#fics 😭

[mandumandy]

Achilles - H.Yunjin

Sypnosis: Throughout their whole lives, Yunjin has adored her Patroclus.

Tags: fluff, mentions of mythology, mentions of Song Of Achilles, just Yn being stupid and Yunjin being a simp

Pairing: Nonidol!Yunjin x Nonidol!Reader:

Authors Note: I tried to write like madeline miller (it didnt work)

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Yn always loved dawn.

Its steady crimson painting of the horizon brings a certain warmth to yn, one that only its vanquishing of darkness can bring, and its pastel aftermath deemed it as the sole guardian of her happiness.

Until Yunjin.

Yn was 10 when she first met yunjin. Stiff and uncomfortable, she remembered stuffing herself in the corner of the classrom nose-deep in a book. Her eyes squinted with concentration, and a small pout donned her face as she struggled to read the words under the flourescent lighting.

She had no friends, not that she needed them. The worlds she read about were enough—worlds where heroes loved and fought, where people were grander, braver than anything in reality.

As usual, The Song Of Achilles was clutched tightly in her hand.

Even though the book was not meant for her age, due to a innaprorpiate scene (Yn always skips her part so that in her mothers words, “She could keep her innocence”), but she loved it nonetheless. The descriptions of Achilles’ brillliant skill and Patroclus’ steady devotion blew her away with amazement. As she flips page to page, her intense glare starts to lessen, and she almost feels better.

As if.

Until a voice, bright and sudden, shattered her peace.

“Is that The Song Of Achilles?”

There, between the wide array of books, stood a girl.

Her hair a deep muted brown that was identical to the oak of the library Yn loved so much. Her doed eyes, though also brown, held a different form of warmth, one that drew her in at an instant. Her cheeks were round and slightly chubby, having a sense of childishness to them that was almost cute.

It was strange to see this girl among the books she loved so much, how she seemingly erased them from sight with Yn’s sight with a single question.

Yn bit her lip, the familiar sting grounding her in the present. Yet, beneath the sharpness, there was a restlessness—a ripple in her otherwise steady world, a world that Yunjin, with her radiant curiosity, had already begun to disturb.

“Yn bit down on her lip, feeling the brief sting pull her back into the present, grounding her in her discomfort. 'Yes…' The word lingered in the air, fragile, before she could catch it. 'It’s my favorite book—one of them, at least.' The girl’s gaze held fast, each word Yn spoke sinking deep into her like roots seeking water.

Yn felt, for the first time in a long while, the weight of someone listening, truly listening. It was almost enough to make her want to say more, to let the words spill, but her pride stopped her.

She would not yield.

Really?' There was a flicker in Yunjin’s eyes, something like the dawn she loved so much. Soft and patient, waiting.

It was almost god-like.

It unnerved Yn how open her expression was, unguarded and full of hope.

That openness felt like an invitation, and in it, Yn sensed the edge of vulnerability that made her…scared.

'…yes.' The word slipped out like a confession. As if summoned, Yunjin stepped closer, her presence warm like the hazy setting of the horizon as it creeped across the room.

Yn watched, helpless, as the girl settled beside her, limbs unfolding with the lazy grace of a mountain lion at rest. There was something disarming about Yunjin—something that softened the edges of Yn’s usual defenses, making the tightness in her shoulders ebb away. What spell did this girl put on her?

“Who’s your favourite in the book?” The words seemed to come naturally to Yn this time, tumbling out before she could stop them. She bit her bottom lip, almost also in intervening from any more questions from spilling as the girl pursed her lip in thought.

“I like….Achilles.” A small smile appeared on the girls face, one seemingly brimming with satisfation at her answer.

“Achilles?”

“Oh.”

Achilles, the brilliant, the fast, the genius. Yn noted how the girl’s vibrant presence seemed to echo the character's brilliance. In that moment, she couldn’t help but see something of him in the way Yunjin smiled, unshakable and bright, like the sun.”

Yn tilted her head slightly, her gaze narrowing as the girl’s smile broadened. The soft light from the dim lamps barely reached them, yet Yunjin seemed to carry her own radiance, something that, despite her hesitance, drew Yn in.

“My name is Yunjin! Im new here.” the girl announced, her eyes crinkling with a warmth that Yn couldn’t even pretend to have.

So this was the new girl everyone was talking about, the one that was “bound to become the new popular kid”.

“That’s so pretty!”

So why was she here?

“What’s yours?” Yunjin once again questioned, blinking as she watched the girl flinch.

“….Yn.”

Yn avoided her gaze as she bit her lip nervously.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

Yn peered at Yunjin, searching for any hint of mockery, but found none. Instead, Yunjin’s grin only widened.

Why was this girl so simple?

“We should be friends.” ”Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Huh.

As she looked back at her pages, a familiar warmth settled in her chest.

For the first time in a long while, the dawn seemed a little brighter.

Yn felt a smile creep up her lips.

In the summer they turned 16 Yn’s classmates prediction proved correct. It was as though the world had been waiting to notice her, and when it finally did, her popularity skyrocketed.

But Yunjin had help.

With Yunjin’s constant sunshine and laughter, Yn was now labelled as her silent but steady companion. Known for her devoted nature, Yn’s cat-eyed stares kept their followers at bay, always remaining at least 3 meters away from them. (Im canadian, sue me)

But now matter how intimidating she tried to seem, it seemed some fans would always slip through.

Yn leaned foward on board surrounding the volleyball court, watching as Yunjin got surrounded by students.

It was a breaktime before the second set, and she watched as Yunjin grinned at her disciples, toothy and goofily shaking the hands reached out to touch her, as if she was a god.

Yn rolled her eyes, before leaning into the boards even more to get her attention.

Yn raised a hand in a wave, and, without hesitation, Yunjin ran forward, tearing through the crowd like a hungry animal. She wrapped Yn in an embrace that was as fierce as it was sudden, her arms tight, almost crushing, around her. The way she gave so much of herself without holding back was slightly overwhelming, but it felt nice.

It felt like Yunjin.

In the press of Yunjin’s body against hers, in the unchecked joy that radiated from her, Yn felt a breath of something warm in her chest.

“Hi.” She heard the the taller girl whisper, pressing her face into Yn’s neck as she pulled her impossibly closer.

“You’re choking me.” Yn grumbled, her voice muffled.

“Oopsies.” Unwinding herself, Yunjin still kept her arms around Yn’s waist as she observed her outfit.

Yn remembered the day Yunjin had gotten into their team. Her excited banging on her door and she engulfed her with giggles. Yn remembers being thrown a black jersey with a bright number 10, and Yunjin’s anticipated blinks.

“Please wear it to our games.” She remembered Yunjin pleading, avoiding her gaze as she intertwiend their fingers together in desperation.

So, she wore it to the game this afternoon.

“You’re staring.”

“Oh.”

Yunjin’s gaze was unwavering, her eyes tracing the contours of Yn’s jersey with a soft smile. “You look…” She hesitated, then added, “Good.”

Yn snorted lightly. “Litearlly everyone’s wearing the same exact jersey, ‘ace’.” She teased slightly, using the nickname the crowd seemed to love.

“Still, yours is…” She didnt need to finish that sentence. They both knew.

“Whatever.” Yn peeked out a smile, grabbing Yunjin’s attention in a flash.

Suddenly, the coach blew their whistle noisily, causing the two to jump slightly.

Yn snickred as Yunjin muttered slightly, seemingly frustrated at their moment being interrupted.

“You smiled too!” Yunjin groaned as she slumped over, pouting.

“I’m still going to watch.” Yn pushed the girl gently, rolling her eyes in amusement.

“Go on, win for me ‘ace’.” Yn watched as the girl blinked, processing her sentence, before flushing a dark red and nodding furiously.

“Bet.”

As the girl jumped over the board and made her way to the net, a new determination in her, Yn sighed slightly as she leaned back.

She watched as Yunjin readied herself, the concentration in her eyes was something not even Yn could created. Yn never admitted it, but something about this side of Yunjin made her smile.

Its silence, its waiting.

She watched as the volleyball smashed through, as the setter drew herself to prepare.

Yunjin took back steps percisely, something that always amazed her. Its accuracy, its power.

Yn knew it all too well.

Yunjin suddenly stumbled, waking Yn from her trance. The opponents paused, confusion obvious in their expression, but they should have known better.

Yn should have known better.

Just then, a jump, and a tap.

Yunjin feinted the ball, and the crowd was silent as the ball dropped.

There was no stumble, no clumsyness in her actions.

Yunjin, just like Achilles always did, used the ever so trickable human error against the other team.

Yn blinked. Even from within their childhood to now, Yn has never seen Yunjin trip. The way she walked, ran, did anything, was always so smooth, it was like gliding.

It was almost unreal.

The crowd cheered.

As they locked eyes, Yunjin pointed at her with a beam.

“This is for you.” Yunjin mouthed, drawing her lips up to a childish grin.

As always, there was no taunting in her words. In her eyes, full of affection and victory, help something behind its layers of joy.

Yn bit her lip, torn between Yunjin’s contagious delight and her confusion.

The question lingered in her mind, one that stayed until night:

Why did Yunjin like her so much?

Strayed romances and beloved heartbreaks seemed to wage like war, cupids arrows flying wildly and Yn and Yuniin stayed in their sanctuary.

Yn closed her eyes, enjoying the hushed raindrops that surrounded Yunjin’s room. As always, her lifetime companion laid beside her, eyes concentrated on the blurry tv screen.

As part of their routine, Yunjin was watching mean girls on the shitty television, one they had bought at a garage sale with their combined budget.

Yn rolled her eyes as Yunjin giggled at Regina George’s song, kicking her feet as if in love. “At this point i should just break this television.” Yn scoffed, squinting her eyes at Yunjin’s romantic admiration.

“You wouldnt understand my love for her.” Yunjin pouted, widening her mouth at love as she shaped a heart with her fingers. Yn gagged, pushing the girl away with a sneer as Yunjin laughed.

Suddenly, a call came from outside. “Yunjin!”

Yunjin groaned slightly, before throwing the blanket off herself with a huff.

“I’ll be back.” She mumbles, before shutting the door behind her.

As Yunjin was off, Yn glanced around her room. Despite being more in Yunjin’s room than her own, there was always a feeling the lighting and plants gave off that seemed to relax Yn.

Due to Yunjins bubbly and loud personality, Yn always thought that her room would be extremely messy and out-of-place.

However, looking at the room’s decoration, it felt nothing like that.

Yes, the room was slightly tumbled around, with its off centre paintings covering the walls, but it felt sharp, calm, real.

It felt like Yunjin.

Slipping out of bed, she made way to the small bookshelf in Yunjin’s corner, one full of different books that both she and Yn collected throughout the summers. Tracing her fingers across the books spines, she stopped at a specific title. The Song Of Achilles. Pulling the book out gently, Yn observed how the book seemed weared down. Between the yellowing pages were different labels and highlights, but the condition of the paper seemed to be fully taken care of, as if every page was traced with love.

Yunjin always seemed to do that.

As she flipped through the pages, she paused slightly, tilting her head slightly as a bright yellow flashed by. Stopping at the page, she squinted. On the page, underneath a pink highlight of the word love, stuck a bright yellow note, vandalized by Yunjin’s messy handwriting. On it, it read:

“Yn makes me feel this…i hope i can make her feel it too”

A breathe,

A blink.

In the comfort of Yunjins room, with it’s fairy lights and over-the-place positioning, her heart squeezed. It was a slight feeling, but one, despite its small clench, that changed Yn.

In her smiles and eye crinkles, in her goofy humor, in her doe-eyed observation, Yn found something.

In Yunjin, Yn found love.

A small grin made its way to Yunjin’s face as she flipped her page. The small tunes of a song played behind them, and, with that, hushed rain as well.

As time flew by, Yunjin, being the puppy she is, followed Yn to university. She remembered her eye-crinkling grin as she pushed open Yn’s door (as usual) to celebrate getting in, only to get the alchohol in her hand to get thrown out Yn’s window.

Now, the duo made an effort to re-enter their usual routine. (Wihtout the shitty television this time)

Yn sighed slightly, lying on her bed as she glanced around her room.

Despite being at the university for 2 years already, the dorm was fairly clean. Even with Yunjin’s begging, Yn refused to share a dorm with her. Mainly based on how overbearing she constantly was, but also because she probably couldnt handle living with a girl she was in love with.

However, as always, Yunjin rammed down her door with popcorn and books, demanding to hang out.

That was how it came to now, how, even though she was supposed to be taking a nap, Yn now found herself entangled in Yunjin’s attention-seeking whines.

“Yn?” Yunjin’s voice called, snapping her back to the present.

“Hm?” Yn hummed, putting her arm over her eyes to cover the light (yunjin) hovering over her.

“What do you think would be the perfect confession?”

Yn’s breathe hitched.

Refusing to let herself overthink, Yn pursed her lip in thought.

“Mm…a bouquet of flowers and and a hi.” Yn smiled, Yunjin’s graceful charm bugging the back of her mind.

“Really?”

Then, without warning, Yunjin rose quickly to her feet, her movements a blur of speed. Before Yn could fully register what was happening, Yunjin was halfway to the door, her fiery spirit always one step ahead.

“Wait!” Just before Yunjin rushed through the door, Yn managed to grab the skin of her sweater, furrowing her brows in annoyance.

“Its pouring outside, where are you going to go in this weather?” She panted.

“Emergency.” Yunjin said, her grin lopsided and full of mischief, the kind of smile that made Yn’s heart breathe everytime.

Then, before she could respond, Yn felt the door click.

“Where did Yunjin go?” Ryujin, her dormmate called from the kitchen.

“Only god knows.” Yn grumbled under her breath, slumping back to her bedroom to clean up the mess Yunjin made in her hurry.

A few hours later, Yn was taking care of her billion plants. As usual, they were all from Yunjin, who decided to ruin Yn’s peace with another horrific task that took hours. But, when she saw her raw joy and brilliant smile, she couldnt refuse.

Walking by all the plants, she fiddled with their leaves and stems, gently handling the blooming flowers as she fed them water.

Just as she was watering the last one, one Yunjin demanded to call Patro (for patroclus) near the entrance, the door swung open, revealling a soggy Yunjin. Yn gasped as she took her in, her usual fiery red hair now in wet strands that were damp and low. In her clenched fist, a bouquet of flowers sprung open, seemingly dry compared to the person.

Yn looked in Yunjin’s eyes, slight hesitance showing through despite the amount of hope she conveyed.

Her hair, her eyes her smile, all things that belonged to Yunijn and Yunjin only.

“Hi.” Yunjin breathed.

But Yunjin’s heart?

Yunjin’s heart was hers.

Her Achilles.

Her dawn.

Yn always loved dawn.

[yeagrave]

T4T, my beloved

[paintedcrows]

Had a silly thought about hypothetical cat curse shenanigans with @dark-lord-of-awesomeness's How to Cat Burglar a Family ;)

Bonus doodle!!

[crazywolf828]

To all my writers who have a tough time with smut terms and not knowing which ones to use, I have found the holy grail for us.

This reddit user, who I've recently found out is @kjscottwrites here on tumblr, took a poll of 3,500 people and went really in depth with asking their favorite terminology, along with actual pie charts on what the readers preferred to see in their smut.

Check out their post with the link to the Google doc here!

[peanutheadedshenanigans]

[tomatohorse]

Fanart for Echoes by doctortrekkie !!!

I’ve read the whole series so far but I wanted to at least draw something for Infected 🚦might maybe draw more if I get around to it!

(Also, in case you can’t tell, the three sections are supposed to represent each coloured life—e.g green section with the grass, yellow section with scar, red section with dogwarts)

[wonderthor]

dangerous and domestic sukuna🥺🥺

he’s a notorious man in the yakuza. always hunts and kills whoever his boss tells him to. everyone in the underground world is scared of him, and even those that are not usually are as well, with his tattoos all over his body and constantly bruised and scarred knuckles from beating information out of his victims.

but somehow, you’re not. although you’re so innocent you probably wouldn’t know a murderer if you see one. even though you know nothing about his work, yet notice the way others cower in fear around him. you’re not scared of him at all.

maybe it’s the way he comes home, quietly walking into the house and coming up to you. giving you a small, sweet smile as he ruffles your hair or pets your head. let’s out a gruff, “hey sweetheart,” before kissing you on your head. maybe that’s why you don’t understand how dangerous he is. i mean, how could he be? when he comes home and looks at you like you’re the sun that is the center of his world. even though he looks at everyone else like their existence alone bothers him sometimes.

and sometimes he cooks dinner when he comes home. you can’t argue with him on that, he’s surprisingly a great cook. you hand him the plates for him to put the food on and place them nicely on the table. and even though most couples like to sit across from each other, you like to sit next to him and eat while your head rests on his shoulder. when you sit next to him and place your silverware next to the plates, he looks down at you for a minute and grabs your chin to make you face him. for a moment, all you do is stare at each other, studying each other’s face.

“hey, you know you’re mine right?”

it catches you off guard, but you smile back up at him anyway.

“yes sukuna, i know. you tell me all the time.”

he chuckles down at you, moving his hand to softly rub along on your cheek.

“yeah well i just want to make sure you know it, and never forget.”

you kiss his hand when it makes its way to your lips.

“yeah well, i’ll never forget. i’ll always be yours.”

he stares down at you again, darker this time, before clearing his throat and moving to eat his dinner.

“alright baby, eat your dinner before it gets cold.”

you giggle and follow his actions, eating your dinner and dropping your head on his shoulder where it belongs.

[likesomeoneinlovee]

𝐈 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Dbf!Joel Miller x F!reader

Summary: Joel has had a ‘crush’ on you for a long time now and will make sure no man gets in the way of that.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: PW[with]P- kinda. Reader is not legal to drink but still legal. Polite reader just trying to not be a bitch while dealing with a pervy old man! Joel has a crush on you, a BIG one. Bro gets so mad he gets a boner. Mutual touching he drives, daddy stuff, a teeny bit of spanking & nipple play, unprotected PIV, tummy bulge, aftercare for once wow!! Part 2 planned [ will be smuttier once im not sick ] no beta,

A/N: ANON REQ!! (you know who u are and here’s my take on a bit of a jealous Joel) I would've done way more smut if I didn’t have a high fever rn + writers block 😵‍💫! so VERY rushed.

No man should covet a woman he doesn’t own. 

And you weren’t his. 

Your daddy would make sure you would never be. 

Joel tells himself that. Over and over again, the only prayer in his head, the hymn he lives by ever since you’ve been staying with him per your father’s request. You yourself slowly recognizing Joel’s patterns of life. As he wakes up he takes pills for his headaches, swallowing them dry without a blink. His body is accustomed to the feeling. Every Saturday he’d take a weekly drive to the liquor store to stock up on the much needed provisions to his day-to-day routines. Booze, in much less dramatic terms. 

Your father was out of state for work forcing you to settle up with Joel for a couple of months, the only man your father would allow you to actually be around. In fear of you doing something bad. Bad as in… Sex? You could only assume that’s what your darling daddy meant. 

A rocky relationship in the cruel reality. 

Joel’s home. It was livable, there isn’t much to say when it’s the house of a man who’s been living alone twenty years. Indications of life scattered upon furniture the only real telltale signs that someone actually lives there. Coffee table littered with rings from mugs he’d simply leave for too long, the way the worn, vomit-colored green couch sags in the middle. Any prints that were on the buttons of the TV remote had been rubbed off by pressing around them, the last time he had gotten a new television was probably going on fifteen years now. Sad. Truly and utterly sad. 

Then you came along. 

Remnants of your liveliness woven into the once so dreary place. Something as so simple as a hair tie left on the counter, the very vague scent of perfume you left lingering in the small space of the bathroom every time you’d leave it. Now at night he’d walk past the second bedroom of his home that had been left unused, once depressed and dark, had the warm glow of your lamp being left on, leaking through the gap between the door and the floor. The littlest things.

Joel pretends not to notice. 

Though, he does. 

He notices the way you hum so very quietly the times you’re obligated to cook your own breakfast. How you pull your knees up onto the couch when you sit. Rolling your eyes at him every time he’d vexingly tell you to make sure to lock the front door when you came in. You listened. 

You’re too comfortable here. Too at ease. 

And what’s worse is he was getting used to it.

He’s not your fuckin’ father. He’s not your keeper. He’s just the man your daddy trusted well enough to take care of you when he was gone. Sorry excuse for a babysitter all the while you weren’t a baby. An adult who can well take care of herself. Only agreed because he wouldn’t want you to discover how he’s been living for practically twenty years by being alone for two months. The dark quietness of a home when it was just you there. 

He told himself it would be easy. Two months. He’d keep his distance. 

It’s almost impossible. The way you made him feel was sickening. You’re always around. Sinking deep into the couch, marveling in whatever boring sitcom would play on the box of blue light that flickered throughout the room. How you’d take sips from his beer just to tease, wrinkle your nose at the taste deep down you liked. Making your tongue buzz. You were making yourself at home in a place that was never meant to be yours. 

The only thing that worsened it for Joel is that you were so blissfully unaware of what you were doing to him. 

He thought the hardest part of this arrangement would be keeping you out of trouble. Your father acting like if he was gone you’d fall apart as a person. Be out partying or fuckin’ every night. Far from the truth. Laying so contently home every night.

Coming back to reality, the hardest part was keeping himself out of it. 

It’s the way you’d walk around his house in whatever you had slept in that night, no matter it be a tank-top and those tiny, plaid shorts that went up your ass. Appreciating the comfortability, though, he fucking hated it. You acted like you belonged there. 

Often he’s finding himself watching you too long, staring at the curve of your mouth while you speak, the plump of your lips as you stay entertained by the television with your face at a gentle rest. He was always seemingly gawked. 

Fifty-seven wasn’t the age to have crushes. 

And on Sunday’s, the day of the lord, of course. Joel Miller goes to the local bar.

Nighttime was surprisingly when the crowd died down. You were surprised to see that as you walked through the doors that sheltered the poorly kept saloon style establishment. Tables seated with older men closer to Joel’s age, some luckier than others to be accompanied by a woman. Smelled like stale beer and sweat which in reality was more disgusting than appealing. Loud breaks in the casual conversions of the crowd as pool balls clacked together. Rejoicing coming soon after. 

Usually you had something better to do on these nights. Going out with your friend’s always suffices though of course they canceled out today. Great, stuck with Mister Miller for a night of drinking all the while you weren’t allowed to let alcohol in your body at your age.He wouldn’t lie for you either, he was supposed to take care of you. Not turn you into the starts of an alcoholic. 

Torturous. Did the man want you to shoot yourself?

He led you through the slim pickings of a crowd there really was, hand grazing the small of your back to keep you close. Nothing more. Both sliding your bodies onto the leather tops of the barstools. Uncomfortability was the price to pay for the first hand of drinks. A squeak in your stool that no one had the patience to fix. 

“Whiskey.” The request sounded more like a plea from his lips. “Two.”

You knew the second one didn’t mean for you. 

Rubbing his temple as he flagged down the waitress. She was all too polite for what seemed to be the shittiest bar on earth. As if a small town in Texas would give you any better. Nodding her head in your direction. Your lips pursed as if ‘Beer” was gonna be the next thing to move past them. Though, you digressed. 

“Soda. I guess.” Joel gave a nod to you. Of course he approved of that action. Rubbing a hand over his jaw he sighed. Forgetting to take his pills this morning. Fuck, the throb behind his eye was something only the alcohol could numb by now. 

“You could’a stayed home.”

“Yeah, I could’ve.” You shrugged, admittedly so you rather be home- no. You rather be out with your friends as you were supposed to be tonight but in an act of such kindness, you came here with Joel. “Maybe I wanted to see why you liked this place so much.” It was a simple muse to him, though it did strike your curiosity. 

“Quickest bar from home. Quickest way to get drunk.” Curiosity met with an undeniably depressing answer. You were used to it by now. His lips pressed into a thin line. Once the barkeep came back she handed Joel his drinks, plural. As she also came with yours. Soda rimmed with ice. He picked up the first drink given, perspiration coating the glass. His thumb pressed against the cold lowball as he took the first sip. Heavy hot liquid sliding down his throat. Numbing him, his mind. Felt refreshed. 

You hum, stirring the ice in your soda in circles with your straw. He hears the clinking over the din of the bar. Louder than his own thoughts. 

You crossed your legs. Your thighs squishing together through the denim of your jeans, the material a bit loose on your body, a choice out of comfortability to buy baggier bell bottoms instead of the ones that hugged your ass tight. Drawing Joel’s eyes unintentionally.

Fuck this. 

He drags his palm down his face, trying to wipe away whatever the fuck he was feeling. It’s sickening for him. It’s so easy to not feel like this when it’s something so simple, so selfish as a one night stand, a whore he had paid to suck his cock. Different. Far different, especially since the last month he’s spent his time admiring the woman before him. You. The innocence in your eyes that served your beauty. It was this crawling under his skin he wanted to rip away from. 

So fucking vigilant on the scent of you, the sound of your voice, the way you shift ever so slightly closer to him as another group of men pass.

Joel breathes out slowly, averting his eyes to the sweet sight of you. 

The night goes on, the whiskey dulling the edges of restraint with every slow, steady sip. Slowly the place was growing on you, the night seemed to cool it down, less noise less chatter. Seems everyone needed to knock out a couple drinks before settling. You would’ve been happy to say the same if you were allowed to order that beer. You propped your chin in your palm, your elbow flat against the bartop avoiding any of the sticky substances that would coat some unfortunate patches of it. Your eyes scan throughout the place. Not much to take in, not much to see.

Though the slow deliberate movements draw the tiniest bit of attention from a table your eyes accidentally glance at for too long. Subtle but inevitable. 

Joel catches the way the men sitting at that table glance your way. The way you adjusted your body to once again sit straight up. Clearing your throat. 

And that’s when it starts. 

The first one wasn’t particularly bold about it. Just a flick of his gaze in your direction before returning to his minutes-til’-flat beer. The second man, greying, looks a little longer. Too closely. He nudges his friend, mutters something incoherent- something probably offensive to earn a laugh from him. Now he looked again.

Joel knows that look.

The kind that lingers for too long. That waits for an opening.

The kind that makes Miller’s teeth grind, his shoulders go rigid. His fingers slowly begin tightening around the glass of gold as he keeps his eyes forward. His eyes flutter just a bit to the left, seeing your smile. Trying to hide it by gently pressing your lips to the rim of your glass. Pretty pink lips. Before time heat is bubbling in his belly. Praying to god that was the fuckin’ whiskey. 

Those men are still watching. 

The next sip of booze doesn’t quite help as much as he’d want. It doesn’t smooth out the sharp edges of this feeling, the low simmering deep inside his pelvis. It keeps getting worse. 

He’s coming over. Walking with heavy legs. 

Joel sees it from the corner of his eyes, the way the man pushed back the chair, unhurriedly, sloppily walking straight towards you. From what Miller could gauge from the corner of his eye and what the wiry grey hairs covering the man’s beard told him is that he was older. Older as in his own age. Fifties either early or late. Joel wanted to die. Exhaling sharply, slamming down his glass a bit too hard. 

Muddled, you’d lift your head from your glass to look at Miller with an eyebrow cocked. And before you could even speak-

“Evenin’.” The man spoke.

You’d blindly blink at the man now standing beside your barstool. Startled for only a second before schooling your expression into something- polite. Something surely this man was undeserving of yet you really couldn’t help it. Instincts. 

“Hi.” Joel wouldn’t turn, wouldn’t acknowledge him. Not yet.  

“Can I help you?” You smiled, sweetly.

The man would lean in as expected. The strong smell of beer radiating off his breath. Open-mouthed ogling like a fucking dog. He was clearly absolutely wasted. Just those words were an absolute understatement. 

“Is this your daddy?” Of course he’d say that. Gesturing to Joel who was looking straight on before he turned a glance to the man, his eyes slits as he glared. Understandable. If you weren’t trying to give this man the benefit of the doubt you’d be glaring too. This guy was undeniably a fucking dick.  

“No- no,” You’d giggle. “My babysitter.”

You didn’t like how your mind and soul was making you act, unfortunate your internal instincts were to be tooth-achingly sweet in public.

You wanted to die. 

“S’my lucky day, huh?” You’d blink again. Silence as if the man had stole all the thoughts from your head- not in the good way. 

“No. Not- not quite.” 

You’d laugh, trying your best to brush it off. The man should go away soon. Probably just mistaking you for something you’re not while you’re here trying your best to avoid something awkward. Joel’s jaw clenched. 

“Well,” He hushed. A finger twirled into one of your soft locks. Your body tensing as you kept up another nervous giggle– you were only egging him on more. “I just wanted to see you up close.”

“She ain’t interested.” Miller told the truth with that. You weren’t and you were further from interested. Though the nervous, dumb smile on your lips told the fuckin’ pervert otherwise. 

“She didn’t tell me that.” He pushed. “I’d much rather hear that from your mouth, sweetie.”

You hesitated, your lips parted though words weren’t falling. Refusing. Alas, Joel Miller reached his breaking point. 

He popped up from his stool as he moved over to the guy. The greying man hesitated at the sight, of course. He wasn’t gonna be the kinda man to get his ass beat over something fucking stupid. Though, Joel was willing to beat his ass for your sake. 

A long beat of silence through the access chatter swimming around the bar enters the space between you, Joel and this sad fuckin’ man. 

Joel doesn’t blink.

He doesn’t breathe. 

He just stares. 

The man exhales a chuckle, deep down he didn’t want to walk out of here with a broken nose for flirting with a girl he wanted to fuck. A girl he thought was alone, dumb enough to possibly join him and his sad excuses for friends sitting around his table.

“Didn’t mean any trouble, pal.” He threw his palms up in a mock surrender though, he didn’t mean it. That’s what that beer was for afterall. Stepping back only an inch, letting the hair that was between his fingers fall back to your shoulder. 

“Just bein’ friendly.” 

Joel didn’t answer, why should he? The man let out a scoff as he walked back to his table with his tail between his legs. That was good. All Miller could do was sigh. His shoulders still at unease as he sat back down on the bar stool. Your heart at a slow thump against your ribs. 

You knew deep down that really, you were fine with that. Sure that man was a cuck, sure, you were uncomfortable, but you also knew yourself and you knew if that man would have touched anything else other than the tip of your hair. Oh fuck. He would’ve been gone.

Or– would he? 

It doesn’t shake the feeling that Joel was annoyingly protective if that was the right word for it. That man wasn’t your dad. He didn’t need to stick up for you.

He never did. 

He ran a palm down his face –again– he couldn't take the way he was around you. 

“Ohh, what the fuck.”

He was tired of this.

Goddamn if that happened a month ago chances are he wouldn’t have done anything other than roll his eyes and tell the fucker to go jerk off somewhere else but– oh my god did Joel wish he was the one that close to you. Breathing you in. 

Of course, you weren’t a random woman at a bar.

If only he had enough balls to speak to you. 

Pent up hormones ready to blow out of him every moment he was around you. He was too fucking old for this. 

Too fucking old.

If he felt the rush of blood to his cock one more time this night he was gonna–

Joel was already moving by now. Already shoving back from the bar, the scream of the stool leg against the glazed wooden floor of this god forbidden place made you inherently flinch. His jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking as he reaches for his wallet, tossing a few bills onto the counter without counting. He didn’t fucking care about the act of either over-paying or under-paying right now. He had one, sinfully unfortunate thing on his mind. 

He knew he’d never do it. 

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinkin’ it.

Then his hand was on your wrist.

Grasping.

Firm. Unyielding. 

“C’mon.” He gritted. “Time to go, baby.” 

That was a new one. The name melting of his tongue like an instinct.

His grip was tight. Breathing hitched at the feeling of the grip. He was lucky it didn’t hurt. It was enough to make it clear he needed to get out of there. The reason wasn’t clear. It could be innocent on his part: he didn’t want you in a space where old men are looking at you. Ogling you like a slab of fuckin’ meat. 

His real reason was sickening. 

“Joel– c’mon!”

You’d whine, maybe you had a good reason to stay. Maybe you were just being defiant. 

Typical, like a child.

He didn’t give you time to finish.

The bar stool nearly topples as he pulls you up. Stumbling in the boots you were wearing. Tugging you in tightly to stand beside him. He was tensed, heat radiating off his body like a goddamn furnace. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t speak as if there was a point to. Nothing he said got through to you anyways. He just moves.

People are watching. Who wouldn’t? 

Your pulse spikes as you catch the amused glances throughout the pub. Folks who weren’t looking before now blinking. Causing a scene. Again, 

You. Wanted. To. Die. 

And to make it all better Joel’s eyes rip to the table those men from earlier were sitting at. The ones who eyed you. That same man who had harassed you muttering something to his friend beside him. Fuck. 

He thought he couldn’t get any more pissed. 

His palm covered his lips with no way to read. The music playing throughout the room covered any sounds of a hushed whisper into another man’s ear.

Though, Joel is pivoting. 

His grip on you released as he took a heavy-footed stomp over to that table. He frowned. He wanted to kill them. He would if he could. “What the fuck did you just say?”

“Jesus Christ, man.” One of the men mused. Of course, Joel Miller was just another sorry excuse of a man to them. “You don’t give it up do you.” Your babysitter wasn’t intimidating in a setting like this. To a man drunk as a fuckin’ skunk sitting with a bunch of men who reeked of the same stench. 

Joel doesn’t move.

He goes to walk away. No. There was absolutely no point in doing anything.

You could’ve heard a pin drop.

“All I said is that if I were you I would’ve fucked her by now.” No. Nope that was it.

A quick turn back around and Joel had slammed his fist into the man’s face. Heavy handed. Joel’s knuckles cracking with the impact in the same note as the man’s nose. 

“Fuck!!!” The man cried. It was well deserved. Why would Joel let a man talk to his–

You weren’t his.

Miller couldn’t breathe in the moment. His breathing ragged, watching the blood quickly drip out the man’s nostrils. God was it satisfying.

Your stomach plummets. You can confidently say you’ve never heard a man yell like that. Before the next tick of epinephrine hits Joel his hand now runs to your waist instead. Pushing you out the doors before running into the parking lot.

Holy fucking shit.

The air of the night hit you like a bucket of ice quickly. Suddenly you were regretting only wearing a thin hoodie with a tank top underneath. Joel was dragging you to his truck, practically throwing you into shotgun. 

Slamming the door to your side.

He rounds the front quickly. Pulling open the driver’s side as he slid into the seat. You swore you could hear the way his breath shudders in his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he pulls his seatbelt over his body– safety first, right? 

The truck was suffocating. Too small. Too fucking warm. 

You lick your lips, tasting salt. Your nerves were shot to hell. “Jesus Christ, Joel.”

He frowned. Fist on the shifter before pulling it into drive. He was speeding away, far away from that bar. Yeah, that one punch may had ruined his personal ‘holy day’ for a good while. If him and that man are ever in the same room again most likely one of them is getting there shit rocked and Joel worries that next time it may be him. 

He doesn’t necessarily wanna take that chance. All because of something so FUCKING stupid.

He doesn’t speak. Nothing to say on his part as for you– too stunned to say anything. You had no understanding of why Joel Miller of all people, of all the men you know was acting like this. His fists balled against the steering wheel. Knuckles turning pale. Ghostly. 

“Fuck.” 

He broke the silence with a curse. He was mad. At least, he sounded so. The growl in his voice masked the need. He could feel every twist, every coil in his gut. All because of you.

He can’t keep hiding it. 

“You’re makin’ me so fuckin’ crazy, baby.”

The smell of hard booze on his breath impregnated your nose. Slowly beginning to understand the acts in the bar. “That wasn’t me trying to flirt.” You quickly retorted. That was the honest truth that you’d be abiding by. You were too nervous to do anything except giggle like a dumbass so that’s what you did.

“I can’t help the fact I try to be polite. Even if they’re verging sexual harassment.” 

You’d try to keep it light hearted with a quip. Joel didn’t laugh. Pursing his lips into a line before speaking. It only pissed him off more.

“Not what I’m sayin’.”

You breathe. What the hell did this man want from you if it wasn’t some reasoning from your lips? The road was wet, asphalt glistening with a sheen of rain making light reflect easily off like a mirror. As Joel turned his brights on to properly see through the dark road that light reflected into the truck. The formally dark truck.

Your gaze was pulled to his lap. An accident at first but–

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

His cock would writhe against the tightening denim of his jeans. If that didn’t tell you enough you didn’t know what would. 

Joel’s hands flex against the wheel, the veins in his hands popping.

“Whatever you say, M’not fuckin, jealous.”

No no, he was.

And the tension rolling off of him is suffocating, filling the small front space of the truck like a thick fog. Choking you. You could almost still feel the touch he left on you. The phantom of his fingertips that had branded your skin only a few minutes ago now.

He wanted you to touch him and it wasn’t a secret anymore. 

You reached your hand out to place on his thigh. The way his teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip. Yeah, he fucking needed this. You felt your own stomach bloom with heat as your fingertips just barely scathed the denim of his jeans. You were just so close. Closer than you’ve ever been. And if this is something to forever be forbidden,

For all you know this could be as close as you’ll ever be. 

He adjusted his hips. Spreading his legs as if to coax you, as if to tell you this is the right thing. Maybe it was too vague. He took a hand off the wheel as he began soothing more into things. His shoulders finally relaxed as he took a long. Deep breath in. Then out. His fingertips danced along the crotch of your own jeans. Pressing the pad of his middle against your extremely clothed clit, muscle memory of where he knew it was.

He knew.

It was that touch that made your legs wanna buckle. Your cunt clench. 

Your palm soothed up his thigh as he focused on the road. Eyes adjusting, focusing. While his cock focused all by himself. Finally your smaller hand went to the tent in his jeans. Taking your pointer and tracing a line up the curve of the bulge. Wooing a twitch from him. His finger pushed harder into your clothed heat. Rewarding him in your first gasp of the night. 

“Jesus, baby. Soon enough I’ll be the one with the broken nose.”

A jest like that was hard to process currently. 

“What do you mean-?” 

Joel takes his hand away from between your legs just for a second to turn the radio on. Very very low, some old 80’s rock song came on. The background noise almost calming.

“Your daddy.” He’d grunt. “If he ever knew I was touchin’ you–”

“I know. My mouth is shut.”

It was a promise. A promise as your palm slipped beneath his belt.

Home sweet home.

Once the front door was closed the exchanges between your mouths were all teeth and tongue. Messy, sloppy. No shortage of drool dribbling down either of your chins. His fingers latching around the hem of your tank top as he pulled it over your head. No bra. Less work for him. 

It was like clockwork how his big, rough hands scooped under your thighs to grab you, pick you up with a strained grunt ripping from his chest. He couldn’t remember a time where his cocks been this hard. He could almost completely promise that it’s never been. It was heavy and once his jeans were pulled down it was hanging heavy, loose in his boxers. Though his flannel stayed on. Unbuttoned, fabric framing his tummy and bare, soft chest. 

You laid on his bed, splayed upon his blankets like a goddess as you awaited for him to finishing taking his clothes off. But he just couldn’t fuckin’ wait. The sight of you laying there, helpless. Those pretty, lace panties he wanted to rip off with his teeth made his brain turn to mush. He crawled on top of you, leaning down to place a hot kiss on your throat as his hands moved down to your ass. 

“Don’t got time to take you over the knee, baby.”

This sentence came with a squeeze to the soft flesh of your ass. Flipping you over belly-down with his fingers tangled in your hair. Face stuffed into the pillow.

His hand came down firm on your lace clad ass. Watching the thickness of the skin ripple. 

Again. Harder.

You let out a sharp whine at the feeling. Each left with a stinging buzz that lingered within the plush skin. You were addicted. Though, what was fun for a moment was soon boring for Mister Miller, his cock in a painful state in the confines of his boxers. Feeling like he was gonna burst any good moment now. 

But were you ready?

He flipped you back on your back in a sinfully quick motion. One of his practiced, old hands laid flat against your stomach before slipping down beneath the lace of your panties, hooking a finger to the side before pulling them down. They were damp. That just wouldn’t suffice for him. His finger tested the waters, how gluey, slick your folds were. Taking what was currently dripping out of your hole and spreading it around like a glaze. 

He dipped his head down into your sternum, his lips pressing firmly against the skin there before he deliberately moved to one of your tits. Brushing the pad of his thumb across the already hard nipple before taking it between his teeth. 

“Fuck-! Joel-”

Funny, when you touched yourself you weren’t nearly this loud. 

This sensitive. 

The tip of his tongue swirled around the bud, it was smooth against his tongue. Warmer than your skin. His hips dug down deep into his own mattress. Mussing the blankets beneath both of your bodies as if they were neat before. He squeezed your other breast with his free hand, continuing his ministries just for another moment. Keeping his moments practiced and planned for the time being. He flicked your unintended, rock-hard bud with his free hand. Mind Numbing stimulation coursing throughout your body. 

Your hand came down to paw at his erection straining painfully against the grey cotton of his boxers.

“Oh–”  

He groaned, his hips pressing into yours before you could touch more. Clamping himself down so the only way you could feel him throb would be against your thigh.

“You think you’re ready, baby? Ready for my cock?”

Of course the answer was yes. He knew the answer was yes how you were writhing, practically salivating at the thought. Both panting like dogs. He pulled himself out of his boxers. The dim light of the room making it impossible to see was was between your legs. The details left unseen and unsaid as all you could rely on was feel.

You felt his head begin running up and down between your folds. With a girl so fuckin’ wet who needed lubracant. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began to push in. 

You’ve never felt anything like it.

Funnily enough. He’s never felt a girl like you either.

“Joel!” You’d squeal. “Fuck, Joel– JoelJoelJoelJoel–”

You were quickly chanting his name under your breath like an invocation. He was big though a three-letter word so simple as big was a fucking understatement. He was stretching out every ounce of your gummy walls. Your head craning backwards into his pillow. His pillow. The scent of his hair, his scent all seeping into your nose mixing with the sensations throughout your body.

“S’fuckin’-- shit, babygirl…”

Joel’s words were slurring together as if he had drank more than those two lousy whiskeys at the bar. Your legs wrapped tight around his waist as you enveloped him. Clenching up every time the tip of his fat cock would graze your cervix. His hand pressed just over your pelvis. Feeling around, ‘til– oh fuck.

“Fuckkkkk… Feel that, baby?” You felt a lot of things right now, your body all too hyper-fixated on the feeling of him to focus on anything other than that. Then Joel took your hand. Trailing it down your stomach as he weakly supported himself with his left arm. Palm flat against the sheets. His bicep tense.

He brought your smaller hand down to your low stomach, feeling the bump there. The bump he was oh-so obsessed with. Jutting out against your palm. 

“S’my cock. Yeahhh. He wants you, s’fuckin’ bad.” 

He was barely there.

“--So. Fuckin’. Bad.”

He punctuated his words with every thrust. You wanted to call out, say something over and over again like your only fucking prayer. But words defied you in the moment. As soon as you felt the unbearable pressure build up in your gut, the pressure that took over, spilled from your pelvis to your pussy. You felt the wiry hairs that crowned his cock scratching against your clit only adding to the feeling. The feeling that was building and building. 

“Joel– I’m gonna–!”

It was so cliché. The need to finish that sentence was gone as you couldn’t control it. Feeling the knot tied so uncomfortably tightly in your pelvis untie. You tried to keep it back, hold it in but it refused. Your hips wriggled against his as your orgasm came ripping through your body. Leaning up as best you could to bury your face in his neck to gasp. Cry out into his ear as much as you well pleased as you felt your legs kick out, your thighs buzz.

His cock curved inside of you, kissing a soft spot that you weren’t even aware you had. His pace slowing, becoming sloppier, rushed. His hips snappy. The way your walls squeezed around him, trying to milk him til’ he was dry. Just wasn’t safe for an old man like him to blue-ball himself like this, huh?

“Fuck- she’s gonna milk daddy dry, ain’t she–?” He was trying to kill you.

With that it was only one more thick, deep thrust into your tight, throbbing cunt where he spilled his cum inside of you. Using what little energy he had left to paint those pretty walls white. Rolling his hips to drive his semen into your pretty little hole. His thumb pushed past your parted lips, your mouth quickly latching on. Cock-drunk, suckling on his thumb to muffle any whimpers. No more cries.

“Atta girl.”

He’d praise. His sweaty, damp body pressing heavily against yours. He didn’t wanna pull out. It’s almost like his body wanted him to stay this way until he was passin’ out. Though, he wouldn't let that happen. He slowly unsheathes his thick cock from your pussy with a wet, squelch as your walls adjust back to normal. Opaque, pearly cum dripping out of your cunt, drooling down your inner thighs all the way to your ass was pornographic. 

Reaching around the back of his head to seize a chunk of his greying, soft-to-the-touch curls. Your tongue licking his way into his mouth instead of his thumb. 

You felt absolutely and utterly euphoric. 

Laying with the blanket lazily draped over both of your bodies. Joel took a long sip from the bottle of alcohol, drinking it like water to refresh his mouth. He felt exasperated. He wouldn’t be able to pin point the last time sex made him feel this good if you were paying him a million bucks. But now he could say with you.

You tucked your face into his neck, taking in the scent of him, the stickiness of his skin. The salty scent of sex still lingering in the air around. 

It was silent. Like you were both trying to process what had happened within the last hour- hell, the last three. Even the whole bar thing seemed like an impossible daydream you’d watch on a soap, something that you’d say is unrealistic. 

“I was jealous.”

He murmured. Turning his attention back to you as the silence was officially broken. You could’ve figured as much.

“I guess I should be flattered.”

You’d giggle. Real and genuine. Not the fake one you put on for that pervert at the bar. 

“I’ve never had a man break another guy’s nose for me before.”

Joel rolled his eyes. Wrapping his warm arms around your body as he pulled you in close. The first time in twenty years his bed wasn’t empty and cold. A warm body tucked right against him, perfectly as if you belonged. 

“Don’t get used to it.” 

[nipuni]

These two 🥰

[writeyourdarlings]

black cat girlfriend & golden retriever boyfriend

[mandumandy]

Out date: never! ill get it out i promis i swear please dont come for me

[mid-knight-black]

I think Eddie feels the most comfortable and at home with his abuela because growing up, she was probably the only person in his family who allowed him to be a child while everyone else expected him to be the man of the house. She let him be her little Eddito… 🥺🙃

[gif made by the talented @housewifebuck 🤍]

[novacqnes]

✩ sore loser // vi

summary: with an undefeated streak of nine wins victory is sweet for pitfighter!vi, but losing can be even sweeter.

⋆ warnings: pitfighter!vi, brief mentions of blood, alcohol & violence, smut; oral, squirting & fingering [fem receiving], top!vi

⋆ pairing: vi x fem reader

⋆word count: 2.4k

⋆ a/n: stop the vi hate, she’s so hot and sexy and kind, i forbid it!

nails scraped feverishly against the scarred skin of vi’s arm. needy and sharp, they littered the rough surface, leaving behind deep pink crescents with each touch. back and forth, back and forth, they dug into her flesh almost mechanically as she remained fixed between your thighs. desperately bringing her tongue against your wet clit. she lapped up your fluids, allowing her soft lips to slide against your pussy effortlessly as you shook against her, fighting through a blurred haze. fiery tears crept from your eyes; one by one they surged forward, setting your cheeks aflame along with the rest of your body. it took everything—every last drop of unbearable desire and greed—to steal a glance at vi. 

slivers of jet black and red hairs clung to the crown of her forehead. her features were frozen; misty blue eyes caught on you. she wanted more, eager for it, as every aspect of your being entranced this woman. your taste lingered on her tongue as she sank back in for more, drawing desperate whines from your lips. your smell, sugary and thick, filled the room just the way she liked, overwhelming all her senses. or the way you moved against her, jerking your body with each flick of her tongue against your folds. down to the cries—your cries, which were lewd and slick, permeating the humid air around you. allowing her this small fragment in time where she could truly win.

her knees hit the ground first, a loud thud rang through your ears as vi sank onto the blood-stained concrete. her hands found their way there next, gripping onto the ground as they fought for an ounce of stability among the animalistic screams. they pierced the putrid air, trapping your body in the middle as hundreds of people pushed against you. they demanded she rise and fight for the very status that had left her undefeated for weeks, but she didn’t move. rather she pressed her eyes close, shutting out the light, her opponent’s bashed face, and any possible connection you may have had to her. her heart pounded against her chest, pleading with her to breathe, to no avail. 

a crushing weight pressed against vi’s chest, forcefully expelling the air from her body. every one of her muscles begged for her to stop. she slid forward, a gasp crawling up her lungs as a wave of agony consumed her. she could shrug off pain. she’d done it many times before, but each movement left her with that same dreadful sensation. her mind and body vied for two opposing sides, both resulting in her losing this match, yet she was relentless. her fingers scrapped the ground as she pulled herself up in one swift motion, violently suppressing the nerves that writhed in her stomach. once more, violet brought her arms to her side, guarding her face as she swung a bruised fist at her opponent. 

the white sheets felt damp in your palms, providing a gentle substitute for vi’s skin. in your hands it compressed, shrinking with each stroke of vi’s thumb against your clit. the pressure was light at first, growing more fervent by the second. she pressed a soft kiss to your thigh, her breath warm as she moved up hovering over your pussy. she lingered for a moment, teasing you with the slightest bit of contact before pulling away. tension bloomed at the pit of your stomach, taking hold of your hips and drawing you to vi’s mouth— begging her to come closer. your movements were shaky; you wouldn’t be able to hold for much longer, but vi had to let it. she gazed up at your body, a mumbling mess covered in a thin film of sweat at her efforts. it gave her satisfaction beyond any victory in the pit; this was just for her.

“fuck—t-there still may be a follow-up—you can try again,” you moaned, vi slipping a finger inside you. she curled them sharply as she leaned forward, gently pressing her lips to yours. 

she began slow; you leaned into vi’s warmth, savoring the taste that lingered on her tongue. euphoric was an understatement. this was everything vi was lacking, splayed out across her flimsy mattress. there was something about your pleasure being in her hands that pulled the best from her—and it wasn’t a matter of control. whether it was you on that bed or her, vi adored the fact that it was with someone. her fights were isolating, in spite of the dozens of people that filled the pit each night. they weren’t fighting with her—but right here you were.

“they don’t wanna see me, sweetheart.”

“violet—“she spat against your core, moving down until her lips met your pussy. her tongue traced against your folds, flicking up and down as her index finger moved in and out. she soon slipped in a second, third, and fourth, sinking them inside your cunt at an unfathomable pace. her body showed no signs of slowing down. thick veins bulged from her forearm, and splotches of pink colored her cheeks, but she was on overdrive. determination clouded her senses, erasing any semblance of pain that arose in her. 

she muttered into you, “i’m good right here, just relax for me, yeah?” her voice was silky smooth, with sultry lined at the very top of it. she kept your legs open, solidifying her place between them as she hummed, furiously lapping at your clit. she smacked obnoxiously, pressing herself deeper and deeper into you until you had no choice but to make more room for her. and your hands acted first. they snaked their way around your hamstrings, forcing each leg to your sides as vi hummed in praise, sending a soft vibration up your core. 

the pleasure was beyond words, propelling you to an alternate realm as you pulsed around vi’s fingers, sucking them in with each charged stroke. she molded to you perfectly, pressing against the spongy tissue of your g-spot for as long as she could. it was evident; every fiber of her being was in this room, pushing you towards ecstasy. soon, black dots crept into your vision, distorting vi from your view, and before long your eyelids followed suit, shutting the rest of the room from you. 

“oh you’ve such pretty eyes, keep them here, right here,” she cooed. that fucking tone. so gentle and attentive it was nauseating. her gaze was unwavering; as if this wasn’t enough, she refused to look away from you, forcing your eyes to the glassy wetness smeared across her face. those eyes—they latched onto you, urging you to watch your girlfriend sink herself nose deep into you over and over again. the pressure magnified with each brush of vi’s lips against your clit. 

the words were trapped in your throat, “fuck vi—oh“ halting as you rapidly began to unravel. your gaze finally broke from hers, pulling your eyes to the feeble ceiling lights. a string of profanities fell from your lips as you shook against her mouth, surrendering to the adrenaline that mercilessly ripped through your body. 

“you don’t know what you do to me... so needy and beautiful. push yourself back on to me,” vi whispered, her voice dropping to a dangerously low octave. it sent a shiver up your spine, as the sensitivity followed. the pleasure bordered on overstimulation, but to say you wanted it to end would’ve been a lie. the sensations were purely addictive, bringing your body to her lips while in the same breath employing your hand to block her. making sense of it in the moment was nearly impossible thus, it took everything in you not to faint right then.

you gasped, “i-can’t—“

“move your hand y/n, let me hear it sweetheart.” 

vi’s brows furrowed slightly, dipping down as her eyes landed on your fingers, shakily obscuring her view. she watched as they moved mere inches, pausing at your lower stomach. she brought a hand to them, softly caressing your skin with her thumb, and carefully noting how you shuddered, whining at the slightest hint of contact. you were close, yes, but this couldn’t be rushed. 

vi moved from your legs, pressing her pink lips to your neck as she toyed with your clit, rubbing slow torturous circles into you. she kept a steady pace, not budging even when you grinded against her. rather she peppered your clavicle with kisses, running her tongue along the tender skin of your exposed neck. heat simmered at your cheeks, consuming the rest of your face as vi wielded your pleasure for her own satisfaction. every whine and gasp served to fuel what was left of her tattered ego. the control intoxicated her, restoring vi with a confidence that she hadn’t experienced since she set foot in the pit.

yet it was also about you—pleasing you—that drove violet insane. her body was quickly approaching its limit; it ached with dark purple bruises that covered her knees and fingers that were raw from the constant friction of bandages. vi adored this. she fell in love with the idea of giving every last bit of what she had to offer, and after her loss, she was destined to prove that even more. 

“holy shit,” you muttered, pressing your forehead against hers. desperation oozed from your voice as you cupped vi’s face in your palm. beyond your voice, the surrender was palpable. heavy eyelids shielded most of your eye, leaving visible only small glints of pigment. it grew increasingly difficult to focus on her but the same couldn’t be said for vi. she pushed the black strands from her face leaning against you as she picked up the pace. adding more and more pressure to the bundle of nerves—but it wasn’t enough. she would move her arm, delicately flexing the muscles in her forearm in restraint. her mouth would hover over your ear, teasing you with her tongue. she used it against you deliciously, following the long veins that trailed your neck until you were a whimpering mess. it was a tireless endeavor that vi trekked for hours. all of her efforts culminating in this one moment before ruining it all with a sudden halt. 

“vi please—“ 

she shook her head. “beg, baby.”

“please let me cum for you.” weakly you took her hands in yours, moving them from your clit, you slurred, “i wanna cum all over you.

she laid a soft kiss on your cheek, slipping her index back as you wrapped around her beautifully, blanketing her skin in a unique warmth that drew a gasp hum from vi’s lips. she curved them upward, meeting your g-spot once again. you shifted underneath her body, moaning into her ear completely unabashed. the anticipation reveled inside you with vi building on her speed. sweat dripped from her temples, sticking the dark black strands to her forehead. slowly, she came undone with you. her jagged breaths began to match yours, and her movements were growing more and more shallow.

streams of euphoria rifled through your body as the pit returned at the bottom of your stomach, paralyzing you from the waist down. torturously vi’s fingers met your g-spot, prodding and teasing the surface. your heart continued to race, beating out of your chest until it was the only thing that vi could hear; your moans slowly taking a backseat. limb by limb, the heat consumed you, leaving you victim to the overwhelming pleasure that began at your pussy, sending the rest of your body into a tailspin. 

she egged you on, “just like that, sweetheart, fuck, just like that." you could no longer make out vi’s beautiful face; the slight curve of her cheek was faint along with the rest of her features as you writhed against her. quickly losing control of the autonomy you once had. the pit within your stomach only sped up the process, bringing tears to your eyes as you cried, sinking your nails into the mattress. with one last thrust of vi’s finger, fluids rushed from your pussy, soaking the sheets underneath you in one swift motion. you were falling, silently surrendering to the emotions that took hold of your body. for that time, your body wasn’t entirely your own but a vehicle that only vi could steer. 

she took her place beside you, wrapping her arms around your waist as a pervasive silence fell upon the room. her hands soothingly rubbed the skin of your thigh, almost lulling you to sleep as the bright lights faded from view. you could feel her slowly succumbing to fatigue yet she moved closer, snuggling against your back. 

you tapped her arm, “hey, you did your best.”

“that’s what scares me,” she shrugged. there was always this slight divide between vi and what she did in the pit. you could see it. it was draining, extracting every bit of light from vi’s soul like an eternal vacuum. if anything, you were slightly grateful for this loss; it alleviated some of the pressure that burdened her, yet this wasn’t enough to put an end to it. truly the only person that could pry vi away from this place was herself. 

you turned to face her, “maybe that means it’s time to stop.” 

vi pressed her lips shut, her blue eyes briefly meeting the ceiling before falling back on you.

“if not, then you’ll probably lose again, which totally sucks but I’ll be here when you do,” you sighed. she allowed your hands to roam her sculpted arms. thumb tracing the ink etched into her tricep. uncertainty steadily filled the room as you both sat in silence, taking in the sight of one another. it offered you a slight glimmer of hope beyond the pit, a hope for a brighter future. one in which vi could simply be, without tirelessly fighting to prove her worth in every fight. she was worthy of love, and hopefully this moment of you two merely admiring each other was enough to begin that process. 

“i’ll make sure to lose each time then,” she chuckled, jumping up from the mattress. a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, but you refrained from pointing it out, basking in the joy that settled over your girlfriend. it was small moments like these that made it all worth it. 

you began, “that’s not what i meant—“

“i’ll go check out that follow-up fight; you stay right here.”

[gutsby]

Trashed

Pairing: Trailer Park!Joel x Reader

Summary: You fuck Joel in his filthy double-wide.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Perv!Joel. Dirty!Joel. Stink kink (don’t look at me). Age gap. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Mention of creampie. Cockroach cameo.

Word count: 1.0k

This felt good.

The smell, on the other hand, was unbearable.

Joel Miller hadn’t cracked a window in his trailer since 1986. When he smoked, he smoked inside and never thought twice about how it might smell to visitors.

To be fair, he didn’t have folks over all that often.

You were the exception, not the rule. Your visits typically lasted no more than fifteen minutes and ended with two shaky legs wobbling down his front steps and a load of his cum leaking out from in between them. Whenever you went to see your neighbor, you left your nose—and your dignity—at the door, and you didn’t ask questions.

The mold overhead was getting hard to ignore, though.

You lay flat on your back on a mattress situated in the center of Joel’s room. On the floor. There was no decor, save for one Nickelback poster and a pyramid of empty Zyn containers stacked in the corner. The summer heat was killing you both, so you’d kicked off the sheets and left the bed completely bare. You’d pretended not to see stains of Mountain Dew and beer before stripping down.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight,” Joel panted in your ear.

His cock was wet and slippery with your shared fluids, making obscene noises each time that he drove home. You loved it and hated it—you couldn’t help but admire the way a sheen of sweat glistened on his chest and made the grey hairs dusting his pecs look even thicker; you weren’t crazy about the odor emanating from his pits but couldn’t deny that that scent was distinctly him.

Joel grossed you out and drove you nuts, made you insane with desire and sometimes disgust. He pushed so deep inside your needy cunt you sometimes swore you could’ve felt him on your tongue. He tasted like bourbon and tobacco, no matter what time of day it was. He kissed sloppily but surprisingly well, and he had a filthy fucking mouth that he knew exactly how to use on you.

Sometimes, the liquor made it say stupid things.

“Gonna fill you up, honey.” His voice was hoarse.

Joel’s hips were pummeling your own at a breakneck pace. His balls were slapping your ass, repeatedly, and drawing whimpers out of your throat with every thrust. Freak that he was, he let his tongue dart past his lips, and he licked into your mouth. He pushed the thick, wet muscle in without concern and let you taste him as he fucked you into his filthy mattress. He loved doing it.

He loved showing you in any way that you were his.

“Bet you’d look pretty with my baby on your hip.”

Wait—what?

Your eyes widened, though you said nothing. Your climax was teetering far too close now to say a word, and your shock silenced you. For a second, you only winced.

“Don’t even…joke about that, Miller,” you hissed.

“I ain’t jokin’. I’d make you a mama in a heartbeat.”

Of course, leave it to you to fuck the one freak-nasty hillbilly with a breeding kink. The tip of his leaking cock kissed your cervix, and inwardly, you hoped your IUD was ready to take a bullet—or several. Then you blinked, breathed a cloud of Joel’s heady scent, and, fuck.

He would make one disgustingly cute trailer park papa.

Ew, what the fuck? You chided yourself immediately.

Joel was meant to be a fuckbuddy, not a father.

You were in college, with dreams of leaving this backwater town as soon as possible, and he hadn’t strayed more than twenty miles from this place in twenty-five years, at least. He was also old enough to be your father. Your ankles curled around the backs of Joel’s calves, and your heels dug even deeper into the muscle.

Your orgasm was cresting now. Stars flitted behind your eyes, and the coil in your stomach was tightening like it never had before. You inhaled again and groaned—why did he have to be so old? Why were you picturing a life where you gladly had his kids and spent the rest of your days in Balmaceda’s Trailer Park? Was that your future?

“Let me fuck this pussy full of cum and knock you up.”

Joel grunted. You whined. Your eyes rolled back momentarily, and your fingers threaded tightly through the locks of hair at the nape of his neck. You loathed his mullet, but you still used it for leverage as your climax prepared to tear through your system. Joel’s cock plunged in and out, again and again, rutting into your body like an animal in heat, and he murmured it again—‘I’m gonna make you a mama, just you wait, honey’—and then you couldn’t deny the feeling. You were agreeing with him. Nodding your head with a fucked out look in your eyes and letting him shove his throbbing dick in you, give you all the pleasure you craved, you grinned through all your good sense. You let him do it.

“Give me a baby, Joel,” you whimpered.

Joel fucked in deeper and grit his teeth.

“Yeah, baby? You wanna have my baby?”

This was the dumbest thing you’d ever done. Well, second to ever laying down on this bare, beer-stained mattress in the first place. But you nodded at him again.

“Cum inside me, daddy, fuck.”

And just as you were both about to let go and give in to pleasure completely, your body tensed. Not with ecstasy, it seemed, but something else. You had a sense there was a presence by your side, and soon enough, it—

“JOEL!!”

You weren’t sure why you screamed his name, but it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. You also weren’t thinking. You just saw a big, brown cockroach skitter over the bed and crawl up your leg, and you nearly tore a hole in your throat from how loudly you screamed. Joel jumped up, felt another dart across his foot, and yelled, ‘FUCK!’ He cursed two more times before tripping backwards, off the mattress, and fell on his ass.

You would’ve laughed if this wasn’t so gross.

“Joel, you need to clean this fucking trailer!”

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

Fic Idea where Fiddleford helps Stan rebuild the portal, but Stan finds out that Fiddleford has a wife and he's like

"You have a WIFE?? That DIDN'T marry you to steal your car and money???? What are you DOING here???"

"Yeah, well.... She's better off thinking I'm dead somewhere....."

"A WIFE. That LOVES you. Get outta here and go explain yourself, Idiot!!"

"She and our son shouldn't have to deal with--"

"YOUR SON???!!?!!??"

Anyways, so Stan helps Fiddleford reach out and explain himself to his wife, but expresses that he wants to keep being in Gravity Falls, so his wife and kid go to live with them in The Shack instead.

Blah blah blah, bonding happens, Stan bags Fiddleford AND his wife and becomes a step dad, God bless 🙏

[awrkive]

[ masterlist of series the love prognosis by awrkive ]

legend

❀ ; fluff ♡ ; smut ✧ ; angst

main masterlist

↳ warnings are stated in the link of each chapter itself as well as on this navi page — all of my works are 18+ so minors, DNI !!

summary for as long as you can remember, you've always been a hopeless romantic. the girl who’s always dreamt of cheesy encounters with her soulmate, grand love declarations, and a cute little beach wedding to boot. but reality pretty much slaps you hard right on the face, because love, unfortunately, doesn’t come grand — it’s simple and it’s quiet, but it is quite painful, especially when the love that you’ve been seeking for all your adult life has just been right under your nose all this time.

tags medical!au, surgeon!jk, surgeon!(fem)reader, corporate lawyer!mingyu, rommates!au, f2l(?)

status; completed

total word count: 90.9k words (main story, excl. drabbles)

moodboard • playlist • tlp!jk visual

tlp tag ( fic discourse ) • taglist ( CLOSED ) • tlp extras ( texts + social media shenanigans) • amm ( ask the characters anything )

drabble #3: in which jungkook meets oc for the first time

drabble #7: in which jungkook just wants a little bit of attention

drabble #1: in which doyeon confesses to jungkook in med school

drabble #2: in which taehyung figures jungkook out

main story;

𓍯 the love prognosis

one: in which you give another romantic relationship a try again after four years

↳ genre & warnings: ❀ ; ♡ ; ✧ ; explicit sexual content: cunnilingus, dry humping, making out ; mature language ; alcohol consumption ; slight angst: arguments

two: in which everything is suddenly not the way they are anymore

↳ genre & warnings: ❀ ; ✧ ; mature content: making out ; mature language ; alcohol consumption ; angst

three: in which you navigate the possibility of a completely different relationship with your best friend, jeon jungkook

↳ genre & warnings: ❀ ; ♡ ; ✧ ; explicit sexual content: mature language ; alcohol consumption ; unprotected sex ; protected sex ; multiple sex positions ; multiple orgasms ; oral sex (f&m receiving) ; angst ; fluff

drabble #8: in which you and jungkook try out bdsm ( ♡ )

drabble #4: in which you find jungkook in loose plaid boxers incredibly hot ( ♡ )

drabble #5: in which jungkook proposes

drabble #6: in which you get a baby fever ( ♡ )

[ faq about tlp story ]

ask #1: jk and mingyu undergrad days

ask #2: tlp timeline

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, translations, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3