#black granite stair

[instapride]

Open Library Example of a huge transitional open concept dark wood floor family room library design with yellow walls, a standard fireplace, a stone fireplace and a wall-mounted tv

[ledaatomica]

Home Bar in Atlanta

[we-can-be-hysterical]

Los Angeles Bathroom 3/4 Bath

[eatommo]

Walk On By [j.m.]{kd19}

Mirror sex

Cw: dbf!joel, vacation!joel, Joel and his big dick, teasing, implied age gap, making out, reader is in a swimsuit (undescribed other than that your chest is visible), dirty talk

Seeing Joel in that shirt was a way to make any woman think about her priorities. You suddenly felt underdressed, having settled for a black mesh cover up to wear to dinner over your white swimsuit.

With every intention of hitting the pool on your way back to your room you tell your dad goodnight at the table, thanking Joel over your shoulder for picking up the dinner tab.

He clears his throat, “You headed to the pool?” You nod, stopping in your tracks and waiting for the punchline to the joke, or to make you feel even more underdressed with some half baked comment. Instead, he stands nodding to himself as if the next is obvious, “I’ll walk you,” you catch the way his gaze flicks to your father in exposition. “it’s on the way to my room.”

You heart hammers in your chest, “Sure.” You turn and head towards the front of the dining area, the resorts many fans not completely staving off the humid air, your hair clings to your forehead.

He doesn’t have to say anything else to you, nonverbal communication becoming second nature to you since you’ve started fooling around, behind your dad’s back. Wordlessly and seamlessly you follow his every footstep, until you get to the stairs, opting to walk up the single flight towards his room. He slips behind you, watching ever so eagerly as the fabric of your coverup pulls across your ass with the incline of your steps. If he was younger, he might’ve cum in his pants before he got you alone.

Like most hotel rooms, the bathroom was just next to the main door. He had you pressed up against the cool bathroom countertop in no time. The fabric of your slip already pushed up around your hips, his shirt felt so soft on the skin of your inner thighs. He kissed you, deeply, wantingly, like he’d been thinking about how he would do it for hours. His hands roamed your scalp, tugging and pulling until you were a panting whining mess in the palm of his hands.

“Did you wear it for me sweetheart?” He purrs, southern drawl thick like molasses, “god damn you look so good,” his sweet brown eyes catch yours. “Jus’ for me yeah?” You nod, not entirely sure it’s the truth, and every past insecurity melts away like raindrops in the Texas sun. The way he’s kissing you, and talking to you is surely the only reason you still have it on.

Joel chuckles, catching a glimpse of his appearance in the dark mirror. His hair is fussed, lips swollen and chest flush like he’s just ran a marathon. He sees his shirt is undone a few more buttons than when he last checked. Your mouth in his absence has moved onto sucking and nipping at the exposed skin of his collar just below the chains that he dons.

The mirror is huge, spanning almost the entire wall behind the sink. “Leave it on for me.” He whispers into the crown of your hair, it’s as if he’s cast a spell on you, your spun around hips digging into the sharp edge of the granite counter.

Your tits spill out of your top, barely concealed by the patterned mesh of your cover up the sight is enough to make you smile to yourself.

“told ya, ‘ts a good view.” He mumbles in between catching you ogling yourself and admiring the shape of your ass sitting against the growing tent in his shorts.

[rezwrites]

Hi! Love your writing!!

I have a suggestion/request:

So, reader is a lesbian married to someone their own age, but Dark Agatha wants reader to herself, and knows there are things only she can make them feel.

Mommy/dom/corrupting and stuff

Thanksss

I’m glad you enjoy the works!

Warnings: +18 MDNI, dub-con, infidelity/cheating, corruption, cursing, strap-on, deepthroating, rough sex

Setting the dirty clothes basket on top of the dryer tossing each article of clothing into the washing machine, you came across one of your wife’s collared shirts with plum wine lipstick stain on the collar, a pair of pink lace underwear balled up inside the shirt. This couldn’t be happening, you didn’t think your marriage was bad for your wife to cheat. Tears started forming in your eyes, heart sinking to your stomach.

“Baby! I’m home!” your wife’s cheery voice called from the front door. Stepping out of the laundry room you see her placing the grocery bags on the table, her dirty blonde hair released from her braid framing her face. The giant smile on her face immediately dropping when she sees your tears, rushing to you.

“Abby.” chewing your bottom lip, showing her the articles of clothing, “please be honest with me.”

“Baby,” her blue eyes widening like saucers, mouth open, “I swear on my life I don’t know where those came from. The lipstick stain is just as much a mystery.”

“Abs, I have no reason to doubt you but this; I can’t wrap my head around this.” Pulling a chair from the table, you took a seat putting your head in your hands. Abby followed suit pulling a chair next to you.

“I’m at work all day and when i’m not there I’m here with you.” She pulled your hands away from your face, holding them, “I haven’t been with anybody else, I swear.”

The rest of the night was full of silence, you’re still coming up with illogical scenarios outside cheating to figure out where the stain and panties came from, none of them obviously not making sense. Abby knows not to disturb you when you’re too deep in thought, though some part of you wished she did so you could stop spiraling internally. That night you both slept with your back towards each other. It hurt to not hold each other.

Waking up early unable to go back to sleep you decided go into work. Quitely getting dressed you headed down stairs. Making a simple breakfast, you set an extra plate of eggs and toast beside for Abby when she woke up.

“You can’t leave without hugging me first.” Abby’s tired voice startled you, her eyes red. You didn’t even hear her come down the stairs. She stood at the bottom of the stairs holding her arms outstretched, a deep frown etched into her features. Abby’s warm, strong arms wrapped around you, the woody scent of her cologne still lingering on her shirt. She kissed your forehead repeating sorries. You leaned up shutting her up with a kiss, whispering I love you against her lips before heading out. You texted her about her breakfast on the counter before driving to work.

—

Working away on this quarterly report the CEO’s assistant dialed your line informing that the would like to see you in her office, stressing you to hurry. Walking to the elevators, your nervousness elevated with each passing floor. You’ve only seen Ms. Harkness a handful of times when you sat in on a board meeting, and at holiday parties for the company, each fleeting conversation you’ve had with her had been pleasant. The doors opened on the top floor, the hard silver floor echoing with every step you took. The receptionist directed you to the office, pointing towards the imposing double doors at the end of the corridor.

Knocking on the black granite door, you heard a muffled come in. Entering the CEO's office, your eyes were immediately drawn to the breathtaking view of the city skyline through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was filled with the soft, warm glow of natural sunlight. The room exuded an air of authority and sophistication, making you feel both privileged and slightly intimidated.

Ms. Harkness gestured for you to sit in the plush, leather armchair. The coolness of the smooth, polished surface of the mahogany desk sent a shiver down your spine. Sharp and straight-to-the-point Ms Harkness pointedly asked, “You’ve worked as the assistant CFO for how long now?”

“Three years next month, Ma’am.” you responded, subconsciously cracking your knuckles to ease your anxiousness.

“And in that short time your reports have excelled our company. Your clear, concise statements show us where we need to improve and decrease our operations. Now, I don’t mean to sound like I’m bragging but I made a great decision hiring you. In my professional opinion you’d do better as CFO than an assistant.” Her voice grew proud as she praised you. A grin on her face, as she sat up straightening out her bronze blazer.

Your body warmed at the praise she dished out, lightly squirming underneath her bold gaze, “That’s a huge responsibility, Ms.Harkness, but I thank you for the kind words, and I’m very grateful for the opportunity to gain so much experience and knowledge in such a short time.”

She laughed at your formality, “Please just call me Agatha, dear. I apologize if I frightened you with the sudden call here. I actually wanted to commended you on your wonderful work, and take you out to lunch to get to know you better.”

—

The elegant restaurant had dimly lit chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, casting a low, golden glow over the room. Soft classical music played in the background, creating a soothing ambiance. The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of sizzling steaks and freshly baked bread. Feeling severely underdressed in your simple above-the-knee dress you attempted to cover yourself as you awaited a table.

“No need to fret,” Agatha guided you in front of her to follow the hostess, leaning down as you passed her, whispering in your ear, “you look exquisite.”

Sitting down on the smooth, velvet booth the soft fabric brushing the back of your knees and shoulders. The hostess hands you the menus notifying you that your waitress will be with you shortly, “Velvet upholstery? That’s in interesting choice. It must take a lot to clean if wine is spilled.”

“I think they keep up maintenance every night.” She responded, eyes locked onto the menu.

The waitress comes to your table asking for drinks. Agatha requested, “Two glasses of Sauvignon Blanc, please. Our order will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Wine in the middle of the day?” You chuckled nervously.

“Why not? I’m letting you go home early anyway.” She caught your eyes bulging as you lowered the menu, “Only if you wish to. I know you came in early. I’m sure you’ve been working diligently all morning, you deserve it.”

The waitress comes back with two glasses. Agatha pours you both a glass, toasting each other to a nice lunch. Taking sip you note acidity mixed with gooseberry and white peach. There’s so many options on the menu, they overwhelmed you, way out of your comfort zone.

“This wine pairs well with light seafood or chicken.” Agatha chimed-in, eyes focusing back on the menu, “Have you decided yet or do you need another minute?

“I decided to play it safe with the Chicken Alfredo.” you folded the menu handing it to Agatha, relieved that they had your safe food.

When the waitress returned Agatha had ordered for both of you, getting herself Halibut Ceviche. Agatha reminds you of Abby this way, a woman who knows what she wants and takes charge. You would actually love to surprise Abby on a date here one night, it would be a nice gift after she’d dealt with her rambunctious students all day.

“Dear? What’s with that frown?” Her eyebrows furrowed. You hadn’t noticed you were frowning reaching for the stem of your wine glass.

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” you dismissed. You hadn’t noticed you were frowning reaching for the stem of your wine glass.

“Come on.” She places her hand over yours offer you a reassuring smile, “It’s okay to tell me.” Agatha makes it easy to talk to her outside of work, seeping such a comforting air.

“I think my wife is or was cheating.” You stared at your wine, unable to look her in the eyes.

“Well, what happened?” She folded her fingers resting her chin on them, azure eyes watching your every move.

“There was a lipstick stain on the collar of her shirt.” You opted to leave out the panties out of embarrassment.

“It wasn’t yours?” She pried, taking another sip wine.

“No, I don’t particularly like dark lipstick colors. And I’d think I’d remember staining my wife’s collar.” You realized the bite in your tone, “sorry.”

“Hmm,” she squinted her eyes at you, you could see her thinking, “While I honestly can’t give you any advice besides trying to talk it out with her. I can tell you that whatever you need I’ll help you however I can.” She squeezed your hand, the food arriving at your table.

She turned to conversation to more pleasant topics. Agatha told you stories about her early college days. Once she got mad at one of her professors for contradicting herself too many times during a lesson. Agatha had given her the finger, written fuck you on the board and left, never taking the class for the rest of the semester. Both of your sides hurting from laughing to hard, “I ended up taking the class again in my last year. Under a different professor, of course.”

You felt bad having Agatha pay the bill even though she offered, so you covered the tip. Returning to the office everyone stared at you as Agatha escorted you to your office. Exchanging personal numbers, Agatha expressed again that she would be available to you day and night.

—

“You’re home late.” Noting as Abby walked through the door hanging her laptop bag on the hook.

“I’m sorry, baby. We had a curriculum meeting that ran late.” She came up behind you hands on your waist. Peppering kisses on your neck, peering over your shoulder watching you scoop the meat into the bell peppers, “Dinner smells delicious.”

“It’s turkey-quinoa stuffed bell peppers, it just needs to go in the oven for twenty minutes.” You moved to place the pan in the oven, afterwards turning towards her pecking her on the cheek, “Why don’t you go get cleaned up for dinner.”

You giggle as Abby raves about dinner while telling you about finger painting with her kids at work and how she almost fell asleep in the meeting. After dinner she cleans the kitchen as you set up a movie marathon for you both to wind down from the day. Abby sits beside you bringing you closer to her warm body. Although there’s still a sliver of doubt in the back of your mind, you were content snuggling, watching movies together.

After a while Abby got up to use to the restroom, leaving her phone by you. It lights up repeatedly, you really didn’t want to look, wanting to trust your wife, but the hearts in the messages caught your attention from the corner of your eye.

「I miss you babe. I had a great time today😘

I can’t wait to see you again❤️❤️❤️

I got that thing for us to try😉 」

“What the fuck!” Shouting, you grabbed her phone.

“What’s wro-” Abby came back down the hallway only for her phone to collided with her chest, startling her. Desperately, she reached out grabbing it, jaw dropping at the screen. You’re fuming, face contorting with such an intensity she’d never seen before.

“No bullshit, Abigail! Explain that!” Glaring at her, tears blurring your vision.

“I don’t know that number! She balled and unballed her fist, visibly trying to keep her tears at bay, “I swear, I would never cheat on you.” You both went back and forth. An argument turned screaming match, loud enough to shake the pictures on the wall.

Stopping yourself mid sentence, you dropped your shoulders, staring at her, “I can’t stay here tonight.” Rushing out of the house, you ignored her pleas.

Pulling into a gas station you sit and collect your thoughts, feebly attempting to hold yourself together as your phone rings, “Ms. Harkness, would it be possible if I stayed with you tonight?”

“Of course, dear, not a problem at all.” Her honeyed voice acted as a light in the dark, “I’m sending you the address now.”

—

Agatha was already waiting outside when you pulled in the driveway. The faint scent of fresh flowers wafts through the house, adding a touch of nature. As you sink into the luxurious leather sofa, you feel the softness enveloping you, providing utmost comfort.

“I love her. I thought she loved me, I just can’t believe that she’d do this.” Breaking down into sobs Agatha cradled you in her arms, not saying a word, rubbing your back letting you get it all out. Once your sobs subsided into sniffles Agatha titled your chin up, her warm lips falling on yours. Face twisting in shock, you pushed her away, “We can’t-”

“Don’t.” A tight grip on your jaw kept you from getting too far away, ”I know you need this.” She pulled you in for another kiss, this time rougher and more disorienting. Wrong, this was so wrong. Not only are you dealing with a fallout with your wife but she’s your boss.

Agatha slipped her tongue past your lips moving slow, enjoying the feeling of your mouth, occasionally coming back to lick your tongue. You hated to admit that you did need this. Months without sex left you pent up, something coming up each time you two try. You couldn’t even recall the last time your wife kissed you with such wanton desire.

“Come back to me, doll.” Smiling when your eyes focused back her, she couldn’t wait to ravage you. Picking you up she wrapped your thighs around her waist, walking to her bedroom.

Depositing you onto her plush queen-sized bed, draped in smooth satin sheets that shimmer in the soft light. The satin sheets cool and silky against your hot skin. She walked over to the adjoining bathroom ordering over shoulder, “I want your clothes off by the time I’m back.”

You know you shouldn’t but the ache in between your legs was too much. Not enough to keep you here, this has gone far enough already. Shaking your head you started to move off the bed to leave.

“I gave you an order, little girl.” Agatha stood at the edge of the bed naked, and arms crossed. You paled at the strap hanging from her jutting hips. She lowered her voice, leaning forward on the bed, “Take your clothes off.”

“Now!” She raised her voice at your hesitation, gaze hardening. Not wanting to anger her further, you quickly stripped. She stood back up tapping her hip, “Come get it wet.”

With a hitch in your breath you crawled over to her. Getting closer you noticed the purple undertone of her cock in the light. Dragging your tongue across the head of the strap you could see her stomach tensing. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, shoving her cock deeper, “You look beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”

You choked, the tip of her cock hitting the back of your throat. She pulled back before throughly fucking your throat, your nose touching her harness. Unable to look up at her shame and arousal growing in your core, as your head bobbed up and down over her shaft. Gripping at her thighs to hold yourself steady, tears began to brim your eyes.

“Look at you.” Agatha heaved, pulling you off of her, smearing your spit on your face, “my messy girl.” She pushed you down on your back, hovering over you, her hand falling over your cunt, “I don’t think I needed you to suck me off, your cunt is dripping.”

“Does she tell you how sexy you are?” Pressing chaste kisses to your neck and chest as she slipped herself inside your cunt. Mewling, arching your back as her cock sunk deeper into your depths, your eyes rolling back.

“Not lately.” you sighed.

“Not lately.” she scoffed, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I’d be sure to tell you every damn day.” She accentuates each word with a thrust. She picked up her pace, fully bottoming out.

Whining as her thumb drew over your clit, it hit you embarrassingly quick how close you were. Agatha suddenly pulled out, and flipped you on all fours. Nudging you further up the bed she pulled your hips towards hers.

Pushing herself back inside, her hand snaked under your chest holding your jaw again. Sweat mingling with hers as she laid her body on top of yours, her hips pistoning into yours. Agatha’s husky voice reached your ears, “Can she make you feel like this? Give you this deep pleasure?”

“I bet she’s so afraid of getting a strap or toys.” she chuckled, dropping her tone again, “I want you to think of your sweet wife and tell yourself the truth. That she only satisfies the surface, not the deep primal need you have to get fucked ruthlessly like an animal.”

Moaning as she dug her nails into your hips, driving her cock deep and fast into depths. Your arms felt like jelly, giving out you fell to your chest. Biting your bottom lip you tried to keep your tears from forming.

Agatha’s thrusts slowed down to a halt, lazily rubbing your clit. The grip on your jaw tightened, possibly leaving bruises. Agatha growled out, “Tell yourself, doll.”

Fisting the sheets, your salty tears fell on your lips, crying out, “No! She can’t make me feel this good!”

She grunted pushing herself closer against you, returning to her previous speed. Fucking you breathless, each touch of hers set your body alight. You sobbed as your body shook underneath her, cunt clenching around her cock. Agatha fucked you mercilessly through your orgasm, sucking harshly at the crook of your neck, working herself through her own orgasm.

Pride swelled in Agatha’s chest as she watched your body collapse on the bed, your pussy glistening. Slipping away to toss the strap into the bathroom sink, she returned to find you curled in on yourself, the sheets halfway covering your body. Laying behind you she reached for her phone on the nightstand, the newest message read:

「 I don’t know who you are but you may have just ruined my marriage!! 」

Putting her phone back down she smiled to herself, she definitely knows she destroyed your marriage. Your cries dissolved into sniffles as Agatha traced patterns along your spine. She knows there’s many emotions going through you in your post-orgasm clarity.

Maybe-no you had acted rash. Your chest tightened at the thought of how you’re going to confront your wife after this. Sobs bubbled up in your chest again, full of regret, shame, and guilt. Sitting up to grab your clothes, lithe fingers wrapped around your bicep, pulling you back down. Agatha covered your body with hers, settling her smooth thigh against your sticky cunt.

A devilish smile on her face, “We’re both taking off work tomorrow.”

[tmwcs]

Beauty and the Beast

• Part One •

Warnings: nothing too extreme…yet. Hints of suicidal acts/ideations and cat and mouse chase. Part two is going to be a bit gross though…definitley read this boring part to prepare yourself for part two. Also not proofread so please ignore the mistakes. ✌🏻

Lost in a hypnotic state of bewilderment, your attention is captivated by the beauty of the pink hue emerging from the glass bell jar. The crystal rose magically floats in mid air, leaving you amazed and perturbed. How incredible was it to see something extraordinary that defies the laws of gravity? You reach out to lift the lid when a grueling shadow suddenly casts the entire room. Your sight switches over to the open balcony and witnesses something out of this world staring back at you. The details of the inhuman entity staring became a blur. You didn’t want to stick around to study it–your instincts propelled you to run instead. Immediately, you turned and rushed over to the door when you felt its grip on your arm yanking you back. It shifts you around and takes a good look at you, forcing you to do the same. The creature had two large hooves that propped its magnificently strong figure. It resembled that of a man with large muscle and an extended height. Under his partially open cloak, his anatomy flourished in full display and you shamefully witnessed the creature to be male. His broad chest casted impressive pectoral muscles that were both lean and heavy. His arms were long and his hands were decorated with lengthy claws as the length of his smooth hair subtly drapes loosely over his wrists. His neck was also crowned with long strands that shined black as the granite. His head resembled a large goat head with two large horns that remained predominantly straight at the base, and curved at the tip. You were forced to watch as the rectangular pupils studied you from head to toe. Resembling the eyes of a sheep or a goat, this creature expresses every demonic feature that was written in the darkest tale.

You barely gained enough time to recover from the blasphemous appeal before you. A voice emerges from the creature, setting you back to a stunned state of mind. Your vision snapped forward and straight to his eyes when he spoke in a loud and deep tone. His pitch was not human, it carried the growling purr of a wild beast and the roaring vibration of a demon. “And you are?”

Despite the blank stare, his snarling snout flared his anger. He was every violation of the Holy Bible–the true image of Hell. “P-please let me go…” you shivered out under a shallow breath. It was hard to speak out. Fear overtook your senses as your hands clam up from his tightened grip. “Answer my question or I’ll tear you to pieces.”

Momentarily, the beast releases your arm and thrashes a nearby console table, splitting it in half. You collapse from the destruction cowering in fear. The shattering crack pierces your ear as you scream out begging for the monster to stop. He roars and continues to thrash all the beautiful antique paintings within the room. His beastly form appears in full display as the cloak flies off from the tantrum, revealing a whiplashing tail. Leaving the handsome portrait and the rose untouched, the beast destroys the entire study, leaving it in tatters. You curl up and begin tearing up. Covering your ears, you try to calm yourself when you notice that the clattering halts. You lift your head to view the room. It's empty. The beast was nowhere to be found.

Grabbing your phone and quickly making your way to the door, you rushed down the stairs and through the hall. You couldn’t remember how to get to the main hall where the exit was. Lost inside the mansion, the echoes of the beast's roars from outside caused you to take cover as you maneuvered through the narrow hall. “Shit…”

Seconds pass and the howling stir of echoes become distant, allowing you to rebuild the fortitude to move again. Frantically running, you reach the end of the corridor. Turning the corner, a pair of stabled hands grip your arms–pinning them together. Yelping, a burst of tears emerge when you realize that the one who has you is none other than butler. “Young lady–” his voice was calm, despite witnessing your distress. You shift within his grip. He was surprisingly strong despite his age. Appealing to his sensibility from earlier, you pleaded for his help. “Please–! You have to help! There–there’s something inside this house! It’s a monster!”

“Shh…” he coos you. “You’re alright. Nevermind my master’s rudeness, he’s always cranky when awoken from his slumber.”

You paused at the wording. “M-master?” your brows furrowed in confusion as you inquired for the butler to elaborate. Here all along you mistakenly assumed that the master of the household to be that of a child. “Th-that was the master you spoke about? The one that was napping? What is he? What is this place? Get me out of here!”

You become hysterical as you try to peel his hands off, yet he re-stabilizes you once more. “Young lady, you must calm yourself before he hears you. My master is not one to react kindly to foreign disturbances inside his home.”

His words convince you to calm down. Your sobbing quiets down as he places a finger against his lips and gently hushes you. Another roar from the beast emerges from afar. “He’s in the main hall, we will need to go back towards the study.”

You gasped at his insistence. “What?! No!”

He shushes you once more. “If we proceed forward, he will see you and I won't be able to save you then. The best course is to have you remain in one of the guest rooms and wait there until it is clear for you to leave. Please have trust.”

Hopelessness drapes over as the beast’s roar grows louder. The butler rushes to the nearest guestroom. “Remain here. I will have Mrs. Potts come in to check on you as I attend to my Master. Remember…you must not leave this room.”

Leaving you, the butler rushes in the direction of his master’s thunderous cries. “On my way sir!” he shouts, disappearing into the abyss of the narrow corridor.

Struggling to find comfort in waiting for the butler, you begin walking towards the same direction. “Sir?…” you gently call out, hoping to hear a reassuring response. You continue on the path until you reach the main grand hall, where the chandeliers gently warm the atmosphere with dimmed candlelight. The glass windows shutter, startling you. Something was banging the walls from the other side that resulted in a series of subtle booms and vibrations. You cover your ears as you continue walking, hoping to see someone kind and helpful to aid you towards the exit. In a split second your hopes experienced victory when you saw a figure ahead…yet it was short lived.

The beast stepped into the light and snarled. A magnificent form of power and strength, he slightly hunched over as if taking position to charge. Your heart sinks into your stomach as your vision blurs. What started as a few steps backwards quickly transitioned into a direct one-eighty turn and a sprint. Running away, you hear the pounding hooves behind clash against the marble tiles. They grew louder, stronger, and more dreadful as they closed the distance. Reaching the main study where you first saw the beast, you panic. Making all that progress just to be sent back to square one presented a feeling of hopelessness and the act of surrendering was at your fingertips. Should you just let the beast devour you alive? Or should you jump off the balcony? The options, while limited, were at your reach, however time was not on your side as you heard the beast clash against the heavy door. He rams his form against it a few more times and it begins to crack open. You peer over to the balcony and make your choice. Unfortunately there was no time to mourn and bid the world a farewell. Not even enough time to say a thoughtful prayer.

The beast continues with his destructive rage, beaching entrance as the door begins to hang by the loose hinges. You step onto the stone tiles and view the outside world from a heightened view and take a deep breath. Placing yourselves over the ledge, you station yourself on the opposite end and hang by the shaky grip of the concrete pillars, pressing your lower backside against the coolness of its smooth exterior. You don’t look down. It would only make it harder.

Chest up and facing the sky, you close your eyes. The final release will be based strictly on hearing. The final blow through the sprayed splinters of the mahogany panel will be your que to let go. Let it all go.

The final seconds felt like an eternity. But after hearing him burst through successfully, you release. Your eyes remain closed yet the teardrops find a way to escape from closed lids and decorate your reddened cheeks. You feel yourself slipping forward, knowing that there was no end until your body meets the ground. after fully embracing the end—the most challenging obstacle you’ve yet to overcome, a dreadful moment pangs you from within as you felt a harsh grab around your wrist. It was strong and tight. Your eyes jolt open as you whimper from the yank. Looking behind, you witness the image of monstrosity bringing you back in.

Bringing you back in…

Taglist: @strxwbloody @nshmrarki @aquariushiiiii @addictedtohobi @nuriicata @lilyuwon

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Little fairy tale castle built in 1976 in Lafayette, PA was the height of style in the 70s, but it's very dated, now. IMO, the 70s were a pretty tacky period in decor. They're asking $1.16M for the 4bd, 5ba home. What do you think?

I prefer gryphons to the common lion statues.

The entrance hall is grand and has elements of English Tudor style, as well as castle. I like the way the lamps simulate torches and the ceiling with the medieval chandelier is amazing. Plus, the sweeping stairs and tile floors look good. I would want to repaint it, but it would take $ to brighten this up.

Love the iron gate to the sitting room. The home has the elements of a large castle and it's beautifully done.

The sitting room is elegant with 2 steps down to the sunken space.

Beautiful fireplace and windows, all on a smaller scale. Love the wood ceiling and chandelier, too.

Very large dining room. Nice chandelier, but no wainscoting or fireplace, plain ceiling.

This is where we get into the 70s style. The colors were orange, green and yellowish gold. So, the kitchen has the original dark cabinetry, there's the orange hood w/a royal crest over the cook top and cool orange sinks. The brown & orange tile floor ties it in.

They changed out the counters b/c they're granite. You can see the stained glass cabinet doors and decorative panels on the fridge. I think I would put one of those Knight statues in here with a tray, so he looks like a butler or something campy like that. d

Large casual dining area is nice. It has a whole wall fireplace. I actually like this space better than the formal dining room. Note the little dragons on the medieval chandelier.

Very dated and original wallpaper and lighting. You can either embrace this home, and just brighten it up a little, or renovate it.

Check out the original avocado toilet and sink.

Now up on the 2nd level, we have a rec room with window seats, on one side. By the looks of the overhead fixture, there was a pool table in here.

On this side of the rail, step down to the sunken bar area, the epitome of 70s entertaining. You've got a stone fireplace area for guests to gather, and a wet bar with the decorative panels and popular plaid wallpaper. Plus, note that there's also a stepdown to the sunken bar.

This is the door to the primary chamber.

They emptied it, but it's royal purple and spacious. There's also a small fireplace and closets with mirrors. I tried to get tinted mirror strips off my wall when I had the house- they were on the sides of a stone fireplace and would not budge. I finally covered them w/simulated stained glass.

Across a small purple hallway is the primary bath.

Variety of fixtures- funky black tub, orange sink, black toilet and bidet. It looks like everything has its own room, too.

Now, this suite has a purple theme.

Check out the 3 pc. bath. I'm colorblind when it comes to distinguishing gray and orchid. Is the sink purple?

Very large attic for lots of storage.

There's a beautiful free-form pool outside.

The grounds are very pretty.

.79 acre lot, beautifully landscaped.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/4127-Presidential-Dr-Lafayette-Hill-PA-19444/10072422_zpid/

[austinbutlerslovers]

Can we get a teaser of the feyd fic

It is almost complete, minor details are subject to change. Here is the scene mentioned in the summary:

Feyd Fantasy Part II <Excerpt>

The Barons Favorite

The Baron speaks with his advisors in the morning about the upcoming gladiatorial fights around the massive table in the meeting hall. When the assembly concludes he uses his hover suit to bring the men of court to watch Feyd in combat training.

Part Two Complete✍🏼

He is proud of the accomplishments of his nephew Feyd, he is the Barons favorite over his older brother Glossu Rabban Harkonnen.

After making several public embarrassments to the family name the Baron had Feyds brother Rabban shipped to Arrakis. He gives him one last chance to prove his worth controlling their families most lucrative venture, harvesting spice.

Though ominous and foreboding the Baron is an obesely over weight man. He can no longer walk without the assistance of integrated technology to reduce the burden of his weight. His hover suit is implanted into his spine with thick tubes connected on two small orbs. The orbs float behind him carrying the chemicals which enable him to defy gravity.

They arrive to the second story of the courtyard in Feyds quarters. When the men gather looking down into the training pit on the first floor it is deserted. A low murmur begins between his advisors as to the where abouts of Feyd. Always eager to show off his knife skills Feyds absence is jarring.

The Baron immediately hovers to Feyds chambers and finds them empty as well. Feyds male Page appears at the entrance hearing the commotion.

“Well where is he?” The Baron snaps “You are to be at his side at all times have you forgotten your purpose”The Baron is fuming at the Pages insolence.

The Page trembles knowing the truth and averts his eyes from the Barons sinister Gaze “Spit it out or I cut it out” the Baron says coldly. He hovers into the young man’s personal space. The Page knows both men will readily slit his throat.

He divulges enough not to be dispatched by either “He and his lady are in the great halls of the fortress. I’m not sure where but he wanted to show her the grandeur of Geidi Prime” the Baron squints in anger how idiotic at a time like this with so much at stake to impress his new bride. His scowl deepens because Feyd above all neglected his training. For that he will be heavily punished.

The Great Meeting Hall

After touring your fifth great hall with Feyd it is readily apparent his family has amassed a great fortune with power and control over the populous of Geidi Prime.

He pushes open the large black inscribed doors of the meeting hall. There are thrones at opposite ends raised on platforms with stairs. The high floor to ceiling windows display the industrial city scape and a grand table that can seat fifty people occupies the majority of the floor space. Everything is void of color, only stone marble, black and granite can be seen in the gigantic area.

You walk over to the throne on your left “is this one yours?” Your voice echos in the large hall. Feyd nods, his hands are clasped behind his back. He follows you around the room as you study the furniture and the giant painting of his uncle and then of himself. There is a portait of a third Harkonnen male next to Feyds but he interrupts your thoughts before you can ask the identity.

���This is where the most important decisions are made on Geidi Prime, as well as another secret room with the cones of silence” he adds.

“What are cones of silence? “ you ask. The words are somewhat familiar to you.

“They are able to mute all sounds around them, only the two inside can hear each other.” He answers as he imagines himself fucking you inside of one until he makes you scream in pleasure as loud as he possibly can. He stops walking and stands behind you.

You've paused to study something that caught your eye. His eyes wander your form up to the beauty of your side profile. He can’t help himself as his hand trails down your shoulder. “Do these things in impress you?” He asks. You finally look over your shoulder at him.

You had been mesmerized studying an ancient Harkonnen sword on display. It is carved with hieroglyphs that date back centuries. It represents how his entire culture revolves around war and greed . “Yes ” you say addressing his question to be kind. You turn back to looking at the sword again. Inside you are deeply longing for your home world.

You remember the beautiful gardens, waterfalls, flowers, and colors of life. You especially miss the large atrium where you would read for hours basking in the afternoon sunlight. The warm rays would kiss your skin as it filtered through the glass dome.

Laying on a spacious out door ottoman with your fellow Bene Gesserit sisters honing your skills in the palatial gardens seemed like a dream now.

Feyd sees you lost deep in thought and softly grabs your chin “What would impress you more” he asks with intent. He knows you aren’t fond of the ways on Geidi Prime. You don’t have an answer so you remain quiet.

He knows one thing he has that impresses you on end. He gently pulls you into a kiss. His bottom lip rubs softly with yours as his warm tongue fills your mouth.

He ignites your passions and you place your hands on his jaw. You lean your head with his as you kiss him in return. You want to focus on the carnal and forget your distant memories. He presses himself against you and the heat of his body claims you.

He turns you walking back as he kisses your lips until you are met against the grand meeting hall table. He sits on the edge and moves to the center. He rests back on his heels beckoning you to come.

You climb onto the edge and crawl to him. Now both in the center he holds your jaw and pulls you close. His lips find yours again hungrier than before.

You feel his teeth bite into your lower lip and tug. It arouses you and he releases your lip to do again. Then he envelops his mouth completely onto yours. You feel the hardness of his cock as he presses it into your thigh.

He wants to defile you on this table. He smirks at the high disrespect to the Harkonnen dynasty he is about to commit. Soon this will all belong to him so what does it matter. He pushes you back to lie flat against the stone slab. You gaze up above him to the metallic barbs of the chandelier until his face obstructs your view.

His hands start at your knees grabbing the hem of your gown sliding it up to your hips.

His hands clutch one side of your panties tearing them apart making you gasp. He tears the other side and rips them clean from your body.

You watch as he sits back on his heels between your parted legs. He unhooks the clasp of his pants and pulls his thick veiny cock out. The contrast of the black fabric against his large hardened pale cock is striking.

His slaps his pink tip on your clit to edge you.

You flinch at each tap as it makes your bundle of nerves jump. He slides his hand down your thigh to meet your hip and holds you steady. He lines himself up and thrusts into you so roughly you have no time to adjust to the feeling.

Your vision goes hazy as your back arcs from the table. His penetration shocked you senseless. His large cock expands parts of you that you never knew existed. He watches how your face changes from pain to pleasure and back again as you try and relax around the girth of his size.

He wants to spur you on and leans down pressing his chest to yours. He wraps his hand around the back of your neck titling your head so he can speak softly into your ear.

”You are so beautiful to me” he says as his eyes study your side profile. He traces his thumb on your lower lip as you pant for him. “So desperate for my cock, the way you’d let me fuck you on this table you’d let me do anything to you” a moan escapes your lips as he shushes you “Just lay still and look pretty while I fuck you until you stretch open for me” you moan louder at his words.

He begins to roughly thrust inside of you like he wants to posses you. His cock hits your core at a dangerous pace. Your breasts bounce with every push of his hips. He is already becoming lost in pleasure grunting above you. He loves the feeling of your tight cunt stretching around his throbbing cock.

You arc your back down flat to brace yourself against his rutting. “You…feel too good on my cock” he rasps out as he finally hits the thrust that stretches you around his size. He stares down into your eyes completely transfixed by the physical connection between your bodies.

Unbeknownst to you both the Baron has finally narrowed his search. After spying into several halls down the corridor his servants waves him over finally finding the one you are in. The Baron peeks through the discreet opening made by one of the nimble servants. There on the middle of the table in the grand meeting hall he sees Feyd fucking you ruthlessly.

Your are constantly being pounded into the stone slab table by his strength. His hips begin slapping harder against you as he thrust between your legs. You hold out until the familiar tightening in your abdomen begins. Your moans start to fill the air.

As your walls clench around him it makes his cock feel incredible inside of you. Your eyes stare up at him, pleading and begging for release.

He sees the neediness in your eyes and brings his hand between your bodies touching your clit. His finger tips are wet by your arousal and he slicks them expertly in firm circles around your bundle of nerves.

It sends shocks though your core that radiate your entire body “YES please Feyd just like that“. You are unable to string together another sentence as you orgasm. He strums your clit as hard as he can with his cock slamming into your soaked pussy.

His mouth opens when he feels the pleasurable sensation of your walls milking his cock from the orgasm. He pins your wrists next to your head and plows into you even harder his release is immediate. His pace falters as he orgasms. You both moan as he paints rope after rope of his hot cum into your cervix.

He rests down on his elbows laying his full weight on you panting. He kisses your lips passionately with his final slow thrusts. His breath shudders into your mouth as he feels his cock empty inside of you.

He plants soft kisses around your face as he comes down. Each one more tender and loving than the last. His heart feels revived when he’s with you. He cradles your head in his hands staring deeply into your eyes. You smile at him and he smiles back, this time it isn’t like his sinister ones before, this one is radiant you see the kindness return in his eyes.

His uncle spying on the entire moment becomes enraged : not at the fact Feyd missed training, not at the fact he satisfied his carnal urges on the sacred meeting hall table, but at the fact Feyd put a woman’s pleasure before his own. The Baron turns away in disgust his patience is severed.

He raised Feyd with enough brutality and greed to become a ruthless tyrant. Now he sees every aspect of brutally he instilled in Feyd quickly being stripped away by a female. He never thought this was possible.

He is resolute in his decision to regain control. He will take out two problems with one swift action: Punishing Feyd by having you removed from his presence entirely.

[Sneak Peek: Full fic in finalization]

.⚔️ Fic Tag list: @burnthheparaphilia @elvismylove04 @lindszeppelin @obsessedvibee @abswifey @austiebuttbutt @jessica987 @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @hardcoredisneynerd @i5uckersblog @phil2135561 @lovereadingfanfic @steph-speaks @maloribarnes1999 @meetmeatyourworst @moony-artemis @xxxstormyninixxx @prettypinkblogger @thegabbyh

[seren1tyhaze]

Vibration

PAIRING: dilf!mark lee x afab reader

WORD COUNT: 2.9K

SUMMARY: Going home with Jaemin after another date leads to a night (and morning after) that you will never forget. Especially after you meet his incredibly hot Uncle Mark.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I present my official gift to my fellow Markfs for our beloved Mark Lee's birthday. This has been a long-standing, half-finished wip that was heavily inspired by MarkLeeInARobe2023 during that one live during tds2 where we are all pretty sure he wasn't wearing any underwear. Hope you all had a wonderful Mark Day and that you enjoy this gift from me to you :)

WARNINGS: explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mild swearing

PLAYLIST: Vibration by Mark Lee, Daddy Issues by Demi Lovato

Beast on the loose, rocking on Close your eyes and look Feel the vibration Do you feel alive?

~~

“Shhhhhh…Jaem! We are going to get in trouble!” you squeal, dodging the tall man’s grabby hands as you wobble, almost dropping into the sparkling water of the pool under the night sky.

“Loosen up, silly,” he slurs back, bottle of tequila dangling from his long fingers dangerously over the slate tiles under your bare feet.

A third date with a cute guy from the IT department at work had turned into after dinner drinks and after after dinner drinks and dancing and shots and now you were stumbling around in the backyard of Jaemin’s house…?

“This is your house, right?” you ask, pausing and cocking your head to the right in punctuation as you watch him peel off his undershirt, his lightweight sweater long discarded half a bottle ago.

“I live here, yes,” he chuckles back, dropping down to let his feet dip into the light blue water of the beautiful pool set in the middle of the yard.

“My uncle is letting me stay with him for a few months before I find my own place.”

You take a moment to glance towards the large house in front of you. The entire back wall is floor to ceiling windows, giving a beautiful view of a modern and spacious kitchen, dim lighting illuminating granite countertops and shiny appliances. Jaemin’s uncle must be another one of these rich tech bros who never grew out of spending his money on shiny things. At least in this case you were benefiting from it.

You think you see some movement in the living room and are about to say something before you hear a loud splash and water shoots over your bare legs, dampening the flowy skirt of your thin dress.

Gasping, you shoot daggers at the smiley man in the pool, watching with interest as he dips his head back, running slender fingers through long auburn locks. You smile at him softly, tequila or lust clouding your judgment as you descend the stairs in the pool to meet him in the middle where your feet barely touch the bottom.

Jaemin’s hands find your waist underwater, pulling you closer to him as your dress billows out in the water, exposing you under the shimmering lights. A devious grin forms across his beautiful features as he tightens his grip on your waste and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Jaemin…don’t even think about it…” you warn, placing your hands on his shoulders preemptively.

Suddenly you are being tossed in the air and back into the water, head being pulled under the water and a muffled shriek bursting from your throat. You gasp for air as you break through the surface again only to find the charming boy in front of you laughing maniacally, clutching his middle underwater.

“Na Jaemin!” comes a loud voice, causing you both to snap your heads back towards the house, to find a blonde man with round wire frame glasses on the tip of his nose standing in black silk pajamas near the glass sliding door.

Jaemin is suddenly next to you and your heart is racing as the man takes another step closer to the pool, stepping into the moonlight. The rippling water of the pool is casting bright flashes across his face and strong frame, pants hugging his thighs before flaring out in a perfectly tailored length. His hair is on the longer side, similar to Jaemin’s but a beautiful pale blonde, dry and silky.

“Uncle Markkkk,” Jaemin slurs, tossing an arm around your shoulder, hand tangling instinctively in your long wet hair. You shrug violently in an attempt to get away from him, blush flaring up on your cheeks as you meet the stern man’s gaze.

“It’s late, use the indoor hot tub if you’re going to be out here. I don’t need pissed off neighbors,” he adds before turning on his heel to head back in the house. You don’t miss how his plump ass is accentuated by the silky material and have a hard time dragging your eyes away. Before he’s even out of sight, Jaemin’s hands are hungrily all over you again, sliding up your wet back to massage your shoulders.

“Jaemin, stop,” you warn, avoiding his kiss with a shake of your head. Getting caught has thrust you back to an embarrassed reality and you’re already plotting your escape via a long Uber ride back to your apartment.

“Don’t worry about Mark, he’s cool, I promise,” Jaemin coos, connecting his lips with your neck, wicked tongue making quick work at marking the skin there.

You melt under his touch, weak for that particular spot, and close the gap to connect further with his chest. Slotting your lips with his, you lick behind his teeth greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and sighing against his lips.

“Fine, but take me inside, you owe me a shower and warm clothes,” you whisper against his mouth, linking your legs around his waist and grinding against his crotch as a silent promise.

The next morning you wake up to an empty bed and sun streaming through the window. It feels late but when you check your phone you realize it was around the time you would wake up on a weekday. The house is silent and Jaemin’s backpack is gone from where he had messily strewn it the night before.

A note on his desk indicates he had been called into the office on this peaceful Saturday to deal with a possible data breach and you are welcome to anything in the kitchen. You check your phone to realize he’s already sent you money for an Uber and your heart sinks. He was cute, cuter than you usually went for and way too nice for you. You now know this has to be the last date with him, your commitment issues flaring up.

Mk usually plays tennis on Saturdays so the coast should be clear. Call me later xx

You sink into his desk chair, crumpling the note and letting it fall into the small waste basket. After a quick wash of your face and brush of your teeth, you shrug into one of Jaemin’s oversized hoodies, letting it drop long on your thighs and covering the boxer briefs he had lent you last night. Combing through your hair with your fingers, you pull the hood up over your head and pad downstairs, louder than you would have in someone’s home.

Making your way into the kitchen, you go straight to the fridge, yanking it open to find glass bottles of water lining the door. You uncap one and take it down in one gulp, thirsty beyond belief.

“Jaeminnie, we need to talk about last night,” comes the same voice who had startled you by the pool the night before.

You freeze, pushing the fridge door shut slowly. In the hoodie and boxers, with your hair and frame covered, you know you could easily be mistaken for the boy you had gone home with. You had similar build and heights and a quick glance over your shoulder confirms that Mark hadn’t lowered the newspaper he was reading.

“You can’t just keep fucking every beautiful girl you meet in my pool. What would my brother say about how I’m letting you spend your summer?” he continues in a condescending tone as you back up against the island, nervous to turn around.

“And by the sounds of you two in the shower, it sounds like she’s sexy as hell and quite the catch, so don’t you think it’s about time you settled down?” he finishes, lifting his tone up in a question, never lowering the paper.

You place the empty bottle down on the glossy countertop and cross the kitchen to the table where he sits, placing manicured fingertips on the top of the paper to get his attention.

“Quite the catch? Sexy as hell? Oh do tell me more about this beautiful girl,” you reply with a smirk, pulling the newspaper from the shocked man’s face.

“Jesus, fuck, I’m so sorry…” Mark trails off as you push the hood off your head, shaking your locks temptingly and giving him a quizzical cock of your brow.

“Don’t be sorry,” you start, leaning your hip against the edge of the table as you watch panic wash over his face.

His face looks freshly washed with no doubt luxury skincare applied immediately after and he is lounging casually in a dark blue robe with white trim, ML embroidered in gold thread at the chest. His toned chest is peaking through, belt loose at the waist and legs spread wide, bare legs ending in soft slippers planted on the floor.

“I heard someone leave early so I assumed it was you. I had no idea you were still here,” he tries to explain, fidgeting with the dangling edge of the belt. His eyes are struggling to meet yours, as you train your gaze down at him with your hands now shoved in the hoodie pocket.

“He had to head to work. He said you wouldn’t be here,” you reply softly, now feeling bad for grilling him as he squirmed below you. He looked soft and sweet in the morning light, drastically different from the stern fatherly tone he took last night at the edge of the pool.

“Can I make you a cappuccino? Some eggs?” he asks, sitting up in the chair, bare knees bumping against yours and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Hmm I was thinking of how I could repay you for your hospitality. This is quite a beautiful home you have here, Uncle Mark,” you reply, brushing your hand across his that was resting on his knee.

He winces at the name but looks down at your hand on his, turning his over to let your fingers lace with his. The tips of his fingers are calloused and you silently wonder if he plays guitar, having noticed some framed records on the wall on the stairs.

“Mark, please, just Mark,” he replies, voice coming out gravelly, eyes dying to roll into the back of his head at the name.

“And it’s fine, I don’t know how to make eggs anyways,” he adds, squeezing your hand gently as you move your other to the belt at his waist.

“Of course a filthy rich guy like you doesn’t cook,” you reply lightly, dropping down to your knees, releasing his hand and placing both your palms on his knees, knocking the edge of the robe out of the way to expose his bare thighs. As far as you can tell, he isn’t wearing any underwear and the thought of his hardening cock bare against his thigh makes you squeeze your legs together.

Mark widens his legs as his eyes narrow, watching you sitting back on your legs in front of him, baggy material pooling around your thighs. Before you can reach to pull the knot of his belt loose, he leans down and you feel your eyes slide shut, assuming he’s going to kiss you. He chuckles instead, breath warm across your lips as he tugs at the hood of the sweatshirt.

“Take this off now,” he commands, sitting back up in the chair and pulling at the belt himself, letting it slip to the floor. The robe falls open, revealing a toned and lean torso accompanied by muscular arms. His cock is hard and flushed red against his stomach and an evil smile is spread across his lips.

As soon as you’ve removed the offending material, your eyes go immediately to his cock, teeth sinking into your lower lip as you take in the sight of him. He’s dripping with sex appeal and you can’t help but stare. He’s definitely older than you and Jaemin but can’t be too much older by the look of his physique. His face is young and the blonde dye of his hair makes it impossible to detect any grays, if he even has any.

“Now where’s that thank you I was promised?” he asks, tipping his chin down to speak to you, hand balled into a fist at his knee. His eyes continue trailing down, landing on your breasts being pressed together by your bare upper arms as your hands rest on your knees. You look like a dream kneeling before him in nothing but gray boxers and it’s taking everything in him not to fuck you over the counter top.

You lean forward, sliding your hands gently up his smooth inner thighs, taking his leaking cock in your hand and lowering your lips to the head. You listen as Mark’s breathing slows and hear a soft moan slide from his lips as you close your lips around him, running the point of your tongue over his sensitive slit.

You chuckle at the noise, sending vibrations across him, using your hand to work the base of his shaft as you kitten lick his head. You let your teeth drag lightly against him every once and a while, tasting his woody musk. You let your eyes slip shut, rocking back and forth on your knees, the energy coursing through your body making you feel more alive than ever.

A disgruntled noise from above draws your gaze up and his hand is suddenly in your hair, pulling the long locks into a ponytail to pull you off his dick.

“Come on, sweetie, I know you can do better than that. I heard how Jaemin fucked your throat last night - my bed shares a wall with the shower,” he grunts out, voice dripping with filth as he accurately recounts your actions from the night before.

Spurred on by his words, you take his cock deep in your mouth, brushing up against the back of your throat as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’re suddenly desperate to prove how well you can take him, despite being slightly bigger than Jaemin and holding far more confidence in the way he carries himself.

Mark lets out a high pitch yelp and you swear you can hear his voice break as he does, sliding his hand down your neck and to your upper back, causing you to shift forward and take him impossibly deeper. Your nose is pressed up into neatly trimmed hair and your eyes begin to water as he lifts his ass off the chair to thrust into your throat. You shift to accommodate him and look up through your lashes to him.

“Holy hell, that’s good,” he groans, arm muscles tensing as he digs his fingertips into your back, no doubt leaving bruises there.

You slide off him, dragging your tongue on the underside of his shaft and swirling around his tip. He squeezes his eyes shut tight behind his glasses, free hand pushing through strands of blonde that had fallen in front of his face.

Without much warning he is shooting warmth across your lips and chest, letting out a deep groan and reaching down to fist at himself through his orgasm. He looks down at you with a smile, lips curling up as if he’s about to say something devious.

“MELT! Babe, are you here?” comes a loud voice, echoing off the walls of the kitchen and causing you to pull back, heart pounding in your chest.

A tall, long-legged man in a polo shirt and athletic shorts appears, his socked feet coming to a stop at the sight of you on your knees on the glossy floor. His hair is dark and lightly permed, long bangs hanging perfectly over his eyebrows and a dainty gold chain laying against his tanned neck.

He gives you a long look up and down, eyes pausing on the cum glazing your lips as you freeze and dart nervous eyes over to Mark, who looks unbothered.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? Looks like Markie found something fun to do instead of tennis this morning,” comes his warm voice as he leans against the entryway to the kitchen.

“Ah Hyuckie, let me be, I texted you while you were golfing,” Mark says with a roll of his eyes and a huff, reaching a soft hand to your chin to pull you to your feet.

“Meet my not-so-better-half, Haechan,” Mark adds, comment directed at you as he brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth, licking away the remains of his release left there.

You gulp and drop your head sheepishly, looking down to your bare chest and covering it nervously with your arms. Twice in less than 24 hours you had been caught in a compromising position and this time you simply wanted to melt into the floor.

Haechan closes the space between you and you feel a hand in your hair, pulling you up gently to meet his gaze. His eyes are sparkling and beautiful, dark moles dotting his cheek and lips plump and soft.

“She’s cute,” he says to Mark, dipping his head down to brush his lips against your collarbone, tongue darting out to taste some of Mark’s cum on your skin.

“Tastes good too,” he adds with a smile.

“Did you enjoy sucking off my husband, darling?” he asks, dark eyes swimming with mischief. He looks breathtaking up close, features just as pretty as Mark’s and voice dripping with lust.

“Husband…” you trail off, unable to form a coherent sentence. You shoot daggers at Mark, who merely smiles and rolls his eyes again before moving to the coffee machine and starting to make another coffee.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

~~

[beyondthesefourwalls]

The Great Escape

Summary: All you wanted on your wedding day was some time alone with your new husband. Luckily for you, Javy was more than game to make an escape and has just the hiding place in mind.

Pairing: Javy Machado x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1.4K 

Warnings: Suave Javy and fluff for days. 

Notes: Back on my Javy agenda. Written for @thedroneranger's pick your poison challenge, with one of the prettiest boards I’ve ever seen. I’m so excited to be able to post it on her birthday of all days! 

------

---

You couldn’t contain your giggles as you slipped out of the ballroom, the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and early 2000’s hip hop quieting as the ornate doors closed. All of your loved ones remained behind it, celebrating and more than halfway drunk from the open bar. But you and Javy craved a moment alone, and you were determined to get it, even if it meant sneaking out in the middle of an orchestrated dance battle Jake had agreed to start on your behalf. 

One hand held the skirt of your dress up as the other was held firmly in his as you hurried down the long hallway, the sound of your heels clicking against the pristine granite floors mixing with both of your laughter. 

“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” you urged, picking up your pace. Your mother hadn’t been far away from you all night, and you knew without a doubt she would notice you missing immediately and go looking for you. Like you thought it into existence, the door to the hotel ballroom opened just as you rounded the corner, Javy skidding in his shiny black shoes as he tried to keep pace with you without losing his grip on either your hand or the chilled bottle of Prosecco he had swiped from the bartender on your way out. You picked up into something closer to a sprint as she started calling your name. 

You made a split-second decision and veered off into a stairwell, the heavy metal door hitting against the walls and echoing in the space. Javy’s body pushed yours into the cold, tiled wall, shushing you quietly even as he struggled to contain himself. You tried to stifle your echoing giggles, hoping to remain hidden. You both held your breath at the sound of clicking heels right outside the door, but once they passed by and didn’t return, you burst into more laughter. 

“Wanna hang out here for a minute?” you asked, leaning against the wall as you caught your breath. Javy looked at you with a warm glint in his dark eyes, his lips curved into a smile just for you. The dim light filtering through the narrow windows cast gentle shadows on his face, and you could see when the look turned mischievous. 

“I have a better idea. Come on, Mrs. Machado. Hike up that skirt, we’re going up.” 

You squealed when he slapped your butt playfully, but the name sent a thrill through you that you didn’t even try and hide. You followed him up the stairs, your dress once again bunched in your hands. By the time you made it to the top, there were tears in your eyes from how hard the two of you laughed as you tripped over the material more than once. 

“Why did I wear a ballgown?” you panted as Javy pushed open the door to the roof. He snorted, and the two of you spoke at the exact same time when you said: 

“Your mother.” 

“My mother.” 

You laughed again as you stepped out onto the rooftop terrace, the cool night air hitting your flushed cheeks and providing a welcome respite from the chaos of the wedding reception. The San Diego city skyline twinkled around you as you took a deep breath of fresh air, taking it all in.  The night breeze tousled your hair as you stood there, reveling in the stolen moment of solitude and embracing the peace that came along with it. It was the first time you had been alone with Javy since you slipped the new piece of hardware on his finger and said I do just a few short hours ago. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, the cool bottle of the prosecco still clutched in his right hand chilling you when it bumped against your arm. "Mrs. Machado," Javy whispered against your ear, his voice filled with tenderness. He peppered gentle kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You tilted your head to the side, savoring the sensation as he continued to shower you with his affection. 

“I love the sound of that,” you admitted freely. 

Javy hummed in response, turning you in his arms so that you were facing him. He looked down at you with that same devastatingly handsome smile you fell in love with the moment you met him. He brushed a kiss across your painted lips, soft and sweet and not nearly enough for what you wanted. “Me too.” He leant his forehead against yours for just a moment, savoring the feeling. When he pulled away, he smirked at you and held up the bottle in his hand. 

“Feel like popping this with me?” 

“God yes,” you nearly moaned. 

His eyes were fixed on yours as he carefully twisted the wire cage off of the bottle. The anticipation in the air was palpable as he held it at an angle, and with a swift motion, he twisted the cork and a loud pop echoed through the night air. Neither of you had taken into account all the running you had done to get to your rooftop destination so when the bubbles frothed over the rim, cascading down onto your hands and his, you both laughed in surprised delight, jumping away from the overflow. 

“Smooth,” you joked, “you’re a regular casanova.” 

Your husband winked dramatically, shaking off some of the excess liquid from his hand. “You know it, baby. To us,” he toasted, taking a swig before handing you the sticky bottle. 

“To us.” 

The taste of prosecco danced on your tongue as you took a sip, savoring both the sweetness and the moment you were having it in. You passed the bottle back and forth as you leant against the railing of the rooftop. Javy pulled you closer, his arm draped around you, pressing your body to his. 

"I can't believe we did it," he said, his voice filled with awe. "We're married now."

You smiled up at him, feeling your heart swell. You couldn’t quite believe it either. "I know. It still feels surreal."

He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, sighing. "I couldn't be happier, Mrs. Machado."

"Me either, Mr. Machado," 

His eyes sparkled with a mix of love and adoration as he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours in a teasing caress. The taste of bubbles lingered on his breath, intoxicating you even more than what was in the bottle. You melted into his embrace, wrapping an arm around his neck and deepening the kiss. Javy’s hands wandered down your back, his touch igniting a fire within you. You gasped against his lips as his fingers traced the delicate curve of your spine, sending electric currents through your body. The taste of the wine mingled with the heat of your kiss, creating a heady blend that you wanted to bottle up and keep forever.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment, the world around you fading away into a blur of lights and distant laughter. It was just the two of you, the way both of you preferred. 

When your lips finally parted, Javy's eyes locked with yours, full of an intensity that took your breath away. His voice was husky as he whispered against your mouth, “What are the chances we can go down and say our goodbyes and ditch the rest of the party?” 

Your heart raced at the suggestion, unable to resist the allure of being alone with him. But you huffed out a laugh, absolutely knowing better.  “You’ve met your new mother-in-law, right? We probably have ten more minutes max up here before she threatens to call the police and send out a search party.” 

He groaned, cursing under his breath, though you knew it was playful. “Well, you know what that means then.” 

You arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, scratching lightly at the back of his neck as you waited for him to elaborate. 

A mischievous smile played on Javy’s lips and he pulled you impossibly closer with a hand on your back while the other covered the one holding the bottle of prosecco, raising it. He took a sip before speaking, the look in his eye wicked in the best of ways. “We have ten minutes to finish this bottle, and I have ten minutes to kiss your lipstick off so that everyone knows exactly what we’ve been up to.”  

You giggled happily just as he kissed you, and you thought the taste of the sparkling wine would never taste as good from a bottle as it did from his lips. 

--------

Main Masterlist

Notes: Happy Birthday, Jay! I hope I did Coyote Casanova justice for you💚

Thanks to @roosterforme and @mak-32 as per usual!

[yellowbunnydreams]

Only Donors Left Alive [Vampire! Dave Miller x F! Reader] (Part 1)

~By popular demand, like weirdly popular for a cameo character in another fic, we're writing Vampire Dave today! Wooo! Also a big shout out to @ruh--roh-raggy and @springlockedfool for being feral over this man with me and springlockedfool for making some awesome art of the wet spaghetto based on our conversations/Do You Need Some Vitamin D?.~

Taglist: @ruh--roh-raggy @springlockedfool

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI- Female Reader, legal age gap, older man/younger woman, graphic acts of violence, biting, knife-play, blood, blood-drinking/licking, unbalanced power dynamic, anaemia, possessive behaviour, partial nudity

Hurricane was a small town with a nothing of particular note going on in it. Or at least, that was what you had been told by the realtor when you'd been looking for somewhere quiet to move to after you'd decided to move out of your parent's house. They seemed content to let you move to a small apartment in somewhere suburban, it had apparently been much more of a thriving town in the eighties, but you preferred the quiet.

As you'd dragged your suitcase from the cab in front of the apartment complex on the edge of town however, you'd already begun to notice a few things that weren't quite right with Hurricane. Although, you easily brushed it off as nerves with moving to somewhere unfamiliar and new.

The apartment complex itself was a drab, dusty grey concrete building that looked like it hadn't been externally renovated since it was built some time in the peak of Hurricane's history and as you let yourself inside the foyer, you noticed the lights had a sickly glow to them. Flickering hallogen lamps that gave you a subtle creepy feeling, like you were walking into somewhere you weren't meant to be.

The place was crap, the rent was cheap, but you were sure you could make it work out for yourself. At least, when all your things arrived over the next few days.

Sighing to yourself, you looked at the notice in your hand and shoved it roughly into the pocket of your denim jacket. Noticing a little elevator nestled into the back of the lobby, you went to try the button, waiting for the doors to open up. Hearing the grinding of metal against metal, and the squeal of the service brakes as the doors to the elevator shaft creaked open, the floor itself an inch or so above the level it should be, you decided it was in your best long-term interests to take the stairs.

Dragging the suitcase up wasn't easy, especially when you realised that you were on the top floor. But you had paid extra on the deposit for a larger apartment, and with four units of each floor and only two on the top floor, you weren't going to complain too much.

The hum of the lights as your breath sounded loud in your ears was somewhat comforting. Looking between the two doors, fishing the paper out of your pocket, you confirmed the number and shuffled over to your new door, wrapping your fingers around the metalic key in your pocket and unlocking the door.

Despite the dingy exterior of the building, the apartment inside was quite clean and somewhat modern. Spacious, painted a soft creamish beige on the walls, the floors were shockingly even laid down with a fresh layer of linoleum. The cupboards were painted a faint pastel bluish-grey, and the vinyl counters were clearly freshly laid, mimicking a black granite. The whole apartment smelt faintly like fresh paint and bleach.

"Well...this is home, I guess." You muttered to nobody. Leaving your suitcase by the door, you decided to explore the space.

The rest of the apartment was just as spacey. A slight hallway, a combined kitchen and lounge, you were quite surprised by the spacious bathroom too, the dark tiling along the walls contrasting to the white floors and a seemingly generous shower. And finally, the bedroom, it was perhaps a little smaller than you originally anticipated, but it was still large enough for you to fit a double bed inside and it came with a built in wardrobe along one wall. This place could easily be home, once the smell of heavy duty cleaning products aired out and you made sure to check the lease on how you could decorate.

Looking outside, you realised how late it was getting and decided to see if you could find somewhere that would deliver food to you. Scrolling through your phone and selecting a pizza place that sounded good, you began to unpack what little belongings you had managed to fit inside your suitcase, wanting to keep yourself busy.

After-all, you were sure you would have time to look around the sleepy little town in the morning.

The next few days were uneventful, much to your boredom and frustration.

All your boxes had arrived, you'd set up furniture, made sure appliances were up and connected. But you had begun to realise there were a few things that were not quite right with Hurricane when you had ventured out into town to grab supplies and things.

Firstly, there were the telephone poles, covered in staples like they were once decorated with posters of some kind, but the few you saw seemed to be missing pets and the occasional human face staring back at you. It made you sad, but when you asked the cashiers about it at the local store, they simply stared at you with wide eyes like they were surprised you had noticed. People didn't talk to each other in the same way as they had back home either. Back there, you went into a store and you could hear something like ten different conversations, but you had only heard whispered conversations amongst small groups that seemed tense when you passed by.

But you shrugged it off, you'd moved states, moved towns, brushing it off as simply strange, you tried to ignore the gut feeling you had that there was something else lurking beneath the surface of it all.

Entering your apartment building, you nearly tripped over a package sat in the lobby. Glancing over it, you realised that the box was addressed to the unit besides yours. Despite being there for a few days, it had seemed strange to you that you hadn't noticed anybody else living in the building, but you assumed that you would all meet at some point.

Balancing your groceries on top, you grunted as you picked up the box. Surprised by it's weight as you glanced at the elevator before sighing and lugging it up the stairs, knowing your legs were going to look great after how many times you'd taken the stairs recently. Although you had to admit that you really hoped your landlord fixed the elevator soon and allowed you to have a day off from going up and down to the top floor each and every time.

The usually twenty minute climb took about forty with the additional box and groceries.

When you reached the top step, you were glad to put the box down. Breathing hard and sweat beading against your brow in the Utah heat, heart pounding in your chest and ears as you let out a frustrated sigh. Closing your eyes for just a moment to gather yourself.

"Well aren't you a pretty sight?" The voice behind you suddenly made you gasp and whip around, heart beating even faster as you were met at first with a white-ish shirt that seemed a little baggy for whoever was wearing it.

Stepping back involuntarily, you noticed a tall, lanky man standing a little too close to you for your comfort. Having to look up slightly, you watched a crooked smile creep across his gaunt face, dark eyes darting about in a way that made you wonder if perhaps he was as flustered as you. Glancing over him as a whole, he appeared to be wearing some kind of unbranded security uniform, white with black epaulettes and black slacks. Not hiding his wiry figure, he looked greyish and like a particularly strong breeze might take him out upon initial inspection.

"Sorry?" The word tumbled from you quickly, and his gaze finally settled on yours for long enough to realise that he had blueish eyes, although they looked darker thanks to the heavy dark circles beneath them giving them a more sallow appearance.

"Oh you don't need to apologise, sugar, it's not often I get visitors all the way up here. And certainly fewer that look as....delectable...as you." The crooked grin spread, revealing crooked teeth, those blue eyes focused on you intently still as he looked down at you, you could feel your cheeks heating up under his intensity. But something about that same intensity made your skin crawl uncomfortably.

"I'm not a visitor, I live on this floor. That means you must be my neighbour, right?"

The man blinked and you felt a sense of relief washing over you as his smile faltered for a moment before that lopsided, cock-sure grin crept back onto his sharp face. Rubbing his hand along his black slacks before offering it to you, making you worry what he'd been touching before you tentatively shook it with a polite smile, caught off guard as his thin, dexterous fingers squeezed and you felt the strength behind his boney appearance. His skin felt cool to the touch and a little clammy, and you thought that maybe he'd just wiped down his sweaty hands to make it a little more pleasant for you.

"So you're my new little tenant. My my, aren't I a lucky guy."

"Come again?"

"Oh I will, pet, don't you worry. Dave Miller, landlord and your neighbour." He introduced himself as he kept hold of your hand for just a moment after you loosened your grip, making you laugh nervously. Bringing your hands back to your sides as you tried not to let your shocked expression show. "How are you enjoying the unit? I've had to perform some renovations after the last tenant....left some damage."

The way Dave spoke was a little odd, and you heard something of a British accent in that raspy, gravelly voice. People could be socially awkward, you reasoned with yourself, and Dave didn't look like the kind of man who easily socialised as his eyes once again were darting about in a way that made you subconsciously think of a wild animal. His dark hair looked slightly greasy, tousled like he's simply run his fingers through it when he woke up.

"The apartment is great! I love how spacious it is." Glad to change the topic as you suddenly remembered your groceries, picking them off of the top of the box and gesturing towards the large package with your free hand. "Oh, and um, I found this in the lobby? I hope it's yours, it was a pain lugging it up here, but at least I got my cardio in!"

"Hmmm? Oh yes, thank you sugar. And don't worry, I know you did, I could hear you all the way downstairs." Continuing to give that wide, crooked smile that felt uncomfortable as you swore his eyes darted to your neck and trailed up before focusing on you once again.

Bending over, Dave picked up the package easily, making you raise an eyebrow as you were still thinking about how rude his comment seemed, were you really that out of shape carrying up the box that he could hear you?

"I should...go put these groceries away,"

"Of course, I should put mine away too. It's been a pleasure meeting you," your name dripped from his tongue in a way that made your heart race and cringe at the same time. Like he was almost tasting it, a thought that made you shudder as you headed for your door. Turning your head over your shoulder to see if he was still there and found him staring after you, seeming to watch you with that crooked smile that didn't quite reach his darting eyes.

You decided you didn't know what to think of your landlord as you closed the door behind you and shut him out.

You rarely saw Dave after your initial introduction, at least for the first week or so. Occasionally you'd spot him in the evenings wearing that white uniform shirt that you were sure he'd stained permanently grey, but whenever he saw you, that lazy smile creeped onto him and you couldn't help but smile back. Often afterwards, you were left confused and disoriented by the action, like something had over ridden your senses to force the action. Dave made you feel slightly uneasy, at the very core of each interaction.

As did the growing number of missing posters in Hurricane.

You'd been in the supermarket when you heard your name called, one of the locals that you recognised as working in one of the mechanic's shops was stood by the register with a frown on his bearded face. The elderly cashier looking concerned as you pointed to yourself before moving over cautiously, wondering if you broke some small town ettiquette.

"You're new to town, right?" He asked gruffly, making you shrug and smile a little nervously at the sudden question.

"Yeah, moved in about a week or so ago now, sir."

"You live in that apartment complex on the edge of town, don't ya?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful, there's been...things...happening..." He gesticulated vaguely and the older cashier scoffed, blinking behind her thick glasses at you as she smacked on on his shoulder, tutting disapprovingly.

"Don't mind him lovely, he don't know how to talk to people. What he means to say is that there have been a few people going missing in Hurricane recently, and all the locals are nervous. Especially since they're mostly out of towners and...well...people that live on the fringes of our social circles." She explained, making you think back to your walk home, how you had noticed a few more posters up than when you first arrived. "Do you need a ride home? Jason here can give you a ride, I worry about a young lady walking home this late if there's been all this strangeness about."

You smiled and thanked her, assuring her and who you found out to be her son that you would be fine. You were always fine. If anything, you refused to mention how it felt like the last few nights you had been followed by somebody. However, whenever you turned around or glanced into a reflective surface as you walked past, you never saw anybody. Putting it down to your paranoia about the missing people. Soon, it was time to walk home again however, and you said your goodbyes.

The streets were beginning to turn dark as you walked through the cooler evening temperatures. Stopping to look at one of the telephone poles that had many posters stapled to it, finding a total of five people and four pets that had gone missing over the short time you'd lived in Hurricane.

If anybody had been more superstitious, they might have blamed you for it all.

As you were lost in thought however, you heard the screech of barely working brakes and turned to look at the noise naturally. Spotting a Toyota Corolla pulling up, beat up silver, the tyres looked like they were on the verge of needing replacing, and as the window rolled down, it was both to your dread and delight that you realised it was Dave behind the wheel. An uncustomary scowl on his face even as he looked at you.

"The fuck are you doing out here?" His rasp sent a shiver down your spine, frowning, you crossed your arms across your chest and raised an eyebrow.

"Good evening to you too Dave. I tried knocking on your door this morning to let you know that another package had arrived for you." Watching his scowl lessen as he ran his slender hand over his angular face. Sucking his crooked teeth slightly.

"I don't do mornings, sugar, no matter how tempting the little treat at my door is." You felt your cheeks flushing as you felt that gut twist once more despite the flutter that the compliment caused in your chest. "You shouldn't be out here all alone."

"So people have said."

"Let me give you a ride."

"Absolutely not."

"Alright, let me give you a ride back, please, sugar. This ain't even about rent, it's the principle of the thing." Dave sighed, looking at you with a scowl until you sighed and nodded your head. Walking around to his passenger side and barely had yourself buckled in before he pulled a u-turn in the middle of the road.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

"Nope, Dave Miller. I'd rather hear you screaming that." The comment crawled under your skin and made you cringe, watching that sleazy smile come back. There was the Dave you'd seen and knew. Unsure on how to respond as he drove through the darkened streets, hurtling towards your complex with a practised precision.

"Are you heading to work?" Attempting to change the subject, he nodded as his face contorted into a mask of concentration, his eyes darting wildly, although they seemed to focus a little too intently on you whenever you spoke to him directly.

"Yeah, the night-shift is always fun as long as you're not afraid of what goes bump in it." His way of speaking still resonated to you as a bit odd, but despite it being something like the second time you'd spoken to your landlord, you couldn't help but think that it was simply him.

Sooner than you expected, you were outside your building. Unclipping your seatbelt quickly, only for Dave's hand to reach out and hold onto your wrist. Your eyes widening as you turned to look at him, watching that somewhat feral smile with sharp, slightly disarrayed teeth lazily spread as he gazed up at you, bending in his seat and bringing your hand up to his cold, thin lips. Making you cringe physically and mentally, seemingly to his amusement as he began to chuckle. Swearing his fingers were positioned like he was taking your pulse before he let you go, licking his lips slightly and humming in thought.

"Have a goodnight, sugar. Make sure to lock your door tight, you wouldn't want....something...unsavoury...getting in, would you?" Phrasing it like a question, but your heart pounded as you weakly nodded and felt your body shaking slightly, climbing out of Dave's car and heading into your building as quickly as you could. Feeling his eyes burning into your back before you made it into the lobby and peered out, watching his silver car slowly pulling out of the parking lot once again.

No wonder the rent was so cheap. You weren't sure how anybody could stand being neighbours with Dave for extended periods of time.

[jjungkookislife]

"take what you need" with jin please

Just What You Need

pairing: seokjin x f. reader

warnings: not proofread, unprotected sex, some angst but a happy ending

Money, diamonds, jewels, you had it all but some days materialistic bullshit just wasn't enough, you needed your man.

Seokjin was off to another meeting, promising to be home before dinner but you knew his empty promises meant nothing. When the bank deposit hits your account, minutes before dinner is served you rolled your eyes.

You sit in his chair at the end of the table, your wine glass nearly empty as your butler holds your cell phone on a silver platter. You both hear it vibrate on the flat surface.

You raise your hand to stop him from speaking. You down your wine, standing from your seat as you rip the sapphire necklace from your neck.

"For your wife, Darren," you state as you hand it to him, glancing at the ridiculous amount of money he's deposited this time. "I hope she enjoys it more than I have."

"Mrs. Kim," Darren starts but you shush him, handing him the matching sapphire earrings.

~

The bedroom door opens a quarter to midnight as you dab your moisturizer on your face. Your lace robe spills onto the floor in a fan of faux fur and lace. Your hair is pinned up, your makeup removed, and your pointed gaze on your reflection.

"Hey," Seokjin greets as he undoes his cufflinks. You ignore him as you turn the light off before you climb into bed.

Seokjin sighs.

~

The next morning, you grip the banister as your heels click on every granite step. The winding staircase leads to the foyer. Darren is nowhere to be seen. You call out for the staff, but none come to see what you need.

instead, at the end of the staircase, your husband waits for you clad in black. His sunkissed chest greets you, his perfect hands clad in rings, and his necklace sparkles when you look at him briefly.

You turn to go back up the stairs but he stops you.

"Don't," you whisper, refusing to look at him.

"I'm sorry," Seokjin apologizes but you wave him off.

"No big deal," you croak as you try to take a step but he stops you.

"It's over," he states as you feel your heart crack into pieces. You nod, swallowing thickly.

"I gave the business to Yoongi. I work for him now," Seokjin explains. You're confused.

"What's over?"

"I've stepped down. No more business trips, no more last minute meetings, no more leaving you alone in this fucking mansion with only Darren as your friend. We took vows, I swore to be at your side and I haven't been." Seokjin shakes his head. "I'm sorry. Words can't make it better but I hope my actions will. You're the love of my life. I can't lose you, baby. Not now, not ever."

"Seokjin!" you sob as you throw your arms around him.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to do this. I wanted to make sure you had everything you could ever want, love."

"I just wanted you, Jinnie. Just you!" You cry into his chest as he kisses the top of your head.

"You have me, baby. I'm all yours," he swears as he cups your face, wiping your tears with his thumb. He shushes you, kissing your cheeks before he kisses your lips. "I'm all yours."

You sniffle as you kiss him, your hands gripping his dark hair, moaning when his hands grip your hips.

"I love you."

"I love you, too," you whisper as you unbutton his shirt. Seokjin chuckles as he strips, allowing it to pool on the stairs.

"What about the staff?" you ask as you work on his belt.

"Day off," Seokjin answers as he tugs down the strap of your dress, and then the zipper to expose your chest.

His plush lips meet your skin, teeth nipping your nipple before he takes it into his mouth.

"Jin!"

He groans as you tug his hair, your hands then moving to unbutton his pants. His cock is hard in his boxers as you palm him over the cotton material. You help him out of his clothes as he helps you out of yours on the staircase.

Seokjin helps you onto his lap, kissing you when you line yourself up with his cock. Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging down his back as he buries his face in your neck, licking and sucking on the sensitive skin.

"That's it, babe. Take my cock, Take what you need," he groans, nipping at your neck as you ride him. Your pearl necklace comes undone, pearls hitting the stairs as they roll off onto the shiny floor.

"Seokjin," you moan as you ride him harder, feeling so full. Your eyes squeeze shut as he fills you nice and deep, thighs shaking at his sides.

"Fuck, yeah. Just like that, love. Ride this fucking cock like a good girl." Seokjin curses as he grips the back of your head to kiss you. Tongues and teeth meet as he kisses you deeply. Your forehead meets his, both of you panting heavily.

"I'm all yours, baby. Just yours," Seokjin swears as you bounce on his thick cock.

"Mine! Mine!" you exclaim as you tighten around him, teeth sunk into his neck. "All mine."

[the-scandalorian]

two

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: E, 18+ Word Count: 5.1k Warnings: sort of dubcon due to intoxication; alcohol and drug use (by both reader and Joel); mention of reader’s hair being long enough to tangle his fingers in (no details otherwise); smut (fingering, oral, spitting on her pussy, p-in-v); grief and angst Note: There's no part one out yet; this is the second of a potential series of loosely tied oneshots that are coming to me out of order.

The living room is blue. All the surfaces, the shelves and the antique piano, are coated in a thick layer of dust. It feels wrong to disturb anything in this house—in this perfectly preserved resting place—so you tuck yourself into the corner of Bill and Frank’s old couch, out of the way, toe off your boots, and pull your knees up to your chest.

Ellie thunders up the stairs and shuts herself in one of the rooms, gone at the first opportunity for privacy.

Joel doesn’t disappear. You expect him to take the other bedroom and close the door. Instead, he watches you settle onto the couch and drops heavily into the seat beside you. He leans over the armrest and opens a cabinet, retrieving a bottle of dark liquid.

His casual knowledge of the space speaks to how much time he’s spent here, to the depth of his friendship with Bill and Frank. It makes you sad; it makes the room dark. It makes jealousy sour your stomach. Joel has people: a place to fit in this fractured world.

Had. He had people.

There are paintings on the walls: landscapes, still lifes, portraits. Mostly of Bill, you think. With that glower? Definitely Bill. Joel did say Frank was the nice one. 

The likenesses vary in style. There’s a gradient from careful, detailed studies to less refined renderings with loose, painterly brushwork. All of them, in their own unique way, capture the same steely gaze—the spiteful tenacity that must have fueled their survival for decades. 

You ignore the many versions of stern eyes watching you.

The worn fabric under your fingers is scratchy, the upholstery splashed with roses, the hard back of the couch draped in crocheted blankets. It’s dated, the whole place frozen in time while the world fell—falls—apart around it, chaos kept out by a chain link fence and Bill’s gritted teeth. A bell jar in a hurricane.

You wonder if Joel and Tess ever considered leaving the QZ permanently for this place. If that was ever offered. You imagine it would have been almost…idyllic.

You look up at Joel. He’s holding the unopened bottle in his lap. His sharp profile is limned by the soft moonlight filtering through the window behind him. It catches on the silver flecked in his hair and beard.

He knows you’re watching him. He says nothing. He’s thinking about the letter.

About Tess.

You’re trying to think about anything else.

You study his face. Even like this, anguished and lined, filthy from the road, with a half-healed slash across his cheek, he’s handsome. He has rugged good looks, with those brown eyes and that granite-cut jaw. The natural pout of his bottom lip. In a different time, a different universe, he could have been an actor, a model—the face of an ad campaign for a devastatingly masculine cologne. Those big, veined hands modeling watches on the pages of a fashion magazine.  

He wouldn’t have. It wouldn’t suit. But he could have.

It’s strange to think about what he could have been.

Instead, he’s here. The peaks of his knuckles are split and scabbed, the valleys a mottled black and blue, their edges fading to a sickly yellow. His skin is rough and dry—it snags when he runs his hands absentmindedly over the denim of his jeans. His palms are calloused. You know because when shit gets serious, he grabs your wrist or your forearm or your bicep—never your hand—and shoves you behind the wall of his body or pulls you along as he takes off at a run. His middle is thick and soft, his shoulders broad and strong. He’s going gray, and fuck, it looks good on him.

You study him because it feels inconsequential. Your presence feels inconsequential. To him, you think, you’re just another ghost in this house.

Or maybe he is.

A small part of you is braced for him to break, to buckle under the weight of Bill’s last words—the words that are hanging over this house like a storm cloud. Anyone else would.

Joel won’t, though. You watched him stalk away from the burning capitol building with white-knuckled stoicism, and you felt sure that he was already too utterly broken to break again.

Like molten metal, bent and hammered and folded over on itself, again and again and again. Until it’s shatterproof. 

He’s leaning forward, his elbows braced on his spread knees. Even on a soft couch, he doesn’t fully relax. He drops his head into his hands and scrubs one over his face. Then he reaches into the pack by his feet and rummages for something. A little plastic baggie. He just holds it for a minute. You watch him decide.

It’s safe here. As safe as anywhere can be. And Joel hasn’t slept in days.

He shakes two white pills out of the bag and chases them with a swig of whiskey, knocking the liquor back with a quick tip of his head, squinting against the slight after-burn. You extend your open palm. He shakes out a couple pills for you without question, without even looking up. 

He passes you the bottle, and you down them. One harsh gulp.

It’s real whiskey, with a label and everything, not something homemade. Not top-shelf quality by any means, but it’s better than anything you’ve had in a long time. It should be sipped and savored. Back in the QZ, you could have gotten a hefty stack of ration cards for this one bottle—even half empty. It doesn’t matter now.

You take another drink and hand it back.

You watch as a glazed calm gradually slips over Joel’s troubled expression and he finally sinks into the give of the couch cushions, letting his head drop back. You watch as the pills soften his edges. Just barely. They erode a little of the hard, calcified layer he must have started building the day of the outbreak. It grants you a fuzzy peek into the Joel before. His shoulders lose their tension; his fists unclench. If you squint, you might be able to see the Joel who drank with his buddies and winked at women at the bar. The one who drove a pickup truck with the windows rolled down in the summertime. 

You sit in silence as the haze takes you too, creeping up the back of your neck like a warm tide until you feel just numb enough. Any and all troubling thoughts are caught and trapped, restrained like moths in amber, so all that’s left in this blue room is pleasant quiet.

You’re just starting to feel drowsy and loose when he turns to you, wanting. Joel shifts in his seat and fixes you with a look—the first time he’s looked directly at you in an hour or more. The usual bite of his penetrating gaze is muted, the crease between his brows deep with feeling; his brown eyes are big with a question. A need.

It’s the tiniest chink in his armor, a momentary blip of him without a mask. A second of vulnerability, so foreign on his stoic face that the urge to soothe him is visceral. It jumps up the back of your throat.

This is Joel breaking.

He’s asking you for something—for distraction, for comfort. To be put back together.

You unfold your limbs and climb directly into his lap.

He makes a low, approving sound when you straddle his spread thighs and drops his head to your chest to inhale deeply against your shirt. If you weren’t buzzed, you might flinch away. You’re filthy, sweaty and dirty from days on the road. Neither of you have taken advantage of the shower yet. You can’t smell nice.

Joel does it again, though, chasing the comfort by burying his face between your tits, his hands tightening on your hips, his long fingers slipping inside the back pockets of your jeans to grip your ass. He pulls you down against his lap. Hard.

He’s hungry for it this time, watching the place where your body meets his, denim against rough denim. Like he’s imagining the way your naked body will fit against his.

He remembers himself for a moment, looking up at your face. “This okay?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you say. “I want it.”

“Good.”

His forehead drops lightly against your sternum as he moves you against him. He guides your hips into a slow grind. Your knees sink into the plush of the old sofa cushions, your hands braced on his shoulders. 

If he were anyone else, you’d have kissed him already. You settle for pressing your face against the side of his neck, dragging your nose up the column of his bared throat. He smells like sun and sweat and pine, like the dry, dusty road and something else...something distinctly him. It's subtle. It makes your mouth water.

He holds you tight, a strong arm wrapped around your back. You run your hands over his biceps, over the hard lines of his muscles, his shoulders—feeling what often distracts you when he crosses his arms over his chest and the fabric of his shirt pulls taut.

Joel is content, for now, to lift his hips, just barely, into the steady roll of your hips. You think about last time—his clinical, efficient approach. It was all deliberate movements and quick work. He'd made a growled promise that it would only ever happen once.

And yet.

This time, he seems to be letting himself enjoy something, reveling in the pleasure. That alone feels like an unaffordable indulgence, like if you drew attention to it, you’d scare it away. 

His big hand slides heavily up the curve of your spine, a needy drag, and back down again, settling on your lower back, urging you harder. Faster.

More.

It feels good. You rock your hips, grinding yourself into his lap, where he’s full and hard now, thick and straining against his fly, and you groan together when he adjusts his legs wider and pushes his hips up to meet you, letting you get at his clothed erection a little easier. The metal button on your jeans clicks against his belt buckle as you move.

He turns his head to set his teeth against your shoulder, biting with no pressure, and breathes hot against the fabric as you ride him, his chest expanding on a sharp inhale as you drag your core over the stiff arch of his cock and chase the embers of pleasure sparking low in your belly.

All at once, it’s not enough.

Joel grunts and grips your ass, fingers digging into your soft flesh, and he half-shoves, half-lifts you backwards as he straightens, setting you on your feet in front of him. You make a squeaked sound of surprise at the sudden movement, clutching his biceps for balance as you find your footing, and the corner of his mouth twitches up into the barest beginning of a smile. You smile back at him, radiant.

Smiles.

The pills are hitting. It’s all a little delirious.

The moment feels surreal, like this dated living room has been snatched from the current of time and set down on solid ground. Just for a moment. Just to let you both breathe.

It evaporates quickly. His stern expression returns.

���Bedroom,” Joel says with a bossy little jerk of his chin.

You snatch the half-empty whiskey bottle from the coffee table and head down the hall.

There are two spare bedrooms in this big, white house—the one upstairs that Ellie disappeared into and a second down here on the first floor. It’s situated down the hall from the locked door. You try not to think about that room. Try not to wonder if Joel and Tess shared this same spare room when they used to visit.

There are too many ghosts here tonight.

You pop open the bottle and drink deep, and Joel shuts the door behind him with a quiet click. He stoops to switch on the lamp on the bedside table.

You drop the corked whiskey onto an armchair and reach for the top button of your shirt, eager to avoid an awkward interlude, eager to please him.

There’s something about Joel that makes you desperate to be wanted by him—something more than just his gruff appeal or the situation you’re in together or the fact that his care promises some measure of safety in this world of scarcity. It has everything to do with how he acts around the people that are his. More than just protective. Possessive.

This want is practical. And it’s not. 

It’s animal too.

He rounds the bed and stands close, stopping your hand with his. You look up, and he inclines his head toward the bed.

“Lie down.”

You move to listen, but he stops you. 

“Wait.”

He bends to grip the bottom edge of the bed frame, and Joel grunts as he slides the whole thing a few inches away from the wall. The feet squeak along the hardwood floor.

He straightens and nods. “Alright, go on.”

The image of him arched over your body, fucking you so hard and deep that the headboard knocks against the wall—thump, thump, thump—sets your heart racing. You scramble up the bed, and he takes his time unlacing his boots then follows with a slow crawl, watching you with dark eyes. With intent so potent it makes you want to look away.

You don’t.

He’s here this time.

As present as either of you can be when you’re a little high. Just the barest edge of sedated. You imagine your own eyes are glassy, lacquered in the low light of the shaded lamp. Joel’s don’t seem to be, though. He’s alert.

He crowds you further up the bed, and you scoot back until your head hits the pillow. He makes space for himself between your legs and reaches for your collar. You watch his deft fingers work quickly down the line of buttons on your shirt.

His eyes flick from his hands to your face and back. There’s naked want there—desire etched into his hard features. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve only seen him two ways: serious or furious.

This is something else. This is intoxicating.

Your head is starting to spin.

He gets your shirt open, helps you shuck it off, and pulls your bra off with a practiced ease. His large, warm hands palm your breasts as soon as they’re free. He’s immediately fixated, and the attention sends a flush of heat over your bare skin. He tests the weight of each, kneading lightly, his mouth parted in muted awe as his fingertips sink into the give. He tweaks your nipple between two fingers, one and then the other, and watches, satisfied, as they pebble for him. He studies your reactions to his touch, eyes lingering on your face as he plays with you, as if your response is as important to him as the feel of you. 

He takes his time. Unhurried. Like you have all the time in the world.

Joel leans down suddenly and licks a warm stripe up the line of your sternum, through the valley of your breasts, and your body reacts to him: you arch your back into the heat, your hand automatically burying itself in his thick hair, your lips parting around a moan.

His tongue.

You must taste like salt and sweat, and yet, he looks a little smug when he pulls back, his lips quirked in a half smile.

“You like that?”

He looks young when he smiles. You can see thirty-year-old Joel in that look. Unburdened Joel. Fifty-year-old Joel without the trauma.

The margins of your vision start to smudge as you look at him; colors bleed freely in the dim light, his features running like wet ink. His smile melts away. You feel off-kilter, like you’ll slip off the solid plane of this mattress and drop into nothingness if you don’t hold on. You fist your hands in the comforter.

A hand frames your cheek. You can’t focus your eyes. Your lashes flutter.

Joel says your name, concern woven between each syllable.

Once. Again.

He drops his weight onto you. The spinning stops, and your hands release. You meet his eyes.

“Joel—”

You remember last time—the first time you fucked, the smothering weight of his hand on your mouth when you said his name—and you bite your lip before you can say anything else. But he doesn’t react to it this time. He’s too lost in it.

It feels good to be lost together.

“You alright?” he asks, his brow pinched not in anger or distress, for once, but in naked concern.  “Too much?”

You're not sure if he's asking about the pills and the booze or the pace or just...him.

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I’m good now.”

There’s so much care in his eyes that it feels like he’d give you anything you want in this moment. Like he’d lie down and hold you if you asked him to. You’re seeing him without his hardened front, and it makes you shiver. You slip your fingers around the back of his neck and pull his face down to yours, taking the thing you want most. He bends for you willingly.

His lips are a little chapped, his facial hair scratchy. You’re expecting a light kiss and a retreat, a concession. You’re not expecting his whole body to respond—the press of his chest against yours and an arm slipping under your shoulders to force you closer. You’re not expecting to be enveloped by his wide frame, for your back to be lifted a couple inches off the mattress in his urgency to hold you tight. You’re not expecting his tongue to slip between your lips first—to lick across the roof of your mouth in an utterly invasive, possessive way that makes you gasp.

He coaxes your shocked body into a response with careful waves of his tongue, consuming you with hungry lips and searching, grasping hands. Gentle teeth worry your bottom lip, soothed by the pass of his tongue. His nose nudges tenderly against yours as he kiss kiss kisses his way across your cheek.

He pulls back, fixing you with a serious look.

“You sure you’re okay?”

You can see him so perfectly in the before for a second. How he might have asked you the same question in some mundane situation, helping you to your feet after a stumble with a steadying hand on your shoulder. The dip of his accent and the color of his eyes would have spelled the end for you. You would have been a goner.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m good.”

“You wanna stop?”

You tighten your fingers in his shirt and shake your head. “No.”

He nods, sweeping light fingers across your cheek, and leans back in.

You fumble blindly with the buttons of his shirt as he kisses you, working as quickly as you can in the tight, shifting space between your bodies. When you have it almost all the way open, he sits back on his heels and yanks it off the rest of the way, tossing it off the bed. You tug impatiently at the hem of the white t-shirt he has on underneath, but he goes right for the button on your jeans, popping it open and ignoring the zipper completely. It comes down on its own when he hooks his fingers in your belt loops and jerks the denim off your body. Your underwear goes with it.

You reach for his belt buckle, but he stops you.

“No,” he says, stern, not unkind, “I’m gonna make you come first.”

He waits for your nod, then slides down the mattress and situates himself between your legs, spreading them open with a decisive push. 

You’re naked under his gaze.

You watch, tense with anticipation, as he leans down to part you with the v of his fingers, one forearm hooked over the top of your thigh. He takes his time admiring the natural gloss of your arousal, his face situated so close that you can feel the warmth of each individual exhale on your skin, and then he looks up at you from his position between your thighs.

Without breaking eye contact, he adds to your slick by pouting his lips and letting a line of his spit drip slowly onto your pussy. 

When he did that the first time you fucked, you chalked it up to efficiency, necessity—a way to bypass intimacy by cutting down on foreplay. Now, watching him track the slow seep of his saliva over your glistening cunt with hungry eyes, you realize he just likes it. He’s just nasty.

Joel dips his head and licks through the mess.

Your knees start to close reflexively around his ears at the first direct stimulation against your clit, but he forces your legs open with one hand and the width of his shoulders.

He looks up at your face.

“You gonna keep these open for me or do I need to do it for you?”

He says it in his usual deadpan, but there’s a challenge there, a hint of provocation behind his expression, the buried hope that you might want to fight him in the way he’d like. You tuck that away for later.

For now, he takes your look of surprise as an affirmative and dips his head again, satisfied.

He works his tongue over the aching pearl of your clit with a gentle, targeted flick—up and back, the bridge of his nose pressed hard against your mound—and your mind goes blank. You arch into him, fucking yourself against his face in a languid rhythm, as the tension begins to build in your body. 

He likes it. His throat vibrates with an approving hum.

You grip the comforter as your muscles pull taut, as your thighs tense in his tight hold. You can hear the flick of his tongue and the suck of his lips. The low, wet sounds.

He exhales sharply through his nose and readjusts, his hands forcing your thighs open and up, so he can taste you how he wants—where he wants. Where you’re dripping for him.

The rough pad of one finger rocks steadily over your clit while he fucks you with his tongue, moaning into the heat of your body as he pushes in as deep as he can. His other hand is gripped around the back of your thigh. Bruises will blossom there by morning, a shadow of his hold on you.

You crook an elbow and drop your arm over your face, turning into it to muffle the noises he’s dragging out of you. A whine. A choked moan.

His mouth moves back up, and a finger takes its place, eased inside you with little resistance. He slides it out, and a second joins the first when he presses them back in. They’re thick, and he pushes them deep.

Joel builds your pleasure to a peak—with his hand, with his tongue, with the low sounds grunted in his throat—and it climbs steadily until it breaks. He climbs with you, the cadence of his breath picking up as yours does, his body rocking gently into yours in time with his fingers' movements inside you, his shoulders pressed against the backs of your thighs. The bed is shifting, the mattress springs whining quietly as you writhe. 

You clench tight around his thrusting fingers, their tips curled repeatedly against the spot that makes your heels slip down the bed, and he closes his eyes as he works you through it with the hot lick of his tongue on your clit. 

Through the shock, the tremors, and the slow fade. Until you’re limp.

His voice is a husky drawl, his breath humid on your hip. “Fuck, baby, you feel good.”

It’s barely anything. From him, it feels like a revelation, like a fucking love poem. You reach for him.

“Please, Joel—”

He sits up, kneeling between your legs, and rips his shirt over his head. His heaving chest is flushed. He opens his belt buckle with one hand, the clink of metal and slip of leather loud in the quiet room as it slithers out of his belt loops, and he drops it to the floor. He moves from the bed to kick off his jeans, and when he settles his body over yours again, the only thing left between you is the thin fabric of his boxer briefs.

You can feel the heft of him through them. The strain and the heat. The body-warm fabric pressed against your wet cunt.

He’s heavy on top of you, his hips caught between your thighs, his chest warm against yours, knuckles ghosting over your cheek. You shove the elastic waistband over his ass, impatiently searching for skin.

“Need you to fuck me,” you breathe.

He helps you push the fabric down, gets them off, and holds himself over you with a hand braced by your ear, gripping the base of his cock to tease the head through your folds. He meets your eyes as he catches the tip on the notch of your entrance and starts to sink inside you, dropping his hips forward in a slow, purposeful movement as he drinks in your reaction. You’re wet and aching to be filled, but he’s still a stretch, so he thrusts shallowly against the resistance until the crease in your brow smoothes and your body welcomes him deep.

He drops to his forearms and lets you feel each other. He’s thick inside you, sharp and vital in a way that feels incredible, hugged tight in your heat. Joel dips his head, your foreheads brushing, and he presses his mouth to yours in a light kiss. Sweet and quick. Almost chaste.

He tastes like you.

Then he circles his hips, a slow grind that ends in a controlled thrust—powerful and targeted.

You get to collect little pieces of him while he moves inside you, as his cock kisses the deepest parts of you, as you cling to him. Gray hairs are threaded among the dark brown ones on his chest. His neck is dusted with faint freckles, only visible this close. There’s a shiny pink scar on his left shoulder—a deep cut, old and healed. A much newer one puckers the skin of his bicep. A bullet graze.

He likes to kiss your neck and suck on the supple skin of your breasts while he fucks you.

He gives you a second orgasm before searching for his own, reaching between your bodies to take you over the edge with the practiced ease of his fingers.

He was right to move the bed away from the wall.

He works his way up from a slow, deep rhythm to a pace that has each punch of his hips threatening to drive you up the silky fabric of the comforter. He slips a hand under your back and curls his fingers over the top of your shoulder, keeping you in place as he impales you on his cock, pulling you back down to meet him each time. The pleasure has you pressing your head back into the pillow, your eyes closed tight.

He doesn’t like that tonight.

“Look at me.”

Joel shoves a hand under your skull, tangles his fingers in your hair, and holds you fast. He’s panting as his eyes flick between yours. Searching. Almost…frantic as he starts to fuck you harder, with less control. The mattress complains under your shifting bodies.

You watch him unravel.

One hand still caught in your hair, he pulls out and jerks himself over you, chasing his orgasm as he watches your face. He bares his teeth when he comes across your stomach in warm pulses, pearly lines dripped over your skin. The pleasure punches a grunt and a hiss from him, his hand squeezing tight around the base of his cock as his whole body tenses and releases, the tug of his fist slowing to a stop as he milks the last drop.

He’s breathing hard as his gaze traces over the spots where you’re painted with him, and something flickers behind his veiled eyes. Before you can really catch it, he scrubs a hand down his tired face and reaches for his discarded shirt. He uses it to wipe the sticky mess off your skin and tosses the crumpled thing back onto the floor.

He settles on the edge of the bed, sitting with his back to you, and you slip underneath the blankets. Now that you’re sated, sleep is starting to weigh at the edges of your consciousness. Insistent.

Joel pulls on his jeans and leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. You hear water running.

You lie there—torn between feeling sure he’s coming back, especially seeing as the rest of his clothes are here, and the creeping thought that he’d probably rather sleep on the too-short couch then blur an already murky line by sharing this bed for something other than sex.

It would be so nice, for once, not to sleep alone.

But you’re used to sleeping alone.

His steps creak on the hardwood outside the door. Too much relief blooms in your gut.

Joel shuts the door behind him and stands at the end of the bed, scratching a hand through his tousled hair. Something about his rumpled appearance, his uncertainty, his half-dressed state is endearing. It’s so rare to see him…undone. He’s studying you, like he doesn’t quite know how to bridge the gap between your bodies now that the lust has dulled. Now that it’s just you and him and a bed.

“You want me to find another room?” you ask, knowing full well that the Texas gentleman buried somewhere inside him would never allow that. He’d leave if he wanted to be alone.

“No,” he says, making a decision and reaching for the light. He shuts it off with a click. There’s a shuffling of clothes, off and on, and he slips under the blankets.

In the dark, it’s easier for him. He gets close. He doesn’t reach for you, but in the quiet black, you can hear him angle his body toward you, settling on his side. He doesn’t resist when you slide closer; his hand rests on your waist when you press your nose into the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt.

In the morning, he’ll be gone again.

[captainjamster]

A Surprise Exception

Pairing(s): Kate Laswell x F!Reader Warnings: pre-established strained relationship with sibling, non-sexual intimacy, post-sex cuddling and talks Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: Kate really does not like children, and there’s not a chance in hell she’s having any. No one is changing her mind – but someone else might convince her they’re not all terrible. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: A few notes for this one! This was written all in one go, so I will probably come back to edit it at some point. While I normally write neutral SFW inserts, reader identifies as a woman because I won't write Kate that isn't a lesbian <3 Pre-established strained relationship w/ sibling is an important tag. This is not a generalised portrayal of single parents; this is an insert specifically with family difficulties, and a couple trying to navigate that with understanding but not permissive boundaries. Also, I hate reading baby talk too, I'm sorry! But I can't make a four year old talk like an adult, so her speech pattern just follows the overgeneralisation of grammatical rules most children engage in developmentally. Lastly, child-free individuals have every right to be child-free, this specifically isn't a "MC changes their mind suddenly" fic. Laswell just realises that not every single child makes her want to remove her ovaries

Full fic under the cut <3

“No.” Her voice is firm, lips tight in that frown that you know means business. It doesn’t deter your dramatics, eyes pleading, hands clasped in front of you. “Please!”

“I told you, no kids.” She turns back to the countertop, sipping at the black coffee you’d just placed in front of her. The room basks in the pale sunrise, orange tinting the walls as light shines from the document Kate is already pouring herself over.

“Kate, it’s just one kid –“

“No! We talked about this at the very beginning. No kids, you agreed.”

You inhale deeply, squashing down a frustrated sigh as the pressure of your palms turns your vision fuzzy for a second. “Yes, I know I agreed – but come on!”

There’s a pause as your words linger in the air, and Kate’s shoulders drop. “Come on?”

You reel back, groaning. “No, I’m sorry – I’m sorry, not like that, fuck. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and I just feel misunderstood, like you’re not… getting it.”

“Because there’s nothing to get; because we both made a very clear agreement when we started this relationship.” Her tone is final, but you don’t back down.

“Kate!”

She exclaims your name in exasperation, swinging back around on the barstool as she white-knuckles the tablet in her hands.

“Okay, okay – just, okay, just hear me out. Please.” You try not to wilt under her disapproving look, but she doesn’t stop you, and you take the opportunity at full speed. “It’s not even for the whole day, just six hours! I’ll take her out to the park for a bit, I promise we won’t track mud in, and we’ll take a bath, I’ll dry her in the bathroom right after.”

Her nose wrinkles in disgust with the shake of her head. “That’s good and all, but our rug? The couch? My office?”

Your head is shaking adamantly before her sentence ends. “She won’t step foot in your office, I won’t even let her go up the stairs, and I’m going to watch her the whole time.”

Disbelief is etched into her frown. “It’s a kid, babe. You’re fantastic, but you’re not magic. She’s gonna make a mess no matter how hard you try.”

Your mouth opens and closes, every retort coming up futile, and defeat quickly sinks in. Your shoulders slouch, a pout pulling at your lips as you take up the stool next to her, slumping over the cool granite top. The sigh Kate breathes is long, putting down the tablet. “Your sister’s asked us for this last-moment shit plenty before.”

“I know, but it’s different this time,” you mumble into your arms.

“And why is this ‘emergency’ any different?”

“Because she said the whole place still smells like insecticide, and she doesn’t trust the babysitter to know what to do if it makes Lottie sick, he’s barely seventeen. I don’t think she’s lying; I dropped off a grocery pickup on my way home from the store yesterday, and it really did stink.”

Kate bites at the inside of her lip, contemplating. “Can we not just give her money for a proper one?”

You look up incredulously, and Kate’s expression immediately crumples. “Sorry, yeah. That was stupid, I know we said no more giving her money.”

You return back to your forlorn position, tracing mindless shapes that leave a quickly evaporating trail of body heat.

“Honey, if we say yes, she’s going to keep asking us. I don’t want to set a precedent.” Her expression is sympathetic as you peer over the ruffled humps of your sleeve, a hand settling on your thigh. “She had time to get a better replacement, it’s not like the house started stinking yesterday. I’m not letting you play unpaid full-time caregiver again.”

You slide your own hand over hers, grip curling around the ring nestled against the base of her finger. “I know Kate, it won’t go that far. She can ask, but I swear, this will be the only time she ever stays at our house until she’s older. If she ever pulls this again, I’ll pack an overnight bag and go over there – I’ll go to our parents, if I really have to.”

“And she’s really going to work this time?” Kate probes, arms crossed. “This isn’t another “oh, I was definitely at ‘work’, but then I went on this date with a cute guy I just happened to meet on my ‘lunch break’ and forgot to block you from seeing the photos on my story?””

“I made triple sure – she sent me her schedule for the whole month, and a confirmation text that she’d be late this morning with a response from her boss. She already sent the interview confirmation when she got it, and she showed me the congratulatory email when we went out for drinks too.”

Before Kate can speak, you hold up your hand. “And I know, those can be easily faked. So, she’s going to share her location with me when – if we say yes – she gets there, and I’ll call her work line at some random point so Lottie can talk to her, to make sure. She’d be putting in more effort to fabricate this than she would actually getting the job.”

The air feels thick as Kate stays quiet – just looks over your face, searching for something.

“I’m not helping.” She concedes after a long pause, and you bolt up straight, slapping a hand over your mouth to keep back a loud cheer.

“I mean it, I’m going to be in my office. I’ll come out for lunch and say hello, I’m not going to ignore the kid. But no begging to play games, no help cleaning up messes or disasters, no picking you up halfway if her legs get tired.” She tilts her head, an eyebrow raised expectantly, amusement in those pretty blue eyes as she gazes at you.

“Nothing, I swear to god, baby. I’ll have lunch ready at around 12, I’ll just text you and you can come down.” You bring her hand to your lips, peppering kisses across her knuckles, making sure to be generous over her ring with a cheeky smile that Kate fondly rolls her eyes at.

==

Charlotte warbles a rhyme she learnt in day-care as you pull into your street, kicking her feet in time with the ticking of the indicator as you stop in the driveway. She makes a loud squawk as you reach for the door handle, a small glare peering up at you through the window to warn your hand away from it. You watch as she tugs at it until the latch clicks, using her legs to swing it open. “I did it all by myself!”

You give her a bemused smile, holding out a hand that she accepts as her little legs stretch to meet the pavement. “Yeah sweetie, you did it all by yourself, good job opening it. You wanna grab your bag, or should Auntie do it?”

Charlotte gives you the most withering look a four year old can muster, sighing loudly as she grabs the straps of her backpack from the floor. “Don’t you know I’m a big girl now? I gotta carry my own bag, Mama said.”

The pressure in your chest hurts as your throat constricts, desperately holding your breath to avoid laughing at the very serious mistake you’ve just made. “I’m – ah, sorry, I’m so sorry Lottie. You are a big girl now, yes.”

All is forgiven as you extend your hand again, and Charlotte skips up the short driveway by your side, backpack clunking with each step. “Was my singing good Auntie?”

You hum approvingly, swinging your arm gently. “It was great, honey. You know so much about bugs!”

She gives you a pleased, toothy grin, her face scrunched up in exaggeration. Before you open the to the door, you halt, crouching down to your niece’s level. She frowns at you inquisitively, gaze moving between your face and the door. “Alright, sweetheart. You remember what I said?”

Her expression dissolves into a sassy squint, nose scrunched up in distaste of your obviously silly adult ways. “Auntie, you told me like – like a million times!”

“I know, I know. Can you say it back to me, just one more time?”

With a roll of her eyes, she takes a deep breath, holding up a finger for each instruction you’ve given her. “Auntie Kate is really really busy, so we gotta be quiet, not be yelling, and I can’t be going up the stairs and being distracting.”

You nod in encouragement, giving her a smile. “And?”

Charlotte frowns, thinking for a moment, before her eyes light up. “And no making messes!”

She throws her arms up as you cheer, her chubby cheeks squished between them. “Yay! Inside now?”

You clap your hands to your thighs, standing up to reach for the handle. “Yep, inside now.”

Charlotte barrels through the door before it’s even fully open, almost pulled back as her bag is caught in the opening, and you catch her hand to stop her from running off. “Hold up, cowgirl! Those shoes need to come off first.”

You shuck off your own, watching as Charlotte tugs at hers, before helping her line them neatly against the wall. Coming out the hallway, to your surprise, Kate is sitting on the couch. You shoot her a confused frown as you walk closer, but she just comes over to meet you halfway, crouching down to Charlotte’s level. “Hey, sweetheart, I wanted to say hi again. Remember me?”

Charlotte lingers near your leg, her hand scrunched up in your pants as she looks your wife up and down. “You’re Auntie Kate.”

She gives a small smile, nodding slowly. “Yep. That’s right.”

Charlotte doesn’t respond, fingers in her mouth nervously. The room is quiet for a second as Kate looks equally unsure, twisting her hands together as she speaks again. “What… have you been up to lately?”

Your niece looks at her owlishly, round eyes slowly blinking.

“I punched a boy.”

Kate’s eyes widen, taken aback with an expression you mirror. “You punched a boy?”

Your niece nods solemnly, looking down at her scrunched up fist with a dramatic reminiscence. “He told my friend – he said, he was really mean, and he said girls can’t ride bikes, and he uhm – he did this,” she explains, making a sharp pushing motion into the air, “and she falled off and got hurted and she was really sad. And then I was sad, and then I did my fist like this and punched him!”

She raises her fist to Kate, a proud look on her small face, and you watch Kate struggle to keep the corners of her lips from peeking up. “Wow, I see. Did you get in trouble?”

Charlotte’s pigtails bounce as she shakes her head confidently, bringing a leg up to point at it as she balances on the other. “Nuh-uh, ‘cos my friend had all the blood on her knee and she was crying.”

Kate nods, clasping her hands together, already out of her depth with the look she gives you. “Right. Okay. Well, no punching anyone or falling off things while you’re here, alright?”

“Alright!” Charlotte chirps, giving Kate the same toothy grin. She gives a smile back before shooting you an impressed but shocked look that you just shrug at, grinning. Kate shakes her head, and you catch and squeeze her hand, pressing your lips to hers appreciatively before she scampers off. “Thank you, I love you.”

The wink she directs your way sends butterflies through your stomach, and they erupt as she calls out, retreating up the stairs. “Don’t worry! You’ll make it up to me.”

==

Charlotte peers down at the puzzle, hands on her hips as she balances the towel on her head. Impossibly happy voices sing from the TV as a show she begged for plays, and you catch a blue dog playing a xylophone with her orange sister when you peak around the corner to check on your niece. “Everything going okay, pumpkin?”

The puzzle is very uncomplete, but she’s been following your advice of finding all the border pieces, given the little pile she’s accumulating concentratedly. “We can get an easier one, honey. 50 pieces is a lot.”

Charlotte looks up at that, unimpressed. “I already did 10 pieces of jigsaw!”

With a shrug, you disappear back into the kitchen, cutting up the last toppings on your board as you call out again. “Alright, that’s fine. But lunch will be ready in 10 minutes, so we’ll take a break then, okay?”

A small grumble of acknowledgement comes from the floor, and you get back to it. Before long, the sandwiches are plated up, and Kate’s salad is in a bowl with her plate. Charlotte makes less fuss than you’d thought as she drags her feet over to the table, clambering up the chair to sit down. Grabbing your phone, you send off a text, shoving it back in your pocket before bringing the plates over. Charlotte eyes the sandwiches, peeking through the layers of bread. “Is it good?”

You laugh, picking up your own slice. “I hope so. Your mama said it’s your favourite.”

“No way!” She perks up excitedly, grabbing a quarter and taking a big bite. Kate descends from her office a few minutes later, cup in hand and making a beeline for the kitchen. She comes out with a fresh cup a moment later, taking a seat across from you. “Thanks for brewing a pot, honey,” she murmurs, scooping up a spoonful of salad. “Have you girls been having fun?”

Charlotte hums through a mouthful, wiggling in her chair. “Shaw ducksh at th’prk!”

Kate tries to hold back a grimace, cringing at the food around her mouth, and you send her an apologetic look as you speak up. “Swallow your food first, Lottie.”

Between chews, she narrows her eyes at you, but swallows before speaking again. “There was a mama and her babies.”

The meal is spent in a very one-sided conversation about your trip to the park as Charlotte earnestly recounts every detail, informing Kate about all the kinds of bugs she found under the rocks. The girl is on a long rattle about the spots on ladybug shells when Kate clears her throat, stacking her dishes together, and Charlotte cuts herself off. “No more food already?”

“I have work to finish,” Kate explains as she stands up, “and I’m sure you’re excited to play with Auntie for the last hour you’re here, right?”

A misty expression crosses Charlotte’s dirty face at the realisation, her bottom lip puckering out. “But what if I goed home and comed back after I sleep?”

Kate gives you a pointed look as she disappears around the corner, and you close your eyes for a moment as dishes clink against the metal sink, silently cursing. “Remember we talked about that, babes? You got day-care tomorrow, and I’ll come see you on the weekend.”

Charlotte brightens up temporarily at the mention of day-care, but you can see the moment she realises it’s ‘stopping’ her from coming over as her expression dampens again. “Can we go see ducks on the weekend?”

“Yeah honey, we can see the ducks again.” You nod, leaning back in your chair as Charlotte shoves the last of her sandwich into her mouth. Closing your eyes, your head falls back until it meets the wooden frame, taking a moment to sink down and relax. But tension suddenly springs back into them as fingers slide under your chin, your eyes opening to meet an upside down Kate.

“Hey beautiful,” she murmurs, and you giggle in her grasp, humming as she presses her lips to yours. “Thanks for lunch. You’re so sweet, keeping me fed.” She gives your cheek an affectionate pat, pulling away and heading to the stairs as you sit up and give her a scandalised look at her teasing praise. Footsteps against the floor patter behind you, and Charlotte darts past Kate to the door before you can question her.

“Auntie Kate!”

Your wife pauses, and you can see her breathe in before she turns. “What’s up, kiddo?”

Charlotte drags her bag over, crouching down and rummaging through its depths to pull something out. It takes you a moment to recognise the scraggly stems and squashed petals, but Charlotte shoves them out in offering with the confidence of someone holding a thousand dollar bouquet. “Auntie said you like flowers, and I thoughted maybe you got no flowers inside, so I got the best ones for you!”

Kate’s face pinches into something you’ve never seen before, and you debate stepping in before she crouches down, extending her hand to take the ragged bundle. “That was really thoughtful of you, Charlotte.” She takes a moment to smell them – more for Charlotte’s sake, you think –, and gives the kid a soft smile. “Thank you for getting me flowers. I’ll be happy to have them in my office now, hey?”

You can see Charlotte’s fingers twist and intertwine as they meet behind her back, shoulders up high as she sways happily, and you can only imagine the grin she’s giving Kate. “You’re welcome!” She chimes, grabbing her bag and hauling it back to the door. You watch Kate take in the flowers as they droop over her hand, standing up as she casts a look over at Charlotte, running back to the table. Your gazes connect as she flickers to you, a grin filling her face as she gestures the flowers at you, to which you flap your hand towards the stairs cheekily.

Your phone buzzes as you turn on the tap for Charlotte, and you pull it out as she dries her hands, tapping in on the photo of the flowers in a tall glass next to her computer.

<< Can’t wait to see yours. ;)

==

“I still hate kids.”

“I know,” you sigh happily into her collarbones, pressing a kiss against a mole there. Her skin is still soured by sweat, and you hum appreciatively at the taste, basking in the post-orgasmic daze washing through your limbs. Everything feels warm, exertion mingling with fatigue to settle across you in a sleepy blanket, and you can’t stifle a yawn that bubbles up.

“She was sweet, though. Thought she’d be more of a menace.”

A hum is all you get out, listening to the patter of her heart.

“We’re never having them.”

Kate squirms at the way you huff in amusement against her skin at the remark, tilting up to give her a look. “I know, honey. Wasn’t planning on changing my mind.”

She grins, running her nails across your scalp, bringing you back against her bare chest. “Thought I fucked that sass out.”

You snort, dipping out your tongue to run against her jugular, kissing the damp trail. “The only thing that recovers faster than your libido is my attitude.”

Kate laughs at that, nudging her leg further up between your thighs to make you squeak. “Now you’re trying to wind me up, close your damn eyes.”

“Uh-huh. I remember them being closed before you reminded me you hate kids.”

You whimper as her fingers tug in reprimand at your hair before resuming their strokes, rustling accompanying the sound of breathing in the moonlight room. There are lights swirling in barely visible colours as you fall further into a world between here and unconsciousness, and you feel weightless, floating in nothingness with the only person you’ve ever wanted by your side.

��… She wasn’t that bad, though.”

“Kate, go to sleep.”

dividers by cafekitsune

[xfandom-fairyx]

marching band au

bakugo fic

here goes nothing..

—————————————————

My car slowed as I turned the corner onto the road that held the dorm house I would be staying in for the next 4 years of my life. The sun was already going down, not quite setting, but the sky was already turning pinkish orange, rays of golden light peeking through the trees that were scattered amongst the houses I passed by. I took a deep breath, trying not to gape at the building at the end of the cul de sac, as I pulled up the cement driveway— where no other cars were parked. I sighed thankfully. Being the first person here meant I got first dibs on the bedrooms, the thought alone sending a wave of excitement through me. The house was gorgeous, and freaking huge. (How many roommates was I supposed to have, again?..)

Double checking I had the correct address from the email in my phone, I pulled my keys from the ignition, fumbling to find the key to the front door. The heat outside was suffocating compared to the cool AC from my car, making me want to quicken my pace a bit to get inside. Deciding to grab the rest of my luggage after a quick look around and picking my room, I grabbed my backpack and purse before heading up the stairs to the front door. The entrance was framed by a beautiful wrap around porch, a few chairs, benches, and a porch swing adorning the wooden planks on each side of the door. Gently swinging the painted blue door open, I took my first steps inside my new (temporary) home, my chest tight with emotion.

The foyer was a bright space, a few meters wide, but felt cozy. Along the wall to the left was a deep blue, cubby-like bench with coat hooks, cabinets and a shoe rack, while the right wall had an oak table with a beautiful crystal decorative bowl, a fake potted plant and a circular mirror. Placed on the table beside the bowl was a slip of paper that had a list of utilities with passwords, app suggestions, and numbers for the local emergency services since we lived off campus. I quickly snapped a picture of and saved it to my favorites album, a subtle reminder to download the security app for the house, and a separate app for the security cameras. I moved to the left again and placed my keys on the cubby hook on the far right, kicking my slides off to set them on the shelf below my keys, my fingers gently grazing the navy stained wood. I was in no real rush as I stepped to the end of the foyer, taking it all in.

“Holy shit.. wow..” was all I could muster in my awe. The house smelled like oak wood and vanilla— the sweet woody combination fit just right in my head and sent me reeling to see the rest of the place I would call home. The bottom floor had a completely open floor plan where I could see everything from almost every angle across the house. To my right, a deep sectional sofa fit for 10 sat in a semi U shape, a chaise piece attached to run parallel with the longest side of the sofa, the whole thing facing a wall with a 75” flat screen, and a decent sized electric fireplace below it. Sat in the corner about 10 feet away from the sofa was a sleek, black grand piano, surrounded by a corner bookshelf that was full of sheet music, vinyl records, CD’s and memorabilia. My eyes flickered to the other side of the space to a grand kitchen, granite countertops, a huge island with a second barn sink, beautifully crafted cabinets, stainless steel appliances (which were huge, by the way! An 8 range stove?? A fridge big enough to hold food for a football team?! Christ!), and a walk-in pantry to top it off? I was in absolute heaven, daydreaming of the cooking and baking I would have so much fun doing in this kitchen.

I made my way to the left, because behind the formal dining table that sat 6 feet from the giant island in the kitchen, was a wide staircase leading upstairs to a loft area, where I assumed the bedrooms were also. There were a few more doors that I would get to later, assuming one was another bathroom or bedroom, and at least one of them led to the garage.

The loft area sat mostly above the kitchen, dining room and above the piano, leaving a full view of the living room area, and the ability to see at least half of the kitchen and dining room from the side opposite the stairs, and the hardwood floors throughout the entirety of the main and second floors. The loft itself had a study area with a few desks lined against the wall; all 4 of them fit at least two chairs, a work lamp on each surface, and a table in the corner that had a computer with a printer, which I quickly assumed was going to be strictly for homework.

As I made my way down the hallway to our bedrooms, I opened each door to peek inside and see which room I would like most. There were 2 spare bathrooms and 8 bedrooms total on this floor, with the two at the very end of the hallway having their doors 45° angled into the hallway. I opened the bedroom to the right first, and immediately fell in love with the wide space, huge windows, walk-in closet, and a third door that I could only guess was my own bathroom. Giddiness flooded my system as I opened the door and saw I was right. I set my bag on the queen sized bed in the space I couldn’t wait to decorate, and decided I should go get the rest of my stuff and start unpacking. It was dusk now, which meant I didn’t have much more time to get my stuff before night fell over the house, so I slipped downstairs and back into my sandals, flicking the porch light on.

The first load I needed to bring upstairs was my bedding, and if I had enough hands, I could grab my laundry bag. I still didn’t have a clue where the laundry room was, but I figured I would figure that out later. Getting back upstairs and to the end of the hallway had my lungs and legs burning, and I groaned out loud at the several other trips down and back up those stairs I would have to make tonight.

“Ugghhh, fuck!” I groaned, pulling my shirt away from my body rapidly, trying to fan myself. By the 5th trip to my car, I was sticky from sweat, out of breath, red in the face and regretting life, but it was my last load to carry before I could stay inside and relish the cool air of the central cooling system. My last suitcase of clothes and a medium sized box that had my favorite dog’s ashes amongst other sentimental items were in my arms as a big black truck came down the road and to a stop in the driveway next to my Camry. I looked away, trying to juggle the box and suitcase around so I could shut the door of my car, the box slipping from my grasp. Just as I was about to drop that super important box, a second pair of hands reached out to help.

“Woah! Careful! Do you need some help?” A voice asked. My panicked eyes met kind vermillion, that gentle tenor voice belonging to a boy with long red hair that was tied back, a touch of black at his roots. His smile was just as sweet as it lit up his face.

“Yeah,” I said breathlessly, “some help would be great!” He grinned wider, gesturing for me to go ahead of him.

“Lead the way, pretty lady,” he charmed. As if my cheeks weren’t red enough from the exertion, more heat crept up my neck and bloomed in my face. I huffed out a giggle, making my way around the car, leading the redhead up the steps and through the house to my room. I opened the door for him to come in and set the box on my bed, and he let out a low whistle.

“Nice space, can’t wait to see what you do with it,” he commented, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Oi, Shitty Hair, you gonna get your shit out of my car or what? Stop flirting, you just met her,” a voice came from behind him. I peeked around the redhead’s shoulders to catch a glimpse at what looked like Adonis himself. A tall, sculpted blonde with gorgeous ruby eyes was scowling in our direction, his gaze narrowing as he saw me.

Shaking the scrutiny from his gaze off my shoulders, I turned my attention back to the redhead in front of me, trying not to let my gaze wander to his bare arms that were shown off from his cut off t-shirt.

“I’m y/n, by the way. Thank you for helping me with my stuff,” I grinned, holding my hand out for a handshake. He grinned back widely, but instead of shaking my hand, he held his arms out and pulled me into a hug, shocking me at first, but I absolutely hugged back. He felt so warm and his chest was cushioned, (not to mention he smelled amazing! Like marine moss, citrus and driftwood..)

“Name’s Eijiro, but you can call me Kiri, if you want,” he said over my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze before letting go, turning to head back downstairs. As I stepped into the hallway to follow him, two more boys came sauntering into view, one with sunny blonde hair and a black streak in it, the other with raven black hair. They were laughing and giggling at the top of the stairs, trying to trip each other to get to their rooms first, but stopped in their tracks as soon as they saw me. Eijiro chuckled and went around them to get back downstairs. The blonde one dropped all his bags, holding up hand to point a finger at me before shouting,

“GIRL! THERE’S A GIRL IN THE HOUSE!” Like I was some kind of 1600’s witch. The raven-haired boy cracked up, and I could hear Eijiro cackling from downstairs. The ash blonde was coming out of his room from behind me, coming to a halt a few inches from where I stood. I could feel his body heat radiating off of him, the smell of warm honey and sea salt floating to my nostrils.

“Yeah, Sparkplug, she’s a fucking girl. Stop ogling and get back to getting your shit out of my truck.” He said gruffly, grumbling out, “fucking idiot” as he passed us all on his way back downstairs.

Snapping out of my trance, I looked between the new boys in front of me, offering a small smile.

“Anyone up for some pizza and we can do introductions when it gets here?” I suggested, making them grin widely.

I got a, “for sure, man,” from the ravenette, and a, “heelll yeah, brother,” from the new blonde to cement my decision, and I grabbed my phone to open up the Domino’s app.

. • ° * ° • . … . • ° * ° • .

A/N: first part might be a bit awkward, I haven’t written in a while. (Help me out with tags?) Next part is in the works, hopefully as I get back into it, I’ll be more comfortable and it’ll get better. I can come back and edit later if I feel like it’s missing something. Hope you enjoy 🤍

[gloomwitchwrites]

Temple on a Distant Planet

An Ahsoka Tano story

Content & Warnings: suspense, eldritch horror, Sith magic, no dialogue, horror

Word Count: 928

A/N: Requested by @coffeecaketornado for 3.5k Spooky Bingo (Eldritch Horror)

Ahsoka Tano, on the behest of Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, travels to the very edge of the Outer Rim seeking a potential Jedi artifact. Instead, she finds something beyond her understanding.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // 3.5k spooky bingo masterlist

Master Luke Skywalker senses a disturbance in the Force.

Ahsoka senses it, too.

Master Skywalker suspects it might be a Jedi artifact. He’s been collecting them to preserve the history of the Jedi. Emperor Palpatine went out of his way to either seek or destroy such object. He sought power, but neither Ahsoka or Master Skywalker want that. They seek history and knowledge, and for Master Skywalker, to rebuild and maintain a new Jedi Order.

Ahsoka will help as much as she can, even if her own journey does not follow the same path.

It is why she is here now on this distant planet on the very edge of the Outer Rim. The planet itself is nameless. It is on no maps, but Ahsoka followed the Force, and allowed it to guide her.

At the very top of a cliff, Ahsoka observes the temple in the distance. It is tall and triangular in shape, but instead of a pointed top, it is square. The stone is dark, perhaps a black granite, yet it does not reflect the sun. From it, all Ahsoka senses is shadow. As if a dark cloud surrounds her, Ahsoka too feels foggy, like a veil obscures her vision though her eyes are perfectly fine.

The sky is clear. The forest between her and the temple is vast and green. The sun shines.

But there are no sounds. And she senses no life. The planet is empty.

Void of people. Void of animals. Void of insects.

Ahsoka descends into the trees. They are all the same, as if mirror images rather than actual plants. As she observes the bark of one, she discovers that the one next to it has the same patterns. On and on it goes. An endless maze.

Without the Force, she'd be utterly lost. Driven mad.

Underneath the shadow, she senses it, like a hand gripping her brain, driving her onward. It doesn't lift. Instead, it grows heavier until her temples throb, its invisible fingers digging in. Ahsoka presses on, following it, emerging from the trees to the foot of the temple. Here, the air is heavy like a physical weight, and her tongue feels thick like she fell asleep with her mouth open.

There are no stairs that lead to the top, only a small opening directly in front of her.

Not a door. An archway. And within, darkness.

Ahsoka approaches. Each step is sluggish like she's walking through mud. But the ground is solid. Grass-covered. Nothing should be impeding her movement.

As she passes under the archway, she is swallowed up. Devoured. For that is how it seems both physically and in the Force. Reaching out, Ahsoka searches the darkness around her. Putting her trust in it, Ahsoka continues forward. The stone beneath her shifts, sloping upward.

With each step, a sickness sets in.

At first, it is just a twinge in her side. Then an ache. And then a lurch. Her stomach roils, and sharp pain swells within her abdomen, rolling outward into her limbs. There is no physical injury. No blade in her stomach. No visible foe.

But Ahsoka understands.

Within the Force, there is another.

And as she ascends the slope, a red glow greets her in the dark.

It is faint at first. Just a flicker. With each step, the redness intensifies along with the pain. Ahsoka gags and staggers, but remains upright. This is influence beyond her understanding of the Force. There is something old and ancient in it. A sickly, corrupting power that goes beyond the bounds of the Dark Side.

Clutching her stomach, Ahsoka continues to ascend. The glow bathes everything around her in red, and when she reaches the top, there is only a platform, and beneath the platform, an open pit. At the top of the temple, planted in the ceiling is a large structure. From there is the source of the light.

Ahsoka no longer has feeling in her toes and fingers. She is lethargic. Unsteady now. Her abdomen is in ruin. Everything burns as if something is trying to eat its way out of her.

From the dark, is a low growl. Primordial. Old. The darkness stirs, and in the red glow, is the hint of a dark tendril.

Ahsoka breathes deep and settles into the Force.

She is met by a presence down in the dark.

It reverberates through the connection, slithering along it like tentacles seeking prey. Her stomach twists again, and this time Ahsoka grimaces, her teeth grinding against each other as her jaw clenches.

There is no artifact here. No history.

This is Sith magic. Or something older. Something unknown.

Ahsoka retreats from the red glow and the black pit. And as she descends, the sickness recedes until she feels blissfully empty.

At the bottom, out in the open air, the heavy feeling persists but her stomach does not ache and she can feel her fingers and toes again.

The decision is easy.

Ahsoka focuses on the entrance of the temple, and then the stone and rock that make up its walls. There is power there but not like the presence within. It takes little to bend it to her will, to fill its void with Light. The ground shakes, and a piercing shriek cuts through the air. The top of the temple crumples in, and the rest follows suit, the ground sinking as it swallows up the rubble.

At first, Ahsoka hears absolute silence.

And then, a soft song.

A bird.

It drifts overhead, wings wide as it calls out in greeting.

taglist:

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@singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath @tulipsun-flower

@ninman82 @beebeechaos @no-oneelsebutnsu @whisperwispxx @weasleytwins-41

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