#every stupid minute i spent getting there and back was worth it

[gotyouanyway]

most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen

[satoruxx]

you fiddle with your nails as you walk home at tooru's side, the sounds of mattsun, makki, and iwa bickering further up ahead cutting through the empty streets. you’re uncharacteristically nervous, because god knows you’ve never done something like this before—but you steel yourself because it’s worth it for him.

your feelings for oikawa tooru are all consuming—strong and deep and intense. they’ve been brewing for well over two years now, nourished by the increased amount of time you’ve spent with him. they overwhelm you, washing over your being with an intensity you’ve never felt before, and they drive you to stick by his side for as long as you can—desperate and aching for the boy who puts the stars in your sky.

you know that timing is important because tooru is nothing if not driven—singularly focused on the sport that gives him the air he needs to breathe. so you wait until well after his match with karasuno, giving your all to support him and the rest of the team because volleyball has become important to you after spending so much time with them. you give it time, wait until after the team has taken the time to lament over their missed chance, and after all the third years are ready to move on to the next phase of their lives, before you finally decide to spill your guts to him.

tooru stares ahead as he’s walking, pensive and unsmiling, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. his eyes are bright, a contrast to his expression, and there’s a resolute glint in his irises that has you feeling oddly shaken. when you reach his house, the rest of the group waves back at him before continuing on, and you realize this is your chance.

so, dangerously, you put your heart on the line.

you tell him everything you've ever thought about him—how you admire his drive and his passion, how you have looked up to him for years and years. how you have never felt so deeply for someone before knowing him. it comes out in a rushed ramble of words, all those nights of practicing in the mirror doing nothing for you in the actual moment. you stumble a few times, your face getting warmer with every word, and yet as each sentence falls forth you feel a weight lift from your shoulders—the flesh of your lungs clatter against your ribs, anxious and eager.

tooru inhales, gaze darting between your eyes and then flitting downwards. even in the dark of the night, you can see the pinkish hue crawling up his neck, can see the way he fidgets with his own fingers. he stares at you, lips parted as a wide array of emotions flit over his handsome features—they finally settle into a strange combination of apologetic and resigned.

and then he tells you no.

he tells you that volleyball will always take precedence, that he has already mapped out his future, which is too far away from you. he tells you about argentina and how his mind is made up. he tells you that he's flattered, that he's glad you're friends but that's all he can do right now.

“i'm sorry,” he says with a grimace. he studiously avoids looking at you, but you can't stop staring at him—your stomach sinks as he turns to head inside.

it takes you months to muster up the courage to tell him. it takes him two minutes to say no to you.

the rejection stings in a way that is unfamiliar, and you take a shaky breath as you walk down the street to catch up with the others.

the humiliation makes itself known in the form of a painful lump in your throat—unmoving and heavy. when you glance up you see that the third years have hung back, waiting for you. makki is wearing a knowing grin, but it falters when he sees your expression. mattsun, ever observant, seems to immediately understand, and he wordlessly slings an arm over your shoulder.

all you can do is awkwardly chuckle, knowing that it sounds weak and throaty as you shake your head. “i feel stupid,” you admit, voice wobbling as heat burns through your skin—unpleasant and unwelcome.

“you're not stupid,” makki mutters, hands shoved deep in his pockets as his lips slant regretfully. you stare at the ground, nodding slowly under the weight of mattsun's arm. your lungs ache, and you know that if you open your mouth, you will lose it entirely. so all you can manage to do is look up at iwa with glassy eyes and trembling lips and a rueful smile that probably makes you look as pathetic as you feel.

you don't notice the way his fists are clenched at his sides, nails digging indents into his palms. he grits his teeth, gaze flitting to oikawa's house in the background, but he doesn't say anything.

none of them speak as they walk you home, and you try your best to keep the sniffles to a minimum, too embarrassed to look at them.

you've never felt pain like this before, and it's hard to get over it because everything reminds you of tooru. it's like someone has taken a knife and carved into your ribcage, grasping your heart before taking it out crushing it between bloodied fingers. but even despite the gaping hole in your chest you know that there are expectations to be met, things to be done.

that's the strange thing about your silly unrequited love—it hurts and hurts and hurts some more until it stops one day before you can realize it. even though your chest is still bleeding you go on with life—you go to university, you get a job, you pay bills. you get up in the morning and brush your hair and drink water and tie your shoes until the wound closes itself up. you start smiling a little wider and laughing a little freer until oikawa tooru is nothing more than an old name.

and of course there are instances where you are reminded of him and what could've been, whether it's seeing milk bread in a supermarket or passing by children hitting a volleyball over a net out in the sun. you know very well that your friends are occasionally still in contact with their old captain, not that this bothers you. after all, mattsun, makki, and iwa were very careful not to bring him up around you, which you're grateful for. so even hearing the name in passing becomes easier.

it is difficult until it isn't anymore.

you've all but forgotten him now, after years and years and years—nothing more than a distant memory.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread pooling in your stomach when you walk into the restaurant on makki's birthday and see oikawa tooru sitting at the bar, drink in hand. his eyes are alight as he laughs at whatever conversation he's joined, dark hair falling into his eyes messily.

one step forward, ten steps back.

for a second you can't help but stare, breath stolen from your lungs because it feels like the knife is back and twisting itself into your flesh all over again. there is a panic rising in your throat, suffocating and overwhelming and jarring.

tooru lifts his glass to his lips, hiding his grin as his gaze lazily travels over the expanse of the room.

another surge of panic. the familiar sting of humiliation.

he pauses as he's about to take a sip, brown eyes widening when they land on you, and you see the sharp inhale he takes. his stare doesn't waver, too consumed by shock to look away.

and yet that's all you can do—tear your eyes away because you're different now and it's long gone and you know there is no point in going down that rabbit hole again.

it was a lifetime ago—it's done now.

but you will never know how long tooru thought of you after that night back in high school. you will never know that he felt sick to his stomach when he saw the way your face fell at his rejection. you will never know that he bit his tongue so hard it bled as he watched you walk away from him. you will never know that he spent countless nights in argentina wondering what you were up to and how you were. you will never know that sacrificing you for his beloved sport was the hardest thing he's ever done.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread tooru feels when he sees the way your eyes light up as you find your way over to iwa's side.

@teddybeartoji this is for you mickey ily hehehehehe

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Back To Work | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | Drabble - 800 words

Retirement, a new house, a romantic evening planned, Bucky just knew that life was all going too well . Especially when he starts being hounded to return to his superhero life.

Warnings: language, fluff, a little angsty at the end. Featuring domestic thunderbolts Bucky.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Bucky, are you ready to go baby?” Your voice carried through from the living room as he clicked his arm back into place, shrugging his shoulder to get the fit right. 

You'd been excited all day, buzzing around the new house and opening boxes, trying to unpack at the same time as finding the perfect outfit. Bucky was only half regretting making plans so soon after moving, sure it was stressful trying to dig out his nice shoes from the piles of boxes and bags, but seeing you so happy was completely worth it and knowing you’d be coming home to your house, together, was just the icing on the cake. 

Now the sun was setting and you had turned on the downlighters in the kitchen, void of your usual clutter it looked lonely. 

“Just checking my phone, Doll.” He called back picking the offending item up from the counter - so many missed messages, he sighed.

 He'd been better recently, replying to Sam and catching up with him every week or so. He'd even managed to facetime Steve in his retirement home. He quite enjoyed the easy freedom of digital communication. But today, of all days, it had been pinging non-stop all driving him crazy during the drive and ruining the relaxing and, he hoped, romantic atmosphere he was trying to create. 

“Come on, baby, I don't want to be late.” You strolled into the kitchen and he dropped the phone again to focus his attention on you instead, taking in your dress and heels, your lipstick perfectly done. How could he worry about a stupid phone when you were together. 

“C’mere,” he pulled you close, tucking you under his chin and planting a kiss to the top of your head. 

He smelt lovely, fresh from the shower but with the hint of cut wood from building furniture. His vest revealed the hint of his dog tags, outlined under the fabric, as well as his tanned skin from a summer well spent outside, your traced your fingers over the chain and up his neck. Tangling your fingers in his long hair you tugged him down for a kiss. 

“Love you, Buck.” You whispered against his lips, heat surging through you just at his presence. 

“Love you too.” His lips tickled your cheek, behind your ear, and then he was swinging you up onto the counter. 

“Don't make us late!” 

“If you don't like it, stop giggling.” His fingers tickled up your bare legs, eyes twinkling with desire. 

Ping 

“That fucking phone,” Bucky growled, grabbing it again. More messages, more missed calls. 

“You should see what they want,” wrapping your arms and legs around him as you tugged Bucky closer, every line and curve fitting against him perfectly. He was sun warmed and cuddly, still ridiculously strong, but the hard lines and plains had softened since his retirement and you couldn’t get enough. 

“Fine, for you, then we're going to go and have a nice dinner and I'm leaving this stupid thing here.” He grumbled, chin on top of your head. 

You giggled again, leaving kisses on his chest. Bucky was so attached to that thing you didn't believe it for a second. Until his breathing went funny, heartbeat speeding up beneath your cheek. 

“What is it?”

His eyes had lost their sparkle, looking sad and serious. 

“I might have to rearrange dinner.” 

“What? Why?” You couldn’t see the phone, but his eyes raced across whatever he’d been sent.

“Where did we pack the gear?”

“The what? Oh - uh,it's in the trunk, in the garage but -” 

Bucky slid away, eyes glazed, focussed, intent and you were suddenly so cold without his presence.Your heart sank listening to the movement in the garage on the other side of the wall. 

He emerged ten minutes later, his smart trousers and vest discarded in favour of leather, the dirty t-shirt he'd been wearing while you were unpacking was back and he’d at least grabbed his soft leather jacket for protection. 

You threw yourself into his arms, tears springing to your eyes. “Are you needed?” 

“I think so,” his voice was low, sinking into the headspace required to take on whatever danger was lurking. 

“Come back to me in one piece, okay?” Your voice cracked, arms squeezing him impossibly tight.

“Of course, doll.” He looked at you then, tears welling in his own eyes, his lips so soft against your own. 

“You're my hero, you know that? You don't have to do anything else?” 

He nodded, letting you slide back to the floor, heels clicking on the tile in a sad reminder of your ruined evening. 

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, lock the door behind me, okay? Don’t let anyone, anyone, in.” 

It was your turn to nod, you knew the protocols, the rules that reassured him. 

His bike roared to life, then he was gone, and you were alone in the echo of your home. 

[furiousgoldfish]

I didn't see this right away, but my parents refusing to teach me anything really got to me, and not only in the way of lacking survival skills. I was being told things like 'how old are you not to know this' and 'you should know this by now' constantly, but nobody ever took the time or patience to explain or demonstrate to me how anything works. I had school education, so I was able to absorb information, but that was still, me being one of the 20+ children sitting down, with one adult who spent more time trying to keep us disciplined and quiet, than managing to explain anything. If I didn't get anything, I was too afraid to ask. I was being told I was stupid on a daily basis anyway.

My parents insisted that I was too stupid to get anything, too clumsy and ignorant and incapable, so it wasn't worth trying to teach me anything, it was a waste of energy. I was supposed to absorb knowledge by looking at what they're doing, but they would often give me other tasks to do, I wasn't free to observe. I believed that I was specifically dumb and incapable, and this was the only reason why I didn't have any skills. I actually believed that I was clumsy, stupid, incapable of doing anything correctly. I didn't think I was worth teaching, worth mentoring.

There was one time I was in my friend's house, and there was a guitar. I touched it, fascinated, since I've never had the chance to touch one before. My friend's father saw my interest, and offered to show me how to play. I was flabbergasted. He showed me how to hold it, how to press my fingers on the strings to create different chords, how to make sound happen. It took maybe 20 minutes. But it was the first time an adult showed me how something worked, and I felt.. unworthy. I didn't understand how could I deserve so much of someone's time and patience, because it had never happened before. I couldn't retain the knowledge, because that was the last time I ever touched a guitar, I never got the chance again. I still feel indebted for that 20 minutes, it feels like too much spent on me.

I thought back to those moments a lot, thinking about how special I felt for an adult to believe that I was worth teaching. If someone gave me a guitar now, I'd be ecstatic to try and learn it, because I remember that someone thought I could, someone showed me how. All of the other skills, I had to learn while already thinking I would fail, that I couldn't do it, and had to deal with extensive negative mindset before even trying to start. There is no skill that one can do perfectly on the first time, we all start by being awful, and then slowly get better with practice. But, with the 'I fail at everything and even if I try it will go bad' mindset, the awful start feels like a confirmation that we cannot do this, that we're too incapable, or stupid, or lacking in talent. Since all my work was heavily criticized no matter how well I've done, I had to go back and figure out what things I actually do okay, and criticism was unwarranted, and where I've actually been lacking in knowledge. And that is a complicated thing to do, when all of the criticism feels so painful, and even trying to do something makes you hear the words of ridicule, degradation and berating in your head. It makes you want to go the route of perfectionism, to try and do things so well they would be above criticism in general, but that's impossible. Criticism we receive in abuse is not actual criticism, it's often directed at us only to hurt our feelings, to discourage us, mock us, make us feel inadequate, sometimes even out of jealousy or because our capabilities present a threat, so they need to run that down. But how would we know? If all feedback is negative, it's impossible for us to sort trough what is a confirmation of being awful, and what is a jealous remark created to sabotage our good work.

Sometimes it feels bad learning everything on my own. Finding online tutorials and youtube videos for every skill imaginable, sifting trough forums to find information on finances and economy, trying to put together how society works by analyzing how people live and not daring to ask them to explain how they got where they are now. I had no guidance, and sometimes things would be too complicated, and I would give up. I often wish I could ask someone to explain it to me, instead of typing questions into google. The information is stored differently when it comes from a human, it creates warmth and the knowledge that someone cared enough to explain it to me, that I didn't have to put it together from various sources myself.

Learning basic survival and life skills was unnecessarily painful for me. I still have things I cannot do, just because of how much pain is associated with them. But to think everything could have been as simple as that guitar! If every time I showed interest in something, an adult who knew how it worked sat down next to me, demonstrated it, gave it to me to hold, put my hands in the right places, and directed me to what I should do. Would I ever have trouble believing in myself? It wouldn't have crossed my mind that there's anything I can't do. Or that I would fundamentally be bad at anything, just because I'm bad at it on the first attempt. When you're a kid, you don't even know if you're doing good or bad, if your first attempt gets a 'good job!', you're incentivized to do it again, until you do get good at it. That's why we encourage children, not to lie to them, but because we know how painful it is to be told off on your first try, and that it will make the second try unlikely.

Today I understand that all skills are gained trough practice, and that I can pick and choose what skills I want, and I can get them with enough practice. I can and do give up on some that are too frustrating, and that's okay too, we are all more inclined towards some activities, while others feel bad even with improvement.

As a kid I was enveloped by fear of not being able to do anything, not being useful enough to be kept alive, never being good at anything, not finding any kind of place in the world, just because I can't do anything right. All of that fear was necessary, there's tons of stuff that anyone can do, with some more complicated stuff that one needs to be specialized in, but it's not necessary for survival, or even for earning a place in society. We all have a place, by birthright, and just having skills is not as important as with what purpose you're using them for. You can be extremely skilled and using those skills to exploit, destroy and do damage to society, or even to isolate some members of society who you can then hurt. Or you can have very few skills but be insistent on using what you do only to help those around you be safe and sound.

[aciddrattboyy]

monster mash

scare!actor bachira appeared in a vision and i had to let it be known or after being stood up on a date, one scare actor meguru spots you and decides to try to fill the spot

bachira x f!reader 🕸 fluff 🕸 wc: 1.7k cw: nothing i dont think, nothing is too descriptive i think i literally use the word gore once, nvm i lied one mention of blood (its fake) a/n: this is me lil story for the poll i made but it prob wont be my only halloween fic cuz i love halloween

🕸

the cold fall breeze did nothing to help your already trembling body. as soon as you stepped out of your house you regretted wearing the tight black dress your date picked out for you. and when you got a message from said date saying he wasnt going anymore when you were already half way to the festival, you regretted it even more. 

you thought about turning back, going home and calling your friends. maybe try to see if there were any parties you all could go to. you wouldve felt bad asking your friends to buy tickets last minute. but you spent a good amount on your ticket and you weren’t about to waste it. 

here you were now, standing in line for a haunted house all by your lonesome. were you a huge fan of haunted houses? no not exactly. but were you about to get every pennys worth of what you paid for? yes of course. you kind of felt stupid about it, feeling a bit stubborn doing this all out of spite. but you weren’t exactly made of money and you had been excited to come here. so you’d persevere. 

meguru strolled out of the ‘crew only’ door, hands in the pockets oh his sweatpants while goosebumps trailed up his arms up until well his t-shirt sleeves ended. observing the ridiculously long line, he silently prayed for his coworkers and hoped their night went… decent.

rummaging through his pockets, meguru grabbed for his earbuds. but he stopped in his tracks when he saw you. arms crossed tightly over your chest as you fidgeted with the hem of your short dress. a smile twitched on the corner of his mouth as he smoothly changed his course, abandoning his walk towards the employee parking lot and making a bee line towards you. he seamlessly slid under the velvet rope, grinning as he stood behind you. 

“what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here by yourself?” 

your eye twitched, twisting around and fully prepared to tell the creep off. but your words faltered when you actually saw megurus face. his smile didnt seem to match what sounded like cat calling. so you relaxed a bit, hoping that continuing this conversation wouldnt end badly.

“being stood up on a date,” you watched as his eyes widened, his smile faltering for just a moment. 

“no shit really?” he barked out a laugh out of surprised. his eyes scanned over you, watching in amusement as you bounced on the balls of your shoes. “damn that sucks.” you scoffed, nodding your head with a less than enthused smile. 

“thanks,” 

“but-” meguru said quickly, taking a step forward when he saw you begin to turn away. “uh if you want i can help you through it, i know the place well,” he said, gesturing to the haunted house youve been waiting to get into for what felt like eons. your eyebrow cocked as you faced him fully, being amused by his attempt to salvage the conversation. 

“are you some kind of adrenaline junkie?” you asked lightly, wondering just how many times he’d gone through it. little did you know it was more than you couldve ever guessed. 

“yes- but im one of the actors here so it would be pretty inconvenient if i didnt know my way around- whats your name? im meguru,” meguru didnt usually tell people about his job. not finding it important enough to talk about most times. was the job fun? most of the time. but it was just an exciting side gig while he made his way through college. but seeing the way your eyes lit up at his words, he felt good about it. 

“you dont look… scary,” you teased, studying megurus features as you moved up the line with him in tow. if you were given a line up of people to guess who were scare actors you probably would’ve picked him last upon first glance. “and its y/n” you added on with a bubbly grin. 

“well yeah i dont have an ax through my chest right now,” he shrugged his shoulders, eyes never leaving yours with a goofy smile on his face. you laughed, a sweet smile settling on your face. you felt like your night was starting to look up just a bit. “but nice to meet you y/n,”

the two of you talked a lot about nothing going through the line. it was surprisingly easy to just chat with him and you hadnt even noticed you were moving with the line until you were basically at the entrance. you looked at meguru with wide eyes when an ear piercing scream could be heard of from inside. 

“dont worry pretty girl i’ll protect you,” he said with a wink, mirroring the smile on your face. as you guys moved towards the entrance, your heart was too busy beating in your ears for you to notice or hear meguru talking to one of his coworkers that were monitoring the line. you were only brought back to reality when meguru linked his arm with yours, rolling his neck. 

meguru usually didnt actually walk through the haunted houses he worked at. the thought of seeing a coworker in the makeup he’s seen been put on them before would probably ruin the mood. but now that he had you, clingly to his side oh so adorably, he was starting to think maybe it would be fun. 

as soon as you walked in you were immediately veiled in eery, cold darkness. adrenaline pumped through your veins as you tried to adjust your vision. you swerved your head, trying to look out for any possible jumpscares. meguru watched as you grew a bit frantic, not wanting to say too much and spoil the fun. there was a faint smile on his lips when he saw you notice the well lit door down the hall. 

while you were relieved, and started making your way to the door, meguru knew that it wasnt the exit. he knew someone was behind that door, patiently waiting for someone like you to open it to jump out and scream. he found your interest in the door amusing considering he was there just a couple hours ago. 

“you might not wanna open that door,” he leaned down to whisper in your ear. he felt bad for ruining the illusion, but you already looked like you were on the brink of collapse and the last thing he wanted was for you to faint. 

you shivered, his warm breath grazing your skin a stark contrast to the cold room you were in. holding on to his arm with both hands now, you let him lead the way, suddenly realizing you were not a fan of haunted houses. 

you got through the majority of the house with almost no incidents. having put your faith into meguru, you screwed your eyes shut. only getting scared by the ambience or someone else’s screams. 

meguru glanced down at you plenty of times as he walked you through. you just looked so cute leaning your head on his with your eyes closed. you had put all your trust in him to get you through and he was going to honor that. 

what meguru didnt know then, was that a bunch of the crew members had been plotting as the two of you walked through, staking out the exit for an impromptu jumpscare. they normally wouldnt do this, they have a job to do after all. but you guys were the last of your grouping so they would have to wait for you to leave before letting more people in anyway. it was sort of a gift to meguru, giving him a scare in a haunted house.

“we’re almost there,” meguru muttered close to your head, his smile growing as he made his way to the exit. your eyes had opened just a bit, relief washing through your body when you could clearly see outside of the haunted house. with a little pep in your step, you sped walked for the exit. 

but that was cut short when a body fell from the roof, almost landing on top of you but staying suspended in the air. you yelped, stumbling backwards into megurus chest. unfortunately for you, he was of no help. his eyes furrowed, his own heart rate starting to pick up. but just as he was about to make sense of it all, two actors jumped in front of you. the special effects were gorey and you thought you were going to vomit. with wide eyes you turned to meguru who was now laughing nervously. 

another body fell, this time hitting the ground with a thud right behind you. you both spun around towards the sound and you could feel a scream bubbling in your throat when you saw a dark liquid seep out from under it. 

under normal circumstances, meguru would laugh that stunt off, knowing exactly how it was done and having pulled it off himself. but having already been caught off guard, it did nothing to calm him down. 

quickly grabbing your wrist, he pulled you through the hallway, blood pumping through his veins as all of the sound effects and screams followed them out. your eyes were tightly shut, not daring to open until you knew you were out of there. 

the oh so slightly warmer autumn air hit you like a truck when you finally got out. your eyes were almost bugging out of your head as you looked at meguru who had the exact same expression. the both of you were breathing heavily, standing there in stunned silence.

“you said you knew-”

“i know i did-”

“so how-,” you took in megurus disheveled state, his genuine look of shock in his face made you giggle. with the adrenaline still flowing through you, you both became a laughing mess, rethinking that just happened in the past 3 minutes. and when you looked into his eyes once more, you werent able to stop yourself from pulling him into a kiss. meguru was quick to reciprocate, holding wrapping his arms around you as your soft lips pressed into his. 

the kiss only lasted mere seconds before you both stepped back in shock. you felt your face start to heat up as his smile only grew wider. 

“woah at least treat me to a caramel apple first,” you laughed softly and meguru could have sworn he felt his heart do a backflip into a split when he looked at you. you took your hand in his, squeezing it once before dragging him deeper into the festival. “i lied actually im more of a funnel cake typa guy,”

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very much appreciated <3

[leviscolwill]

as long as i'm the name on your tattooed heart

pairing: bsf!levi colwill x reader

summary: your best friend forcing you to tag along to one of his tattoo session is not as bad as it sounds, especially if it involves sharing kisses [wc: 950]

contents: bsf2lovers, mutual pinning, idiots in love, fluff, mention of needles, not proofread 🏃‍♀️

note: the way i know nothing about tattoos.... sorry for any tattoo aftercare inaccuracy 😞

now playing tattooed heart by ariana grande...

the buzzing sound of the tattooist's machine wasn't one you enjoyed, but the view of levi's bare back was somewhat making you feel better. you never liked to join him on his sessions but he knew how to bribe you, with the promise of a free of charge mcdonald's afterwards for example.

your best friend's grip on your hand tightened when the needles made contact with his shoulder. you couldn't help but let out a small laugh at his face wincing, wondering if the pain was really worth it.

“can't believe you're getting a kick out of seeing me in pain.” levi's words almost made you feel bad, but you remembered how he practically dragged you here.

“what's the point of bringing me here if i can't enjoy a little show.”

“i can't stand you.” you would have answered his blatant lie if it wasn't for him groaning in pain. your hand patted his in encouragement, silently hoping for the ‘show’ to end soon. as much as you pretended to, you couldn't stand seeing your best friend in pain, even if he claimed it was bearable and you should get matching tattoos one day.

after what seemed five hours to you but was really less than forty-five minutes according to levi, his tattoo was done. you liked how it looked but liked the fact you were getting out of here even more. after paying for your nuggets, levi drove you both to his house, praising you for completing at he called your ‘best friend duties’. you felt your heart tighten a bit at the mention of ‘best friend’ but managed to simply roll your eyes. all it took to distract him was bringing up how one of your middle school classmate was pregnant and you both jumped down the gossip rabbit hole.

once you were back at levi's, he abandoned you to take a shower, and you could only count on tiktok games to keep you busy.

your phone was the one left alone when you heard your name being called. you knocked on the bathroom's door before opening it, one eye closed to make sure levi was decent. once you took notice of his joggers, he didn't give you time to gush over his new tattoo before asking you to put some cream on it, he did give you a whole speech about tattoo healing but you were too distracted to make out a word of it.

“you really only see me as your servant.” you sighed but obliged. levi's reflection on the mirror was smiling at you when started applying the balm on his shoulder with the utmost care, scared to hurt him in some way even though he assured you couldn't even if you tried. your mind wandered when you took notice of how ridiculously small your hands were compared to his back, the thought of waking up to this sight was one you'd rather not indulge in, afraid you'd never be able to move on afterwards.

the act felt way more intimate then it should have. domestic in the most perfect way possible, unconsciously making you long for more of this type of moments, when you had levi to yourself, no camera or sporting duty for him to care about. levi silently prayed you didn't notice his breath hitching. how stupid was it really? you spent your whole lives together, sharing every little secret but the normality of the situation was the one making his heart race.

a comforting silence floated in the room that none of you wanted to break. but you eventually did, your hands letting go when there wasn't anything left to apply.

“quit staring.” levi's words pulled you out of your reverie, you didn't even notice your eyes wandering where they shouldn't have been.

“you wish i was staring.” you definitely were, but admitting it and giving his ego a boost was the worst case scenario for you.

“i don't need to wish, you're still drooling a bit love.”, his teasing made your cheeks heat up. you turned around and started cleaning up the material, careful not to show any trace of embarrassment in fear your best friend would never let you live it down.

the feeling of his hands on your shoulders caught you off guard, levi turned you around and tilted your head up.

“you're not mad at me, are you? i was joking...”, the thought of levi thinking you were mad at him made absolutely no sense to you.

“of course not.” you couldn't find it in yourself to make up an explanation that could properly conceal the truth.

levi hoped and prayed, he wasn't pushing your boundaries too far when his forefinger traced your jaw, softly letting his finger get a feel of your lips.

“say it.” your voice was barely audible, but his face was close to yours, close enough to hear what you wanted.

“can i kiss you?” even if levi's voice seemed much more assured than yours, he had to run his sweaty hands on the material of his joggers before cupping your jaw.

you didn't answer and closed the small gap between you two yourself. he knew how to kiss you just the way you liked, you'd believe he'd done this all his life. hell, he was better than some boys you've dated for years. the way your lips moved against each other seemed so natural, like they were already accostumed.

you let your hands rake over levi's bare upper body, before slightly pushing his chest to catch your breath. levi dropped his forehead against yours, before pecking your smile one more time.

“i told you taking you to the parlour wasn't useless, now you got yourself a pretty tattooed boyfriend.”

taglist: @ceofmercedes <3, @zowanew <3

[josephquinnswhore]

it ain’t weakness, baby - joel miller x female reader

Summary: Joel survived Abby’s brutal encounter, but has left him with major mental and physical disabilities.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: mentions of reader having ptsd, blood, amputation, scars, disabilities, murder. blowjob, Joel whining and begging????? cumming in mouth. female masterbation/orgasm. Joel praising reader. insecurity. Joel treating reader like shit. implied age gap.

Note: yeah.. I kinda ruined my own heart with this one.. anyway, enjoy!

Things weren’t the same. They’ll never be the same. That’s what Joel said, over and over. Saying anything he could in order to push you away, to try and build back the wall between you that you’d seamlessly picked away at.. brick by brick all them years ago.

His old age wasn’t his hinderance. His physical disability wasn’t his hindrance. Though, these were his painful claims, that he couldn’t bare to see your youth wasted on someone like him. A no good—worthless old cripple. That’s what he called himself..

“You’re wasting the best years of your life on me! There are plenty of healthy and capable men that could take care of you here! Just.. just go and find someone else!” He’d spat through gritted teeth, his insecurity gnawing at his insides after he saw a younger man offering your hand at the Christmas dance.

Joel Miller had sunken into the dark and ever falling abyss of self destruction and isolation, daring to say cruel things to you, to push you away.

He’ll never admit it’s the last thing he truly wanted, in fact he was terrified of the thought of you leaving.

One day he found out what you did.

“Tell me you’re not that stupid.” He insults, glaring at you from the recliner he’d come so attached to.

“I did. Tommy and Ellie and I, we fucking did it Joel. They’re dead, all of them, we made them suffer. I made her suffer before I buried her sorry ass for ever touching you!” The argument was bound to get heated, after all, they were talking about the girl that mutilated Joel and left him disabled.

“Do you realise what she could’ve done to you? Look at what she did to me!” He snarled. “Goddamn fools the lot of you!”

He didn’t want you to leave, to stop fighting for him. But he convinced himself he was worthless. He saw it; the looks people gave him, sympathy strewn on their faces. Sympathy he didn’t need. He was fine.

It was the irony of it all. He told himself he was fine, he didn’t need help, he could somehow maintain some semblance of control and independence. No matter the wheelchair, or the crutches. Yet, he would snarl and snap at you, unwilling to keep you close. He would angrily claim he was worthless, useless.

“I can do it!” He growls, shrugging off your hand from the metal crutches, his first time using them as a result of his amputated leg. Refusing any help, as he had done every single day for the past few months.

Perhaps at one point, you did grow tired of it. Of his inability to try. After months of trying and limited resources, you’d tried to teach Joel how to write again, how to play guitar, how to sculpt, how to fix.

“Baby come on, please! Just try again for me. Five more minutes then I promise we can stop.” You pleaded, and were met with a dismissive snarl.

“I ain’t no damn kid so stop treating me like one. I’m done with this!” The pen was sent flying, ink splattering all over his favourite journal, which you’d spent a few hours delicately cleaning to save the important book.

You were trying to get him to live. To have the independence he so desperately craved, but he was stubborn, always had been. He was his own worst enemy.

You were even kind enough to take the only spare time you had, to build him a wheelchair accessible ramp, it was weeks worth of labour, and trading a tonne of sentimental personal items to trade for the wood and nails. Yet, it remains unused, even now, as it rains and the snow coats the wood, they begin to rot and wither. All your hard work and dedication to your husband had gone completely unnoticed.

Yet, for some reason, you never quit on him.

“Stop scowlin at me like that and just try, would you?”

He grunted, his hand trembled, the majority of his soup fell off the spoon. With whatever strength he had, he tossed the spoon onto the floor, as it clattered along the wood, it sends soup flying all up the wall. The bowl soon clatters to the ground before you can catch it.

The bowl was heavy, and the sound of it on the hardwood floors sent your movements to a halt—frozen. Your ears ringing as if it were that forsaken shotgun again, tearing a hole through Joel’s leg, flesh and blood splattering against the carpet rug and the floor. Stumbling, you take a moment to yourself, rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen.

The noise over and over replaying in your mind, the golf club coming down on Joel’s head, sure you would witness the love of her life being brutally murdered in front of your eyes. What Joel didn’t know, as far as he assumed, that you had these triggers as a result of ptsd.

The ticking of the clock in the kitchen becomes unbearable and you find yourself back in the living room.

Waiting for you, is another mess of his you’d have to clean.

“It feels like you’re not even trying anymore Joel. It’s been months—why can’t you see I’m trying to help you!” You insist.

“I don’t need your help!” He growled bitterly.

“So you’re just going to sit in that stupid fucking chair till you die huh? Is that it?” Finally reaching the breaking point after your recent trigger, tears cascade down your red cheeks.

His scowl softened, into a look she hadn’t seen since the incident happened. He battles his ego and his stubbornness to finally reach a hand out to you, his shaking fingers just graze your own.

“Baby—you know I don’t mean it.” He murmurs hopelessly. “I’m—I’m sorry. I appreciate you tryin’.”

The atmosphere changes in the air, the winter suddenly doesn’t feel so harsh, and the breeze that slides through the crack in the window frame can’t be felt over the warmth of the heater that Joel nests by.

You kneels down onto the floor, taking his trembling hand. “I’m not giving up on you. When we took our marriage vows I fucking meant them. Just let me be here for you. It’s killing me that you’re trying to push us apart. Please.”

For some reason, your plea pierced his old heart with such reverence that he doesn’t argue, he relaxes his tense shoulders and murmurs, “okay.”

Finally, acceptance, peace. The white flag was being waved. Seventy two days of fighting was finally over.

“Shouldn’t be.. on your knees like that baby. You—you’ll get sick.” The worry in his voice had another kind of anxiety behind it.

One that you soon found the reasoning of.. his cock.. stiffer in his pants than you’d seen it in months. “Don’t tell me you’ve been suffering all this time.” You gasp in disbelief.

His aimless gaze and silence was enough to confirm the accusation. He’d been so sexually frustrated.. that he hadn’t been able to cum.

“This is why you’ve been so upset.” You murmurs. “Isn’t it?”

He answers with a simple and shameful nod, you press a kiss to his hand, ready to offer him a solution. “Can.. Can I help you?”

The question takes him off guard, his thick and greying eyebrows meet together in a low frown.

“Why would you want to touch me? I’m .. I’m a goddamn freak—“

“You shut up and let me decide what I see you as Joel Miller.” You scold. “I see someone strong, brave, handsome.”

He scoffs, but it doesn’t deter you. Instead it only motivates you more. Leaning up against the recliner, your chest on the left side meets the fabric, where his leg had to be amputated from the thigh downward, due to the inflicted shotgun wound.

“I see a man so incredibly capable, of living, thriving. Needing help doesn’t make you weak, baby. Let me take care of you.”

His trembling hands struggle to unclasp the stubborn button on his jeans. “Hey, just let me look after you baby. Relax.” You insist softly.

Making quick work of his button and zipper, your cool and small hands make his cock look enormous as it springs out of his jeans, rock hard. Has it always been this big? Perhaps the illusion of deprivation has her mind as desperate as her dripping cunt. Even your mouth begins to salivate, gulping as you come eye level with the small clear bead of precum.

Without warning, you lurch forward, pressing a small kiss to the red and aching tip, before swirling your tongue around the bulbous head.

“Ah, ah fuck baby,” he whines, sharply inhaling a breath, his good hand moves to grip the back of your head, begging for you to swallow him.

His desperate pleas only serve the purpose of rilling you up, with the gentle touch of his fingertips in your hair, desperately clutching at a fistful of your hair..

Opening your mouth wider to fit his enormous girth, halfway down and you’re already gagging. He whimpers, sounding the most vulnerable she’s heard since their last intimate encounter. Sneakily, you slide a hand down to your entrance, sliding your fingers inside to collect some of the slick before, sliding them upwards towards your enlarged and throbbing clit. whine is muffled by his cock.

You push on, feeling the mushroom tip sliding down your throat as you gag, covering his cock in your warm and sticky saliva. His untamed coarse public hairs tickle your nose.

The noises were absolutely despicable and lewd, the way you took the whole length of him, gagging at every descend, it was a sensation that had him trembling underneath you. His trembling hand attempts to clutch the arm of the recliner.

“Baby, baby stop.” He begged. “Not.. I’m not gonna last.” His breath quickens and as he tensed up, you take his length out of your mouth, but he quickly thrusts back into it, craving the warmth and the pleasure of the hole.

“Don’t stop, hmph please don’t stop.” He pleaded in a whine, Joel Miller, begging you.

You felt your stomach tightening, the pleasure of your fingers on your soaking clit, swirling at the perfect pace and Joel’s soft voice begging. You moan around his cock as your legs tremble underneath you.

Joel finally catches on and it’s the last straw for him before he throws his head back onto the recliner and grunts, the growl that leaves his lips is primal and comes from his throat. “Fuck—such a good girl.” He stutters and thrusts his hips upward, filling your mouth and throat with him, sending his ropes of warm cum straight down your throat, you drink, like it’s the last source of energy you’ll ever receive.

His hand unclenches from your hair as he feels himself shrinking inside of your mouth, encouraging you to look up at him, and you do. You’re met with Joel, looking at you with all the love and adoration and affection you deserve.

“Come here baby.” He murmurs, his thumb caresses your cheek as you look up at him. Climbing up onto his lap, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Could.. could you please pull the recliner back?” His voice escapes timidly. Here he was, asking for your help; finally.

With a swift movement, you pull on the latch on the side of the recliner and the bottom end swings upward, now you’re both laying, your hand reaches for a warm blanket on the nearby couch, and toss it over the two of you.

“Thanks for not giving up on me.” The world circle in her ears, and she runs her thumb over the large scar on his forehead that spans to his temple and eyebrow. “I wouldn’t ever dream of it.”

“I love you, Mrs Miller.” Is the last thing your happy heart hears before your eyes flutter, peace and pleasure lulling you into a dream.

[footballffbarbiex]

A little smutty something with Virg as promised, even if it's 24 hours later than I'd hoped!

warnings: breeding talk, threat of hitting it raw (but use protection of some kind peeps irl), dirty talk

In your humble opinion, there were few things sexier than a last minute winning goal. Admittedly, getting there is often pull-your-hair-out stressful and leaves you becoming infuriated as the match goes on but that high? That rush? There's nothing like it, especially if it's a goal that happens just before the last few seconds of the game.

Of course, it's not always welcomed when it's the opposition which do this. The temptation to riot is there and you feel like waiting for the ref outside and bringing the fight to him, but tonight - despite the frustrations and interesting refereeing decisions made - you don't have time to pick fights.

You'd watched as Virgil had celebrated, was interviewed, celebrated some more and lifted the trophy whilst being sprayed with champagne. They'd celebrated with the fans before heading back inside. His - and the team's - joy was contagious if you were a Red and it was clear to see how much this win meant to them. While they took the bus home, you'd travelled back from London on the train with some of the other WAGs, you'd spent enough hours cooped up on a coach to know that it wasn't worth the journey back via that method of transportation.

He's in too much of a good mood, no doubt spurred on by a little happy liquid, by the time he finally stepped from the bus making it so that you'd slipped behind the wheel of the car and set off back home. He flips between sitting back with a big stupid ass grin on his face and talking to you, but at all times, his hand rests upon the top of your thigh, fingertips moving ever so carefully without his finger itself moving. Every so often, he'd drag his hand further up, fingers stroking over your clothed inner thigh before moving back to where they'd originally started.

By the time you pull onto the driveway, your nerves are shot to shit and your underwear is no longer dry from the expectation and this brought on a whole new meaning to you of what edging was.

The key is barely in the lock when Virgil is behind you, hands pulling at your hips, forcing you backwards and holding you against his swelling cock. There's a slight shift as he bends to kiss your neck and instinctively, you tilt your head to give him better access.

"We're not even inside yet," you tell him, feeling your eyelids growing heavy with each blink becoming harder to open them as his fingers begin to undress you right here on the doorstep. It slips beneath the waistband of your underwear, pushes over your pubic bone and parts your folds. Your hand is fumbling, key struggling to turn as your concentration begins to focus on something else.

"Then open the door," his hand covers yours, turning it and pushing the door open within seconds with such ease, you should feel ashamed from the way your arousal has clouded everything else but you're having a hard time caring about anything but getting some part of this man within one of your holes.

"S-s-sorry," you stammer, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he kicks the door closed and keeps the hand that cups your pussy pressed firmly against you.

"You should be. Making me wait longer to fuck you." He reprimands, pushing you against the nearest wall and standing as close to you as possible so that he can stare down at you, reminding you in one way or another just how small you are compared to him. Realisation of this has your cunt tightening.

"I think you'll find the bus arrived half an hour after I did. It's you that made me wait." You try to make a joke to follow it but one long finger strokes over your soaked hole and teases the entrance with his fingertip, making your eyes close and you buck your hips, almost fucking his singular finger. "Fuuuuck Virg," the words come out as a hiss followed by a pathetic moan.

"Yes baby?"

Your mouth opens to speak but he slips his finger in further while his palm rubs against your clit in such a way you almost see stars from finally feeling some kind of contact after what felt like eternity. Everything about this, considering how eager and impatient he claims to have been leading up to this, is slow and drawn out. His finger works you until each time he pulls his finger back, you can feel your wetness drip from you. He adds a second, the pace now picking up and you're able to hear the lewd sounds of every thrust of them.

"I don't hear what you have to say," he speaks so calmly, it's hard to imagine that he's doing what he's doing.

"Need you." You manage to pant.

"But you're having me." his tone is almost mocking but you don't care.

"no. I need you."

"Use your words baby." he coos at you. "What do you want?"

"Your cock." you circle your hips and whine when both fingers are full within you at your request.

"Where do you want my cock?"

"In me."

"Be more specific."

"In my pussy."

"Yeah? Want me to go upstairs and get a condom?" He asks, eyes searching your face but you can't focus on him right now. Every thought and action your body is capable of doing in this moment is trying to keep you upright and not have your knees giving in.

"No." You say the singular word with such determination it brings a chuckle from him.

"Oh, it's not like you to want me to fuck you raw. What's wrong? Need me to breed you huh?" He doesn't need a reply, your walls clamp around his fingers in such a way, you're almost pushing him back out again with the tightness. "I think you like the sound of that. Me fucking you, barely pulling out so that you have every inch of me inside of you, fucking you until I'm done with you and filling you up. Look at the way you're fucking my fingers baby," he says as he adds a third too easily. "You're taking these too well, it's like you're desperate for my cock. Is that what you want?"

"Mmmmm."

"Then tell me. Tell me you want me to breed you."

"I need it Virg, need you to breed me."

"All you had to do was ask."

[turtlecleric]

doomsday

Bayverse, angst, hurt/no comfort

CW: reference to death of a parent/grief

-

You’re almost finished getting ready when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. Whirling around, momentary panic makes your pulse spike before you recognize Leo standing in the doorway to your bedroom.

You laugh, partly at yourself for startling so easily and partly in relief that it’s him, before rushing over to him, shoving (ineffectually) at his plastron for good measure. In your defense, he hadn’t said he was going to escort you. Not that you’re complaining; seeing your boyfriend always makes you smile, even when he’s being a sneaky asshole.

“You scared me, you big jerk!”

This is the part where he smiles. Apologizes. Pulls you into his arms and makes some smartass remark about how you should really pay more attention to your surroundings.

“...Sorry.”

He’s not smiling. Why isn’t he smiling?

“I was just about to head to the lair. I’m not late, am I?” You check the time on your phone, but- but no. Even if you spent another 15 minutes fussing with your hair, you’d still have enough time to leave and make it to the lair on time for movie night. You look back up at Leo, waiting for an explanation, but he just stares at you. Silent.

“You okay, Blue?” You search his face, but you can’t read him like you normally can. His expression is something you’ve never seen; something steely. Distant. “Leo? What’s-”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

The words don’t register for a long, long moment. When they do, you wait for- you don’t know what. For him to say he’s kidding? For your alarm to go off, waking you up from a weirdly vivid nightmare? You don’t know. You don’t know anything, apparently. You thought he was happy.

You certainly were.

“What?”

His answer is immediate, just as firm as the first time. “This is over. You’re no longer welcome at the lair. Donnie has already deleted our numbers and any past conversations from your phone. We need to maintain our anonymity, so please don’t try to contact us again.”

Seconds stretch into little eternities as you try to push past the vice that’s abruptly closed around your throat, as you try to untangle the fishing line that seems to have wrapped itself around your lungs. A million conflicting thoughts ricochet around in your mind. This can’t be real. This was inevitable. This can’t be real, he would never do this. Why did you ever think he would stay with someone like you? He said he was in this for life. What did you do? What changed? How could he do this? How could you possibly blame him when it’s you? You’ve ruined this, somehow, and you want to ask him why, but - does it even matter? Of course it does. Of course it doesn’t. It’s you, you’re the problem. It’s always been you.

You unlock your phone, navigating with numb fingers. It’s true. Their contacts are gone. Over a year’s worth of messages, too. Gone. Like they never happened. You think back, trying to remember - too late, it’s too late, now - realizing it’s been a few days since you heard from any of them. It’s not like you talk every day, but- but you were busy with work, you didn’t- you didn’t even realize. No one has messaged you in days. You’d be able to catch up on movie night. On movie night, just like every other Friday, just like always, you’d thought. You’d thought.

How could you be so stupid?

A mess of emotions you can’t name. Heavy. Sharp. You can’t breathe. You’ve felt heartbreak before - was it always this painful? Has it been so long that you forgot how much it hurts? The floor is firm beneath your feet, but surely you’ve been sucked into the darkness of the Earth. Surely. But no, you’re still here. Your apartment hasn’t changed at all, the city still stands; it just feels like the world is ending. You’re fine. It’s fine. You shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable. What did you expect? It’s you. It’s always been you.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You look back up at him, but his form quickly blurs along with the rest of your bedroom. He always hated seeing you cry, but when you blink the tears away his expression hasn’t changed at all. Was that a lie? You don’t know.

All the while he just stares at you. Patient, and silent, and clinical. Shouldn’t he be upset, too? At least a little? How long has he been planning this? It’s been days since any of them reached out, you remember. How long have their contacts been missing? Is it because you didn’t reach out?

“Leo.” Breathe. Breathe. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry-”

“You didn’t do anything. I’m just not in love with you,” he says evenly. Like he’s pointing out a fact. The sky is blue. You’re running low on detergent. I don’t love you. I never did. “I don’t want to waste your time, and, frankly, I don’t want to waste mine, either. I’m sorry, I know this is difficult, but I think it’s best if we just end it now before we get too attached.”

Too attached? Is that what you are? It must be. It must be.

He doesn’t sound sorry.

You manage to nod, wiping at your eyes. You’re not sure why you bother; the tears just keep coming. Another little eternity, and then he’s turning to go. Of course. He’s a busy guy. Why would he stay? Why would he waste his time watching you fall apart over something that obviously isn’t a big deal? Too attached. You must be. It’s you. It’s always been you.

He’s turning to go, and you- you’ll never see him again. Is this what burning alive feels like? You can’t breathe past the fishing line. Stop him. No, don’t be pathetic. He was very clear. You should respect his wishes. Stop him.

You watch him open the window. Watch him grip the windowsill, about to disappear for the last time.

“I would’ve married you,” you whisper.

He halts in his movement. A little eternity. His hands are still gripping the windowsill. “I know.”

Then he’s gone. And you’re alone again.

-

He makes it no farther than the third rooftop before Raph appears, shoving him hard enough to make him stumble.

“I knew you were a dumbass, Leo, but I didn’t know you were this stupid! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Leo rights himself, glaring. God damn it, Donnie. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Go back in there and tell her the truth.”

“I did. Besides, this isn’t your concern. Don shouldn’t have even told you, it’s my business.”

Raph huffs a humorless laugh, shaking his head and pacing. “You’re so goddamn stupid,” he mutters before facing Leo again, gesturing broadly as he speaks. “And a liar. You’re in love with that girl, and by some fucking miracle she’s also in love with you. You’re throwing that away? For what?!”

“I told you: this isn’t. Your. Concern. Go home, Raph. That’s a direct order.”

He expects Raph to bristle at that, but… he doesn’t. The fight visibly drains from him instead, and when he speaks again his words are sharp in a different way. “He wouldn’t have wanted this. You know that.”

“Don’t.”

“Master Splinter was happy that you were happy. He loved her. And if he knew what you just did? How cruel you just were to that poor girl? He’d be-”

“Shut up, Raph,” Leo snarls, the careful composure falling away. Chipping paint. “You don’t speak for him, and you certainly don’t have the right to comment on my relationships.”

Again, Leo expects yelling, or a fist sent his way - he’s ready for it, welcomes it, even - but Raph just sighs. His voice is too quiet, Leo thinks, when he responds. “We miss him, too, Leo.”

Leo closes his eyes, trying to ignore the gaping maw in his chest, to breathe past the ache. It doesn’t work. It hasn’t worked. Not once.

When he opens his eyes again, Raph is still looking at him like he’s some fragile thing. He’s not. He’s not.

“Go home.” Leo doesn’t wait for a response, turning on his heel and running.

He keeps breathing.

-

Taglist: @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @luckycharms1701 @yorshie @justalotoffanfiction @mxalmighty @shakeyourtrees @thelaundrybitch @silverwatergalaxy

[lbxbx]

Cockpit 5 | knj

Pair: Namjoon x reader

Summary: Namjoon goes through a rough time while getting a divorce, meeting you at the club two weeks in a row when attraction becomes unreal.

Rating: +18 mature content, Smut, divorce, fatherhood.

Previous | Next

“Who’s Jay?” You ask him, out of breath, your motion slowly coming to an end.

Namjoon feels every pore on his skin excrete cold sweat, he even shivers and he feels cold for a second at the mention of his son, his body stiffens and for a split second he wants to stop everything and just leave. He thinks he got caught.

Got caught? He’s not even sure it’s the right term. But guilt washes through his entire body, his son would be very disappointed if he found out his father is cheating. But no, the man wants all his rights as a husband and she didn’t give him any, she’s totally not available for him. He needs to love and be loved, and to touch and be touched by someone.

Not that Namjoon is seeking a relationship or love or anything. But he cannot keep himself from being with other women anymore, when the women he calls his wife isn’t there for him.

He does go out with his co workers to clubs or bars or even hang out every now and then, and people are not blind. He does get hit on by men and women almost every time. But he could never tell someone to come over to his house when there’s a toddler and a wife there. Even when they weren’t home, he could never tell someone to come over. He just wouldn’t do it.

He’s a smart man but isn’t sane anymore. Frustration wore him out.

And the moment he asked for your number back in the club, it took him a lot of courage to do so. He never saved female contacts on his phone other than family and co workers, and that alone made him scold his self endless that night. Did he really do that?

He knows that keeping your number on his phone is going to be opening the gates of hell, he tried keeping himself from texting you or calling you, but the moment he rested his head on his pillow the next day after a very long argument that his son ended up hearing and acting really agitated upon, he grabbed his phone and texted you, he needed to get his mind out of his miserable life.

And Jay is this man’s weakness, it shatters his heart into pieces when he sees his son crying and covering his ears at the sound of them fighting, those nights usually end up with Jay having a very high fever and he doesn’t get good sleep. Namjoon always tried so hard to stifle their fights and compromise in front of his son, and just laugh it out. But it’s his wife that turns everything into a dramatic scene. That night he lost his mind and was very loud with her, and it was over a very stupid reason that was totally not worth his son hearing.

He snaps himself out of his thoughts and looks at you sitting over him, the necklace in your hand, with a very hazy look on your face. You deserve to know the truth. The man you spent the night with is involved in a miserable marriage.

Namjoon is saved by the bell when his phone rings, he reaches for the night stand and grabs his phone, of course he slept out of the house without letting his wife know, he has 6 missed calls from her, the last one a couple hours ago. But the call he’s getting now is from work.

“Shit- I gotta take this, I’m sorry.” He slips from underneath you and gets off of bed, collecting his clothes in his hands. “Hello?”

Your shoulders sulk in disappointment, and you just lay down flat on your bed and look at him getting dressed. You were hoping for more but it looks like you’re not going to get any. You shrug it off, Hoseok should be here any minute and Namjoon has to leave before he sees him.

“Sure, I’ll be there in no time.” Namjoon looks at you laying in bed and smirks. “Sure, Bye.” He hangs up and puts his phone down, slowly approaches you and hovers his lips over yours, his nose hitting yours and you could feel his breath on your face, his fingertips run on your forearm slowly before he whispers. “If I knew I’d get called by work, I would have set an alarm just to wake up early and fuck you.”

You’re clenching again and it’s around nothing, now you get greedy and you want him even more, you push forward to end the space between you and kiss him, his body moving back a little from the harshness of your kiss, you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him towards you, his hands lands on your hips and he moves down to your neck, kissing and sucking on a few spots which end up leaving a small red spot on your neck.

“I wish I could stay for a little longer but I have to go.” He leans his forehead against yours, he wishes he could cancel work and just be with you for longer, but they really need him. You end up nodding and sitting up, he rushes to get into his clothes before he looks at you one last time near your apartment door.

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.” He smiles, his dimple now looking more tempting than ever, your intrusive thoughts work and your finger reaches to poke his dimple and kiss it softly, he bites on his bottom lip and it’s hardly noticeable, but he’s blushing.

You panic when you hear the pass code to your door being clicked, only Hoseok knows your pass code and at this exact moment you regret giving it to him. You take a few steps away from Namjoon and wait for Hoseok to open the door.

You’re caught way sooner than you thought you would be.

Hoseok finally opens the door, he takes his shoes off before looking up at you, he’s startled that he actually trips in his steps when he walks in. “Shit. Hi.” And the social butterfly smiles at Namjoon before he looks at you with a wide grin. You clench on your teeth and give him a sign to shut up subtly without Namjoon noticing.

Namjoon awkwardly greets back and he shifts in his spot, he’s a little uncomfortable that he actually stands behind you, you find it cute but you’re not very comfortable yourself too. “Hobi, this is—“

“Namjoon, yeah I remember you.” Hoseok reaches his hands out to give Namjoon a handshake, and you clench on your teeth again, embarrassed at Hoseok’s attempt to make the man less uncomfortable, but little does he know, it’s makes Namjoon way more uncomfortable.

“Namjoon, this is Hoseok, my best friend.” You introduce, Namjoon handshakes Hoseok and looks at you. “I really should get going.”

“Hobi, you can take the food to the kitchen, thank you.” You look at Hoseok and point your head towards the kitchen, signaling him to leave you two alone, he looks at both of you one last time before he smiles. “Lovely to see you again Namjoon.” Then disappears into the kitchen, or at least you think so. He’s hiding behind the wall listening to your conversation.

“I’m sorry.” You look at Namjoon. “I didn’t think he’d be here early.”

He shakes his head and walks closer to you, kissing your cheek softly which you makes you freeze in your spot, “It’s totally okay, thanks for letting me stay the night, I really had fun.”

“I had fun too.” You nod, “I’ll see you later.” He finally waves goodbye and leaves, you lock the door behind him and rush to the kitchen, Hoseok looks up at you and grins before taking his suit jacket off. “Look at you.”

“Before you say anything.” You put your palm up in the air. “If this goes out to anyone, I will murder you Jung Hoseok.” And that doesn’t even make him stop laughing, he eyes you from head to toe and crosses his arms.

You roll your eyes at him before pulling a chair and taking a seat, you unpack the food and start eating like you’ve never eaten before, you were starving. Hoseok’s eyes on you don’t go unnoticed but you decide to ignore it, he’s going to give you a hard time anyway, so you just decide to enjoy your food.

“How was it?” He asks, you totally ignore him and get up to put coffee pods into your coffee machine, you get yourself a cup and sit back down to devour your breakfast.

“On a scale from one to ten.” He tries again, you look at him and with a full mouth you say “Nine.” Which makes him go crazy, he looks at you dead in the eye and says: “That good?”

You shrug, stuffing more food in your mouth, you know he’s going to pull words out of your mouth in one way or another, so you just tell him in full surrender.

Hoseok is respectful though, he got what he wanted so he nods and gets up, not asking any more questions at all, he takes off his shirt and turns on the air conditioning. “I’m just glad you finally got laid.” Before he starts working on your pantry shelves.

Very respectful.

-

Hoseok is tackling your pantry shelves, helping you change into the screws he got you earlier. The weather is extremely hot that you end up walking around your house in a pair of shorts and a sports bra. You have a tub of ice cream on your lap and your hair is up in a bun. You had enough with the weather.

“We should totally go swimming like we did last summer.” Hoseok suggests before taking a few bites from the tub in your lap, you immediately refuse his suggestion to which he pouts.

“We said we were going alone but all of you ended up bringing a plus one and I was alone for the entire night.” You recall your last trip.

It was August of last year when all of you decided to rent out a villa with a swimming pool and a hot tub, you made a pact that was suggested by Seokjin that it’s only your group, no girlfriends nor boyfriends. Yoongi was excluded of course since all of you liked Mia and wanted her to come. They were newly engaged.

You and Hoseok took care of renting the place and everyone else took care of foods and drinks and everything else you may need. It started with Taehyung who just got into a relationship with his now girlfriend and he told her to come, which first you were okay with but then they all brought girls along. Even Hoseok.

They’re not even still with the girls they brought that day except for Taehyung and Yoongi.

You remember being in the swimming pool, planning out teams to play volleyball, they all wanted to be in the same team with their partners and you were the extra player that kept switching teams. It was very pathetic that you swore you won’t do it again.

“Come on, I promise I won’t do it again.” Hoseok adores those kinds of activities, so he tries his best to convince you. You roll your eyes “If you don’t others will.”

“Okay maybe they will, but I promise I’ll hang out with you the entire night.” He sounds genuine, you hate saying no to this man but you’re still not convinced.

Your door bell rings and you know it’s Jimin since he called Hoseok and found out he was at your place, he wanted to hang out too. You get up on your feet and put the tub of ice cream down. “I’ll think about it.”

You open the door for Jimin who’s carrying a bunch of bags, he never showed up with his hands empty, even if he got you the simplest thing ever like a bag of chips or a six pack of drinks. He would even show up with board games and puzzles for the two of you to work on. He adores you so much and so do you, the two of you were enemies first when you used to live in the same building, he would leave trash near your door by mistake and you would scold him for it.

You started apartment haunting immediately after a big fight, you told the owner that you wanted him to get evicted but no one agreed with you, they all loved Jimin which made you cringe. This terrible human being? Really?

And when you found the apartment you’re currently in is when the two of you suddenly click and become closer than ever. You found it really adorable when he absolutely refused helping you move your furniture, he didn’t want you to move out.

“I got you your favorite seaweed chips.” He takes off his shoes and takes the bags to the kitchen. “Hi hyung. I got us drinks to make cocktails too.”

You look through the bags. Seaweed chips, gummy candy, tequila, lemons, a six pack of beer and a bath and body works candle which makes you laugh.

He comes from behind you and kisses your cheek. “You liked the smell of it when you came over to my place, I thought you’d like one.” You hug him closer and start unloading the bags. “You didn’t have to.”

-

Hoseok and Jimin are now working on your shelves while you have your ice cream around the kitchen table, your phone buzzes a text message, you want to ignore it first thinking it was work telling you to come over for the night, but you usually answer your texts quick, so you grab your phone and unlock it.

It’s Namjoon, he sent a photo of him in his uniform, taken through a bathroom mirror with a carry on bag next to him. He looks clean, his sunglasses lifted to the top of head. He looks all big and attractive, the sleeve from his shirt tight on his biceps and his pants hugging his thighs perfectly. With a smile on his face showing the dimple you kissed this morning.

Your stomach is twisting, you cross your legs hoping for that throbbing feeling in your panties disappears, but who are you kidding?

“I’m flying to Jeju in an hour :*”

Are you..

Are you smiling at your phone screen?

Grow the fuck up.

You know the reason behind his text is not to inform you. This man knows he looks like a fine snack and he sent you a picture just to rub it in your face. Who are you to complain? You like it.

Your fingers hover over the screen and you dare to send him a risky text.

“do you need company? Hehehe”

You put your phone down and cringe at your text, but you know men are easy to seduce so you just went ahead. Hoseok and Jimin too occupied arguing which size of screws they should use on the next shelf.

Your phone rings in a text again and you check it immediately.

“wanna join the mile high club with me?”

“I’m more than glad to have your company.”

The heat between your legs is increasing and it’s not because of the hot weather, Kim Namjoon has you wipped and drooling all over him. You secretly want to suck his big dick in the cockpit behind the locked door.

“I think this should be okay.” Hoseok puts his palms on the shelves and presses down testing the weight. “Do you want me to reload them?”

You’re not even listening because your brain is trying to function to get an answer to Namjoon’s texts, Jimin squints his eyes and looks at your neck, noticing a few dark spots before he looks at Hoseok, nudging him with his fingers. The older looks back at Jimin in confusion.

“i’m not sure if your passengers want to hear you while your dick is getting sucked.”

You’re really surprising yourself with your texts, Namjoon on the other side is dragging his carry on and heading to the gate, his phone in his other hand and he’s texting you back with a smirk on his face.

“but they will love hearing you get fucked until you pass out.”

“or until you can’t walk.”

“up to you.”

Fuck his work that made him leave early and fuck you for not keeping your hands to yourself. Get your shit together.

Jimin points at his neck while looking at Hoseok, before looking at you, Hoseok nods and turns so their backs face you and mouths Jimin. “She doesn’t want to talk about it.” And Jimin nods with a smirk.

You put your phone down and lock the screen, you know if you keep talking to Namjoon it’s going to end up with you sending nudes to try and tease him while he’s at work, because you already did it before with a stranger, and with Namjoon? You’d do it all over again.

“Are you done with the shelves?” You get up, your panties aren’t really comfortable and they’re wet. So you try your best to hide a cringe.

“Yeah, I already asked you if you wanted me to reload them.” Hoseok discards the old screws into the bin. You take a last look on the shelves and nod. “It’s okay Hobi I’ll do it, thanks for helping me.”

“Did you get laid?” Jimin spits out and your body freezes, did Hoseok tell him or did he see something? You were careful enough to hide Namjoon’s used towel and toothbrush, you even changed the garbage bags that had used condoms inside, you made sure to open the windows to let out the smell of cigarettes.

“What are you talking about?” You try to sound nonchalant while you’re reloading your shelves, but you were too easy to read. “I must be seeing things, but you look different and your neck-“

“Yeah you’re seeing things.” Hoseok quickly answers and you feel him moving his hands behind you, you look at Jimin and his eyes are on Hoseok, before he nods and helps you with your pantry. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You look back at Hoseok who gives you a nervous smile. You roll your eyes and exhale. “What did you tell him?”

“He found out on his own.” He exclaims. “You’re being too obvious.”

“Do I have it written on my face?” You mirror his tone and look at Jimin. He shrugs and says. “In mine and Hobi’s defense, you have spots on your neck, they’re not that obvious but they look fresh.”

Your face flushes red and you rush to your microwave to see your reflection in it, it’s hardly noticeable. “I don’t see it.”

“Who was it?” Jimin asks, a look of mere panic shows on his face when he continues. “Please don’t tell me Jungkook convinced you.”

Well, Jungkook tried to get you into sleeping with him multiple times, and he’s still trying but it’s nearly impossible.

“I’m not surprised you think it’s Jungkook.” You cringe. “And no, It’s not him.”

“Is it someone from work?” Jimin continues with his parade of questions, have they always been this curious? “Is it someone we know?”

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about this.” You try so hard to avoid eye contact, “It’s not someone from work.”

Jimin lifts an eyebrow and looks at Hoseok, then back at you. “Do we know him?” He repeats his question. The face Hoseok makes when he looks at you is what exposes you.

“I don’t go around asking you about the girls you slept with.” You blurt out in a serious tone.

“Exactly.” You think Hoseok agrees with you but he continues. “That’s because we tell you before you even ask.” Which makes you roll your eyes. “I never asked.”

Jimin signs in frustration. “Is it just sex or are you dating?” You immediately shake your head. “Of course it’s just sex, I just met the guy.”

“Then tell us who your fuck buddy is.” Jimin whines. “It’s not worth hiding his identity if he’s a fuck buddy.” He looks proud of the silly point he thinks he made. But he’s partially right.

“Did I tell you that we’re planning out a trip like last years?” Hoseok finally changes the subject which makes sigh in relief. Jimin opens the fridge and grabs a drink. “Which one? We went on so many trips last year.” Finally his attention is averted off of you.

“The one we had in August.” Hoseok grabs the drink that Jimin handed him. “When we went swimming.”

You are a little offended when Jimin speaks. “Oh isn’t that when Y/N threw a tantrum because she was alone?” You gasp. “Fuck you.”

“Cool, I’ll tell the guys on the group chat.” Jimin grabs his phone out of his pocket. “Can we bring a plus one this year also?”

You roll your eyes and look at Hoseok who’s already looking at you. “See?”

“This year it’s only us, I know Yoongi is bringing Mia along but I’m not sure about Taehyung. Plus it clearly made Y/N uncomfortable, so we probably shouldn’t do last year’s mistake.” Hoseok leaves the kitchen, you look at Jimin who squints his eyes while looking at you. “You could invite your fuck buddy.”

You’re intrigued for a second, but you and Namjoon only slept together once, of course it’s not going to happen. Your friends brought their flings along last year, maybe you could bring your fling along with you?

-

It’s the near the end of the week, you and Namjoon have been texting daily at this point, mostly work related stuff or even flirting back and forth. He called you the night before by midnight and he ended up making himself cum to your voice. You’re being tortured because work has been beating your ass up and you can’t find time to tell him to come over.

You’re in a night shift and you’re texting him, he’s sweet enough to stay up during your night shifts just to text you and tease you while you’re at work, just like you do to him. And it works and you scold yourself for it. You’ve lost count over how many times you had to make yourself cum in the dorms of your hospital while video chatting him. It was erotic.

“i miss kissing your lips.”

“just give me the word and I’ll drive to your work now to kiss u and fuck u.”

You have thought of telling him to come over to work, but you’re not willing to risk being caught, so of course that’s off the table. But you need him so much that your body itches for his touch.

“I miss feeling your lips around my dick L”

You rub your face in frustration and try thinking clearly.

You’ve been sleep deprived for a few days now, so when you get back from your shifts you end up sleeping the rest of the day, even  though it’s not the best sleep you’ve ever had. Or just resting because you’re extremely exhausted. But at the same time your body is tired and you need some kind of relief.

“are you flying today?”

“maybe you can come over”

He answers very quickly.

“but you’re tired from work and you need sleep.”

“yeah I’m flying but it’s later in the evening.”

Your fingers hover over the screen quick.

“It’s okay we can spend the morning together and get some sleep.”

“if you want to you can go to work from my place.”

“just get your clothes w you.”

“okay.”

He simply agrees, although your stomach is twisting and turning and you feel your nausea creeping up on you, your body is already acting upon your sex appointment and you’re nervous. But still there’s some kind of relief. Your body needs him.

It’s almost 4 in the morning and Namjoon stopped texting you a couple hours ago, you lean back onto your chair and close your  eyes for a split second, they started burning due to lack of sleep and you felt yourself getting dizzy and exhausted.

An inch close to falling asleep when the emergency room door opens and a group of paramedics walk in carrying a child who seemed to be unconscious, you and your team immediately rush to get up and start working with the child.

The child seemed to have a fever and started having convulsions because the fever wasn’t going down, you give the order to the nurses and rush to give the child full body examination, he’s totally fine and no symptoms are found that could cause his fever.

“Draw a blood sample and give him oxygen please.” You give the order and the nurses rush to obey, you look up at the paramedics. “Do you know the kid?”

“No his family just called, they’re on their way here.” The paramedic answers while holding the child’s head in place, you nod and tell one of the nurses. “Call doctor Kim Seokjin please, we could use a consult.”

“Where is he?” A woman rushes into the emergency  room and pulls the curtains open, she’s panicking and breathing quickly, she sits on her knees and grabs her son’s hand into hers, kissing him a couple of times. “Is he okay?”

You hear rushing footsteps and the curtain opens, Seokjin’s eyes are extremely red and he looks  like he was in deep sleep. “What’s the case?”

He starts taking history from his mother to distract her away from her son while you work with the nurse to give him intravenous medication to stop the convulsion, but it seems to be getting worse with every second now you’re getting worried. “Monitor the child and keep the side rails up.” You give the last order before a very familiar voice resonates from far away.

You could swear you heard the voice before, a frown sits on your face while you try and focus on  who the voice belongs to, you open the curtain and the second you peek your head out of it, the owner of the voice disappears behind the curtain and goes closer  around the child. “Is he okay?”

You peek back in and you cannot believe your eyes, what is he doing here?

He looks different, his hair all messed up, his face swollen, he’s been crying the entire way to the hospital, he couldn’t stop putting the worst case scenario on the table and he thought he might just lose his son.

He’s wearing a ring on his left ring finger, the frown on your face gets tighter, and all of a sudden you cannot think of anything, you cannot process why he’s wearing the ring? And who’s this child? And the woman too.

You’re probably seeing things, you close your eyes and shake your head, you look up at the monitor and try so hard to focus. “How much does he weigh?”

Seokjin opens the calculator on his phone and Namjoon and the woman look up at you. Namjoon’s face turns pale in seconds, his chest feels heavy and he’s breaking into cold sweat again. This is not how he wanted you to find out.

“He’s 13 kilograms.” The woman answers really  fast. “You’re his..?” You pause.

“Mother, that’s his father.”

Namjoon’s eyes pierce on your face and now he knows that he’s exposed. He wishes if the earth can swallow him whole, he can’t face you with this.

Nausea hits you again and this time you’re swallowing continuously to stop yourself from vomiting, you’re sweating like crazy and your ears start buzzing. You’d expect him to say that it’s his brother or a nephew, or even a goddamn kid he ran over with his car or found in the streets, but it’s his son.

You look back right into his eyes and he looks down, the look on his face proving that she’s serious, it is his son, and he is in fact, married.

He looks ashamed and totally not proud of what he did, he clears his throat and wipes his tears, another weave of panic hits you when you realize that he cheated on his wife with you, he has a goddamn son and he slept with another woman.

Oh my god the nausea isn’t  giving you a break when you realize again that his wife is standing in front of you, the mistress. Does she even know? Or doubt anything? As much as you wanted to spit in Namjoon’s face and beat him up, yet you can’t make a scene in your workplace because it will risk your career.

“I.. Uhm- Pardon me.” You excuse yourself, you’re swallowing back to back, you turn and walk away, you hold onto the counter because your legs can’t hold you anymore, you’re blaming yourself for not asking the man if he was involved in some kind of relationship first before sleeping with him.

Of course it’s not your fault, how would you know? He’s the one who hit on you and asked for your phone number after all.

You shiver when you remember what both of you texted each other a couple hours ago, goodness, did he text you that with his wife and  child in the same room? You’re about to vomit. The air in the emergency room is now suffocating you, you turn and actually leave through the main gate.

You try so hard to calm yourself down and you even try to convince yourself, that it was a one time thing and it won’t happen again, especially after what you just found out. No strings attached, you’ll just stop contacting him and let him solve his problems on his own.

But still, you cringe at yourself, you slept with a married man.

“Y/N,” You hear him rushing from the inside, your body never moved faster when you turned around and walked away from him, “Wait, please.” He tries catching up with your fast footsteps, but his physical and emotional state won’t let him go any faster. “Please hear me out, I was going to tell you.”

Your steps fully stop and you turn to face him out of breath, you walk closer to him your eyes shooting fire and your mouth half open. “I cannot believe you, you’re fucking disgusting for letting yourself do this.”

“I know, please-“

“How are you going to explain this? I can’t believe that you agreed to sleep with someone when you’re involved in a marriage, I can’t believe you let yourself do that, you’re a fucking cheater do you know that?”  That’s what shoots out of the top of your head, which you even regret, you should’ve told him to go fuck himself and left.

“I was going to tell you, I swear, I just didn’t find the right time.” He steps closer and you take a step back while exclaiming, your voice being the only voice that resonates through the parking lot. “The right time was before we even fucked!”

He looks around for a second making sure no one’s listening before he opens his mouth again. “I know and I’m sorry, but I swear it’s not what it looks like.”

You sarcastically cover your mouth and feign sympathy. “Oh no, did I get you wrong when you showed up with your wife and son?”

He sighs and walks closer, his hand barely hovering over your forearm. “Don’t touch me.” You pull back from him, this time you’re not swallowing and you cannot hold back the vomit anymore, you bend down and finally throw up, your tears even roll down your cheek and you gasp for air. Namjoon panics and holds on to you tightly. “Y/N! Fuck, are you okay?”

You cover your mouth with the back of your hand before shaking your head and finally straightening your back, your eyes land on him for one last time before you speak.

“Just go Namjoon, go solve your own problems, I’m not going to tell her anything just please, go away and block my number or something. I’m not a home wrecker, I would’ve never done this if I knew.”  You don’t wait for him to say anything, you just go back inside the hospital to go to the bathroom, you take too long to clean yourself up on purpose, you’re hoping his son is now okay and they left.

-

It would be a big fat lie if you denied the lesson you learned from this fling, it actually scratched something inside you and it makes you feel uneasy, you feel bad for the woman.

“You think I didn’t notice?” Seokjin who suddenly decided to visit you the next afternoon speaks, he’s sitting on your couch while helping you fold your laundry. “I was the only one sober that night and I made you two kiss, so it was partially my fault.” He recalls the night you and Namjoon kissed in the club. “You’ve been acting weird the entire night, what’s up?”

“We had sex.” You find it hard to say and for some reason there’s a lump in your throat. You knew he was too good to be true and something about him was in fact setting you off. “We actually exchanged numbers that night and we hooked up like two days after.”

“Ouch.” He scrunches his face. “Men are trash after all.”

“No they’re not.” You force a laugh. “You guys are incredible and you’re everything I could ever wish for, but Kim Namjoon was a lesson.”

“Did you block him?” He asks while putting the last piece of clothing down, and you just simply nod, he nudges your shoulder and stands up. “Hey, it was just a hook up, it’s okay. I’m going to make you something to eat.”

“Thank you.” You smile genuinely this time, he pecks your cheek and makes his way to the kitchen, you curl down onto your couch and just close your eyes.

You need to forget about that man.

-

“Hello?” Namjoon’s picks up the phone call, he was in the cockpit just about to put his phone into airplane mode so he can start the usual check before takeoff.

“Mr. Kim, How have you been?” His lawyer speaks. He’s been waiting for this phone call since forever.

As if that night wasn’t already going downhill when he was texting you and his wife decided to pick out a fight. Their son woke up terrified from his sleep and immediately had one of those fever that are induced by their arguments. Jay was hallucinating and exhausted, his fever spiked up very high and it wouldn’t go down, which made him for the first time ever, experience convulsions and tremors that he never had before, he was totally unconscious.

That night went even worse when you found out, it was totally not planned for and he was going to tell you that he’s going through a divorce, but he really didn’t have the chance.  That night guilt washed through his entire body and he felt like utter shit for making you feel the way you felt. He finally decided to go through the divorce papers again and try and finish everything faster.

“I’m going good, anything new?” Namjoon cuts to the chase, he’s had enough.

“Yes, I just wanted to inform you that we’ve sent the papers to the courthouse and they’ve scheduled an appointment in September, I hope that’s okay for you.”

Namjoon rubs his eyes. “But there’s so much time left for September.”

“Not much really, it’s a little over a month, I don’t want you to worry about it. But I wanted you to know that I’ll be in Japan throughout September. Sadly I won’t be able to attend your hearing with you, but I’ve already assigned one of Seoul’s best lawyers and he’s more than glad to help.” Althrough Namjoon is frustrated and impatient, he reminds himself that he’s been in this marriage for 3 years, and he can wait for another month, as long he’ll finally end this nightmare once and for all.

“It’s okay, can you give me his number or anything so I can contact him?” Namjoon asks.

“Don’t worry, he has your number and he will be contacting you near the end of August to meet up with you, he needs to prepare you for your hearing. Oh, and Mr. Kim?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t worry about Jay, Mr. Jung will make sure everything ends the way you want it to.”

Namjoon remembers what his son is about to go through and sighs, he recalls what happened to Jay the other night and convinces himself, that after the divorce, none of this will ever happen again. Jay will be way better off without his mother.

“Okay, thank you. I’ll see you soon.” Namjoon hangs up.

“Everything okay?” His co pilot asks while ticking the list on the paper in front of him, Namjoon nods and puts the headphones back over his head. He’s about to turn his phone off the airplane mode, but he got so used to texting you before he takes off, that his fingers work automatically and open your chat, he’s starts to type but the whole tape rewinds again.

He hasn’t blocked you and he’s not planning to, even if you two don’t hook up again, he still wants to fix his mistake, he owes you an apology and an explanation.

He deletes the few words he typed before putting his phone on airplane mode and throwing it back into his pocket. “KA 377 ready for pushback.” He speaks into his headphones and gets back to his job.

-

You finally finished getting ready, it was Friday night and you had plans with your friends to play poker at Yoongi’s,  you had already bought them a housewarming gift and wrapped it up nicely. You’re standing in front of your full body mirror setting your hair with hairspray, you slip on a cute yellow summer dress and grab your phone and keys and the gift before taking the elevator down. Hoseok already blew up your phone with calls since you’re already late.

The elevator door opens and you rush outside, Hoseok is standing near the main gate waiting for you with his phone in his hands. He’s overly protective over you so he always insists on getting out of his car to pick you up. “Finally?” He whines, you roll your eyes and walk towards him to kiss him on the cheek. “I lost track of time.”

“Let’s go.” He puts his hand behind your back and both of you walk towards his car, he gets into his seat and you open the door, you’re about to step a foot inside the car when you see Hoseok grabbing a bunch of papers from the passenger seat and putting them onto his lap to rearrange them, you finally get inside and close the door. “What are those?”

“Those are the new cases I got handed over.” He nonchalantly says, a car behind you starts honking nonstop, he looks through his rear mirror before clicking his tongue, you look behind to see someone flashing their lights, signaling him to move his car.

“You don’t have to move, he can wait.” You frown at the constant honking, Hoseok huffs before putting his seat belt on. “Here, just throw them in the back seat, let me move the car.”

Hoseok is a very well known lawyer in Seoul’s family court, he worked so hard on himself to build his own name and he became extremely popular amongst all the other lawyers, he’s been interviewed on several newspapers and magazines so many times that now all his clients are really big and known names.

“Wow these are all divorce people.” You scoff, flipping through the folders one by one, you could swear it was just you seeing things but the name you see on the last folder is what makes you pull the paper closer to your eyes.

Application for dissolution of marriage, hearing scheduled on September 12th.

Husband’s full name, Kim Namjoon.

Usual occupation, Aircraft Pilot.

You don’t need to finish reading the paper, you’re genuinely shocked he’s getting a divorce, a hint of guilt washes through you when you realize that you could be the actual reason they filed for the divorce, did she find out about you?

Goodness, you remember the young boy who’s going through his parent’s divorce because of you. You rub your eyes, your guilt increasing by the second.

“Just put them in the back seat.” Hoseok repeats, you gather the papers together and leave them unorganized on the back seat.

Well, in your defense, you didn’t know he was married, and he was the one who agreed sleeping with you even when he had a wife and a son back home, fucking disgusting, you think. And deep down you knew something was off and your gut feeling never failed you. The man was fit, smart, he had a great job, freakishly good in bed. Something just had to be wrong.

-

Namjoon finally checks into the airport hotel in Jeju, he’s been flying for almost five years so he visited almost every city around the republic and had enough sightseeing, these days he just sits in his hotel room until he’s scheduled for his departure back to Seoul, which usually happens in the minimum of 18 hours, and a maximum of two days. It’s always the same routine, he checks in, orders take out, takes a shower in case he needs one, unlocks his iPad and binge watches a series on Netflix while having his meal.

He’s in the hotel bed, it’s already late in the night and he’s not even remotely close from falling asleep. The series is playing on the device but his mind is somewhere else. He grabs his phone and unlocks it before opening his chat with you.

He scrolls up and reads all your texts all over again, he’s beating himself on the inside, you were a genuinely nice person who actually offered him what he was missing the most, intimacy.

And he simply lost you because he couldn’t confront you about his so shitty life and marriage, he finds himself gritting on his teeth, he’s been married for 3 years and he hasn’t seen one beautiful day since then. He rubs his forehead.

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, even if he did confront you and tell you he’s married from the beginning, of course you would’ve refused to sleep with him.

But goodness, you were everything he could’ve wished for, you’re really social and hardworking, you take your life pretty seriously and you’re very well behaved, someone clearly knows how to have fun and enjoy their time. Your amazing figure left him whine on his bed, he’s still extremely thirsty for you.

Even though it was just a one time hook up,

He misses you.

A long sigh leaves his plump lips when he sees his call log, it was a 40 minute long video call between you two, and he recalls exactly what happened on that call.

“Of course I can’t do that.” You whine, holding your phone closer to you while whisper shouting, Namjoon laughs and his eyes don’t leave his screen, he finds you so damn gorgeous when you’re blushing.

“Don’t look at me like that.” You scold him. It was 3 in the morning, both of you were sexting for the past hour, he decided on video calling you so you two could cum together. You were working that night.

“What are you doing to me, Y/N.” His voice was barely above a whisper. You finally head to one of the residents dorms and lock the door, the walls were extremely thin and you know you could be heard even when you’re whispering.

You lean your phone down against the wall and pull your scrub pants and panties down, you throw them away and lie down on the floor, your legs spread open so your bare wet cunt is now visible to Namjoon through the video call.

The camera is on his face and you can see his eyes burning you through the screen, he even licks his lip and gulps, his fingers run through his hair before he whispers. “Come closer.” And you immediately obey, using your heels for support, you buck up your hip and move closer to the camera.

He’s shirtless in his bed, you can see his shoulder clearly moving when he’s stroking his erect cock, he finally presses on his screen to flip the camera, showing you his monstrous cock sitting in his hand, the red head and throbbing waiting to be touched, oh how you wish you could wrap your lips around him.

He uses his index finger to smear his precum all over the head of his cock, retrieving his finger slowly to show you a thin string of precum still stuck to his finger, which makes your stomach tighten and you finally move your hand to your mouth, you spit on your middle and ring finger before moving them down to your bare cunt, rubbing your clit in slow circular motion, your eyes locked onto the screen.

“Good girl.” He whispers, you can hear a smirk in his voice, you tease your entrance with your fingers while humming. “You like it when I touch myself for you?”

“I fucking love it.” He grits on his own teeth. “Mm.” He moans when he sees you push your fingers deep into your pulsating pussy, your breath hitches in pleasure, your eyelids feel heavy but you fight the urge to close them, you need to see him since you can’t feel his touch.

His cock sits in the crock of his hand between his thumb and index finger before he strokes the head tightly, you have your earbuds into your ear which highlight every single shaky breath he’s taking. “Namjoon I’m cumming.” You announce.

His eyes roll to the back of his head when he hears his own name escape your lips, you sound so needy when you’re calling his name which drives him crazy. “Cum for me baby.”

You thrust your fingers fast inside your greedy cunt and even curl them against your spot, the pleasure that’s washing through your entire body makes you lose control of your fingers, you try so hard to fight it but you couldn’t, you figure another patter of moving your entire arm to slam your fingers against your clit and it drives you to your high immediately. “Fuck.” You whimper, your other hand traveling to the collar of your top, you bite onto it and you start breathing heavily. You finally release and you feel yourself clenching around your fingers, your arousal now covers your fingers and drips down onto your butt cheek.”Y/n, y/n-“ His deep voice rings into your ear and he finally releases, white ribbons flying into the air before landing on the bed and on his lower stomach and thighs. You can see his lower stomach tightening repeatedly with each spring of cum he shoots out. “Shit-“ He finally breathes fast, you could swear you can feel his breath into your ear and you even shiver.

You giggle before reaching over for your phone, you grab it and fully lie on the floor, he turns the camera and it’s his face again, all glowing from both the sweat and the magnificent orgasm his just had. He laughs lazily and runs his fingers through his hair again, “Was it good?”

“Mhm.” You nod, a smile sits on your face, your eyes are half closed. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Me too.” He whispers. “You’re beautiful.” He caught you off guard, your face flushes again before you turn the phone away from your face. “Stop it, such an idiot.”

A laugh escapes his plump lips that are glistening right after he licked them, he tilts his head before whining. “Let me see you.”

“I will if you shut up.” You giggle. Both of you are high on each other.

Namjoon closes his eyes and sighs again, he manages to shake out his thoughts even when he doesn’t want to, he opens his eyes again and panics when he sees you online, he even adjusts his seat and straightens his back, he puts his phone down and leans his chin on his palm and watches you stay online for a few minutes before going offline again.

He finds himself getting slightly irritated at the thought of you hanging out with another man, after all, it’s a Friday night, you could be exchanging numbers with someone else at the club or something.

He clicks his tongue again, he doesn’t have the audacity to think this way, he surrenders and locks his phone before resting back on the bed and finally watches the series properly.

-

“Full house.” You shout and put your cards down before your teammates Jungkook, Hoseok and Mia get really excited and get up to cheer you. “You guys suck!” Jungkook laughs hysterically at the other team before squeezing you closer, you take the last sip of your beer before standing up. “We should’ve put a bet on this game.” You shrug. “I knew I could beat your asses.”

“You just got lucky.” Yoongi puts his cards down. Mia walks behind him and wraps her arms around his neck before kissing him on the jaw. “Honey, don’t be a sore loser.”

“I’m not.” Yoongi rests his hand on his wife’s arms, Seokjin stands up and puts his cards down. “But you are.”

“More drinks?” Mia offers, and all of you monotonously refuse and grab your stuff. “We should get going really.”

“But it’s still early, are you working tomorrow?” She walks towards you, you shake your head. “Nope, my next shift is on Tuesday.”

“You guys wanna do something? Since most of us are actually staying home.” Jimin stands behind you. “Aren’t we supposed to go swimming?”

“Yeah, I found a few places but they’re all fully booked.” Hoseok grabs out his phone.

You were actually supposed to invite Namjoon with you to go swimming but now everything is messed up, you were so distracted with this man that even when your phone buzzes a notification you checked it quickly, you got used to him texting you.

You really need to forget about this man.

[vaporwavedoggie]

Amethyst

A Peri x Irep short story

So help me Jesus I got back into writing fanfiction

"Hey.. are you willing to meet up and talk?"

The text from his oh so wonderful on and off again boyfriend lit up the screen. Peri sighed and rolled over in his bed. It was 2am, Dev had been asleep for hours at this point. They had been on a break for a few months at this point, and he was actively avoiding every text he's gotten from him. He already knew why he tried to take his god kid, as some way to get back at him for ignoring him. Peri didn't know whether or not he wanted to continue with this relationship. So much fighting. It seemed like they were on opposite sides of the universe considering.. they were opposites.

"Peri? I know you probably won't respond but.."

The notification popped up at the top of his phone. He knew it was most likely going to be some long-winded rant he's sending him at the dead of night because he can't sleep and he's on his mind. But to be honest.. he was on Peri's mind too. He thought to himself 'eh.. no harm in looking I guess' and tapped on the notification.

"Peri? I know you probably won't respond but.. it's been awhile. I miss you and I want to catch up. So much has happened since we've been apart and I want to see how you're doing. Sorry I'm rambling, I probably sound stupid, but I promise you I'm not trying to get back with you I'd just like to catch up."

Peri sat up and ran a hand through his hair, playing with one of his curls. He was debating whether or not to take Irep up on his offer. Whether or not it'd be worth it to have all the pain from their break come up again, whether or not it would just lead to another fight.. he sat there staring at the wall for a good 5 minutes, deep in thought before he picked his phone back up.

"Alright, we can meet up, but it'll have to be now since the kiddo's asleep and I don't have any free time when he's not."

He tapped the message quickly, sent it, then shut off the screen. He flipped his phone over in his hand a few times, then less than a minute later, he got a response.

"That works :) I kind of figured, which is why I texted you now. You've always been a late sleeper.. anyways, meet up at our usual place?"

'Always been a late sleeper? Ha! As if he doesn't stay up until 6am..' Peri thought to himself. He quickly tapped out another message.

"Sure. Give me a few to get ready and I'll be there :P"

Peri got up out of bed and stretched, popping his back. He grabbed his wand off his bedside table and poofed out of his pajamas and into his usual outfit. Figuring he was going to be up the rest of the night, he also poofed himself up an energy drink and chugged it. His stomach hurt a bit from it, but he was too anxious to really care. Lifting up his wand, he then went off to their usual meet up space, which was a small park somewhere in Fairy World. One where they spent the most time at as kids.

Once he got there, he shot Irep a quick text saying he was there, and went to sit on the swings. No one was around since it was so late, so he decided to swing for a bit. Despite being in his 20's, he still very much enjoyed it but couldn't do it around the other fairies without being stared at. He then heard some laughter behind him.

"God, you're such a child!" He immediately recognized Irep's voice and slowly came to a stop. Without even turning to look at him he said "You're one to talk!! I know for a fact you do this too!"

Irep took the swing next to him and chuckled to himself as he sat down. "Well yeah, reminds me of when we were kids.. when things were a lot more uh.. hopeful."

Peri looked at him and smiled. "Eh, I'd say things are still pretty hopeful now. I'm a god parent now! Never thought I'd get my license, haha.."

"Yeah.. I wanted to talk to you about that. I thought you didn't want any god kids?" Irep raised an eyebrow.

"Well.. it's a job, and I figured why not. It seems to be fulfilling, well at least, it was to my parents. And hell, we even exist because of one of my parents god kids!"

"Yeah.. though I worry. He seems a bit.. tough. And from what I've heard, you two argue about as much as we did in high school."

Peri smirked. "Heh.. yeah. He's a little tough, has a lot of daddy issues. But you seemed to get through to him fine. It's just.. I don't know what I'm doing wrong man. I'm trying my best with this kid and it's like.. nothing I ever do is good enough for him."

"Eh.. honestly I could do the thing where I over analyze everything but I know you hate that so I'll save it."

"Actually, it might be useful right now, so shoot."

"Hm.." Irep kicked his feet in the woodchips underneath him, thinking for a moment. "You seem to expect everything to come to you so easily, and have little patience for when it doesn't."

Peri crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"Ever since I've met you, if you can't do it right the first time, you either.. burn out or give up. You also get.. really angry at yourself, turn inward, and become bitter. You lose patience very easily when this happens."

"Why do you think that could be?"

"Well, a number of reasons.. we've talked about the issues we've had with our parents before. How yours nearly suffocate you with praise and affection to the point where you avoid them and wouldn't even tell them you got a god kid until they found out themselves. You were the first fairy baby born in a millenia, and I hate to say it but because of that you were spoiled rotten. Your parents were over protective of you because of their own mommy and daddy issues, so they tried to make up for what they didn't have by giving it to you, but.. they did too much. And because of that you burn out very easily and it drives you up the wall when it even looks like you're slightly failing. You're an overachiever and expect only good things to happen to you when.. that's just not how life works."

"Hm.. guess you're right.."

"Life is a constant rollercoaster of emotions. You can't just expect only the good to happen to you, you also have to expect the bad as well. Not saying to prepare for the bad or get yourself too anxious by trying to fix things before they're broken, but you know.. accept that good things don't happen all the time. Life has its struggles. That's part of it. And from what I gathered, being a god parent requires a LOT of patience, which is something you don't have a lot of, and self forgiveness, which is something you barely do. I mean, you still hold on to mistakes you made way back in spellementary school!"

"Eh, true. How are you able to gather this much from me?"

Irep chuckled a bit. "You act as if I hadn't been by your side since we were babies. As if I hadn't noticed every small detail about you, like.. how your eyes sparkle just right in the moonlight. It looks like amethyst."

Peri shoved Irep. "Quit being mushy! We're still on break. Plus.. you act as if you don't have the exact same eyes as me."

"What can I say? We're both egotistical little shits, are you really surprised we fell in love in the first place?"

"Hah.. nah.. god, remember how pissed our parents were when they found out we were hooking up behind their back? They tried so hard to keep us apart. 'Anti fairies and fairies should never be together, especially when they are exact opposites of each other, da rules, blah blah blah'."

"Yeah! And then your mom walked in on us and threw anything she could get her hands on at me? Good times."

"Psh, yeah.. we were dumb teenagers, what can I say. And I guess the only difference is a few years. Now we're dumb adults."

They both laughed a bit, and Peri looked down at his feet.

"..I still love you, you know. Even if you decide to break things off with me permanently, I always will."

"Oh, you're always such the romantic! I'm swooning." Peri chuckled and Irep looked into his eyes.

"No, but.. I'm being serious. My biggest regret in our relationship is.. smothering you like your parents did. I didn't realize I was doing it, I.. you're the only one that's ever showed me love. You know how my folks are, wasn't raised in the most loving family so.. I tried to overcompensate by trying to return all the love you made me feel."

"I know, Irep, I know. But.. I don't know, im just so confused. I don't know what I want to do, who I want to be, so I'm trying to figure that all out now."

"Heh, is that why you got a license and took on a god kid?"

"Eh, part of it.. I wanted to see if it would suit me. Besides maybe I'll learn how to be patient from this. Maybe the kid will give me challenges I'm not used to and help.. balance me out. I don't know. I know I shouldn't expect other people to fix me, let alone a kid, but how do I even begin to fix myself when I don't know where to start?"

"Take baby steps. Try different things and see how it works. You're doing good by getting out of your comfort zone now, but you need to remember to be patient and forgive yourself for any mistakes you've made."

"Yeah but.. that's a lot easier said than done. How do I even begin to learn patience and self forgiveness? Where do I even start?"

"Hm.. that's something you'll have to figure out on your own. I know the best way to do it is experiencing hardship period, and I can already see with Dev you will. Biggest thing to remember is he's a kid. He will fuck up. He will make mistakes. There are times where he'll be mean to you, say hurtful things, and get under your skin. But you CAN NOT take it personally. You have to keep in mind he's still a growing human. You've seen how messed up the human world is, imagine going through what they go through with absolutely no magic at all. Sure we had puberty and all that shit but at least the magic made it a bit easier and a hell of a lot more fun."

"True.. I just end up getting so frustrated with him I want to rip my hair out! And you know how much I love my hair! But, I don't know.. I don't know what the hell I'm doing, I'm going into this blind aside from what I was taught in the classes. I'm too afraid to go to my parents for advice because they'll just be like 'oh you're doing great just keep doing what you're doing'! I swear, I've always appreciated how you can be blunt and honest about things, it's something I really look up to about you. As annoying as it gets when I don't ask for it.. it is helpful. So thank you."

"Always."

Peri got up and stretched. "You know, Irep. I do miss spending time with you like this.. like our late night talks."

Irep's eyes lit up. "We can do them more often, if you'd like!"

"Hm, maybe. I just have some.. personal feelings to work through before I'm ready for us to see each other regularly again."

"..Yeah. I get that. But until then, I'll be here when you are ready."

"Hah, yeah.. it's getting late. Or I guess I should say, early. The kid will be up in a few hours and I gotta go be a parent.. but before I go.." Peri stood in front of Irep and held his hand out to him. He took Peri's hand, and he pulled Irep up, close to his chest.

"Oh and hey.. didn't get a chance to tell you this, but I love you too. I don't wanna give up on us yet, I just need.."

"Time?"

"Yeah. But before I go, I want to give you something." And before Irep could answer, Peri pressed his lips against his, then broke away from him and put his head on Irep's chest.

"You know, your eyes do a sparkly thing too when I kiss you but I don't have any other purple shiny things to compare them to."

"Hah.. you're a goof. But look at you being all romantic. And you called me mushy!"

"Shhhh." Peri pulled out of the embrace. "Anyways.. I'm going to spend the next few hours scrolling through my phone. Uh.. I'll try to text you when my brain isn't acting stupid."

Irep smiled. "Of course. Take your time, don't push yourself, and again.. I love you."

Peri smiled back. "I love you too." And with that, he lifted his wand and poofed back home.

He flopped down in bed, immediately poofing back into his pajamas and pulling up his phone. He was compelled to look back at old photos of the two before he went back to scrolling mindlessly on social media.

God he wish he could figure his shit out quicker, but like Irep said, he needs to learn to be patient. So maybe this is a good test for him.

[pedroshotwifey]

Hungry Like The...

Pairing: Werewolf!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Smut, PIV sex, oral sex (f receiving), fluff, established relationship, no use of y/n, Frankie has a monster cock, im missing stuff but I want to go to bed so...

Summary: You and Frankie decide to attend an 80s themed Halloween party. Through all of the excitement, you must have forgotten what day the full moon falls on.

A/N: I'm gonna go ahead and say that I rushed the absolute fuck out of this one, but I think it turned out pretty good. I really kind of jumped outside of my comfort zone with this, so I'm kinda proud that I did that. That being said, please feel free to call me out on anything that might not make sense or anything that I should change at all because I'm half clueless with this kind of stuff. Please consider reposting and/or liking. Thank you for reading and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!! <3

***

You have no idea where Frankie snuck off too. 

He claimed he was going to get the two of you more drinks, but that was about ten minutes ago. You’re well aware that it should have taken less than half of that for him to find his way to the refreshment table, pick up some drinks, and bring them back to you. 

Right now, though, you’re too blissed out to care—not that you have much to worry about with your loving boyfriend anyway. The lights are almost blinding as you spin around beneath them, but they transform into a nice glow thanks to the buzz you’re sporting. “Mony Mony,” is blaring through the speakers and you're in your zone as you swing your hips to the beat. 

You’re glad that Frankie had suggested that you two attend this party specifically. The only requirements were that you had to dress up as an 80’s character in order to fit the era the party revolves around. 80’s costumes, 80’s music, 80’s decor. Luckily for you, the 80’s is one of your absolute favorite decades, and you’re pretty sure Frankie knew that when he signed the two of you up. 

The dance floor is packed with people to the point where you can’t stretch out all the way without bumping into someone. Usually, that would irk you, but you can’t find it in you to mind tonight. It’s not like anybody else does. 

As you snap your hips to the beat, you look around at all the different costumes in the crowd. You see a handful of Star Wars characters, a couple of Freddy Kruegers, some Ghost Busters, and—of course—a shit ton of Madonnas. The rest, for the most part, are pretty original. 

You’re pretty proud of your own costume, to be honest. You had spent a couple of weeks configuring a custom-made Storm costume. You’ve been an X-Men fan for as long as you can remember, and it made you so happy to try on your costume for the first time a few days ago. It’s pretty damn spot-on. 

Frankie, on the other hand, had insisted on being a werewolf. Like turning into one once a month wasn’t enough already. You had simply rolled your eyes and asked him what he had in mind so you could make his costume. It was worth it to see the way he lit up, even though he’s cutting it close with the party’s theme. 

After the year he had, he deserves to be happy—even if it means you have to endure his stupid jokes every now and again. When he gets tipsy, his goofy humor always makes an appearance. It’s one of your favorite parts about nights out with your boyfriend. He never fails to make you laugh. 

Just as you begin to worry that he might have gotten lost in the crowd, you feel a hand spin you around. You’re getting ready to tell someone off until you come face to face with those irresistible brown eyes. 

“Hey there, Hermosa,” he says as he cuddles up to you, swaying you to the song. “Having fun, sweetheart?” 

You giggle as he bends down and nuzzles his face into your neck. Glancing down, you almost aren’t surprised to see that he doesn’t have any drinks. 

“Frankie?” You ask casually as you throw your arms around him. 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you find the drinks?” 

Suddenly, he stops moving and stands up straight again, a playful smile plastered across his face. 

“Guess not,” he says. “Found something to eat, though,” he winks and you playfully roll your eyes as he throws himself back onto you. As the song changes to “When Doves Cry”, he begins to dance with you. Frankie has never been the best dancer, but it's better this way. Neither of you take anything seriously as you push and pull your bodies together, giving eachother flirty kisses every now and again. 

You laugh as you bump into someone and flash them an apologetic look. Frankie really loves to bring out your careless side. You honestly didn’t know you were capable of being so care-free until you had met him. Sometimes he makes you feel as if nothing else matters but you and him. It’s times like these that you really realize just how lucky you are to have him. 

“Alright, baby,” Frankie says after a moment, bringing you out of your thoughts. “I’m going to go get us those drinks now.” 

Instead of answering him, you get up on your tip-toes and kiss him. He begins to wrap his arms around you again, but you gently push him off, giving him a faux stern look. 

“Alright, alright, I get it, baby, I’m going!” he says over the music before turning around to scamper away.

You have to suppress a giggle when he jolts as you deliver a light slap to his ass. He turns just enough to flash you a dirty look, and you give him one of feigned innocence in return, well aware he’ll get you back for that eventually if you continue to tease. 

“Hurry up, wolfboy!” you shout after him. 

***

Alright, you’re actually about to be pissed this time. 

There’s absolutely no way he lost you—or rather, you lost him—twice. He has to be playing with you, right? Whatever, if that’s the case, two can play at that game. 

You’ll just pretend like you don’t even notice something is missing. Maybe once he sees you where he left you, completely unaffected by his absence, he’ll stop being such an ass. 

Perfect. Perfect plan. 

You shake your head and dance as the song ends. You can have fun by yourself if your boyfriend wants to be immature. 

Well, it would have been a perfect plan. 

As if he could somehow read your mind—which you almost wouldn’t doubt at this point—you spot Frankie in your vision once again. However, this time, he’s not coming over to you. 

He has a familiar dark look in his eyes that immediately soaks you, despite yourself. You stop dancing because as quick as you see him, he’s gone again. You spin in a panicked circle as the song changes to one by Duran Duran. You almost laugh at the irony as “Hungry Like the Wolf” blares through the speakers. 

Your phone buzzes in the small pocket of your bodysuit, and you pause your quick search to look at it. Your brow furrows as you see that it’s a text from Frankie. What the fuck is he playing at? Quickly, you unlock your phone and open your messages. 

“Better start running, baby,” the text reads. You look up, your eyes frantically scanning the crowd around you. Maybe the song choice isn’t so ironic after all. 

“Don’t let me catch you… feeling hungry like the wolf tonight…”

You don’t stop to think before you make a mad dash toward the exit, your heart dropping to your stomach as you go. You get some pissed looks as you shove through people, your heart hammering in your chest and your eyes darting every which way. 

You have no idea where he could be at this point. Maybe he’s somewhere inside, having missed your exit. He could be trailing right behind you, ready to grab you at any moment.

Soon enough, it is revealed that he is, once again, always one step ahead of you. As soon as you step out of the doors, a large body is engulfing yours and carrying you to a secluded spot on the patio, though there’s nobody outside anyway. 

You would scream if not for the large hand that covers your lips when he grabs you. You know it’s Frankie, of course, but the exhilaration that comes from the scare really adds to the game the two of you just started. 

You ignore the heat simmering between your legs as he sets you down on your own feet and removes his hand from your mouth. Neither of you move, you don’t look up, he doesn’t crouch down. You just stand there, breathing heavily as Frankie embraces your figure. 

You can’t help but lean back into him, letting your guard down probably isn’t the best idea right now, but you can’t find it in you to care about that fact at the moment. 

The fresh air feels nice on your heated cheeks, but Frankie's front against your back feels even better. The music continues to play faintly behind you as you sway side to side, Frankie’s arms wrapped tightly around you, his head resting on your shoulder. 

You swear you could stay here forever. Actually, you could stay anywhere, as long as you had Frankie. But right now, you can’t imagine anything more perfect than this. As long as you have your boyfriend’s arms around you, you would do anything or go anywhere he wants to. 

Your body may be his, but you decided a long time ago that your soul belongs to him as well. He can pick it up and do whatever he wishes with it, and you know he could never do anything that would cause your trust or love for him to dull.

“Look up, sweetheart,” Frankie’s soft voice brings you out of your thoughts, making you open your eyes. You hadn’t realized they had slid shut in the first place. 

The sight of the full moon high up in the night sky confirms your suspicions. Frankie’s going to turn tonight. 

Fuck, you’re screwed, your subconscious automatically screams at you. 

You can't miss the way your panties dampen as the thought crosses your mind. Your body stiffens as you fight the urge to run, the adrenaline getting the best of you.

Frankie must feel the way you tense up because his arms immediately tighten around you. 

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he whispers into your ear. “Just means we’ll have a bit more fun than usual.”

You try but fail to stifle your grin at his menacing tone. Just because you know you’re screwed doesn’t mean you don't enjoy it. 

“Probably got less than ten minutes now,” Frankie says far too casually. “Let’s pick up on our little chase, yeah?” 

He lets you out of his grasp this time, and you turn around to give him a peck on his cheek, allowing your hand to brush past his erection as you pull away. The touch is just enough for Frankie to grit his teeth as he hisses out. The warning glance he gives you makes arousal burn deep into your core, only serving to make you more excited. 

“I’ll give you a head start, sweetheart,” he says, his tone giving you a warning, “I’d take it if I were you.”

With his word, you spin on your heel, ready to plummet into the forest, but you only get about a foot before he has a large hand wrapped around your wrist. Your heart beats louder in your chest as you turn to look at him, his eyes dark with lust. 

“Don’t let me catch you this time,” he says, pulling you close enough for his lips to flutter across your ear as he speaks. “I won’t go easy on you.”

You ignore the shiver in your spine as you pull back as much as you can. 

“Maybe I don't want you to go easy on me,” you whisper back, earning a slight growl from Frankie. He lets his hand linger on you for only a moment more before letting go, this time allowing you to back away. 

“Don’t push yourself too hard then, because I’m going to fucking exaust you when I catch up.” 

You smile before turning once again, pushing yourself into the trees without looking back. 

***

The sound of your heartbeat is deafening as you run through the otherwise silent forest. The steady pitter-patter of the organ combined with your ragged breathing and your frantic footsteps make a horrifying symphony. Even those sounds seem muffled, though, with the amount of pure adrenaline that courses through your veins and drowns out your senses. 

Frankie can’t be too far behind you now. You guess you’ve been running for about fifteen minutes. There’s no doubt that he has turned at this point; he proved it with the howl you heard bellowing through the woods a couple minutes ago. 

Since then, you haven't stopped to take a breath. There is pure fear in the fact that you have a beast on your trail, but also excitement in knowing what will likely happen once he catches up. 

For now though, fear is the dominant emotion. It’s prominent enough to keep you going even as your hair gets tugged by branches and your skin gets scratched and torn by twigs and thorns. None of it seems to matter right now just as long as you can keep your distance from the monster hunting you down. 

Suddenly, you hear a snap from somewhere behind you. The noise is sharp, a twig snapping beneath heavy weight. It reverberates all around you, sending a shiver down your spine. Soon after, You pick up on the steady thumping of what sounds to be an animal hot on your tail. 

The sound gets closer and closer even as you push yourself to run faster. Your entire body is shaking and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes. You can practically feel Frankie’s breath on your neck, the sensation almost more powerful than the ache overtaking your legs and abdomen. 

“Please, leave me alone!” You cry out the plea over your shoulder, your voice bordering a sob. Your gut is curling with a mixture of panic and arousal. The responding growl makes the tears you have been holding spill over and your knees buckle. 

For a second, you’re worried that you might fall, but you’re pushed into the ground before you have the chance to do it yourself. The weight of Frankie pouncing on top of you knocks the wind out of you, a sharp cry leaving your lips as your breath is taken. 

In the time that it takes you to get your breath back, Frankie has your bodysuit torn enough to pry off of your shaking body, and your lacy panties shoved–or ripped–down your legs. Luckily, the bodysuit was the cheapest and easiest to find component of your costume. You can feel a whisper of his claws against your skin as he drags scraps away from where he needs you most.

Your arms flail wildly, your fingers trying to grasp a handful of fur from the beast atop you. Frankie sees what you’re trying to do, and with a growl, he ducks down and slides toward your feet, away from your hands. 

Before you can question what he’s doing, you feel something thick, wet, and warm against your bare, soaked cunt. 

A high pitched moan tumbles from your lips as Frankie drags his tongue across your pussy before dipping it into your core.

The hot muscle digs deep into your cunt, curling once it's in all the way. You can feel his nose bobbing up and down against your ass as he starts to work his tongue in and out of your cunt.

“F-Frankie, fuck!” You scream, feeling your orgasm building embarrassingly quickly.

The way his tongue swirls and scrapes against your walls is absolutely delicious, and that combined with the tip of the muscle prodding against your g-spot? You’re fucking done for. 

You’re writhing as Frankie brings his tongue out to swallow down the slick he’s collected, and you can feel the way a combination of your arousal and his saliva leaks out of your pulsing cunt, coming down to collect at your clit and make you shudder. You’re so close to coming, a warm feeling that can only be described as pure euphoria making a home deep in your lower abdomen. 

Almost as soon as he was gone, Frankie shoves his tongue back inside of you, meticulously prodding all the right places. You’re gasping and moaning so loud you have half the mind to feel bad for whatever critters might reside in these woods. 

That thought passes quickly, though, once you feel yourself returning to the edge. Frankie flicks his tongue one more time and you’re suddenly convulsing around him. The high seems to go on forever, your toes curling and your fingers grasping at the leafy ground in front of you. 

The beast doesn’t pull away as you come, instead, he allows you to rock your hips back and forth in order to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. You don’t even notice that you moved your arm until you feel one hand entangled in soft fur, your subconscious mind telling you to hold him to you. 

You hear Frankie whine from behind you and you have to suppress the urge to giggle. He’s always liked it when you tug at his hair, and apparently, being in this form leaves no room for exceptions. 

Your body goes limp as Frankie backs away from you, making it easy for him to nudge you to prop you up where he wants you. Hands and knees, of course. He wastes no time in getting into position behind you, crowding you in with his massive form. 

The tip of his cock feels massive against your swollen cunt, but it only takes a few swipes of the beast’s hips before he is notched into your entrance. With one more thrust, he’s pushing in all the way, making you scream as your pussy stretches to accommodate his girth. 

Frankie lets out a series of whimpers as he starts a brutal pace, not giving you a second to adjust. Your hands come up to grasp above his paws, which are positioned on either side of your head, and then up a little. 

“F-Frankie!” Your moan comes out more like a screech, the pain quickly turning into a sick pleasure as he rips you open on his cock. Each time he thrusts, it’s accompanied by a puff of breath which fans out across your cheek. 

The sound of his whines and ragged breathing mix with the squelching noises coming from your cunt and the panting coming from your lips, everything combined making the filthiest symphony you’ve ever heard. 

Your second orgasm starts to build rapidly, your cunt beginning to flutter around Frankie’s unforgiving length. With each punch, the tip of his cock touches something heavenly within you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

You’re pretty sure you’re drooling, but you find that every limb has turned to jelly, preventing you from bringing your hand up to check. If not for the monster above you impaling you on his length, you would likely be flat on the forest floor right now. 

Every thought that had previously occupied your mind is forced out of you as Frankie effortlessly pries another orgasm from you. He doesn’t slow or pause as you squeeze around his cock like a vice. If anything, it only spurs him on and gets him going faster, if that's even possible. 

With each slam of his hips, you feel your body being sent forward, only stabilized by your palms, which are somehow still firmly planted on the ground. 

‘Oh god, Frankie,” your voice sounds hazy to your own ears. “F-feels so fucking good, Francisco.”

You hear him grunt at the sound of his full name, something you usually only call him in bed—or in this case, in the middle of nowhere. 

It does feel good, his cock feels absolutely massive. You know that it is definitely bigger than when he’s in his human form—the size of which should be considered supernatural in it’s own way. Right now, though, he feels bigger than ever, thicker, longer. The only thought occupying your mind at the moment is how badly you want to suck his cock. 

How the fuck does this man fuck you so good to the point where you fantasize about giving him a blowjob while he’s already inside of you? Next time, you’ll have to get his dick in your mouth before he shoves it into your cunt. 

Your eyes droop as your second orgasm morphs into a third, your body growing weaker with each movement from Frankie. You ignore the shaking to spread your legs wider to allow him better access, which results in him getting to a deeper spot with the new angle. 

Your mouth drops open as you begin to come again, a silent scream getting stuck in your throat. This time, as you constrict around his monstrous cock, you can feel his hips stutter. He’s getting close, which is probably a good thing considering you’re about to pass out from both pleasure and exhaustion. 

“C-come on, Frankie, f-fill me up,” you command through moans. It very obviously eggs him on because before you know it, he’s stilling inside of you, howling into the trees, and blowing his massive load deep into your core. 

The feeling of his cum painting your walls is fucking heavenly. Spurt after spurt of his warm seed fills you to the brim until it eventually starts to seep out around the base of his cock. If you thought you had felt full before, that was nothing compared to now. 

Frankie gives you a few minutes to calm down before he starts to lower himself to the ground, laying on his side and tugging you with him. Your body and mind are equally compliant with his request. 

As your eyes shut once again, you can feel Frankie starting to shift behind you, probably making his transformation back to his human form. Try as you might, you know you won’t have enough energy to wait for him to be done, so you make the most of it and snuggle into his soft fur. You know that you’ll wake up safe and sound in your bed, tangled with your kind, attentive, and very much human boyfriend.

[foundress0fnothing]

leave a kiss but in the cup

Summary: Cassian gets roped into helping organize Rhys and Feyre’s wedding when, on a whim, the two decide to throw it at the winery in the small town where the brothers all grew up. The problem? He has to work with Feyre's older sister, Nesta. And she hates him.

Chapter 1/?: 3.1k words, eventual E rating for smut

For @nessianweek

Another late entry for Nessian Week! This was supposed to be posted on Day 4, but I spent that day in the aforementioned ER, so here it is today. There's not update schedule, and I don't have any of it prewritten.

Read on ao3 or below the cut!

As he stretches out on the pontoon that he chartered for Rhys’ bachelor weekend, drunk on sun and local beer, Cassian can’t think of any place he’d rather be. 

He’s spent time backpacking around the world, seen big cities, and explored natural wonders but still—he’s positive that there’s nowhere better than the lake town where he grew up. There’s something about the water and the slow pace of life and the easy warmth of the people that he hasn’t managed to find anywhere else, and so even though the drive to his hometown takes an ungodly fourteen hours from where he lives now in Philly, he still makes the trip every year. The exhaustion and the stiff back from too-long driving shifts and the fact that he has to put up with Az’s edgelord playlists are worth it every time.

And this year, there’s even more reason to make the drive—his brother is getting married in a week and wanted to spend his last few days as a bachelor in the place they all still called home. 

They all met Feyre six months ago at a restaurant in Fishtown when she was their waitress, and from the moment she called Rhys a prick for ostentatiously flashing an Amex Black Card when it came time to pay, Cassian could tell that his brother had finally met the one. Their love had been a messy whirlwind of drama and passion as they navigated exes and family troubles, but it wasn’t long before Feyre had Rhys’ family ring on her finger and was picking out a wedding dress. Cassian knew that once Rhys found what he wanted, he’d do anything to make it his as soon as possible—Feyre was no exception.

When it came time to plan the bachelor weekend, then, Rhys only had two requests: that it take place in Cherry Hills and that there weren’t any strippers. Cassian had almost laughed out loud when Rhys told him that. Sure, he had his bro-y moments, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think that strippers would be the right thing for his brother just before he was getting married.

Plus, the former request precluded the latter—Cherry Hills wasn’t the kind of place he’d find strippers easily. Interested in idyllic boat trips on one of the rivers or lakes? Great. Hoping to spend a few hours outdoors and then end the day with a round of minigolf? Even better. Looking to hire professional entertainment for the evening? Extremely challenging. It was the quintessential Midwestern small summer tourist tour—busy for a few weeks with vacationers and outdoor enthusiasts and day-drunk parents and popsicle-sticky children that then shut down the moment October hit and brought the first snowfalls. Not the ideal place for establishing any kind of nightlife. If you wanted that, it was at least a 45-minute drive south down M22.

And since Rhys only wanted his brothers there anyway, Cassian had planned the weekend to be more of a homage to their high school days than the usual bachelor bacchanalia. They had kayaked on the river where they first learned to swim, hiked the sand dunes where they used to race each other to the top to drink shitty beer and talk about what they’d do when they finally got out of Cherry Hills, and ate in the cash-only restaurant that had been around longer than any of them had been alive. 

They had saved the boat ride around the lake for their last day because somehow, despite doing nothing besides sitting and drinking and eating, it always manages to exhaust them. It’s the good kind of exhaustion, at least, this heaviness that comes with too much sun and too much food—a perfect way to end a perfect bachelor weekend. Not that Cassian is bragging.

But still—he had done a good job.

A voice breaks through his self-congratulatory haze. “So, what’s next?” 

“What do you mean, what’s next?” Cassian sits up to glare at Rhys who has draped himself over a few seats on the opposite side of the boat. Azriel raises an eyebrow at Rhys from where he’s perched in the driver’s seat but doesn’t say anything, apparently content to let his brothers argue it out. Bastard.

Rhys shrugs with all the indolence of a lazy housecat. “The boat’s due back to the rental place in 30 minutes, yeah?” Cassian nods. “So what’re we doing after that?”

Cassian frowns and says, “What else do you want to do?” He’s planned an evening of takeout pizza and video games back at their rental, but he has the sinking feeling that’s not what Rhys has in mind.

“You’re the one in charge. Surprise me.” 

Rhys waves a hand in his direction as he says this, and Cassian thinks, for just a few moments, about how easy it would be to murder his brother and dump his body overboard. The lake is shallow though—too shallow to get away with it—and so he settles for a clipped, “You know this town as well as I do. We’ve done everything there is to do.” Rhys doesn’t answer, and so Cassian tries to remember how much cash he has left and whether it would be enough for a final round of drinks at the Tavern. Probably not, but he resigns himself to paying the $7 surcharge to use the ATM outside of the restaurant. “We could always go to the Tavern—” 

“There’s a new wine tasting room,” Azriel interrupts, and both Cassian and Rhys turn to look at him, the latter pulling his sunglasses up to rest on his head for a moment. Azriel shrugs. “They opened in April apparently.”

“And they’re good?”

“Didn’t have that on the flier in the IGA, sorry.”

Cassian glances at Rhys. “Will that satisfy you, asshole?”

“Yes, I think that’ll do quite nicely, thank you,” Rhys says, slipping his sunglasses back down over his eyes. 

Cassian gives Azriel a long suffering look, but Azriel only snorts and turns the engine back on, signaling the return of the party to dry land and the start of whatever this wine tasting is about to be. Cassian only hopes that it’s cheap and strong.

—----------------------------------------------

The wine tasting room—creatively named Cherry Hill Wines—is situated just off the main road on the first floor of a two-story house that’s been converted into a storefront. Cassian can’t quite see the lake from where he stands on the front porch, but it’s close enough that, in the lulls between children’s shouts and tourists’ conversations, he can just make out the sound of the water. 

The shop itself is busy with people dropping by for happy hour, and Cassian is glad of his extra height as he steps inside and surveys the space from his place at the back of the short line. There’s a small menu on the wall above the bar and a row of fridges lining the sides of the room stocked with ice cream and small, pre-made charcuterie plates. A shelf by the front door has local crafts for sale—candles and coffee mugs and keychains all proudly emblazoned with images of Cherry Hills. There are only a few open seats at the bar, but through the French doors at the back of the room he spies a handful of fire pits with chairs set up around them, cornhole boards and bags, and a wide grassy lawn perfect for picnic blankets or lawn chairs. It’s cozy, Cassian thinks, and clearly something already beloved by the tourists if the number of people packed into the space is any indication. 

And then he sees her. 

She’s standing behind the counter taking orders and pouring glasses of wine while she chats with the customers. Her hair is golden brown and braided into a tight coronet  of her head. Her eyes are a storm of blues and grays, flashing with an inner fire that makes something in Cassian sit up and pay attention, and he wonders how the hell someone who looks like that ended up in Cherry Hills. She sure as hell didn’t grow up there—Cassian would remember her. 

He nudges Azriel with his shoulder to get his attention and nods his head toward the backyard, although his gaze still lingers on the woman behind the counter. “Grab a spot outside. I’ll get the first round.”

Azriel arches his eyebrow, following Cassian’s line of sight to the woman. He snorts and says, “Good luck with that.” Before Cassian can respond, however, he grabs Rhys and steers him outside.

Cassian flips him off behind his back, laughing at Rhys’ confused expression at being ferried outside, and then turns back to the counter to find the woman glaring at him. The line had dissipated more quickly than he expected, and Cassian realizes that she must have been waiting for him to finish goofing off with his brothers.

He puts on his most charming smile, the one that’s gotten him out of trouble ever since he was a little boy. “Sorry.” He shrugs. “Brothers, you know?”

If anything, her glare only intensifies, and Cassian almost preens at the challenge it presents. 

Hands on her hips, she asks, “Well? What do you want?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. What’s good?” He leans in and winks. “You?” He half hopes she falls for his charm, half hopes she continues glaring at him. The prospect of either—of her fire, her attention turned on him, no matter the reason—makes him crave more.

Her eyebrow arches, and she ignores his flirtation to answer acerbically, “All that time in line and you couldn’t be bothered to make up your mind? 

“Were you watching me? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be. It’s hard to miss an oversized brute when he invades my store.”

“Your store? Very impressive, sweetheart—

But she interrupts him, looking behind him and calling out, “Next!

“But—” Cassian starts, but before he can say anything, her voice, flinty and angry, cuts him off again.

“You can go to the back of the line since you need more time to make up your mind.” She glares at him again as she says this before returning her gaze to whoever is standing behind him.

He blows out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes at her dramatics. “Whatever, I’ll just get three glasses—”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t hear Mrs. Stephenson’s order.”

Cassian stiffens slightly and turns around to see his former history teacher. The woman had made his high school years absolutely miserable—she was suspicious and shrew-like, always handing out detentions to him for things that no other student—ones with active parents who drove them to school in new cars and came to parent-teacher conferences wearing Rolexes and Birkin bags—got in trouble for. 

She glares up at him. “Still causing trouble, I see

“No, ma’am. Just taking advantage of this lovely lady’s willingness to let me gather my thoughts. Please go ahead.”

A few more tourists had entered while he had been at the bar, and Cassian sighs as he moves to get in line again behind them. If he has to hear shit about taking a long time from Rhys and Azriel, he’ll go home and have pizza and play video games by himself. Fuck it.

The line moves quickly at least as a redhead joins the ice queen at the bar, and it isn’t long before Cassian is once again staring down into the blue-gray eyes of winery nemesis. She raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

The redhead glances over, clearly confused by the strange stalemate taking place next to her and says, in a voice slightly tinged with exasperation. “Nesta, can you get his order?”

“That depends. Is he able to actually place one this time?”

“He is, Nesta,” he fires back, savoring the feeling of her name on his tongue. “One Pinot Grigio and two Farmstead Reds.”

“Amazing. Commendable work. You made it through a basic human interaction,” she says as she ducks beneath the bar to grab three glasses.”

“All thanks to your outstanding service, Nes.” He watches her nostrils flare at the nickname.

“Nope.” She sets the empty glasses down on the bar with a harsh clink. “I’ll send you to the back of the line again.”

He meets her glare with one of her own, and it is perhaps fortuitous that his brothers choose that moment to make their way back inside. 

“Cassian, what the fuck is taking so long?” Rhys says when he reaches his side.

Azriel is close behind and murmurs to Cassian with a smirk, “He’s only mad because I beat him at cornhole. Twice.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, thinking wistfully of video games and beer and time spent without demanding brothers and snooty women. Another night. Instead, he shrugs. Just took me a while to pick out the right thing for you assholes. That’s all.

There’s a snort from the bar that Cassian pointedly ignores. No use getting into it with the ice queen again in front of the other two. 

But it catches Rhys’ attention, and his gaze lingers on the woman long enough to make Cassian’s hackles raise. It’s not like Rhys to really pay attention to anyone else anymore now that he has Feyre, and Cassian doesn’t like that it’s this woman who’s the object of his attention. Not that Cassian has any claim to it either. And yet.

He doesn’t intervene when Rhys takes a step closer to the bar, his eyes still on Nesta, as asks, “Are you Feyre’s sister?”

And then Cassian can see the resemblance. The hair color and the eyes are almost exactly the same, but where they make Feyre seem alight with youthful energy and warmth, Nesta’s are worn almost like a cold, brutal suit of armor against the world. Or again him, at any rate.

And apparently against Rhys, because she’s glaring at him as she asks, “How do you know Feyre?”

“I’m her fiance.” Rhys smiles. “It’s good to meet someone from her family.”

Nesta raises an eyebrow. “You’re the restaurant asshole she’s marrying? Didn’t you guys just meet?”

He shrugs, tucking his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “When you know…”

Nesta looks at Cassian, who’s just watching the interaction, and rolls her eyes. He snorts quietly, despite himself. Because she’s not wrong. He would agree with her generally—marrying someone after knowing them for only half a year is crazy. 

But he’s seen Rhys and Feyre together, and what they have works for them. Would it be what he’d choose? No. But it seems—good.

Rhys is still talking. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

“Clearly.”

Another voice, coming from the stockroom, politely expands on Nesta’s brusque answer. “She moved up here with me and another friend after college.”

“Em?” Cassian exclaims. Standing there before him is his old friend, Emerie Alvarez.

Cassian scoops the woman up into a giant bear hug. They haven’t seen each other since he graduated high school. She had been a freshman when he was a senior, but he knew what it was like to have a shitty family in a place  like Cherry Hills, and so he always looked out for her while he was there. The town was small enough after all—with only 20 or so kids in each graduating class, it wasn’t hard to know everybody's business.

He gestures proudly around the shop. “This is yours?”

She nods, clearly pleased. “We—Nesta, Gwyn, and I—bought the winery off my dad three years ago before he moved to Ohio. But it’s a little far out from the tourist scene, so we bought a place here this year to do tastings.”

“Look at you, Em.” He gives her another hug, ruffling her hair in a brotherly fashion until she jams her elbow into his side, hard enough that he winces. He’s pleased—beyond pleased, really—that she managed to shake off her family and do something for herself in the town he knows she loves just as much as he does.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Nesta looking at him, but her face has turned contemplative, curious rather than coldly calculating. 

“What brings you all back up here?” Emerie gestures to his brothers. “It’s good to see you, Azriel, Rhys.”

Cassian smiles and steps forward to throw his arm around Rhys’ shoulder. “Rhysie’s getting married and wanted to do his bachelor party here.” His grin turns into a smirk. “And guess whose sister he’s marrying?”

Emerie follows Cassian’s gaze to Nesta, who only shrugs and says, “Apparently.”

Rhys frowns slightly. “You got an invitation. I know Feyre sent one.”

“I’m aware.”

“Nes—” Emerie starts, but Nesta continues on before Emerie says anything else.

“I’m going to the shotgun wedding to support Feyre, don’t worry.”

“It’s not a—”

“Okay, here are your drinks! Please find a spot. Outside.” The redhead—Gwyn—who had been observing the conversation and apparently getting their drinks while Nesta was distracted, intervenes and hands them to Az, cutting Rhys off.

Az smiles at her thankfully and once again herds Rhys out the door. Gwyn, Cassian notices, is blushing slightly.

Before following his brothers, he turns back to Nesta, who still seems to be fuming slightly. He can’t help but stoke the fire of her temper, and so he says, “Aww, Nes, we’re going to be family.”

“Nope.” She shakes her head decisively. “And don’t call me that.” “You’re right.” He nods and then smiles lasciviously. “I’m not sure I’d want to call you my sister.

She catches his meaning and glares. “Pig.”

“You love it.”

Emerie shoves his shoulder. “Stop being an ass. You’re better than that.”

“She brings out the best in me, what can I say?” He quips, shrugging, but something churns within him anyway. Enough. Shaking his head, he takes a step back from the bar. “Em, it was good to see you again. Gwyn, it was good to meet you. And, Nes,” he smiles, “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

—---------------------------------------

The next morning, Cassian wakes early and begins puttering around the rental’s kitchen, gathering trash and cans and bottles as he goes. They have to check out by 10 a.m., and there’s a fair amount they have to do per the house rules: strip the beds, take the trash out, clean the surfaces, run the dishwasher.

Hearing the noise, Rhys saunters out of the bedroom and perches on one of the stools by the kitchen bar. “Why are you doing so much cleaning?”

Cassian blinks and looks at him in confusion. “Because it’s checkout day?”

“Mmmm, not anymore.”

Crossing his arms, Cassian leans against one of the counters. “What do you mean ‘not anymore’?”

Rhys brushes some invisible lint off of his plaid pajama bottoms. “I called the owners and extended it.”

“But the wedding—”

“Feyre and I talked about it last night. We don’t want to get married in Philly anymore.”

Cassian closes his eyes, because he knows what’s coming next. 

“We’re getting married here. At Cherry Hills Winery.”

[lychee-bearx]

Quite self indulgent if you ask me. but i wanna cry so . ig this willl have to do

♡

𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒 - marc s.

In which you finally lose your last straw with marc

paring: marc x fem!reader

wc: 1.26k

theme: angst, not really happy ending

✧˚ · . *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ. · ˚ ✧

You were too tired to do this anymore.

You couldn’t stand it. All the excuses were too much.

“I'm sorry, but I can't tonight. I have things to do.”“The number you’ve reached is not available at this time. If you’d like to leave a message, press 1”“Can’t baby. I'll see about it tomorrow.”

The feeling of loneliness and emptiness hung around your head. It followed you like a curse. You remembered the good times. The times you spent together making a mess in the kitchen, or watching a scary movie curled up on the couch. Those times where you would go on long drives without any care for the world. Those times where only you could think of each other..

But they were all gone. The memories kept fading each and every day. There’s nothing to do about it anymore. 

-

“Marc please answer me…please”

The moon hung high in the sky as you waited anxiously to hear the phone ring. Sitting on the floor next to your bed wasn’t ideal, but it definitely beat being in a bed that didn’t feel like home anymore.

After the fifth ring the phone went dead again. No answer. The tears ran down your face as small sobs left your mouth. 

Why didn’t he call me back? Why isn’t he answering?

You decided it wasn’t worth it. You curled up onto your bed and covered yourself with the warm cozy sheets. You slowly drifted off to sleep, trying not to worry over the man you loved so deeply. You hoped you woke up the next morning with him next to you.

-

But alas that didn't happen. The bed was cold and empty as you woke up with puffy eyes. Your heart ached for him to come back. You missed him. You missed his hugs, his smile, his laugh. You missed how his presence made you feel safe. You tried calling him again and again to no avail each time.

“He’s just busy. He’ll come back.” you told yourself..

-

He didn't come back until 8 days later. 8 excruciating days of calls that weren’t returned. 8 days where texts were read but not responded to. 8 days where the sunken feeling of being alone set into your heart.

It was 3 am. You woke from your slumber to get yourself a glass of water when you heard the door open.

You turned your head to see him. The man you’d thought to be the man you could trust. The man who had your heart ever since you were with him. The man who fixed your broken heart. The man that you could never let go of.

“Where have you been, marc?” your voice trembled, already feeling your heart sink as you watched him sit into a chair.

“Mission” he replied in a monotone voice.

“You didn’t tell me. You didn’t return any of my calls. You read my texts but didn’t respond! You didn’t even leave a note! Marc i was-” you started. Your emotions piling over you.

“Get off my back will ya? I had a god awful week and all i need right now is fucking rest. I don’t need to deal with you and your stupid nagging.” he grunted, laying his head into his hand

That was it. That was the last straw.

You had spent time and time again trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Always giving him excuses as to why he wouldn’t pick up. Always trying to forgive him when he gave you his “im sorry it won't happen again” speech. 

But it did happen. Over and over and over again..

And this was it.

You were done.

“I'm sorry you have to deal with me. I never knew that it was such a burden. I’ll go.” you said with a lump in your throat.

“Ok then. Leave. Jesus.” 

And that’s what you did. Packed a bag with your most important things and left.

-

Marc was used to waking up to the smell of your cooking. A warm meal to help him recover from the shit he’s seen. But the morning he woke up half naked on the couch, the apartment was empty. No sizzling pancakes. No distant humming coming from you. Just silence and cold.

He was confused for a minute. He walked all over the apartment looking for any traces of you. Some of your clothes were gone. Your favorite stuffed animal. Your toothbrush and toothpaste. He searched his pockets to find his phone. He opened it to find 26 messages and 29 missed calls from you. He attempted to call you, but when he put the phone to his ear, the phone operator said that the number wasn’t available anymore.

Now he was super confused. What happened?

It wasn’t until he sat down at the table did he remember the early events of that morning. How he told you to leave after you were expressing your worries to him.

Fuck.

He fucked up so bad

Fuck.

-

You got up from the couch of your best friend’s apartment when you heard a knock at the door. SHe was at work and told you to crash as long as you needed. Thankfully, today was your day off, so you spent it on a self indulgent day. 

You walked to the door in your fluffy bunny slippers and your makeup headband. You opened the door to see him.

Marc.

“Baby,” he started..

“No.” you said, closing the door. But he stopped right before it could shut.

“Please , wait, just hear me out for a sec.” he pleaded.

You decided to listen to him, already making up your mind to stand your ground no matter what.

“Look, baby, i'm so so sorry. I'm sorry for not responding to you, or-or returning your calls and not returning your calls. Im so sorry baby, i promise it will never happen again. I promise. Please please please come back to me im so sorry…”

You could tell the emotion and regret. But still. It didn’t make u0p for the pain and sorrow you’ve felt for the last few months.

“Marc listen. I loved you. I was there for you. I supported you. But you took advantage of that. I can’t keep betting on your life. I can’t keep waiting until ungodly hours in the morning. I love you but i don’t think this will change. Im sorry.”

You felt his heart sink. You felt it because so did yours.

Marc didn’t respond after that. He just turned away, heartbroken and filled with sorrow. 

What will i do… without her?

-

9 months had passed. You moved into a new apartment. You got a pet cat you named oreo. You had a very well-paying job. You had everything. You have been happy for a while now. You found joy in little things. 

You were happy

You were.

Right?

-

Marc on the other hand wasn’t doing well. His life was in shambles. He slept constantly. He didn’t listen to anyone. He stayed cooped up in your old apartment, trying to recreate the old memories with you. 

But nothing worked. He had to see you.

He had to.

- 

It was a busy day. You had just gone shopping with your friends when you finally sat down at the food court. You got to the table a bit before them, so you were scrolling on your phone when you felt a light tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see him.

Marc.

Your marc.

“Hey” you started..

“Hey…can I talk to you?” he responded.

✧˚ · . *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ. · ˚ ✧

welp

[separatist-apologist]

Hot To Go

Summary: During Nesta's bachelor party, everyone agrees to pick out an embarrassing shirt for someone else. Emerie is game to play along until she realizes her long-standing crush Morrigan will be at the same bar.

Good thing Mor has a sense of humor.

For @ablogofsapphicpanic | Read on AO3

Thank you @octobers-veryown for the last minute moodboard

Fic based on this tiktok

“Nesta, please,” Emerie complained, holding the tissue papered bag sitting in her lap. “We don’t have—”

“Open it,” Nesta interrupted, crowned queen of the weekend by a plastic silver tiara. A white sash crossed her body with the words BRIDE-TO-BE stamped across it in purple lettering. Nesta wanted a different kind of bachelorette party—one where they spent the majority of their long weekend indoors watching movies and reading books. There was a pool out back they’d spent the morning lounging beside but tonight Emerie Archeron had convinced her older sister that they should go to the bar just once.

And then meddlesome, annoying, stupid Elain had made the worst suggestion Emerie had ever heard. What if we picked out bad shirts for each other? What if Emerie slapped her across the face, what then? Nesta would be pissed and Elain would cry, that's what would happen. Emerie didn’t want to go to the bar where she’d be surrounded by men in too tight t-shirts and hair gelled to the heavens. And she certainly didn’t want to spend the night pulling those same drunk losers off her friends only to get called a whole host of slurs she didn’t care to repeat.

Their husbands and boyfriends will kill you for fun, I’m doing you a favor. 

If only you could casually mention that to strangers. As if those pathetic dudes would listen. Emerie would have to call up Azriel again, and Azriel’s general demeanor would destroy the vibe she had spent so much time cultivating. Even when he was incandescently happy he was brooding. Gwyn would spend all her time sitting in his lap while Nesta, Emerie, and Elain all blushed furiously every time he spoke, as if there was anything terribly special about him. Objectively, she supposed he was handsome but so what? A lot of men were.

Emerie was the last person at the table. With reluctance, she pulled out the glittery pink paper that had clearly been put together by Elain. It was simply too pretty to have been done by anyone else. 

Unfolding the black material, Emerie groaned when she saw the image printed on the fabric. A brown meatball wearing leather bondage gear stared back at her. Even if she hadn’t understood the pun, the shirt ensure everyone would get the joke thanks to the white lettering that read: Meatball Sub. 

Elain clapped her hands together, eyes bright with delight. “I thought that was so funny.” Don’t ruin this, Emerie thought to herself. Meeting the brown eyes of Nesta’s younger sister from across the table, she forced an easy smile on her face.

“It is funny,” she lied. It was stupid. But this was for Nesta, and Emerie loved Nesta more than she hated the shirt. She’d bought so many nice outfits for this trip—tight slacks and even tighter tanktops, bodycon dresses that weren’t her favorite but looked good, paired with tall heels that made her tower over her friends, and even cute little shorts and t-shirts that showed off her body should some hot girl in a bikini be wandering by.

“Lets change and then head out,” Nesta said, cheeks flushed with excitement. Emerie shot a look at Gwyn, who merely shrugged delicate shoulders in response. They were sharing a room in the cabin Emerie’s husband had graciously given up for the next four days—if cabin was even what it could be called. More like massive-beach-house-worth-millions, but Emerie wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. It was interesting to her the way rich people described their things. This was hardly a cabin and yet to Rhysand, maybe it was. Maybe he considered this slumming it, somehow. 

“It’s just a couple hours,” Gwyn reminded Emerie once the door to their shared room was firmly shut. 

“I hate these bars,” Emerie complained, flopping onto the twin bed closest to the window. “It’s spring break—they’re crawling with frat douche losers that have never been told no in their lives.”

“You know why she really wants to go, right?” Gwyn asked, pulling her shirt off to put the offensive one overtop. 

“If you say Cassian—”

“He’s somewhere around here, and I think she just wants to see him,” Gwyn said with a relish. “He was giving her all that shit about staying in when she should be going wild. Now Nesta can show him she’s having fun his way, too.”

“And what happens when Az catches some loser putting his hands on you?” Emerie asked, rising up on her elbows to look at Gwyn.

“He’ll have to deal with it in an emotionally intelligent way.”

“Is that what he’s calling his fists these days?”

Gwyn grinned. “Just let her have this. One night of embarrassment for a weekend of quiet.”

“Fine.”

Emerie got ready like she would for any other club-like event, putting a full face of make up on and carefully curling her hair to make it look as though she’d come straight from the beach once she finger combed out the waves into messy waves. All that was left was the stupid shirt and a pair of skin tight leggings beneath.

There were never any interesting women at these places. It almost didn’t matter what she looked like, except Emerie took a small amount of satisfaction knowing that when a man inevitably called her an ugly bitch they’d be lying through their teeth. 

Gwyn had done even less, slicking on some mascara and tinted chapstick before calling it a day. Of the three of them, these types of places made her the most uncomfortable. She’d go only for Nesta, and was likely only smiling because she believed Azriel was going to be there. Still, Gwyn never tried to accentuate how beautiful she was, nervous of the unwanted attention—as if what had happened to her was her fault.

“Want to stick together?” Emerie asked, noting the way Gwyn’s teal eyes filled with relief.

“Yes,” she breathed, rising to her feet. Emerie tugged at the too-big shirt that fell just beneath the curve of her ass, wishing she was wearing anything else.

“If it starts getting rowdy, we can go somewhere else,” Emerie promised, looping her arm through Gwyn’s.

“I was googling lesbian bars,” Gwyn said with a grin. “There’s one a couple blocks away if you want to…you know…” “Shut up,” Emerie said, elbowing her friend gently in the ribs. 

“It’s been a while,” Gwyn pressed on, undaunted by Emerie’s obvious embarrassment. “And I didn’t like the last girl, whatever her name was. Too…”

Emerie sighed. “Unfaithful?”

“That too,” Gwyn said with a scowl. 

“I don’t think you meet marriageable women at bars,” Emerie reminded Gwyn, annoyed that Cassian had met Nesta in a college bar and was now marrying her. It had started off a chain reaction in their tiny friend group—Azriel was so obviously just biding his time, waiting for Cassian to get married so he could propose.

And then Emerie would be the only single person among married women. Would they even want to hang out with her anymore? Would they stay friends? It kept her up at night. Emerie knew if she gave voice to these insecurities, her friends would rush to reassure her it wasn’t true and she’d feel no better. She just wasn’t having the same luck in the romance department.

Squeezing into one car, Emerie managed to snag the passenger seat from Elain, who pouted in the back but otherwise said nothing. If nothing else, Emerie considered that a victory even if she was out voted and Taylor Swift blared the entire way to the bar. 

“It’s busy,” Nesta said, eyes scanning the line of people waiting to get in. 

“Send Elain up,” Emerie suggested, glancing at her older sister.

“In this?” Elain demanded as she held out her comically oversized shirt. “Don’t make me.”

It didn’t matter, ultimately. The bouncer caught sight of Nesta strolling by in heels and waved her in while eyeing her up and down. Nesta pretended she didn’t notice but both Emerie and Emerie did, glaring daggers from just behind her before handing over their ID.

And then they were inside. The music was so loud Emerie could barely hear herself think, teeth rattling in time with the beat. It was her job to elbow through the crowd hanging around the bar and scream everyone's order over the music before doling out drinks while watching the man who made them. Just in case. She didn’t like the way he was open mouthed staring at Elain, who seemed to have the effect on everyone who saw her. 

While the rest of the group made their way to the dance floor, Gwyn and Emerie secured the last high top in a pretty secluded corner where the music didn’t seem to be quite so loud and they could talk. 

“I’m gonna sit closer,” Gwyn told Emerie, putting her hand over top of Emerie’s as a man began walking toward them. He turned abruptly, realizing he’d have no luck over here which had been Gwyn’s obvious goal if her triumphant smile was anything to go by. 

“Oh, look!” she said, pointing across the room. It was, just as Gwyn had predicted, Cassian and Azriel towering over the crowd, unaware that Nesta was a few feet away dancing in a god-awful shirt. As Emerie watched, she found Rhysand holding several drinks in one hand and cutting a path through a crowd that parted like the red sea. She’d have looked away, annoyed by the converging parties had she not noticed who was walking just behind Rhys.

There, in a red dress so tight it might have been painted against tanned skin, stood Morrigan. Emerie was embarrassed by how hot she thought Rhys’s cousin was, and yet… Christ. Her blonde hair cascaded like sunlight down her back and her brown eyes were crowned with gold just around the iris, visible even in the dim lighting of the club. Emerie had never been able to get words out in front of Morrigan, so she just avoided her, embarrassed to be a cliche. The lesbian with a crush on a straight girl—it was a constant theme in her life, especially when she was younger.

She’d asked Nesta about Morrigan once, who’d gone on a rant about Mor sleeping with Lucien’s dad, and Emerie had dropped the subject. There was no love lost between them—apparently Cassian and Mor had a thing a million years ago, too. 

Still. She was the most beautiful woman Emerie had ever seen, and it was a shame that beauty would be wasted on some loser that would never really appreciate her. 

“Oh, here they come,” Gwyn said, sitting up a little straighter in her chair. Cassian had caught sight of her and Gwyn, waving across the crowd as Rhys set drinks down in the booth she bet he’d paid actual money for. He beckoned for the two of them to join.

“Gwyn—”

“Rhys will pay our tab if we go,” she said, silencing any protests Emerie might offer. Rhys did always pay when they were all together and unlike Rhys, Emerie had to work for a living. If he was willing to foot the tab for overpriced drinks filled with more water than cheap vodka, who was she to say no? 

They sauntered over, Emerie’s heart racing as Mor’s eyes fell on her. She whispered something to her cousin, who stood and traded places so when she and Gwyn arrived, Mor said, “Em! Sit by me.”

Gwyn was already—and predictably—in Azriel’s lap, whispering something in his ear that made his cheeks darken noticeably. So it was like that then, was it? Emerie plopped down while Rhys shoved at Az so he could edge out space on the end of the booth.

“What are you wearing?” Mor asked, her laugh more like a herald of bells. Emerie was flustered, breathing the same air and unable to take her eyes off Mor’s red painted mouth.

“Oh. Uh…”

“It was Elain’s idea!” Gwyn called from across the table, shooting Emerie a wink they all noticed. 

Cassian rolled his eyes when he heard. “No offense, but…Meatball Sub?”

“It’s a pun,” Emerie explained in a deadpan, forgetting about Mor for just a second. Just until Mor scooted, her knee accidentally brushing Emeries. Had she meant to do that? “You know, like a meatball sub sandwich? But it’s wearing a gag, like a—”

“I get the joke!” Cassian snapped, eyes narrowed. Mor tipped her head back and laughed, unaware of how hard Emerie’s heart was beating at the sight. 

“Are you sure, Cass?” Mor asked, leaning back against the padded booth so her palm was flat against the seat. Her pinky touched Emerie’s, causing Emerie to jerk her hand back as if she’d been burned. Was that an accident, too? She was terrified to look over and realize she’d read it wrong, and more scared to look over and even more scared to look and find Mor had meant to touch her.

Mor was just friendly, she reminded herself. She was always draped all over Emerie when they were out together. It was nothing—a mere accident. 

Cassian scooted his way out to find Nesta, still scowling over at Mor and Emerie.

“So,” Mor said, turning entirely to face Emerie. She pulled her hand from the seat to rest her head against her fist. Eyes wholly focused on Emerie, she continued, “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”

“Oh…you know,” Emerie replied, suddenly embarrassed by the attention. “Nothing interesting.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. C’mon,” she cajoled, her free hand squeezing Emerie’s knee. “I want to hear about it anyway. I feel like we never get to talk and you’re so interesting!”

Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god—

“You first,” Emerie said, unsure where that came from. Mor grinned as she leaned closer, unaware of how the movement pushed her breasts up toward her neck. Emerie could see from the corner of her eye, though she was trying hard not to actually look.

“Oh, you know. I got dragged along to Cass’s bachelor party,” Mor began, looking around the bar. “This place sucks but if I smile at the bouncer, they let us all in for free.”

“Nesta did the same thing,” Emerie told Mor. “Where are you guys staying?”

She nodded with her head in the direction of the DJ. “ Rhys gave up the cabin so we’re at the resort. It’s pretty nice—I was at the pool all morning before Cass dragged us out here.”

“Same,” Emerie replied with a sigh as she leaned back in the booth. “Now I’m out…in this.”

“Stop,” Mor said as she toyed with Emerie’s sleeve. “I think it’s cute.”

“It’s not,” Emerie grumbled, heart racing all over again. Mor was so close and she smelled so good, it was making it hard to think. 

“Is…is that something you’re interested in?” Mor asked casually, eyes drifting back to the shirt.

“No!” Emerie hastened to say, embarrassed all over again. “No, nothing like that.”

“So you don’t like being tied up?” Mor pressed, eyes practically burning a hole in Emerie’s skull. 

“I…I’m not against it, I guess?” she managed, reaching for her glass to give her mouth something to do. 

Mor began twirling a lock of golden hair around a perfectly manicured finger. “What room are you staying in?”

“The upstairs one with the twin beds,” she said quickly. Mor laid her land back against the table and this time Emerie noticed that while the ring and pinkie finger were long and sharp, the middle and pointer were shorter. Blunter. 

Emerie looked up at Mor, who was watching her with cat-like intensity. Was she doing this on purpose? 

“I have my own room,” she said casually, a sly smile spreading over a truly beautiful face. “That’s the benefit of being the only girl on a guy's trip.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It’s quiet,” Mor continued, dragging her finger over the condensation that had dripped to the table. “Overlooks the beach.”

Emerie offered a weak smile. “I’m jealous.”

“Want to see it?” Mor asked bluntly, sighing ever so slightly. “I’m bored of this place. Too many drunk guys that think every ass needs to be touched.”

“What about Cass—”

“He won’t care if I’m missing. I was invited out of pity, anyway. I’m sure you know Nesta isn’t my biggest fan.”

Mor was scooting closer, indicating Emerie should get out of the booth. Fishing her phone from her clutch, Emerie sent a quick text to Nesta and Gwyn.

Heading out with Mor for a bit—gonna get some air and talk a bit. Meet you back at the house.

Mor slunk off to tell Rhys, who glanced over at Emerie before saying something that earned a vicious punch to the shoulder. Rhys only grinned, gripping his arm, as Mor made her way back to Emerie.

“All good?”

“All good,” Emerie agreed, still impossibly nervous. They said nothing as they made their way out, fingers brushing each time the crowd surged around them, forcing them closer before they could spring apart again. Mor seemed comfortable with the whole thing and Emerie was jealous. She wanted Mor’s easy confidence. 

“I heard you slept with Lucien’s dad,” Emerie blurted out the moment they were out beneath the starry summer sky.

Mor grinned. “Yeah? I did,” she said without embarrassment. “I didn’t know he was Lucien’s dad, in my defense. He was just…some hot guy I thought was interesting.”

“Is that your type, then?”

Mor’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Do you not know?”

Emerie shook her head no, throat coated with sand. 

“I just figured…” Mor shook her head, her smile undimmed. “My type is tall, dark, and gorgeous. Lucien’s dad almost fits the bill…but I prefer women.”

“Oh,” Emerie said, unable to think of anything more clever to say. “I just figured…”

“I’m not opposed to men for a night, but I’d never date one. God, can you imagine?” she said with a laugh.

“No,” Emerie admitted with relief. “I saw Cassian and Azriel’s shared bathroom, I think I’ll pass.”

“I know, right? God, I used to clean it for them when they all shared a dorm room.”

“You’re better than me,” Emerie replied with a shudder. The thought of cleaning their shared bathroom made her want to vomit. She could only imagine how gross it must have looked. 

“Cassian got it together when he met Nesta. He knew she wasn’t going to tolerate pee all over the toilet.”

“He’s right,” Emerie agreed with a laugh. “Nesta is immaculate.”

“And you?”

Emerie’s stomach flipped over as Mor’s shoulder brushed hers. “I uh…probably not as much. I keep a lot of plants at my place so it’s…you know…crowded.”

“Plants? Anything else?” Mor asked, eyes burning like the stars overhead. 

“I have a cat,” Emerie told her, thinking of her little apartment back in Velaris. “Her name is Mist.”

“Like one of the thirteen,” Mor said knowingly, unaware of how Emerie’s knees shook.

“You like mythology?”

“Not really,” she admitted as they crossed the street toward the large resort just across the way. Palm trees swayed in the wind, breaking up the traffic nicely. “But Cass said you did, so…”

“Why would Cassian tell you that?” Emerie demanded without thinking. “That’s kind of weird.”

Mor’s cheeks flushed orange beneath the artificial lights overhead.

“I asked him what you liked,” she admitted. 

“Why?” Emerie, at least, could guess why. She wasn’t that obtuse, after all. Still, she wanted to hear the words leave Mor’s pretty lips, if only to put her mind at ease.

“You’re beautiful,” Mor admitted as Emerie rushed ahead to open the door for her. Mor thought she was beautiful? A breeze could have carried her away. “I just figured Cass blabbed.”

“Nope. He kept it a total secret,” she said, unable to help her grin. 

“Oh. Well…that…I just figured you knew and—”

“I have such a crush on you,” Emerie blurted out while Mor pressed the button for the elevator. “When I saw you tonight, and I realized I was wearing this shirt, I just…”

“Stop, I love it,” Mor lied, fingers skimmed the back of Emerie’s elbow. “You look so cute. Besides, I got to ask if you liked being tied up which made it totally worth it.”

“Is that why I’m here? To be your meatball sub?” Emerie joked, heart racing all the same.

“Hardly,” Mor replied with a laugh. “We can do whatever you want.”

“And if I wanted to kiss you?”

Mor sucked in a soft breath. “That would be nice.”

They were in an elevator—this wasn’t how Emerie imagined it. And right then, drinking in the sight of Mor who was nearly as tall as she was even in heels, Emerie thought he might die of want if she didn’t kiss Mor. Stepping closer, all Emerie could think about was how nice Mor smelled. Emerie just needed to know if Mor tasted half as good.

Sliding her fingers into Mor’s unbound hair, Emerie pressed her lips to Mor’s as Mor stepped back, hitting the mirrored wall with a soft, sweet sigh. Hell, she tasted sweeter than Emerie had imagined even as her lipstick smeared across Emerie’s mouth. She wanted to see it stained over her skin, too, proof that they’d been together. 

One chaste kiss became two, became a third, until Emerie was practically flush against Mor. She’d forgotten where they were until the doors dinged open and the sound of voices pulled apart. The pair looked behind them to find a couple staring right back, eyes wide.

Emerie wasn’t going to apologize and was grateful when Mor didn’t either. She merely burst into giggles before slipping her hand in Emerie’s and tugging her out. 

“Whoops,” Mor whispered, fishing her keycard out of her clutch. “Lost track of things in there.”

“Same,” Emerie agreed, heart thudding. “I uh…look. I really like you. And maybe I should go and just…call you? In the morning?”

“Or,” Mor suggested as she swung the door open wide, “you could stay with me tonight and let me buy you brunch in the morning? You can borrow one of my suits if you want and we could hang out by the pool?”

“I want to take you on a date,” Emerie said firmly, desperate to go inside.

“Okay,” Mor said, still standing in front of the open door. “So do I. Will you come inside, now?”

Emerie nodded, grateful to have gotten that out of the way. She’d sworn she wasn’t doing any more one night stands that ended in hurt feelings. That was especially important for her and Mor given they were going to be seeing so much of each other long after this ended.

Mor’s room was a suite, complete with a living room and a kitchen. The balcony doors were thrown open, allowing salty summer air to flood through the room. Taking her hand, Mor led Emerie down a short hallway to the room she’d obviously been sleeping in—the bed was still unmade. A little succulent sat on a nightstand and the room itself smelled like the candy sweet of Mor’s perfume. Emerie wanted to bury her face in the pillow and inhale deeply.

“You ruined my grand gesture,” Mor told her, closing the door quietly behind them. “Will you be my date to Cass’s wedding?”

The grin that spread across Emerie’s face threatened to split her in half. “Yeah. Of course I will.”

Mor exhaled. “Good. I’ll have the hottest date there.”

Emerie rolled her eyes, cheeks burning all the same. It would be her with the hottest date, but who needed to quibble, truly? Not when Mor was standing right in front of her, chin inclined with so much expectations. There was a bed right behind and if Emerie played her cards right, she’d know exactly how Mor tasted by the end of the night.

Indecision gripped her. Did she just kiss her? Touch her? Push her to the bed and strip her naked before committing Mor’s naked form to memory? 

“Get out of your own head,” Mor whispered, sliding her hand around Emerie’s neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to?”

“Maybe,” Emerie admitted, the thought filling her with heat. 

This time, Mor took the lead. Slipping out of her heels, Mor had to lift up on her tiptoes in order to meet Emerie’s mouth and Emerie liked the sight of it. Or, maybe she merely liked the sight of Mor’s unabashed desire, a mirror for her own. It felt good to be wanted, especially by a woman Emerie had a crush on. 

She could admire her good fortune later. Right then, Mor was tugging her back, falling to the unmade bed behind them with a soft, dreamy sigh. She was so soft and smelled like almonds and cherry, her lips stick from the gloss over her lipstick. Emerie was drunk on the taste of her tongue in her mouth, obsessed with Mor’s soft skin beneath her fingertips. Blonde curls swirled around her head like an angel and when Mor opened her eyes to look, Emerie found her eyes so dark they looked as though they were all iris. Were it not for that familiar ring of gold, she might have been lost.

Mor reached up and brushed a lock of Emerie’s hair behind her ear. “You’re so pretty,” Mor sighed sweetly. 

“No, you,” Emerie replied like a petulant school child. Mor laughed and Emerie kissed her again, teeth clashing as they giggled. It took a moment for the silliness to fade back into undiluted desire. Emerie slid to the side of Mor’s body, one leg draped over her hip as she tried to decide what she ought to do.

Mor seemed to notice her indecision or perhaps knew that she was impossibly nervous. “Lay back,” she whispered with sultry eyes. Emerie did as she was told, fingers bunching the white sheets with more nerves. Mor straddled her waist before running a finger over Emerie’s exposed collarbone.

Mor pulled her leggings off, pausing at the shirt for a moment before sliding her fingers beneath the fabric to drag her knuckles over Emerie’s bare skin as she lifted it over her head. Emerie shivered, goosebumps trailing behind Mor’s touch, her desperation to touch and taste every inch of Mor reaching a fever pitch. She did feel a moment of embarrassment when  Mor looked down her body, hidden only by an unremarkable bra and a pair of nude panties. If she’d known…

Mor sighed, leaning to kiss Emerie again with more passion before. Emerie felt clumsy and almost embarrassed as she, too, unhooked Mor’s zipper and slid it down, but fair was fair, right? And she wanted to feel Mor’s breasts pressed against her chest, wanted to see if all of her was as smooth as she seemed. 

Mor was in a matching lace set and somehow Emerie imagined that was just how she always was. Every bra came with a matching pair of panties, every day was carefully planned. Mor was immaculate in a way Emerie could never hope to emulate, which only made her like Mor more. 

“What do you like?” Mor whispered, breath warm against Emerie’s face. “Do you like…?”

“Everything,” Emerie breathed. “All of it.”

“Everything?” Mor asked, amusement sparkling. With a touch, she had Emerie’s bra unhooked and when had she even gotten her hand back there? Mor cocked her head, golden hair spilling over her naked shoulder as she looked at Emerie. “Giving? Receiving?”

“Yeah,” Emerie began, rising up earnestly. “Let me—”

Mor pushed her gently to the bed, shaking her head back and forth. “Me first.”

“What do you like?”

“You,” Mor replied with a grin, unhooking her own bra casually before dropping it off the side of the bed. Emerie felt her brain short circuit, hands moving on their own accord to touch rosy nipples and soft skin. How was Mor real? Surely she was hallucinating and would wake up any moment in some dirty bar bathroom, still dressed in that terrible shirt while Mor continued to ignore her existence. 

Emerie got what she wanted, dream or not. Mor leaned down, pressing her breasts against Mor to kiss her again, and again, her tongue stroking Emerie’s with a feverish hunger that left her breathless and desperate. She could have died happy just kissing Mor. They were silk on silk, kissing like they had all the time in the world. Emerie wanted to savor it, to drag the moment out for an eternity.

Mor’s fingers slid down Emerie’s stomach, skimming over hip bones as she asked, “Can I?” “Yes,” Emerie panted, arching her hips just enough to offer full, unbridled permission. Mor removed her plain panties, leaving Emerie laid bare before Mor’s hungry brown eyes. Mor didn’t linger, dragging her lips over Emerie’s bare skin as she settled between Emerie’s parted thighs. Oh, god. 

Emerie gasped, tangling her fingers back in Mor’s hair, passion and need rising in her throat. Every little brush of Mors body against her own was a wildfire. Emerie couldn’t stop touching—Mor’s silky hair, her smooth back, the slope of her neck.  She needed to map out Mor’s body with her fingertips first, though she wanted to trace each soft curve with her tongue next.

Emerie gathered up Mor’s thick, blonde curls as Mor settled herself against the sheets, peering up for just a moment. Just to confirm, Emerie realized, that she still wanted this. Emerie exhaled a breath and tugged, silent permission to the unasked question.

I’ll die if you don’t, she wanted to say. 

“Tell me to stop,” Mor breathed, pushing Emerie’s legs further apart, “if I do something you don’t like.”

Emerie’s brain had stopped entirely. All she knew was Mor between her thighs, her finger slowly exploring the wet expanse of Emerie’s aching, tender flesh. Emerie had expected her to lower her mouth—or maybe she’d hoped, at any rate—but Mor was content merely to watch and touch, drawing forth Emerie’s undeniable arousal. Mor kissed the insides of Emerie’s legs, moving slowly upwards towards the thatch of trimmed curls just above her pussy. 

“You’re so pretty,” Mor whispered into the hair, kissing there, too. “I like this.”

Emerie sighed again, relaxing against the pillow. Excitement bloomed hot in her stomach, traveling past her navel like little frissons of electricity. Mor, too, took a steadying breath and Emerie wondered if it was possible the unshakable Mor was nervous, too. 

Emerie almost asked, but then Mor’s face was against Emerie, tongue licking and Emerie moaned, the only form of language left to her. Mor exhaled again, her warm breath fanning against Emerie’s overheated pussy. Emerie felt overstimulated already, keyed up and excited. Every fantasy she’d ever had of this exact scenario paled in comparison to the real thing. Every touch was soft and precise, the touch of someone who knew what she was doing and liked doing it. Mor moaned, fingers gripping Emerie’s thighs to push her even wider, until Emerie merely draped them over Mor’s shoulders. 

The sight was so erotic that Emerie could have come from that alone. Digging her heels against Mor’s shoulder blades, Emerie whispered soft encouragement.

“That’s perfect,” she hissed as Mor’s tongue lapped at her aching, needy clit. Emerie couldn’t stop staring, wished she had a camera so she could see everything Mor was doing with her mouth, too. Mor, too, seemed transfixed, eyes bouncing between Emerie’s face and what was happening between her legs. 

Mor’s eyes occasionally fluttered shut, the sight punctuated by the softest, appreciative moan. It looked as if Mor wanted to savor the taste of Emerie, wanted to drag things out as long as possible. Emerie wanted that, too, desperately counting in her head to stave off the building arousal pooling low against her spine. 

Mor’s finger rimmed around her opening, offering the lightest pressure without penetrating. Her tongue stayed firmly on her clit, slowly increasing the speed until Emerie was panting and tugging at Mor’s hair, needy and desperate. She was so close, was practically flying off that edge into nothing. 

“Oh God, Mor—” Emerie choked out her release, arching so hard her toes curled and white hot spots bloomed in her vision. Every muscle in her body was taut and she felt nothing, was nothing but the pleasure rolling through her.

Emerie sat up the very first moment she was able, reaching for Mor to put her in her lap, their legs tangled, bodies rocking together and Emerie kissed Mor hungrily. She could taste her own arousal on Mor’s mouth, her tongue chasing after it greedily. 

Emerie slid her hand between their bodies, delighted to feel Mor was practically dripping wet.

“You don’t have–”

“Please?” Was all Emerie could think to say. She wanted to reciprocate like she’d never wanted in her life. Mor kissed her again and again, each kiss sliding one to the other until Emerie was dizzy and needy again. Emerie forced herself to focus, repositioning them so it was Mor back against the pillows and Emerie straddling her body. 

Emerie could still feel the remnants of that orgasm throbbing through her, prompting her to rub against Mor even as she mimicked everything Mor had done. Feyer was clumsier, too needy to be half as sensual as Mor had been. Still, Mor whined when Emerie reached for a nipple, rolling it between her fingers until it was stiff and rosy red. The same color as Mor’s lipstick stained mouth. 

Emerie experimented, grazing her teeth just a little. Mor moaned, eyes rolling upwards in her skull as her body undulated against Emerie’s. It was enough to keep Emerie going, to suck and nip and lick until Mor was practically panting, her tanned skin flushed the prettiest shade of pink.

Every inch of Mor was a dream—smooth, lush curves were soft beneath Emerie’s wandering hands. She marveled as she slid lower and lower, suddenly eye level with Mor’s glistening, pink pussy. 

Fuck she was beautiful. 

Emerie stared a beat too long before she couldn’t stop herself from spreading Mor open wider, parting to truly look.

“Is this what you want?” Emerie whispered.

“Please,” came Mor’s trembling reply. That was the confidence Emerie needed to lower her mouth and take that first taste. 

It was nothing like she’d imagined and better than she’d ever expected. Her whole body lit up at the musky sweetness of Mor’s body and the way Mor’s thighs trembled around Emerie’s head. Emerie enthusiastically swiped again, licking only for herself in that first moment. Just to know, to become accustomed to the wet, slick, soft feel of Mor’s pussy and how it made her own body feel.

Her arousal sharpened when Mor dragged her long nails over Emerie’s scalp, holding her hair while watching with intensely dark eyes. Emerie focused, thinking of what Mor had done for her. She swirled her tongue over the trembling nub of flesh and was rewarded with a breathy, “Oh God, don’t stop.” As if Emerie could. She replicated what Mor had done with her finger, pushing just against the opening of her pussy and circling, her tongue steady and hot. Mor writhed against her face, coating her in the slick release building in her body. And when Mor came with a breathy cry, Emerie felt it reverberate in her chest. 

It was Mor who reached for her this time, dragging her up to lay on her side so they could press their bodies against the other and kiss. Emerie tangled her arms around Mors neck while Mor caressed her face, their combined release erotic in Emerie’s mouth. Nothing had ever tasted better and she found herself wanting Mor again just as soon as she caught her breath.

Mor leaned her arm over the edge of the bed, picking up Emerie’s ugly shirt. “Can I have this?” she asked, mascara smeared just beneath her eyes.

“Why?”

“It smells like you,” Mor said, pressing the fabric against her nose. “And I think it's funny.”

Propping her head up on her fist, Emerie smiled. “Is that all it takes? One bad shirt?”

“What can I say,” Mor replied, pressing a kiss to Emerie’s cheek. “I’m easy.”

Emerie only smiled.  

[eatspit-mp3]

I really love going home during my lunch break to play with myself until I’m spent. I only have an hour and my commute is about 20 minutes in both directions so I end up with 15 minutes to get off but it’s worth it. I usually go back still very worked up and then spend the rest of the day thinking about how wet I still am.

It makes me feel so sexy coming back knowing I just came my brains out, practically moaning every time I pass over a bump in the road bc I’m still so sensitive and when I get back my coworkers don’t even know. That just an hour ago I was spread out on my bed driving my favorite vibe in and out of my tight virgin cunt, abusing my little clit until I squirt: They don’t know I can still feel the wetness in my panties from how turned on I still am and how much I’d rather be fucking myself than talking to them.

I don’t think I have enough time today, but I wish I did. I thought I’d have time to fuck myself silly yesterday and didn’t. I will make the pit stop at home to make sure my toys are all charged up and ready for me bc after a stressful day the best feeling is playing with my pussy until I forget all about this stupid office