling his drink, phone, and bag. Danny smiles warmly when Tim raises his mug at him in a fast toast before he slips through the door, leaving their apartment with a soft “Sleep well, Danny.”

The wood of their door seals shut without a sound- apparently, the rich didn’t believe in noise because everything in the apartment was somehow soundproof. Tim moved like a shadow, rarely making a sound. Danny, by comparison, sounded like a bull in a china shop.

Once, when Danny apologized, Tim laughed.

“I like it, " he said while lounging in the hot tub on the balcony. Danny was on the other side, the warm water doing wonders for the frost forming at the bottom of his feet.  Thankfully, the water hid it from Tim’s sight. “It’s like you breathe life into the apartment with your noise.”

“Stay safe,” Danny says to the empty apartment. “Come home tomorrow.”

He rubs his face and figures he should head to be. It was ten at night, but Tim clarified that he wouldn’t return anytime soon. He’s tired from the previous three nights when he waited for Tim to come home. Thankfully, his shifts had been moved to the afternoon, so it didn’t mean much if Danny stayed up until three am for his roommate.

He strides by his piano, running his hand along the closed case of the keys without seeing it, for his gaze is locked on the city that glows under his window. It’s been nearly a month, and he’s still not used to the view of Gotham from this height. The penthouse towers over most of Gotham, and the city seems beautiful from up here. A Decorative lie of the danger that waited in the wake of anyone down on their luck.

This place was like a Siren. Beautiful and alluring until its claws and teeth dug into someone’s skin, dragging them to the darkest depths where no one could hear their screams. He prays that whatever Tim is involved doesn’t let Gotham swallow him whole.

 Danny’s fingers accidentally come upon cloth, making him snap his chin down to see what had been placed on the wood and blink at the side of Tim’s discarded sleeping long-sleeve shirt. His roommate peeled it off earlier tonight when he wanted to walk around in his shirt sleeve and flung it somewhere to take a quick nap before he left.

His fingers close around the fabric, slowly bringing it up to his face, breathing in Tim’s distinctive scent mixed with the soft lavender of his fabric softener. Danny hesitates for only a few seconds before taking off his sweater and slips on Tim’s long sleeve, allowing himself to find comfort in the familiar scent surrounding him.

He lets his sweater pool on the floor in the living room as he wanders to his room, crashing under his blankets and pressing the fabric of Tim’s clothes to his face. Eventually, he is lured to sleep, dreaming of playing in Gotham’s largest theater, hands flying over the keys at a skill level he does not possess. He moves with the music, uncaring that the seats are empty except for one.

That one belongs to Tim, who watches him perform with the same tenderness as his latte art inspired, but instead of a drink, Danny’s music causes that expression.

It’s the best dream he had in a long while.

As he dreams, he is unaware of the figure checking in on him, hanging from a grabbing hook near his window. The figure smiles when its white lens notices how Danny is curled up in a ball before it zips to the roof, their cap flaring behind them.

When they land, they reach up to link on their com "Red Robin reporting for duty. Where is Dr. Freeze's last known location? I want him caught tonight."

"Good night to you, too," Oracle responds. "Any particular reason we're in such a hurry for the capture of Dr. Freeze."

"He's making it hard for the hard-working people of Gotham to work," He huffs, knowing the rest of the bats will correctly link his complaint to his roommate.

There is a loaded pause before Red Hood grunts. "I got good news for you then. Dr. Freeze has spotted this very afternoon. Meet up at Heart Attack by Crime Alley to compare notes in an hour."

"I'm on my way."

[willowser]

my guilty pleasure trope is like. trash reality dating show au LOL

like you and bakugou on love island ??? HELLO ???? he is 100% the show-stopper that comes in as a twist at the very end, after everyone is already coupled up. thinking they're happy in their pair. ready to move forward and get to know one another. AND THEN BAM. bakugou katsuki. huge and tan and toned. probably a firefighter or something, been single for a long time because he finds it hard to put himself out there — and coming on live, national television was the perfect way to get himself out of his comfort zone LOL

let's say. you're coupled up with denki and you love it ! he's great and funny and charming and will make someone happy — but that someone is just not you. from the get-go, your relationship feels more friendly than anything, but he doesn't try to cop a feel on you in bed and he's a good snuggler and maybe you kiss him once, just to see how it feels, and that's not so bad either. but there are no sparks, no fireworks. you'd be content to even ride out the rest of the challenge in a couple, because he's comfortable, but that's not what either of you came on the show for.

after the first week, bakugou couples up with jirou. her sharp wit and dry humor draws him in enough (and he's always kind of liked that edgy look that she has) — but he very quickly realizes that she's really not that into him POOR GUY. bakugou really isn't her type; besides finding his attitude funny every now and again, they really don't have much in common. don't do much of the same things, share hobbies or interests, so it's a little bit of a bust.

i like to think you're just friends for a week or two. another guy comes in, two new girls come in, but nothing really changes for either of you. keeping your respective couples, just because no one else has really caught your interest — and it's not until a challenge has you kissing him square on the mouth that either of you start to take a second glance across the villa.

you watch him work out in the mornings, make a second cup of tea for when he's done. somehow, you both always end up in the same section, leaning back in the lawn chairs or sitting side-by-side on the beanbags as you chat about how the challenge has been going so far for either of you.

the part of this trope that is so funny to me is that — bakugou really is not the kind of guy that should be on this show LOL he's hard to approach and intimidating and if you don't understand his attitude, then you won't like him. and what little game he has isn't played like this: approaching someone in front of everyone else, nabbing you from your couple, having to put himself out there so that he doesn't get sent home. all while on live television.

but — it's not until you admit, casually one day, that you and denki are just friends that he decides to do anything about it. the two of you have gotten along so well in your couple that bakugou didn't think he stood a chance but after talking to you, he's awkwardly telling kaminari in the kitchen, alone, that he's planning on pursuing you. and denki thinks that's great ! thinks you deserve it !

the week continues on much the same: you and bakugou chat here and there, eat breakfast together away from everyone else, he makes you laugh and you make him smile his crooked little smile at the floor, embarrassed, as he tucks his face and pulls his hat further over his eyes. it's cute and you're having fun with him, but the recoupling is surprising, still.

when he has to stand up there, in front of everyone, red-faced, and grit out that you've caught his eye, that he's enjoyed his time with you, that he'd like to get to know you better — and you're floored. ecstatic, but floored. because he is certainly intimidating, and regardless of the fact that you were with kaminari for so long, you might not have ever approached bakugou, because he's just. so huge and handsome and striking.

and then you're settling in for the night, crawling in to your shared bed for this first time. and he's not like denki, not a cuddler, but you still make a point to wiggle around to him, wait until the lights are off and even breathing sounds throughout the room — and then you tell him, quietly, grinning in the dark:

"i'm really glad you picked me."

you feel bakugou sigh, a bit heavy, and you wonder if you're going in to strong — but then his hand skates over your arm, rests carefully against your hip, and he murmurs, "'m really glad, too."

i wrote this a lil bit ago and have since been made aware of luna's love island bkg !! 🥺 it's so detailed !! there's a whole show for the two of them !!

[back2bluesidex]

Novice - JJK (18+)

Pairing: Pornstar!Jungkook X Fem!Reader

Theme: PWP (porn with tiny plot), SMUT, pornstar au

Wordcount: 3k

Summary: The need of some extra money lands you on a weird job. But you are not complaining, not when you get to fuck Jeon Jungkook.

Warnings: Explicit sex, porn movie shooting, mentions of pros**tution, Jungkook is a smooth flirt, reader is nervous and shy, inexperienced reader, a little bit of flirting, missionary position, unprotected sex. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

Read the sequel: We Need Practice

Honestly, you have no idea what you are doing here. 

You have been zoning out for the past ten minutes. 

Keeping your focus trained on what’s waiting for you ahead is a little tough. Especially when it’s 2 degree celsius outside and you are wearing nothing but a thin camisole and flimsy underwear. 

Even though the heater is in full blast, you require to have some clothes on your body to enjoy whatever warmth it has been offering. 

You question your sanity once again. Are you really doing this? You out of all people? You - the goodie two shoes? 

Yeah, the situation has been like that lately. 

You are in need of some extra money because some fucker voiced-phised you and you, being dumber than ever, gave them your company card number and pin. Now you owe 200 million won to your company and you don’t even have 10% of the amount to do anything about it. 

Right at that time, one of your friends knocked on your door asking for a favor. 

“Please, Y/N! You are perfect for the role!” she pleaded. 

“What are you even saying? I don’t even have any experience-” 

“That’s exactly what we want - a novice.” 

And you landed on the deal or role or whatever the fuck it is, in an exchange of 250 million won. By the way, did I mention that they have paid you 50% of the amount already?  

It’s good money and a one-time opportunity. All you need to do is to get fucked on camera, get the pay and avoid showing your face around this place anymore. 

As simple as that.

Or as simple as you thought. 

But now that you are already at the set and ready to feature in a porn movie.. You are rather nervous. 

Even though they assured you and added the “blurred-face” term to your contract, it’s nerve-wracking and for multiple reasons. 

First, you have almost zero experience of sex. And must I mention that you never had an orgasm in your entire life? 

Second, the concept of the film is complicated. There is only one male lead but three female leads (including you). But it’s not poly. The guy plays the role of a male prostitute, who pleasures three different women with three different stages of experience. The first woman is a pro, second one is amateur and third one, you, is a novice. 

The first shoot was almost over when you arrived at the set and the cast went to prepare for the second shoot. Hence, you haven’t gotten to see the guy you would be having sex with. 

And it’s unsettling. 

You only heard his name but couldn’t muster up the courage to search him up. What if you don’t like his face and back off? You will have to repay the 50% of the advance along with a 5% of contract violation fee. And you certainly can’t afford to do that now. 

So you held on, arrived at the studio as per instructions, got your clothes and hair done and now you are waiting for them to call you outside. 

“Ms. Y/N?” A voice calls you from the door and breaks your reverie. “Let’s go” the staff smiles. 

You stand up and follow her outside the green room. 

As you approach the main shooting set all you hear is, well, moans and groans. And those get louder and louder with each passing second. 

“Sit here.” the staff says. “You can observe what they are doing and prepare yourself in the meantime. We’ll brief you on the scenes once they are done.” she places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. 

Too bad, ‘cause you are anything but reassured now. 

“So this is how you like to be fucked? Like the bitch that you are? You slut!” the groan of the man invades each of your senses and you are shocked to say the least. 

Is this how you are going to be treated here? You think to yourself. A shiver runs down your body when the sound of a sharp slap echoes inside the almost calm studio. Then another, then another. But the woman seems to enjoy it all. Her moans and whines keep getting louder. 

You find your throat closing up with fear. Will you be able to enjoy it too? Or will you fuck things up?  

You suddenly feel hot and sticky right between your legs. What the fuck? Are you really getting wet? Just with the sounds? 

Squeezing your eyes shut you try to think of all the things you can do with the extra 50 million won. 

“Great work, guys!” a loud cheer and sound of applause halt your activities. You open your eyes to measure the surroundings. 

First you see the female lead coming out of the set with a cloth wrapped all around herself. She disappears with her assistant within seconds, even before you could see her face. 

Then the man walks out, wearing almost nothing. 

A towel is wrapped loosely around his torso and his bare body is on full view for you to enjoy. 

You gulp. 

The man is chugging down water as if he has been wandering in deserts for years. Your eyes fall on his Adam's apple at first, then on his glistening collarbones, his built chest, his toned abs, small waist and then on his torso. 

Your anticipation makes you gulp again. 

When you finally manage to drag your eyes up, you see him already staring and smirking at you. 

And fuck! You choke on your own spit because you have never seen a more handsome man in your life. 

Initially you thought Jeon Jungkook would be a pervert-looking middle aged ajussi but this guy looks like he is your age. 

Your friends would actually pay to get fucked by a guy this hot. But you are getting it all for free? Must’ve saved your country in past life or something. 

When Jungkook winks at you, you realize you have been staring at him for too long. And now you feel embarrassed. 

Lord! What have you been doing! 

“That’s it. I hope you have understood, Ms. Y/N?” The director peeks at you expectantly. 

“I guess.. So.” You reply with a lot of doubts still playing in your mind. 

“There is nothing to be nervous of,Y/N. We are not gonna send this movie to the Oscars, so you don’t have to think too much about your acting. Just do the bare minimum. Do what you are told. Jungkook will take care of the rest.”  He gives you a kind smile. 

You nod, reminding yourself that you need money and this is the only way. 

“You guys will blur my face right?” you ask him with a low voice. 

“We will. You can sue us if we don’t.” he chuckles. 

You feel your nervousness and fears subsiding a bit… only to reach the peak in seconds. 

“Hyung, are we good to go?” Jungkook appears from one of the green rooms, wearing his casual outfit - a white t-shirt with loose jeans. 

He smiles down at you and you struggle to return his courtesy. 

“Yeah, we are almost done here. Take care of Ms. Y/N, Jeon. She is very nervous.” the director gestures Jungkook to sit beside you. 

Jungkook sits down with a respectable distance between you two and takes a tentative look at you before saying, “hyung, we have some time before the shoot starts right?” 

The director nods a yes. 

“Then.. let me talk to Y/N for a bit.” 

“Yeah sure, go ahead.” 

And they leave you alone with your co-star. 

“Hey.” Jungkook says sweetly once you are alone in the makeshift secluded space. 

“Hi.” you reply with a quiet trembling of a voice.

Jungkook chuckles at that. 

“Cute.” you hear him murmuring under his breath. 

“This is your first time, I guess?” He asks. 

“Yeah and the last time as well.” you reply urgently, avoiding meeting his eyes as much as possible. 

His eyes widen at your response, “why so?” 

“I just need some extra money. So you know.. It’s a one time thing for me.” 

“Oh..” Jungkook breathes out and then says, “then I will make sure it’s something you remember your entire life. I know you don’t have much experience but I won’t push you to do something crazy. I will be gentle, don’t worry. Just leave yourself up to me, relax and enjoy.” with that he rests one of his hands on top of yours and gives you a sickeningly sweet smile. 

Now you don’t know how you are supposed to stay calm when your co-star’s mere presence is this nerve-wrecking. 

“Okay. Cut” the director screams as you and Jungkook complete shooting the non-sexual scenes. 

“You are pretty good, you know?” Jungkook slides beside you as you stand there preparing yourself for the big thing ahead. 

“Ah. thanks. You are very impressive as well. I mean three times in a row is no joke. Aren’t you tired?” you reply, finally staring into his eyes. 

Jungkook’s big doe, beautiful eyes almost defy the fact that he is in this business. Almost because once your eyes move lower on his body, you’ll have to admit that this is certainly his place to shine. 

“I have a record of six times in a day, sweetie.” he smirks at you while winking at the same time. Your stomach flips involuntarily. 

“Jungkook, Y/N, are you ready?” The director screams from his seat. 

Jungkook raises his thumb to affirm him and then he looks back at you. 

“As I said Y/N, don’t be nervous. I will take good care of you, okay?” Jungkook holds your hand again. 

His sincere tone really melts your heart. 

You nod, “okay.”

You don’t know how things will turn around but you are determined to enjoy it. You will not be seeing Jungkook anymore, anyway. So, why not take the advantage? 

“Action!” the director screams. 

When you look at Jungkook again, his doe eyes have turned dark. 

From now on, you don’t have any dialogue. It’s only Jungkook who will do the talking, you will have to say yes or no as a response. 

“So, you want me to fuck your virgin cunt because you are a bad bad girl. Is that right?” Jungkook speaks in a sultry low voice. 

Your head starts spinning. 

“Yes.” you reply. 

He takes a step towards you as you take a step back. 

“Oh. you got a voice I see.” Jungkook steps towards you again. 

You know he is just acting but you can’t help but feel a burning sensation in your stomach. When you take another step back, your thighs come in contact with the bed. 

He pushes on your shoulder gently, making you sit down. 

“Then.. let me take care of you.” Jungkook says while sinking down on his knees. 

He takes one of your feet in his hand and kisses on top of it. When his mouth wraps around your big toe, your breath hitches. 

Were your feet always this sensitive? 

He sucks on your big toe briefly, making it tough for you to breathe normally. 

“Do you like it?” he asks, looking up at you, lips still close to your foot. 

“Yes.” you mutter.

“Good girl.”

Jungkook places a kiss on your ankle next, then on your knee. His other hand kneads on your other thigh gently. 

His mouth reaches to your inner thigh and hovers above your skin for a brief second.  Then he kisses down, pulling out a moan from your throat. 

“Lay down for me.” he requests and you oblige. 

Jungkook’s fingers hook on the waistband of your panty and he slowly pulls that down revealing your glossy slit to not only him but to the entire crew. 

But surprisingly you are not self conscious. Jungkook has somehow made it feel like it’s only about the two of you. And you like it that way. 

“So pretty” he whispers, as if talking to your cunt. 

His actions make you leak even more. You suck in a deep breath when you see him, lowering his face down to your pussy. 

He places a soft kiss on your folds at first and then licks a stripe along it. 

Latching his lips around your clit, he sucks on it. You lose your senses with that. Some incoherent words fly out of your mouth but you know you are not really making sense to anyone, not even yourself. 

He keeps performing his ministrations, licking, sucking and occasionally biting down on your clit. 

This is the very first time someone has their mouth on your cunt and you never thought it would feel this good. 

“Umm.. you taste so good, sweetie.” Jungkook mumbles on your clit. 

His tongue probes into your entrance, lapping up all the juices that you leak. 

You grab the sheets to find something to distract the overpowering pleasure that Jungkook has been providing you with. 

Your knees buckle, caging Jungkook between your legs. 

Soon you feel something akin to a finger pressing down on your clit, then drawing slow circles around it, and then the circles are fast.

Your eyes roll back and your throat produces some sounds you never knew you could make. 

“Fuck! So tight. I have never fucked a pussy tighter than this” Jungkook groans and it vibrates your folds. 

When he pokes into your entrance again, while circling your clit, you find something coiling in your lower abdomen. Something so strong that you can’t contain it anymore. 

And you have it. The very first orgasm of your life. 

Your juices drain Jungkook’s mouth and chin. 

“Fuck, sweetie!” Jungkook stands up, “look what have you done?” he says while climbing on the bed. 

He grabs your camisole and tears it in an instant. 

Even though you are in your post-oragsm glory, it shocks you regardless. You hear mumbles coming outside the set but then the director seems to say something that shuts everyone up. 

As soon as your tits are on display, Jungkook grabs both of those with both of his hands. 

He kneads the muscles while his mouth latches to your neck. 

There is so much happening at the same time that you don’t know what to focus on.

Jungkook’s kisses drop down to your collarbone, bruising your skin and then to your tits. He wraps his pretty lips around your perked nipples, suckling those as if his life depends on it. 

Your moans know no bounds. And you already feel heat building up in your stomach again. 

You leave the sheets and grab Jungkook's hair instead. He groans in pleasure. 

“You are driving me fucking crazy, sweetie!” Jungkook manages to say, “do you think you can take my cock now?” 

“Yes.” you say desperately. 

You are actually very desperate to have him inside you already. 

Jungkook climbs down the bed and starts stripping. You stare at him as if he is the best mountain view in the world. 

Your eyes widen upon seeing his cock and your first thought is if it will fit or not. 

“Don’t worry. I will make it fit.” Jungkook replies as if reading your mind. 

He then comes closer to you and lines his cock on your entrance. Putting his lips on yours he pushes his length in. 

A loud earth-shattering moan comes out of your mouth, which Jungkook swallows immediately. 

He grabs one of your thighs and wraps your leg around his torso, your other leg follows the suit. He takes the chance to accommodate his cock inside your hole comfortably. And once he is sure you have adjusted, he starts moving. 

At first he is slow but then he starts picking up his pace. 

“Does it hurt?” Jungkook mumbles in your mouth, not ceasing to kiss you all while. 

“No. It feels good.” you spill the truth. 

Jungkook groans at your response, emptying you for a second only to thrust his full length inside you harshly.  

You whine.

He pins your wrists above your head and stares at you while fucking you dumb. His eyes are so dark that they demand you to keep staring back at them. 

The skin slapping sound makes your head spin and the coil in your stomach starts getting loose. 

“I-I am cum-” and before you could finish your sentence, you cum. 

It Triggers Jungkook’s own orgasm. He pulls out your cock from your hole, pumps it twice and then spills his cum all over your body. 

And all you could do is to stare at him dumbly with your mouth ajar. 

“That was so unlike you, Jungkook.” you hear the director talking to your co-star. 

Even though you don’t want to eavesdrop, you want to know what was not like him. 

“I know, hyung. For the first time ever in my career I lost control.” he sighs “Y/N was… something else.” 

Your face grows hot with the complement. But you know you are not going to see him again so it’s better not to think too much about it. 

You grab your bag and head towards the exit, stopping to greet everyone on your way out. 

“Hey” you greet him with a small voice. 

Jungkook gives you a big toothy grin in return. 

“Are you leaving already?” he asks, staring at your bag.

“Yes. I- um. Thanks, Jungkook. I really enjoyed it.” You tell him sincerely. 

“My pleasure, Y/N. And honestly, I think I enjoyed you a little too much as well.” he replies scratching the back of his neck. The tips of his ears turn pink. 

You giggle. 

“That’s great. So… yeah. That’s it. I will take my leave now. Bye” waving your hands, you turn your heels to leave. 

“Y/N?” but his voice stops you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Maybe if you don’t mind… Can we exchange numbers?”  

“Umm.. maybe we can do that.” 

Maybe this deal has more than just money to offer. 

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie

[fanaticsnail]

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward. 

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines. 

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket? 

Because he was a good boy. 

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need. 

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper. 

Well, his exploits at least. 

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him. 

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed. 

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most. 

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.” 

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips. 

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved. 

And you said it. 

You finally said it today. 

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind. 

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand. 

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you. 

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find. 

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own. 

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words. 

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either. 

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence. 

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound. 

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return. 

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?” 

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet. 

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for. 

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step. 

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him. 

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude. 

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words. 

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips. 

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips. 

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't. 

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture. 

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles. 

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor. 

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.  

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart. 

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment. 

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime. 

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe. 

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted. 

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles. 

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into. 

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye. 

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface. 

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention. 

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words. 

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders. 

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office. 

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.” 

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone. 

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor. 

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you. 

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess. 

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming. 

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat. 

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more. 

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence. 

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment. 

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze. 

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading. 

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves. 

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile. 

“Good boy.”

[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 2)

You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes: mentions of sex, sex toys, and some ~self-pleasure~

A/N: hiii guys!!! I honestly cannot get over the love for part 1. That was probably one of my favorite things I’ve written since I’ve been here on tumblr, and I’m so glad you guys shared the love 💜😚

I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint!!

Here we go!!

~

“You shoulda seen the way she was blushing! I’ve never seen her act that way!” KK roars to the rest of UConn’s women’s basketball team, the girls leaning forward in extreme interest as KK recounts how Paige had turned into a bumbling mess in your presence the day prior. 

“God, KK, shut up. I did not,” Paige whines, her face growing warm with humiliation. 

“There she goes again,” Jana teases, and the girls erupt into another round of laughter. 

“Y’all suck,” Paige pouts, walking off the basketball court and heading towards the locker room for a much needed reprieve. 

The taunting had yet to stop since she had stepped foot in the sex shop a week prior. KK and Ice had hunted down valuable information that a certain someone had worked there, and they had forced Paige to come inside, knowing you were standing behind the counter.

Paiges’ thoughts drift back to that day, as they had nearly a million times the past week, and she muses over the way your hair had flowed over your shoulders and your lips glistened pink.

Her crush on you was unwavering, the same way the ocean waves continuously kissed the shoreline. 

And despite what nearly everyone had perceived about Paige Bueckers, she was absolutely terrified when it came to expressing her feelings. Especially about you. So she bottled them up, settling for watching you from afar with a hope that maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you.

That was until her teammates had made the decision to do so for her. 

She really couldn't be all that mad at them.

Her crush on you had started three years ago. The two of you had shared a fondness for studying in the same area of the library, where it was quiet and away from the loudness of your respective roommates. Paige’s grades had always been good, but the daily motivation of seeing you, tongue occasionally peaking out in concentration and your body nestled in large, comfy-looking sweatshirts had Paige securing her place on the Dean’s List semester after semester. 

And with everything Paige did, she completely lacked subtlety when it came to you, and it only took a few longing glances in your direction for Ice and KK to connect the dots. 

~

“Oh, c’mon you can’t be mad at me,” KK whines, running into the locker room after Paige. 

Paige rolls her eyes. “Well, you ain’t gotta put me on blast.” She sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.

“You’re being way too dramatic. She offered to show you how to use the damn toy,” KK stresses, and Paige’s face goes pink again.

“Soo,” she drags out the word with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Just take her up on the offer and boom you can have sex and then live happily ever after!” 

Paige’s eyes widen as KK, in the midst of her rambling, doesn’t see Coach Geno walk in behind her. 

Based on the look on his face, he had definitely heard KK, and he clears his throat, causing KK to whip around, her hand flying over her mouth as she pieces the situation together.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath, sending a weak smile over to Geno, who just waves her away, a disgusted grimace on his face.

But as Geno rambles on about how the practice went, Paige’s thoughts drift back to the way you suggested to help her. 

Would you really want to? Paige was navigating something completely new, and it was stressing her the fuck out.

If only there was a way to get rid of the pent up anxiety.

~

On the other side of campus, you were having a similar dilemma. You had been trying to work out what had come over you yesterday when you had boldly and uncharacteristically offered to teach Paige Bueckers how to use a vibrator.

The interaction plays in your mind for the millionth time, and you slap a palm across your forehead in frustration.

“I am so fucking stupid,” you groan, catching the attention of your roommate who was working on a paper at the seat across from you at your most favorite spot in the library.

“What’d you do now?” She asks, and you divulge her in yesterday's interaction with Paige, and her eyes widen.

“Dude, you have been drooling over her for the past three years, and you’re telling me you’re not going to wife her up?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“I think she was just being polite,” you sigh. “We exchanged numbers, but I’ve been too scared to do anything.”

Charlotte shakes her head in mock derision, “I raised you better than that.”

You sit there a moment, contemplating. 

“Fuck. Okay, I’m gonna do it.” 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up Paige’s contact information, your fingers shaking slightly as they ghost over the keypad. 

“Hi, still need some help? If not, no big deal. Just thought I couldn’t leave a pretty girl stranded,” you read out to Charlotte as you compose the text, and she claps loudly in approval.

“God I hope she doesn't think I'm some sort of sex addict,” you moan, looking at the delivered sign under the text. 

~

Back in the locker room, Paige nearly chokes on a swig of water as your text appears on her screen. Aubrey, who is sitting next to her, slaps her on the back a few times, before leaning over to take a good look at what was causing the reaction.

Aubrey hoots loudly as she reads the text and promptly snatches Paige’s phone out of her hands to show it to KK, who had proudly deemed herself the captain of yours and Paige’s ship.

“FINALLY!” KK yells, fist pumping the air with great enthusiasm, and the whole locker room erupts into laughter again. 

Paige rereads the text. And then again. Your words were flirty and sure, just as they had been yesterday, and Paige is once again reduced to a blushing, simpering mess. 

She looks around the room, eyes wide and a shy grin on her face. “What do I say?” And the girls erupt again.

“Tell her you wanna fu—” KK starts eagerly before Azzi, who was sitting next to the younger girl, covers her mouth with a sharp look on her face. KK moves Azzi’s hand away, pouting and muttering to herself about how she’s “just tryna help Paige get some pussy.”

With pink cheeks and a pounding heart, Paige composes a reply, hiding her phone from the curious eyes of her teammates, hoping it seemed way more confident than she felt. You had a strange effect on her, reducing her assured ways into a bumbling mess, teetering on the edge of falling into madness.

And it was just the beginning. 

After all, you had yet to even touch her. 

~

That night you stand in front of Paige’s door with a pounding heart, determined to keep up the facade you had attached to your being, and as she appears on the other side, it is cemented. 

There was just something about seeing a bashful Paige Bueckers that makes your confidence soar, and you send her a cheeky smile, reveling in her mannerisms.

Paige leads you into her bedroom, and you immediately spot the purple vibrator laying atop of the comforter. 

You break the ice. “So what’s stopping you from finishing?” You ask, looking her in the eyes.

An embarrassed chuckle leaves those pink lips, and she rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “I guess I just keep gettin’ distracted,” she mumbles, and you nod in understanding.

“I like to think about someone,” you say boldly and pointedly. “If you close your eyes and immerse yourself into a fantasy, it’s almost like they’re there with you.” 

You watch as she takes a deep breath, like she’s mentally preparing for what she says next.

“Can I try again? And you can walk me through it?” 

The air leaves your lungs, surprised by her suggestion, and you agree before any other thought could cross your mind. 

The situation was something out of a filthy romance book, and as Paige undresses down to her boxers and her sports bra, you thank every star you had wished on the last three years for letting this happen. 

Paige settles onto her pillows, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, and with shaky hands, grabs the vibrator.

“P,” you say softly, and her eyes fly back open, meeting yours. “Use your hands first. Tease yourself, and let the arousal build up,” you suggest kindly, and she nods, putting the toy back down.

She runs her hands across her toned stomach, causing your own to lurch with want. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillows, and her bottom lip was red and plump from biting it, and despite just getting started, she looked completely fucked out. 

You secretly hope the image never leaves your memory.

Paige continues to tease herself, her fingers delicately dancing across the fabric of her boxers, and a quiet moan leaves her mouth. Her eyes are still closed in concentration, and you wished you could peer into her thoughts, hoping you were the object of her most intimate fantasies. 

And as if she could read your thoughts, your name leaves her mouth in a broken whimper that has you wanting to jump her bones and connect that sinful mouth with yours.

She’s panting now. Her eyes open, those crystal clear baby blues pleading for more. The unspoken words spoken between the two of you bridged a formidable bond, and you know at that point that this would lead to a whole lot more than offering friendly tips on masterbation. 

“Need more,” she whispers, her lithe body squirming on the bed hinting at her growing arousal. 

“Okay, baby, now take the vibrator and start at your tits and run it down your stomach,” you instruct, your voice nearly trembling. 

The quiet buzz fills the room before it’s cut with Paige’s whimpers as she runs the toy over her now exposed breasts. The pointed, pink peaks of her nipples make your own strain against the lace of your bra, and you shift uncomfortably in the gaming chair you are sitting in. 

The toy gets dragged over her belly, going lower and lower until it grazes the waistband of her underwear, and with a frustrated sigh, she lifts her butt to rip off the offending fabric. 

And now she was laid out bare in front of you, occasionally peeking at you, making sure you were still watching. 

You could not look away, and your body subconsciously leans forward toward the blonde girl. 

She places the buzzing toy on her clit, her back arching off the bed in response, moaning in pleasure. Her hips jump, grinding against the vibrator, desperately seeking an orgasm that had been denied from her several times over the past week. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” you whisper, enthralled with the display in front of you, and Paige opens her eyes once more at your praise, sending you a needy look and a pout. 

“Keep going,” you encourage, and she adjusts the vibration, a higher pitched buzz ringing through the small room. 

Paige’s skin glows with a subtle sheen of sweat and arousal that you want to meticulously lick, and her whimpers grow louder as she squirms, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” she groans, and you bite your lip, her noises effecting every fiber of your being. 

And with a loud moan, your name leaves her mouth, along with a long string of expletives, as her back arches off the comforter again. Her chest heaves as the orgasm rips through her, and her eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure.

Your gaze rakes over her, taking in the gorgeous woman laid out before you, watching as she slowly comes down from the high. 

“Oh my god,” Paige breathes heavily, suddenly feeling exposed and shy again. 

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, your own cheeks flushed with arousal, and Paige’s eyes trail to your peaked nipples straining against the fabric of your shirt. 

“I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. And that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I have ever had,” she responds, putting her underwear back on, much to your displeasure. 

“Thank you,” she adds shyly.

You shrug, moving to sit next to her on the bed, you run your hand across the flesh of her thigh, goosebumps erupting in its wake.

And before you can even make your own move, Paige connects your lips in an impassioned kiss that adds fuel to the fire that was raging in your core. The kiss was messy with unrestrained want and need, swapping unsaid words that had been brewing in both of your heads over the last three years.

The two of you had unknowingly fallen in love with the thought of each other, and now, here you were, falling right into each other. 

And it wasn’t going to stop there. 

~

The next afternoon, you are back at work, your mind continuously going back to the delicious display of Paige’s naked body. You had been on the edge all day, dying to get home to rub one out. Or four, if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Sitting in the back room in front of the fan, desperately needing a cool off, you hear the familiar jingle of the bell on the front door, alerting you that someone had entered the shop. You take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. 

It was hard to be cordial when you were surrounded by sex toys.

You walk out of the back room, your eyes immediately trained on Paige who was now standing at the front counter with a huge smirk on her face. 

Blushing you walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers, the taste of her mouth sending your body up in flames once more.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask breathily.

Paige gestures towards the package she had set on the counter with a wide smile. “Figured I’d add to the collection. Wanted to buy something for your pleasure,” she adds casually.

Your belly lurches as your eyes land on the strap on, a deep purple and six inches of thick rubber.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, feeling yourself drip with excitement at the thought.

“Oh, I plan to,” Paige grins, and she pulls you in for another kiss.

Things were just getting started.

~

This was a blast to write!! Also I am obsessed with shy, blushy Paige

xoxo katy

~

You can now read part 3 here

[fuckyeahisawthat]

What is Mage Viktor doing?

So it turns out I do have a take on what's going on with Mage Viktor, why he's messing with timelines in the way he is, and what he hoped to achieve by bringing Jayce to the torment nexus dimension and then sending him back to his own timeline armed with facial hair, trauma, and the ruthless determination to somehow stop his own Viktor.

Of course this is just my own reading; there are many ways you can interpret the reveals of the final episode. But it's become my preferred reading because it makes Mage Viktor come off as absolutely BATSHIT. The apotheosis of all Viktor's best and worst qualities. As he would be.

First we gotta lay out some fundamental principles about how I understand Viktor that will inform this reading.

Viktor was never being controlled by the Hexcore. This deserves its own whole meta, but tl;dr, I think it is directly antithetical to the core themes of the show to think that Viktor wasn't making his own decisions all through s2.

Over and over again in Arcane, we see characters become "monsters" and do monstrous things, and every time the thematic point is that this is still the person you love. When Vi says that her sister is dead because she is Jinx now and when Jayce says "my partner died in this room" THEY ARE BOTH WRONG. The person they love is different now but they're still in there and they can still be reached.

Viktor is transformed by something terrible happening to him (like many characters in the show!) but all his decisions are still his own and to me they seem like perfectly consistent--if extreme--extensions of what we know about him as a character before he gets a Hexcore heart.

So my analysis starts with the premise that Mage Viktor is not trying to free his past self from an outside influence. He's trying to hack his own character traits to make a different version of himself do what he wants.

Viktor is BOTH genuinely altruistic and compassionate AND deeply arrogant. This is such a banger combination and I think turning down the dial on either trait makes Viktor less interesting. I think Mage Viktor has genuine remorse about what he did in his timeline and he is, fundamentally, trying to find a way he could have stopped himself from killing everyone (within certain constraints; we'll get to that). When Jayce is able to show main timeline Herald Viktor his memories of what Viktor is about to do to their world, the first thing Viktor sees is not dead Jayce, or himself left alone in an empty world. It's all the ordinary people who are going to die terrified because of him.

I do not think any version of Viktor wanted this result. But Viktor is so convinced he is always right that his arrogance carries him right past the point of no return before he realizes oh actually I haven't freed everybody I have killed them.

So I do think Mage Viktor is trying to find a timeline where this doesn't happen, but he is not timeline-hopping in order to preemptively stop other versions of himself from making the same mistake. If he wanted to do that, he would just leave all the many many timelines where Jayce dies in a blizzard as a child alone. No Jayce who grows up obsessed with magic, goes around Academy rules to get the hex crystals, invents Hextech and gives Viktor the power to fuck everything up. Easy peasy.

But no. Instead, Viktor is actively going into other timelines and changing them at the point where Jayce would have died.

He is doing things that appear to make the sequence of events that leads to his world-ending magic blast WAY MORE LIKELY. And that's because...

Viktor is obsessively selfish when it comes to Jayce.

Mage Viktor wants to find a timeline where he doesn't doom the world but not at the expense of meeting Jayce and spending years doing science with him.

If the goal was only to prevent Jayce from dying in the blizzard, he could have done it quietly, waiting for Jayce to collapse in the snow and then transporting him to the base of the mountain, leaving before Jayce had any idea who saved him. Instead he makes SUCH A DRAMATIC PRODUCTION of it that Jayce remembers and can repeat the steps of the action years later, well enough that he actually produces a working spell from a barely-tested Hextech prototype. Mage Viktor wants that shit burned into baby Jayce's brain. He wants to make sure he fundamentally alters the arc of Jayce's life, bending it into a trajectory that collides with his own.

Viktor also (as far as we see) doesn't go the route of going back in time and killing his younger self, or steering the course of his own life along a path where he never meets Jayce. He doesn't even go for a timeline where he and Jayce meet each other but they don't invent Hextech. Now maybe it's the case that some time before our Jayce arrives in his timeline, Mage Viktor tried all that, and has figured out that none of those options work. (Maybe in some of those timelines Jayce is the one who goes Machine Herald, and there's no partner there to talk him off the ledge of ending the world.) But I think it's also possible that, now that he's gotten the experience in one timeline of spending years with Jayce making once-in-a-generation scientific breakthroughs together (which I truly believe is just as important a part of their relationship to Viktor as any romantic or sexual element might be)...he can't bear to deny any version of himself the chance of having that--even if the price is the rest of the world. Because a world where Jayce isn't his partner isn't a world worth saving.

So what I think Mage Viktor is doing is sitting there with his stubborn engineer brain and the husk of his dead soulmate, fiddling with the timelines like a Rubik's cube, going Not meeting Jayce CANNOT be the only option. There MUST be a timeline where Jayce and I meet each other and entangle our lives in an alarmingly codependent way AND we dodge the apocalypse at the last minute, I don't end up killing him, and we do not doom the world together. And I'm going to fucking find it.

So he's been hitting timeline after timeline, trying to find the combination of factors where everything works. He is not trying to preemptively save every timeline from himself, he is trying to prove to himself that meeting the love of his life doesn't doom the entire fucking world. It's devotion that is SO PROFOUNDLY SELFISH that he is willing to doom timeline after timeline, but driven by someone with enough compassion and pride that he doesn't want the guilt and shame of knowing he can only have this one life-changing thing if he ruins everything else for everyone, and enough arrogance to still look at this as a problem he must be smart enough to solve.

At some point in this process, I think he also figures out that Jayce is the only person who has any chance of reasoning with any version of himself. I think it's worth paying attention to the exact wording of his "in all timelines, in all possibilities" speech, because it's not just a love confession (although it is that).

"I thought I could bring an end to the world's suffering. But when every equation was solved, all that remained were fields of dreamless solitude. There is no prize to perfection. Only an end to pursuit. In all timelines, in all possibilities, only you can show me this."

And while this is some hella romantic cosmic soulmate level shit, it is also Viktor saying I need you, because you are the only person I have ever trusted enough to save me from myself.

It's the Hexcore promise all over again. Viktor knew he couldn't destroy his own creation. I read this not as Viktor being physically unable to destroy it because the Hexcore had some power over him, but not having the will to destroy it. Because this huge leap in Hextech technology was his big breakthrough and not (as I think he saw it) him supporting Jayce's dream. He knew he couldn't do it. So he asked Jayce to do it for him. Please, save me from my own pride, my desire to leave a legacy. I can't do it on my own.

It's a huge extension of trust, for Viktor to admit such a need. And now he's doing it again when the stakes are MUCH MUCH higher. I need you, because you are the only person who can show me the horror of what I am about to do and have me believe it.

Of course, the deep irony is that really the only person Viktor trusts to tell him he is wrong is HIMSELF FROM THE FUTURE. Astral plane Machine Herald Viktor is standing right behind Jayce, watching Jayce's memory of Mage Viktor telling him what the consequences of his actions will be, and that is the moment the horror sinks in and cracks him fully out of his machine shell.

But of course Jayce is the only person he would ever trust enough to carry such a message (from himself!!) to somewhere close enough to reach him.

It's not clear exactly how much of a detailed plan Mage Viktor has when he sends Jayce back to the main timeline, or how much of that plan he shares with Jayce. But I think he has figured out some broad strokes which affect how Jayce behaves.

(1) Jayce has to immediately go and kill commune Viktor. Squishing Salo is maybe a bonus side quest, but Jayce doesn't even take time to fucking shower before he heads for the commune. (I would love to see the part of the conversation where Mage Viktor is like yeah you know that pit you just climbed out of? Yeah the first thing you gotta do is go right back in there, all the way to the bottom, and find me looking like ethereal cyborg Jesus and blast a fucking hole through my chest.) Maybe this is because if Jayce waits around at all, commune Viktor finds a way to get to him and he folds and joins the cult. Maybe this is because there are just fewer variables involved in forcing Viktor to speedrun his own villain arc by Jayce repeatedly turning him down in one "perfect" form after another. Maybe Mage Viktor knows himself well enough to realize "yeah if you say no to me even ONE TIME but ESPECIALLY when you are HOT and SUFFERING I will go fucking apeshit and we can use that to our advantage."

(2) I think Mage Viktor has realized that he can only be stopped at the very very VERY last minute. He has to be able to see the direct line between what he is about to do right now and the arcane-blasted hell world he's about to create. Otherwise his ego will get in the way and tell him he is smart enough to figure out a way to somehow not kill everybody. Yeah Mage Viktor fucked that one up obviously, but I, main timeline Viktor, will be smart enough and well-intentioned enough when the time comes to simply not do that. I think this is why, for example, Jayce doesn't go to the commune trying to get Viktor to see the error of his ways. It won't work until it is allllmost too late.

Main timeline Viktor stops literally seconds before the point of no return. The arcane corruption spikes that we see everywhere in Mage Viktor's world are already starting to appear.

I think Mage Viktor knows that Jayce has to let him get right up to the edge, close enough to be looking over into the abyss, before he'll be able to pull him back.

But he knows Jayce can do that. That's what they do for each other, right?

This is why I think it was always the plan for Jayce to fight him all the way to the top of the Hexgate, and then surrender. Jayce has to survive until the end of the fight, and maybe for magical physics reasons he has to wait until Viktor sends the anomaly into the sky above the Hexgate. But once they get to the top of the Hexgate tower he stops trying to fight Viktor altogether. Maybe Mage Viktor told him exactly when it had to happen or maybe he just realizes this is the exact same place where he died in Mage Viktor's world; this is his last chance. But in any case, Jayce lands on the top of the Hexgate on his knees and he doesn't try to get up.

He waits, and when he senses Viktor behind him he doesn't try to fight or run away.

I think he knows, either because Mage Viktor told him or through his own intuition, that he has to let Viktor pull him into the astral plane if he wants a chance at reaching him.

How exactly he was going to get through to him and/or get close enough to share the memories before Viktor assimilated him...ehhhh I don't know if either of them had that figured out. The "you were never broken" part of Jayce's speech, while important from a character perspective...very crucially DOES NOT WORK. IT DOES NOT WORK AT ALL. Viktor is assimilating Jayce the whole time. You can see Jayce's astral body changing from the unique version that's still him (like his hands on the left, when he first enters the astral plane--which still look more or less human even though Viktor has already erased "imperfections" like the scrapes and cuts from his time in the pit and the arcane corruption that's spreading up and down his arm from where the rune is embedded) into a featureless gold blob like the other assimilated people.

You can watch the gold light creeping up his body steadily during those lines until it reaches his eyes.

The ONLY thing that stops this timeline from ending the same way Mage Viktor's does...is EKKO.

I think you can make the case that Mage Viktor sent Ekko to the no-Hextech timeline intentionally. But it is such a complex chain of causality for Ekko to get to the point where he's chucking a time machine at Herald Viktor's face that there is no way anyone--even a remorseful demigod with lots of time on his hands--could control every possible factor.

However elaborate Mage Viktor's plan was, and however determined Jayce was to keep his promise to him, it all would have failed if not for factors outside their control and random fucking chance.

Arcane is FULL of near-misses and what-could-have-beens and characters who are trying their best to do something getting knocked off course by consequences they never could have foreseen. Season 2 in particular introduces a persistent thread of chaos and the sense that even events that have understandable root causes are now spiraling out of characters' control. So it feels fitting that such a moment factors into the show's ending.

This is Jayce right before Ekko blasts through spacetime right above Viktor's head.

Yeah that guy was cooked.

The only thing that stops Jayce from being assimilated is Ekko breaking time to throw the Z drive at Viktor's face.

Which startles Viktor enough that he takes his hand off Jayce's head in the physical realm, and also breaks a piece of his machine mask off in the astral realm.

As he always does when one of his "perfect" bodies gets damaged, Viktor withdraws and tried to hide, enough that he lets go of the assimilation connection with Jayce.

Jayce starts to regain his own identity/autonomy.

And he gets a do-over. Exactly the same way Ekko used the Z drive to get a do-over with Jinx when he was trying to talk her out of suicide. Jayce gets another chance, and that's when he goes for "all I want is my partner back" and "because I promised you." Which works.

Mage Viktor's plan, I think, was for Jayce to help main timeline Viktor realize what he was doing before it was too late, and then give him the runestone, which allows him to release all the minds/souls that are connected to him before this becomes some runaway chain reaction of arcane power that swallows everything around him. (How the runestone does this exactly, and how the anomalies play into it, is stuff I am still thinking about. But tbh I am less concerned with the details of made-up magic physics than I am with the character beats.) Mage Viktor had accepted that main timeline Viktor was probably going to die in this process and he'd made peace with it. That's what "should" have happened anyway, if Viktor never found a way to forestall his illness, right? As long as this Viktor got to spend the best years of his life with his Jayce, it was okay.

I don't think Mage Viktor ever expected Jayce to stay there until the end. His goal was to save the world and spare Jayce from himself. And why would he plan otherwise? We know why Jayce stays, but Mage Viktor never got that part of the story. He schlorped up his own Jayce's consciousness with everyone else and maybe he only understood the depths of what Jayce felt for him in the moment that he was killing him. And main timeline Viktor certainly does not expect Jayce to stay. He's shocked when he realizes Jayce has no intention of leaving. No, that wasn't part of any master plan. That part was all Jayce.

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Triple Threat

Pairing: Reader x Azzi Fudd x Paige Bueckers

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Warning: Alcohol consumption, mild angst, poly themes

Summary: drunk would you rather…

I always knew an away win felt different, but this? This felt legendary. Our last away game of the regular season had just ended in a blowout win, and we were riding that high all the way back to Storrs. The locker room was chaos—music blasting, sweaty hugs, water bottles flying like champagne in a victory parade. Coach even cracked a smile, which was rarer than a missed Paige Bueckers jumper.

Azzi found me in the post-game mess, arms slipping around my waist as she grinned up at me. “You played insane tonight,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek. “Might be my favorite game of yours yet.”

“Just trying to keep up with my girl,” I teased, tugging on the collar of her jersey.

Azzi’s smile turned smug, but before she could get another word out, Ice Brady clapped me on the back so hard I almost stumbled. “Celebration tonight. No excuses.”

“Who’s making excuses?” I shot back.

A few hours later, freshly showered and changed, we were in one of our teammate’s apartments, music bumping, drinks flowing. The whole team was here, plus some extras—friends, roommates, even a couple guys from the men’s team.

And me? Well, I was well past tipsy.

Azzi was right there with me, laughing into her drink as we sat together on the couch, her legs draped over mine. She was warm, soft, familiar. I leaned into her touch, but my eyes kept darting across the room to where Paige was sitting, long legs stretched out, her own drink swirling in her hand as she smirked at something KK Arnold was saying.

It wasn’t new. This feeling.

I’d buried it for a while, tucked it behind the warmth I had with Azzi. But maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the way Paige’s eyes kept flicking to mine, holding for just a second too long before looking away, but suddenly, it felt impossible to ignore.

Somebody—probably Nika—yelled, “Would you rather!” and the room exploded in cheers.

Azzi perked up beside me, laughing as she turned toward the circle forming in the middle of the room. “We playing?”

I was already being dragged into it.

The questions started off tame. Would you rather give up basketball or social media? Would you rather have Coach make you run suicides for a month or give a speech at a press conference with no prep?

Then it got real.

“Would you rather,” Nika started, smirking as she locked eyes with me, “kiss Paige or Azzi?”

The room exploded.

Azzi stiffened beside me. Paige leaned forward, eyebrows raised in curiosity, like she wanted to know the answer just as bad as everyone else.

I tried to laugh it off, but the words slipped out before I could stop them. “Why not both?”

Silence.

Then, chaos.

Everyone was screaming, shouting, hyping up the mess I just created. Azzi’s grip on my thigh tightened, her eyes flicking to Paige’s, then back to me. Paige? She was just staring, lips parted like she couldn’t believe I actually said it.

“Damn, girl,” KK whistled. “Didn’t know you were greedy.”

“I—” My tongue felt thick in my mouth. “I didn’t mean—”

But I did mean it. And Azzi knew it.

She turned to look at me, really look, and I knew I was caught. The thing is, Azzi’s smart. She notices things before I even realize them myself. And right now? I knew she was piecing together every lingering glance, every slip of the tongue, every moment where Paige and I danced a little too close around each other.

She exhaled. “We need to talk.”

Paige straightened. “All of us.”

We ended up in Azzi’s room, sitting in a stiff, awkward triangle on her bed. I’d sobered up real quick.

“So,” Paige said slowly, voice careful. “You wanna explain?”

I ran a hand down my face. “I—shit. I wasn’t trying to make it a thing—”

“But it is a thing, isn’t it?” Azzi cut in, her voice quieter, steadier. “You’ve thought about it before.”

I swallowed. “Yeah.”

Azzi nodded, staring down at her hands. “And Paige?”

Paige sucked in a breath. “I mean—” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Yeah. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it, but I never—Azzi, I would never try to come between you two.”

Azzi bit her lip, thinking.

“You’re not mad?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “No. I’m just—processing.” She looked between us. “I love you. And I know you love me, but I also know that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for… other things.”

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. “Azzi, I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re not going to.”

Paige watched us carefully, hesitant. “Are we actually—talking about this? Like, for real?”

Azzi let out a small laugh, like she couldn’t believe it either. “I think we are.”

I looked between them, my chest tight. “I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

Paige shrugged. “Then don’t.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“But maybe it is,” Azzi said softly. “Maybe we just… try.”

Paige exhaled. “You sure about that?”

Azzi looked at me, eyes full of something deep and certain. “I love you,” she said. “I trust you. And I trust Paige, too.” She glanced at Paige, smiling slightly. “You think you can handle both of us?”

Paige’s lips curved. “I know I can.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Maybe this was crazy. Maybe this was something we’d crash and burn trying to figure out. But right now, sitting between the two people I cared about most, with the possibility of something new, something real—

I was willing to take the risk.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[00valentina-writes00]

Street racing reader x mechanic Ellie??

(I just got done binge watching the fast and thefurious movies)

Reader street races to make some extra cash on the side, Ellie works on the cars and also details them for other racers.

RAHAHHAHHHH IVE had this stuck in my head since you made the request five hours ago bby-

And I have delivered.

✞⛧ Racing Hearts ✞⛧

warnings: language, sexual tension, suggestive themes, reckless driving, bickering, teasing, angst, smut towards the end (as always)

Word count: 7.9k

The garage smells like oil, burnt rubber, and metal—sharp, heavy, and lingering in the back of your throat. The flickering fluorescent lights overhead cast a dim, yellowish glow on the concrete floor, stained with years of grease and engine spills. The space is cluttered but organized, the kind of chaos that only someone who knows exactly where everything is can navigate.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed, eyes scanning the place. Word on the street is that this mechanic—Ellie—knows her shit. Works fast, doesn't overcharge, and can squeeze power out of an engine like nobody else. You're skeptical. Too many mechanics see street racers as cash cows, overpricing labor and tacking on fees like you're some rich kid playing pretend. You're not. You race to make extra cash, to keep your car running, to survive.

A loud clang echoes from the far side of the garage. Then—

"Yo, if you're just gonna stand there looking pretty, at least make yourself useful and hand me that wrench."

The voice is rough, low, tinged with something lazy and self-assured. You turn toward it

Ellie Williams.

She's half under a lifted car, only her legs and torso visible, grease-smudged jeans hugging lean, wiry muscle. When she slides out, dragging a rag over her oil-streaked hands, you get your first real look at her.

Maybe 5'5", lean but strong, built like someone who doesn't just lift tools but knows how to throw a punch. Her forearms are defined, her hands rough, calloused from years of work. A faded band tee clings to her frame, the sleeves haphazardly rolled up, revealing a fern tattoo winding down her arm, the dark ink stark against tanned skin. A streak of oil smudges across her cheekbone, and a faint scar cuts through one of her eyebrows. Her green eyes are sharp, glinting with a mix of amusement and mild impatience.

You arch a brow. "I don't work here."

Ellie snorts, tossing the rag onto a nearby tool chest. "No shit. You've got 'racer' written all over you." She eyes your car, then you. "That why you're here? What, engine light came on and now you're freaking out?"

You grit your teeth. "I need a tune-up. You free?"

Ellie sighs like you just asked her to rebuild the whole damn car from scratch. She jerks her chin toward the hood. "Pop it."

You reach in, pull the latch, and step back as she moves in. The way she moves is confident, easy—like this is second nature. She leans over, hands braced against the frame, eyes scanning the engine like she's reading a book only she understands.

She whistles low. "Damn. You push this thing way too hard," she mutters, hands already working, brushing over wires, testing the tension on belts. "Might as well start digging your own grave."

You cross your arms. "I win races. Winning means pushing limits."

Ellie huffs a laugh, shaking her head as she reaches for a wrench. "Winning also means knowing when your car's about to shit the bed."

She gets to work, sleeves pushed up past her elbows, the muscles in her forearms flexing with each movement. You watch as she moves efficiently—checking, adjusting, tightening. There's a rhythm to it, like muscle memory. The music blasting from an old radio in the corner doesn't distract her. In fact, she taps her foot to it while she works, muttering under her breath every now and then.

"You talk to cars a lot?" you ask.

Ellie shrugs, not looking up. "Only the ones with owners dumb enough to burn through their engines."

You smirk. "You flirting with my car?"

Ellie pauses just long enough to glance at you, lips curling. "Jealous?"

You roll your eyes but don't fight the grin tugging at your mouth.

She works fast. Every adjustment is precise, every flick of her wrist practiced. She knows what she's doing, and for the first time in a long time, you don't feel like someone's trying to hustle you.

After a while, she straightens, wiping her hands on the rag. "You're all set. Try not to kill yourself out there."

You slide into the driver's seat, start the engine, and immediately notice the difference. The hum is smoother, the response sharper. She fine-tuned it perfectly. You glance up at her.

"How much?"

Ellie leans against the door, tapping her fingers against the frame. "Two hundred."

You scoff. "That's it?"

She shrugs. "Could've charged you more. Might, next time, if you keep acting like a dick."

You can't tell if she's serious, but there's something about the way she says it that makes you smirk. You pull out a couple of bills, hand them over, and she tucks them into her pocket without counting.

As you shift into gear, Ellie knocks her knuckles against the window. "Hey."

You pause.

"If you win, bring it back," she says, her voice casual but firm. "I wanna see what I'm working with."

You meet her gaze, searching for the catch. There isn't one. Just a mechanic who gives a shit, even if she pretends not to.

You nod once. "Yeah. Alright."

And with that, you pull out of the garage, the tune-up carrying you toward the starting line.

——-

The first time you come back to Ellie's garage after a race, she looks up from under the hood of an old Chevy, eyes narrowing like she's already regretting seeing your face again.

"You back so soon?" she says, wiping grease off her hands with a rag. "What'd you do this time, blow a gasket?"

You smirk, leaning against the doorway. "Nah. Just figured you'd miss me."

Ellie snorts. "Yeah, like a hole in the head." But she still jerks her chin toward your car. "Pop the hood. Might as well check if you haven't completely fucked it since last time."

That's how it starts. One visit turns into two, then three. You come back after every race, whether you need work done or not. Ellie complains, rolls her eyes, mutters about "needy racers," but she never actually tells you to leave. And despite her grumbling, she always takes a minute to check under the hood, wiping sweat off her forehead with the back of her wrist, leaving a faint streak of oil along her temple.

She's all rough hands and sharp edges, but there's something about the way she moves—focused, deliberate—that makes it hard to look away. The way the overhead lights catch on the sheen of sweat along her collarbone, the way her forearms flex when she tightens a bolt, the way she bites the inside of her cheek when she's concentrating.

"You gonna keep staring, or are you actually gonna help?" she mutters one night, not looking up from where she's bent over your engine.

You shrug. "Just making sure you know what you're doing."

Ellie scoffs, tossing a wrench at your chest—not hard, just enough to make a point. You catch it, grinning. "Real funny."

It becomes a routine.

The races run late, sometimes past midnight, and more often than not, you find yourself back at Ellie's shop, the neon sign buzzing faintly in the darkness. Some nights, you're actually there for repairs. Other nights, you just lean against the hood of your car, watching her work.

Ellie pretends to hate it.

"You got nothing better to do?" she grumbles one night, wiping sweat from her forehead with her forearm.

“Not really."

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head, but you don't miss the way her lips twitch like she's fighting a smirk.

Your presence is easy now—familiar, even. She doesn't ask why you keep coming back, and you don't explain. But sometimes, when she's bent under the hood, sleeves shoved up past her elbows, you catch the slight pink on her cheeks when she realizes you've been watching.

"Seriously," she mutters, throwing a look over her shoulder. "What's with you?"

You shrug. "You're kinda cute when you're pissed off."

Ellie scoffs, turning back to the car, but you see the way her ears turn red.

One night, you show up with takeout.

Ellie raises a brow as you set the bag on the workbench. "The hell is this?"

"Food," you say. "Mechanics gotta eat, too."

Ellie hesitates, like she doesn't know what to do with the gesture. She's used to grease, to engine parts, to long hours with nothing but black coffee and maybe a gas station snack if she remembers. She's not used to people taking care of her.

Still, she grabs the bag, peeking inside. She mutters a quiet, almost reluctant, "Thanks," before digging in, perching on the edge of the workbench, one boot resting against the stool beneath her.

You sit across from her, eating in comfortable silence. The radio hums low in the background, some old rock song, and for a moment, the night doesn't feel so heavy.

After that, you bring food more often. Sometimes it's just coffee. Sometimes it's a burger or something she can eat with one hand while working. She never asks for it, but she never turns it down, either.

Another night, she leans against the counter, sipping the drink you brought her, eyes flicking over to you. "You keep doing this, people are gonna start thinking you like me."

You tilt your head, grinning. "Yeah? And what would you think?"

Ellie rolls her eyes, but you don't miss the way she licks her lips before looking away.

——

The dim light in the garage flickers overhead, casting long shadows that stretch across the concrete floor, mixing with the hum of the fan spinning lazily in the corner. The air is thick with the smell of motor oil, sweat, and something faintly metallic. It's the kind of scent that makes you think of late nights and a kind of gritty work you've come to associate with Ellie—who's currently hunched over the engine of your car, her body angled just so as she works. Her movements are fluid, practiced, confident. Each shift of her body reveals the lean, toned muscles of her back, flexing beneath her worn-out sports bra.

You lean against the hood of your car, arms crossed loosely over your chest. Your gaze, despite your best efforts, keeps wandering back to her. There's something magnetic about the way she works. It's like watching a well-rehearsed dance, only instead of a stage, it's a greasy engine bay and a pile of worn-out tools scattered around her.

You can't help but notice the way the sports bra clings to her back, the lines of her spine visible as she bends over to tighten something under the hood. It's a small thing—something fleeting—but it catches your attention in a way you don't want it to. The soft curve of her spine as she moves, the way her muscles contract and relax with each movement—it's mesmerizing.

You think about how she'd look if she were arching her back, the muscles in her spine stretching, the way her body would ripple beneath your touch. The way her muscles might tense if you shoved your strap- It's a thought that catches you off guard, unexpected and almost too much for your brain to process. You quickly look away, taking a breath, trying to shake the thought out of your head.

But then she shifts again, and you're back at it. She pulls herself out from under the car, brushing a strand of messy hair away from her forehead with the back of her hand. Her face is flushed with the effort, but her eyes—those green eyes—catch yours almost instantly. There's a challenge in her gaze, something you can't quite read, but it's there, lingering.

"You gonna keep staring or are you gonna help?" she grumbles, wiping her hand on a rag. She doesn't look annoyed—if anything, there's a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, like she's enjoying the attention, even if she won't admit it.

You raise an eyebrow, pushing off the hood of your car. "Maybe I'll just watch you do all the work. You're pretty good at it."

Ellie lets out an exaggerated sigh and stands up straight, stretching her back with a small grunt. The motion pulls your attention once again, the way her muscles ripple, how her spine arches as she stretches. You swallow, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, trying to hide how her physicality affects you. She notices, of course. She always does.

——

Ellie starts teaching you things.

At first, it's just little comments here and there. "If your car starts pulling left, check the tire pressure before assuming it's alignment." "Listen for knocking in the engine—means the timing's off." "Don't rev the shit out of it before a race, you're just burning fuel for no reason."

Eventually, though, she starts pulling you into the work itself. Hands you a tool instead of doing it herself. Makes you tighten a bolt, check a connection.

It's frustrating, at first. She's a tough teacher, blunt and sarcastic, but never careless. If she corrects you, it's because she wants you to get it right.

One night, as you're trying (and failing) to change out a spark plug, Ellie leans over, her arm brushing against yours, the warmth of her skin distracting in a way you refuse to acknowledge.

She smirks, voice low. "Need me to hold your hand?"

You huff, but your fingers slip on the plug, and Ellie laughs. Not mocking, just amused, something softer underneath.

"You're getting better," she admits, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Maybe I won't clown on you forever."

And then, that same evening, you challenge her.

"You ever actually gonna watch me race?" you ask, leaning against the counter as she works.

Ellie glances up. "I hear about it."

"Not the same."

She exhales, tossing the rag aside. "Racing's not really my thing."

You tilt your head. "Then why do you work on race cars?"

Ellie shrugs. "I like the work."

You step closer. "Come watch," you say, quieter this time. "You spend all this time making sure my car doesn't fall apart. Wouldn't hurt to see it in action."

Ellie hesitates. She's used to the garage, to oil and metal and machines she can fix with her hands. But people? Feelings? Those are harder.

Still, after a moment, she sighs, running a hand through her messy auburn hair. "Fine," she mutters. "One race."

You grin. "Try not to fall in love."

Ellie scoffs. "You wish." But her smirk lingers, and for the first time, you think she might actually be looking forward to it.

——-

Ellie's in your passenger seat, and she's already regretting it.

The neon lights of the city streak past, blurring into a rush of color as your tires screech against the asphalt. The engine roars beneath you, a perfect harmony of raw power and precision—the kind of balance only Ellie could've fine-tuned.

She grips the oh shit handle, knuckles white. "Jesus," she mutters. "You drive like a fucking maniac."

You grin, shifting gears as you weave between cars. "Told you to buckle up."

Ellie scoffs, but she yanks the strap tighter across her chest anyway.

The race is chaos—machines tearing through the night, engines screaming, rubber burning against the pavement. You're threading through the pack, cutting close, feeling the pulse of the road in your bones. Ellie's right there beside you, tense but locked in, green eyes darting between the dashboard and the road ahead.

She mutters under her breath—half curses, half prayers—as you take a sharp turn, the back tires kicking out before you correct with practiced ease. You feel the thrill in your veins, the sharp, electric rush of knowing you're inches from disaster but still in control.

Ellie exhales through her nose, stealing a glance at you. Your hands on the wheel, the gleam of sweat at your temple, the way your jaw tightens in focus. Something flickers in her expression, something she won't name.

"You're gonna get me killed," she grumbles.

You smirk. "Not tonight."

A straightaway opens ahead. The last stretch. The lead car is inches away, close enough that you can feel the tension radiating off the driver. You downshift, engine snarling, and Ellie leans forward instinctively, caught up despite herself.

"Come on, come on," she mutters, eyes flicking between the speedometer and the road.

You time it perfectly—cutting inside at the last second, just before the other driver can block. Ellie swears as you squeeze past, inches from scraping metal, the rush of air and neon swallowing you whole.

Then—

You cross the finish line first.

The world slows. The roar of the engine fades under the cheers, the flashing lights, the chaos of celebration. You exhale, chest rising and falling, heart pounding against your ribs.

Ellie is staring at you.

"You actually fucking did it," she says, like she can't quite believe it.

You turn to her, grinning. "Had to make sure you got a good show."

Ellie rolls her eyes, but there's something else there now—something deeper, something charged.

She huffs, shaking her head as she unbuckles her seatbelt. "You're insane."

You lean in, voice lower now, more deliberate. "You like it, though."

Ellie doesn't answer. She just looks at you for a long second, the hum of the engine still between you, the night thick with something neither of you want to name yet.

Then she smirks. "Drive me back to the shop, hotshot."

And just like that, you know this won't be the last time Ellie's in your car.

———

The garage hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights overhead, the scent of oil and metal thick in the air. Ellie's perched on the edge of your hood, wiping her hands clean with an already-filthy rag. Her coveralls are unzipped and tied around her waist, leaving her in a sweat-stained band tee that clings to her lean frame. There's a streak of grease on her cheek, just below her scarred eyebrow, and her green eyes flick up at you, sharp and knowing.

"You're an idiot," she says flatly.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. "Good pep talk, Els."

"I'm serious." She tosses the rag onto the workbench behind her, arms crossing over her chest. Her forearms are streaked with oil, veins subtly pronounced beneath her lightly tanned skin. "This race? It's not like the other ones. These guys don't just want to win, they wanna make sure you lose. You think you're fast? They'll make sure speed doesn't matter when they're ramming you into a guardrail."

You lean against the car beside her, feeling the cold metal press into your back. The payout for this race is bigger than anything you've taken on before, the kind of money that could keep you steady for months. But it's not just about the cash. It's the thrill, the proof that you can run with the best.

"I'll be fine," you say. "I know what I'm doing."

Ellie exhales sharply, shaking her head. "Yeah, that's what they all say. Right before they end up in a ditch."

You smirk. "Didn't know you cared so much."

Ellie scoffs, shoving at your shoulder with enough force to make you stumble. "Shut the fuck up. I care about my work, and I just spent weeks making sure your car doesn't explode the second you push it past 100."

"Uh-huh." You watch her, taking in the way her fingers twitch at her sides, the way her jaw clenches just a little too tight. She's pissed, yeah, but there's something else under it—something like worry.

She huffs, hopping off the hood. "You're impossible."

"And you're hot when you're mad," you shoot back, just to see the way she rolls her eyes.

Ellie flips you off as she walks away, but she doesn't argue.

——

The city lights blur past, neon streaks cutting through the darkness. Your grip on the wheel is steady, fingers flexing against the worn leather. The engine hums beneath you, smooth, powerful—Ellie's work, through and through. You can feel it in every shift, every perfect response to your touch.

It starts like every other race. The line-up, the revving engines, the sharp crack of the signal to go. You take off clean, slipping into position, letting muscle memory take over. The world narrows down to asphalt and headlights, to the pulse of adrenaline in your veins.

But halfway through, you feel it.

Something's off.

The car behind you—too close, too deliberate. You know blocking moves, you know how to force an opening, but this? This isn't racing. This is something else.

Then it happens.

A sharp jolt from behind—metal slamming into metal, sending your car skidding sideways. The tires scream against the pavement as you fight for control, hands moving fast, instincts kicking in. You see the guardrail rushing up, see the way they're trying to send you straight into it.

Not happening.

You cut the wheel at the last second, using the momentum to spin out and straighten just before impact. The car shudders but holds. You don't even think before punching the gas, shoving forward with everything you've got.

The finish line is a blur.

You don't even register the cheers at first, only the sharp, exhilarating high of survival, of victory. You won.

But your car? Your car is wrecked.

Smoke curls from under the hood. The side panel is dented in, the alignment's fucked, and you can already hear Ellie's voice in your head, full of exasperation and fury.

And sure enough—

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Ellie's storming toward you before you even get out of the car, boots heavy against the pavement. Her hair is a mess, pulled loose from its bun, and her face is flushed with anger. She looks like she ran here, like she couldn't get to you fast enough.

You step out, wincing as pain flares in your ribs. Nothing broken, just bruised. The adrenaline is still riding high, and despite everything, despite the near disaster, you're grinning.

"I told you not to trust those assholes!" Ellie's voice is sharp, but her hands are shaking when she reaches for you. Not the car—you.

"I won," you say, like that makes it better.

Ellie stares at you, eyes burning. Then, suddenly, she shoves you. Hard.

"You could've gotten killed, dumbass." Her voice cracks, just slightly. That's what does it.

Your grin fades. She's scared.

Her hands hover at your sides, like she wants to check you over but doesn't know where to start.

"Ellie—"

"Shut up." She exhales harshly, rubbing a hand over her face. When she looks at you again, her jaw is set, but there's something vulnerable in her expression. Something raw.

You reach out, catching her wrist before she can pull away.

"You care, don't you?"

Ellie scoffs, but she doesn't move. Doesn't yank her hand back, doesn't look away.

"You're a pain in my ass," she mutters.

You squeeze her wrist gently, feeling the rapid pulse beneath her skin. "That's not a no."

Ellie swallows hard. Then, quietly—almost too quiet to hear—

"Yeah. I care."

The words settle between you, heavier than the weight of the race, heavier than anything else.

Ellie shakes her head, exhaling. Then, finally, she does what she's been itching to do—her hands move, checking you over, tracing along your arm, your ribs, making sure you're still in one piece.

Her fingers linger.

You don't stop her.

The wrecked car, the sabotage, the near-disaster—it all fades for a moment. It's just Ellie, frustrated, furious, and more worried than she'll ever admit.

And you, alive, grinning, and feeling something even riskier than the race itself.

———

The garage door rattles shut behind you, sealing in the thick scent of oil, rubber, and something distinctly Ellie—warm skin, faded cologne, the sharp tang of grease. The place is dimly lit, the overhead fluorescents casting long shadows, flickering slightly like they can feel the tension hanging in the air.

Ellie is already pacing. Still pissed.

Actually, pissed doesn't even begin to cover it.

"You are such a fucking dumbass," she snaps, voice sharp enough to cut through the thick air. Her hands are on her hips, fingers flexing like she's trying to resist the urge to throw something. Maybe a wrench. Maybe at your head.

She's pissed. But goddamn, she looks good.

Her white band tee is draped over the workbench, discarded in favor of a black sports bra. It clings to her, sweat-dampened from the heat of the shop, highlighting the toned lines of her stomach and the slight curve of her chest. Her arms—lean, wiry, strong—are still smudged with grease, her hands flexing as she talks, fingers twitching like she's desperate to take something apart just to burn off frustration.

You should be paying attention.

You should be apologizing.

Instead, your gaze drops—just for a second—watching the way her small swells sit perfectly in that sports bra, the subtle way they move when she breathes, the way sweat beads lightly on her collarbone.

"...Are you even fucking listening to me?"

Your head snaps back up immediately. "What?"

Ellie's staring at you now, arms crossed over her chest—which, unfortunately, just makes your problem worse.

She narrows her eyes. "Unbelievable."

You swallow hard, fighting the heat creeping up the back of your neck. "I—uh—what were you saying?"

Ellie scoffs, dragging a hand down her face. Her biceps flex when she does it, lean muscle shifting under grease-streaked skin, and you're absolutely going to hell.

"You almost fucking died," she says, voice lower now, frustration simmering into something quieter, something tighter. "You get that, right? Like, actually died."

You should say something. Should acknowledge the way her voice wavers, the way her fingers twitch at her sides like she wants to hit you or shake you or maybe just grab you and never let go.

But all you can think about is the way a drop of sweat rolls from her throat, down her sternum, disappearing beneath the band of her sports bra.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Ellie catches the way your eyes flicker downward again. Her brows furrow. Then, slowly, something shifts.

"...You're not even fucking listening," she realizes, voice edged with disbelief.

"I am," you lie.

Her gaze drops slightly, just a fraction, then flicks back up.

Ellie takes a step forward.

You don't move.

Her lips part, just slightly, and for a split second, you think she's going to call you out, absolutely tear you apart for checking her out while she's in the middle of being mad at you.

Instead, she tilts her head, voice dropping into something smoother. Something slower.

"...My face is up here, ma'am."

You blink.

Ellie's smirking now—just barely. Just enough to make your stomach flip. Still mad, but now she knows exactly what's going through your head.

You clear your throat, forcing your gaze back up. She doesn't make it easy.

Her green eyes flicker with something dangerous. Not anger. Not entirely.

"I'm still pissed at you," she says, quieter now.

You nod. "I know."

Ellie's arms drop from her chest, hands settling on her hips instead. "And you still need to make this up to me."

You inhale sharply, nodding again. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever you want."

That smirk deepens—just a little. Just enough to make your pulse jump.

"I'll hold you to that," Ellie murmurs.

And fuck.

You're so screwed.

——-

Ellie's been working on your car for hours, refusing to let anyone else even touch it. Her focus has never been more intense, not even during the times when she's been elbow-deep in engine parts or tuning something just right. Tonight, though, it feels different. More personal. You can't put your finger on it, but something's shifted in the way she's working.

You can't help but feel like it's your fault.

She's already told you, in every sharp and frustrated word she's muttered under her breath, that you're reckless. That you take risks without thinking. That you don't even care if you break the damn car—or worse, break yourself. But here she is, sweat-streaked and tired, still refusing to stop. She's determined to get it just right, to make sure everything's in perfect condition before you hit the streets again.

You watch her for a moment before stepping closer to the car. Her back is to you as she tightens a bolt beneath the hood, the faint glow from the overhead light making the edges of her shoulders and back stand out in sharp relief. Her movements are fluid but strained, the exhaustion in her posture showing despite her efforts to stay focused. Her black sports bra is soaked through with sweat, and her skin glistens under the shop's lights, the grease staining her arms and neck a stark contrast to the softness of her skin.

The sight of her, all intensity and grit, makes your chest tighten in a way you can't explain.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words are stuck. You don't know how to phrase it, how to ask for her forgiveness or make her understand just how much you appreciate the fact that she's here, fixing your car even when she has every right to just walk away.

She doesn't turn to look at you, but her voice cuts through the silence. "You're gonna fuck up again, you know that?"

You move around the hood of the car, leaning against the metal, just close enough that you can see the tiredness in her eyes. The deep lines of exhaustion around her eyes. "I don't plan on it."

Ellie scoffs, wiping a hand over her forehead, smearing more grease across her skin. "Yeah, well, your plans suck."

You lean a little closer. "You could always stop me."

She doesn't respond immediately. She's busy twisting a wrench, her brow furrowed in concentration, biting her bottom lip as she works. But when she speaks again, her voice is quieter, lower—like it's something she's only willing to admit to herself, and now to you.

"I can't fix you if you crash," she says softly, her gaze not meeting yours as she sets the wrench down, rubbing her hands against her jeans in frustration. The words hang between you, and for the first time tonight, the weight of what she's saying really hits you. It's not just the car she's worried about. It's you.

You swallow hard. It feels like a punch to the gut, but it's one you didn't realize you needed. You think about what she's said, how much it means, how much you've taken for granted her presence in your life. "Then keep me from crashing."

There's a moment of stillness, the only sound the soft hum of the lights and the faint clink of metal on metal. Ellie's eyes lift to meet yours, her face a mix of something unreadable—anger, concern, frustration, maybe even something deeper. She doesn't look away, and for a long second, you just stare at her. Neither of you says anything.

You step forward, slowly, careful to respect the invisible boundary that's always existed between you. Your hand lifts, fingers brushing gently against her cheek, the touch so soft it feels almost too intimate for the shop. But Ellie doesn't pull away. Instead, she leans into it, just slightly, her breath a little sharper.

Her skin is warm, the grease staining her face still doesn't detract from the softness of her cheek beneath your fingertips. You feel the tension in her, in her entire body, and something in your chest pulls tighter. You want to say something—anything—that will make this moment feel real.

But you don't need to. She beats you to it.

Without warning, her lips crash into yours. It's sudden, but not surprising. The force of it makes your heart stop for a beat, and then it kicks into overdrive. You taste spearmint gum, gasoline, and something deeper. Something that feels like desperation and heat. Her lips are soft, but there's a fierceness in her kiss, an urgency that matches the rapid beat of your heart. The tension that's been building for so long between the two of you finally explodes, and all you can think about is how the hell you haven't kissed her before now.

Your hands find their way to her back, pulling her closer, the warmth of her body pressing into yours. You can feel the way her breath hitches against your mouth as you deepen the kiss, as if she's not quite sure if she should pull away or just let go. But she doesn't pull back. She's there, with you, kissing you like there's no tomorrow, and you let her.

Your fingers dig into the small of her back, feeling the smooth curve of her spine under her sports bra. The heat of her body makes everything around you blur. Ellie's breath is coming faster now, and you can feel the tension in her muscles, the subtle tremor in her hands as she cups your face, like she's trying to ground herself. You can't tell if it's from the kiss or from the exhaustion in her body. Maybe it's both.

The kiss slows, and Ellie pulls back, her lips still just inches from yours, her breath ragged. She's breathing hard, her chest rising and falling quickly, her eyes glassy and intense. She doesn't say anything for a long moment, just looks at you like she's seeing you for the first time. Then, in a voice softer than you've ever heard her use, she says, "Don't make me worry about you."

It's almost a plea. Something fragile. Something human. And you feel it deep in your chest.

You press your forehead against hers, closing your eyes for a moment. "I won't."

Ellie's hand slides from your face to the back of your neck, her fingers threading into your hair, pulling you back down to her lips again. This time, it's gentler, softer, more deliberate. You can feel the warmth of her hands, the way she's holding onto you like you're the only thing keeping her grounded.

You kiss her back, slower this time, with more meaning. More tenderness.

The garage feels small now, even though the space is vast. The soft light overhead hums, flickering as you pull away from Ellie's lips. There's a moment of lingering, of breathing her in, both of you still caught in the tension of the kiss, the rush of adrenaline and desire flooding you like it's the only thing that matters right now. Her hands rest on your chest, fingers flexing against your shirt, and her breath is hot and quick against your skin.

You glance at the car—a mess of metal and grease, the body still a little dented from the race earlier, but it doesn't matter. None of it matters as much as the girl in front of you. You pull back slightly, catching her gaze, and something in her expression shifts—softens, just for a moment.

"Let's go," you mutter, the words thick in your throat, the heat between you almost unbearable now.

She quirks a brow, clearly amused by the sudden urgency. "Where?"

You can't help but smile, but there's a wickedness behind it now, the kind that only Ellie could bring out of you. "To the backseat."

Her eyes narrow, the playful glint there, but she doesn't fight it. She grabs her jacket off the workbench, then turns back to you with a look that holds both challenge and something softer, something that feels real and vulnerable. "You sure the car's up for it?" she asks, her voice low and teasing. "Seems like it's in worse shape than you are."

You flash her a grin, moving toward the car. "It'll hold up. But I'm not sure you can, Red." You tap the roof of the car, your heart pounding harder now, both the adrenaline of the race and the desire to see where this moment leads.

Ellie huffs in mock exasperation, shaking her head as she follows you toward the passenger door. Her eyes flick to the backseat as she slides inside, and she makes a show of eyeing the cramped space before slumping against the worn leather. "This is ridiculous."

"Not if you make it fun." You shut the door behind you, your fingers shaking slightly as you walk around to the other side of the car. But as soon as you slide in, the atmosphere shifts. Ellie's eyes don't leave you for a second, the intensity of her gaze sending a shiver down your spine.

You don't waste time. Not anymore.

You're already leaning across the seat, your hands on her shoulders, guiding her back until she's laying against the cushions. Ellie's eyes flicker with something between anticipation and amusement, but she lets you take control, lets you kiss her again, this time without hesitation.

The kiss is deeper this time. Her lips part easily for you, and you move closer, your body pressing into hers. Her hands find their way to the back of your neck, pulling you in, urging you to be closer, to make her feel everything. Your fingers are tangled in her hair, and you can feel the heat of her skin through the thin layer of her sports bra as you kiss her harder, deeper, like you're both trying to escape whatever exists outside of this moment.

Ellie's breath catches as you kiss her neck, trailing your lips down to the curve of her shoulder, tasting the salt of her skin. She's breathless, her hands roaming to your chest, tugging at your shirt in frustration, like she wants more, needs more.

"Damn, you're a tease," she mutters between breaths, though there's no real anger in her voice—just the kind of raw desire that's infectious. You smile against her skin, trailing your lips lower, hands working at the button of your jeans, just trying to take this to the next level, to see where the fire between the two of you can burn.

She gasps softly as you kiss her again, hands sliding down your chest to find your waistband. You feel the heat of her fingers on your skin, the way she moves with more urgency now, like the car isn't the only thing that's broken between you. It's her, too. She's been holding back all night, hiding beneath her sarcastic remarks and tough demeanor, but now, there's nothing left to hide behind.

You tug her closer, your lips never leaving hers, as she fits perfectly against you, the smell of grease and sweat still on her skin, the scent of spearmint gum lingering in your senses. You push her hair back from her face, brushing it behind her ear, watching her eyes flutter closed in the moment, her lips parted slightly as she exhales.

There's something about her like this—vulnerable, open, real—that takes your breath away.

"Ellie..." you whisper, your voice rougher now, but she stops you with a finger on your lips, a teasing smile on her face.

"Don't talk." Her voice is thick with desire, her hand moving lower to trace the outline of your chest, feeling the beat of your heart beneath her fingers. "Just kiss me."

You don't need to be told twice.

Your lips find hers again, the urgency mounting as you shift your weight, pressing her down into the seat. She groans softly against your lips, the sound driving you insane, and you pull her closer, hands tracing the contours of her body, feeling the heat radiating from her, the tremors in her hands as she tries to keep control. You've never seen her like this—so lost, so caught up in something more than just the moment.

You kiss her deeper, harder now, with everything you have, because you know, in this moment, you can't let go. You can't push her away. Ellie's the kind of girl who makes you lose yourself in the chaos of it all.

And when she pulls back, gasping for air, her hands in your hair, you can see it. The change in her eyes—the vulnerability they hold.

"You've got me wrapped around your finger," she admits quietly, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

You smile, brushing your thumb along her cheek, your heart racing as you look at her. "Yeah, I think I do."

Your hands slide up her sides, pushing the sports bra up and over her head, and then she's bare from the waist up, her small breasts on full display. Her skin is lightly tanned, with a few faint scars here and there—reminders of a lifetime of hard work. Her nipples are already hard, a soft rosy pink that darkens as you run your fingers over them.

"Oh..," she breathes, her head falling back against the seat as you lean down, taking one nipple into your mouth. She's sensitive—you can tell by the way she twitches, the way her hands grip your shoulders like she's trying to hold on. You flick your tongue over the bud, and she lets out a low moan, her hips rolling against yours.

"You like that?" you murmur against her skin, and she huffs out a laugh, even as her breath hitches.

"Shut up," she repeats, but there's no bite to it. Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you take that as permission to keep going. Your mouth moves to her other nipple, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and she lets out a whimper that goes straight to your core.

Her hands are fumbling with the button of her jeans now, her movements clumsy with need. "Help me," she mutters, and you don't need to be told twice. You slide her jeans down her thighs, leaving her in just her boxers, and the sight of her like this—flushed, breathless, and completely exposed—makes your mouth water.

You kneel in front of her, your hands sliding up her thighs, and she watches you with wide eyes as you hook your fingers in the waistband of her boxers, pulling them down to her knees. Her pussy is right there—petite and neat, just like the rest of her. Her outer lips are soft, slightly darker than the rest of her skin, and you can see the faint glisten of arousal already.

"God, Ellie," you breathe, and her cheeks flush even darker. "You're so wet."

"Shut up," she mutters again, but her breath catches as you slide a finger along her slit, feeling how slick she is. Her clit is already swollen, and when you press down gently, she lets out a strangled moan, her hips jerking forward.

You don't wait any longer. You lean in, your tongue flicking over her clit, and she swears under her breath, her hands tangling in your hair. "Fuck, yes," she gasps, her thighs trembling around your shoulders as you lick her in slow, deliberate strokes.

You can feel her pulse beneath your tongue, the way her body tenses with every touch, and you know she's close. So, you slide a finger inside her, and fuck, she's tight—warm and soft and so, so wet. Her walls grip your finger like she never wants to let go, and when you curl it just right, she lets out a noise that's half-moan, half-sob.

"Please," she gasps, her hips rocking against your hand. "Please, don't stop."

You don't. You keep going, your tongue and fingers working in perfect sync, until she's shaking, her thighs clamping around your head as she comes with a cry that echoes through the car.

Her body sags against the seats, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. "Holy shit," she mutters, her voice rough, and you can't help but smirk as you stand up, your hands resting on her hips.

"you're so easy to make cu-," you tease, and she huffs out a laugh, swatting at your arm.

"Shut up," she interrupts, but there's no real heat behind it. Her hands are on your waist, pulling you closer, and when she kisses you again, it's softer this time, more tender.

——-

It's a strange thing, becoming official with Ellie. It feels like there should be some big shift, some monumental moment where everything changes, but nothing really does. You're still you, she's still her, and the bickering and teasing that defined your dynamic before continues as it always has.

Except now, it's different. There's a quiet understanding between the two of you, a kind of soft intimacy that hangs in the air every time she grabs your hand or flashes that mischievous grin before dragging you into yet another playful argument. You still argue over the dumbest shit—like whether you're actually good at parallel parking or if you're "absolutely ruining the car's suspension with every sharp turn"—but now there's a deeper undercurrent to it. It's comfortable, easy. It's you and Ellie, in a world where nothing really changes, except maybe for the fact that now you get to kiss her whenever you want.

And you do. A lot.

One of those days, you find yourself in your car again, heading down a familiar stretch of road. Ellie's with you—of course she is. She's always there, usually sitting next to you with that trademark half-smile on her lips, like she knows something you don't. Her hands are resting casually in her lap, still smelling faintly of grease from working on cars all day, her flannel sleeves pushed up to her elbows. It's a simple look, but it suits her—rough around the edges, but effortlessly cool.

You make a sharp turn, your tires screeching slightly as the car swerves, and Ellie's hand shoots out instinctively, grabbing the door handle with a grip that's nearly white-knuckled.

"Jesus Christ, you trying to kill us?" she snaps, but there's a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She leans back against the seat, half-amused, half-annoyed as she watches you with narrowed eyes.

"You're always so dramatic," you say, grinning, your hands steady on the wheel. "It wasn't that bad."

"It's always 'not that bad' until we end up in a ditch somewhere, your blood on my hands."

You laugh, the sound of it filling the car, and despite the fact that she's still gripping the door handle like she's holding on for dear life, you can't help but enjoy the playful exchange. It's part of who you are now—the two of you together. The banter, the teasing, the way she'll roll her eyes at you but then steal a quick kiss when she thinks you're not paying attention.

"Admit it," you say, glancing at her for a second, "you like it when I drive fast."

Her lips curl into that familiar, knowing grin. "I like to live dangerously, but I also like not dying, so pick a lane, yeah?"

You chuckle, swerving slightly to avoid a pothole, and she groans, but this time, she's not as frantic in her reaction. She's used to you by now—used to the way you drive with that reckless abandon, like the world is a racetrack and the rules don't apply to you. Ellie knows you'll push the car until it can't take any more, but that's part of the thrill, isn't it? She might complain, she might grab the door handle and give you shit for your reckless driving, but deep down, you know she's not really scared.

[21280]

SECOND DATE UPDATE!

izuku midoriya got ghosted by you after the first date! so, he turns to mic's radio show segment in an act of desperation to know what happened... fem reader (pronoun only used once), y/n had mic as a homeroom teacher before. post war.

midoriya is incredibly nervous as he stands by on the other line as mic's cheery voice blasts through his ear and through the radios of thousands, mic's words sounding incoherent as his mind races on the possible outcomes. though, he's sure there's only one.

he's going to be absolutely humiliated.

"so midoriya here had a nice at home date with a person named y/n, and according to him, everything was super fun! when he asked for a second date, he's been hit with nothing but excuses! so he’s waiting here in the other line while we ring up his date…"

riiiing.

it's an unknown number. you shrug, choosing to answer the call.

"hello?"

"hey hey hey! is this y/n?"

you recognize the voice coming from your speaker, your lips curling into a smile. "is this mr. yamada? oh my, yes this is she! it's been a while."

you can hear him chuckle, "how're ya doing, kiddo? i've seen you pop up on my newsfeed the other day—but we're here on official biz. i'm calling from put your hands up radio because there's this listener of ours that you went on a date with..."

"oh shoot" you say, "um, who is it?"

"do you remember going out with midoriya?"

oh god no, you think. your mind suddenly becomes flooded with images and memories of the past week, where you spent a few hours over at midoriya’s apartment. what was the purpose of all this—did he spill the beans to your homeroom teacher?

you sigh as you shake your head, "yes, i do remember him."

"that sigh tells me it wasn't a good date, now, was it?" mic asks, his curiosity is evident. "wanna tell me what he did wrong?"

you awkwardly chuckle, "midoriya's a really good guy, i swear!"

"but you've been blowin him off ever since your date! i've seen you on the papers, but are you reaaally busy or is that just a load of cap?" mic pressures, and you can only imagine his eyebrow raised in confusion.

"i did? my bad, i've been real busy with the agency i haven't had the time to reply to anyone.."

there's a few seconds of silence, before mic speaks up. "producer here told me you posted on your socials a few hours ago, so unless you have a team who posts selfies of you buying tea, you've been on your phone, my dear y/n" he laughs, "now spill. what happened with midoriya?"

"well, we had a nice dinner at his house, and we played some board games and watched three all might documentaries."

mic scoffs and laughs, “that does sound like a midoriya, alright. but hey—that seems like a nice date—what happened?”

you were unsure of whether or not you wanted to speak up, but decided to do so. “he just wouldn’t stop talking about all might! and, i know he’s his father figure or something but come on! even during dinner he kept mentioning how all might liked cedar from yakushima so he got a cedar scented candle because of that. we played all might themed board games. geez—even when i went to the bathroom he had an all might towel and soap dispenser. i damn nearly fell asleep during the second documentary and he shook me awake because i was missing the best part of it.”

by now, mic is exploding in laughter, the faint sound of his fist banging the table being heard. there’s a couple giggles heard in the background too, from his producer and other guests present.

“oh my god i didn’t know.”

your eyes widen in shock as you realize who the voice belonged to. mic clears his throat, “so, midoriya’s on the other line because he wanted to speak to you and know what he did wrong, and also to ask for a second date! surprise!”

you nearly choke on your spit as you hear his voice through your phone’s speaker. “i really didn’t know you didn’t like all might, but i mean you should’ve said something! we watched the top three documentaries!”

“did you ask me if i wanted to watch three documentaries about all might, midoriya?”

“you’re right—i’m so sorry” midoriya apologizes, and it seems genuine. you know he’s the type of guy to be oblivious at times, so you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“is there any way i can make it up to you? a dinner at a restaurant, a trip, we can even watch documentaries of your favorite hero in return! i really like you, y/n, and i would like another chance.”

you can’t stop your heart from beating quicker when those words left his mouth. he’s a lover boy through and through, and he’s truly devoted to what he likes.

“edgeshot. i want an edgeshot interview compilation marathon.”

you can practically hear midoriya smile, “okay, great! i actually know a lot about him, did you know that during the war he—“

“oookay! looks like it’s all settled” mic chuckles, “i think it’s the first time we’ve had a second date update success!”

[jealousmartini]

STUFF I CANT WAIT FOR IN MY MHA DR .𖥔˚🎀

   ── .✦  ┆  𖤐  ┆  ␥ 

⤷ a bit of FYI

Because I am shifting to my dr during the end of the 2nd school year, I will have already found vigilante Deku with the rest of class 1A, won the war arc against my own personal nemesis, and had my awesome quirk awakening. It's also 5 days before Bakugo's birthday in my dr AND it's the weekend (Friday) so I dont have to worry about patrolling or homework when i literally just got there! So it's free time!

«───────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ────────»

... Super stoked for!

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Seeing my entire appearance!

Not even gonna lie to yall.. I am SO stupidly fine in all of my mha drs actually. But specifically talking about my main mha dr, I literally am so gorgeous. My body is so undoubtedly bomb, my face card is fire, my hair so tea.. no wonder so many people are down bad for me. I know for sure the first thing I'll do when I shift is stare at my reflection, tracing my curves and all.

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Wearing my hero costume, using my quirks and my gadgets

My hero costume is so iconic. It's like a mecha space suit centered around a cunty corset with big ass chunky boots like uraraka, a pair of bug eye looking goggles and a mecha headset with antenna. The space theme is fitting for my for my quirk, and my Twilight sparkle ahh hair.

My magnetism quirk is so much fun dude. I can make anything attract, retract or rotate to or from me, and manipulate it to mimic telekinesis. Uraraka wannabe yeah yeah I know but it's unique enough for it to be it's own thing. Using it creatively is gonna be a blast too!

In my dr, I am a pro at creating gadgets, weapons, and upgrading preexisting gear. I work in both the hero and the support course so my class mates get the best of both worlds cus they've got a mini Tony stark in their class. I even got the spare keys to the utility support room.

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Hanging out in my dorm room, the dormitory and my best friends rooms

I made slight tweaks to the design of the dormitory, the rooms are a bit bigger and it isn't just green and yellow ew. Also the class rooms in the UA building have big ass windows to the left, the tables can fit 2-3 students and the rooms aren't a cold blue hue anymore.

My room is perfectly customised to my personality, my likes, my needs and all that stuff. I've got my entire pinterest closet in my wardrobe, my makeup, my trinkets and my gadgets on my tables and shelves. The walls are decorated in anime, game and movie posters, drawings and sketches of my gadget plans and polaroid pictures of my family, friends and classmates. My room has a colour pallet of pinks, burgundys and cream with dimly lit off white and orange accent lights. It's very homly, very comforting.

I also have a mini fridge, a ceiling fan and a two screen computer in my room. Each floor has bathrooms and shower rooms of their own. I'm on the same level as Momo, Ochaco, Kirishima and Katsuki. My most visited rooms are Uraraka's, Mina's Katsuki's, Deku's and Kirishima's. I like to welcome myself and relax on their beds. Sometimes I bicker, most times I gossip with them and actually more than most times, they visit me more than I do them. I can't wait to casually hang out with them, go out to eat, go on trips with them, especially since I'm part of "Baku squad"

And btw he dormitory has robot maids and floor cleaners that do most of the cleaning around the building, including the washing in the kitchen.

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| The FOOOOOOD

See we've got some bomb ass cooks in our class already, me being one of them ironically enough. But we are actually allowed to order takeaway to the dorms. The house rules are that you shouldn't order food past curfew but most of the time, Aizawa doesn't notice so I do it anyway.

There is also a shopping center close to campus and some convenience stores with my fave foods and stuff I've always wanted to try like tteokbokki, pho, seafood boil, ramen stew all that good stuff🫠🫠

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Seeing my crushes: Katsuki, Uraraka, Sero and Kirishima

Lord. I can't even say too much because I love these idiots so much UGHHHHH. I've got casual crushes of Uraraka, Sero and Kirishima but good GOD I am down bad for Katsuki.

I've scripted that me and Spikes end up together in the middle of the 3rd year but it's initiated by... ME. Yeah that's right bitch I scripted I grew a pair of balls and asked him out😝. I know it's pretty basic for an mha shifter to have cactsuki as their s/o but yall don't get him the way I do and I seriously don't care. I stood on business and pulled that bitch like my quirk was on. Period

I will admit tho Katsuki intimidates so bad but like in a good way. I love an intimidating, scary but funny, brash, stern babe. Like come here and kiss me but also don't cus ill run away.

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| THE FAN EDITS, FICTION, GIFTS AND ART

Yall already know as shifters how exciting fan stuff are. Not a day goes by when Im not daydraming about the edits especially. I can't wait to see what my fans are up to, react to their edits, fanfiction, gifts and art on live stream. I scripted my fans are super creative and most of them ship me with people I actually like🤭🤭

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Going patrolling with my bbygirls

I'm so excited to use my quirk in action especially when I've already had my quirk awakening. I scripted I can formulate and act out plans perfectly and quickly. I also scripted most patrols are fun, relaxing, exciting or interesting. I'm always learning something new, meeting new people, going new places and growing bonds with my team mates.

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Streaming and being featured on popular streams

One of my hobbies is streaming/vlogging/blogging. I have been recording my experiences as a student in UA and a hero since the beginning and I've got a big following that catch up with me every now and then. I use two different cameras; a high quality one and an early 2000s digital hand cam to make it look like I'm in 2006. I do a lot of eat with mes, I gossip, I do study with mes I draw and anime a lot and I also do gaming as well because I am the biggest game geek.

I'm also pretty siked to appear on popular Streamer lives like kai cenat and Speed. The interviewers are going to be so entertaining since I'm just a British girl talking about my experiences as a British student in Japan and the amount of culture shocks ive gotten.

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Seeing me in Horikoshi's art

Fun thing I scripted. Horikoshi made a manga of class 1A which is literally MHA but I'm in it this time. Idk how this is going to work but I thought this would be sick.

Speaking of art I am an artist in my dr too. I've got stacks apon stacks of notebooks filled with me and my friends, even my hw has little doodles in the corner. I'm very excited to draw my friends, myself, my favourite medias in my many art styles onto tiktok and tumblr and they actually get views😩.

ᨳ⊹ ˖ ࣪| Exploring Japan

And lastly exploring Japan has been one of my biggest dreams since forever. To explore the country with my favourite friends or just by myself in the day or night is a dream come true. The peaceful nature of it all motivates me to go walking every now and then. It is such a beautiful place.