#got nothing to say other than . been there buddy . up top

[unhingedkinfessions]

kinsidering my friend’s f/o like ahah… i know you wanna smooch this guy but ummmm what if um 👉👈 what if i was um uhhhh (coughing)

yeah man 👍 yeha . uhuh . mhm

[0097linersb]

I See Red (m)

ONE SHOT

Pairings: San x Reader

Genre: Smut (basically pwp)

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: Jealousy, dom!San , he spits in your mouth at some point, slapping, choking, overstimulaton, edging, the whole deal really, name calling, oral, fingering - This is just pure filth I’m sorry. 

A/N: this was originally an nct jeno's fic but I thought it matched San so well so here u go

Follow me on twitter for updates, previews, spoilers: wooyosgfreal <3

You didn’t know what finally set San off.  

Sure, you haven’t been on your best behavior lately but it’s not like it was your fault; Ever since he decided to go on little gym dates with Yubin and just casually mentioned it to you one day, like he was talking about how sunny it was outside and not about how he was hanging out (almost daily) with a super hot girl, alone - and in minimal clothing too.

You couldn’t even trick yourself with “she’s not his type” because that woman was everyone’s type, damn, she was even your type.

It’s not like you didn’t trust him or felt insecure about yourself - it made no sense, really. It’s like people say: Jealousy is a little green monster that ate your insides and got you to unreason things. You just couldn’t help feeling slightly annoyed, you mean, try knowing your boyfriend is hanging out for hours with a blonde goddess with a six pack AND be happy about it.

So, since he decided to be a pain in the ass, you decided to become what you were born to be: His worst fucking nightmare.

But in all fairness, you didn’t know exactly what tipped him over the edge. It could have been you casually hanging with his roommates in the shortest skirt you could have possibly found, it could be the way you kissed Wooyoung (just a small peck) so the boy would stop playing around and annoying the others with his over-the-top signs of affection, it could even be the way you asked Seonghwa to massage your shoulders because you were in pain but too annoyed to ask your boyfriend for it. He sure must not have liked the way you were dancing with Mingi at the party last Friday or how he got home on Monday to you wearing one of Yunho’s shirts - but he was San, of course he said nothing about it. Plus, he knew you better than that.

It didn’t help when Wooyoung and Mingi asked what was going on between you two and you shared your boyfriend’s gym adventures, of course you could trust those guys to join in on making their friend’s life living hell. It was just open game then, Mingi playfully flirting with you and complimenting you whenever he could and Wooyoung teasing your boyfriend about it.You were always careful to not cross any lines, though. Only doing things that you knew weren’t actually going to upset San and would be perceived by him as one of your little games, which is what they were. You also kept it subtle and spaced out - which is why you were expecting to be playing for a long time, or at least for a bit longer than you actually did.

Your plans were ruined on Wednesday afternoon, when the black-haired boy came out of the shower to a Jung Yunho pulling you to sit on his lap, his arms going around you to show you how to play the video game. Your boyfriend quietly sat down next to you two, saying nothing and staring deeply at the Tv screen but, the look on his face and his clenched jaw were sending a shiver down your spine.

Damn you for refusing to have sex since you found out about San’s gym buddy, this pent-up frustration was not helping you at all.

Thanks to the distraction that was your boyfriend, you couldn’t focus on the race going on and lost at the easiest level, resorting to whining to Yunho, who simply patted your thigh in a comforting manner and let out a soft, “It’s ok, baby.”

Your pouting soon morphed into a face of shock and your little fit was interrupted as your boyfriend hastily stood up, groaning a “That’s it. Room, now!”

You looked up at him confusedly but not done with being annoying yet, you decided to try one last jab, sending him a challenging look, “I don’t really feel like it.”

San simply raised an eyebrow at you, his whole aura shifting, making you coward immediately under his cold gaze, “Care to repeat that?”

“I said- Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought. Now, move.”

You repeat what your boyfriend said in a mocking tone but obey, leaving an amused looking Yunho behind as you wondered where the fuck did all your confidence go to. You really couldn’t keep the character up when San lowered his voice - you liked playing with fire but you weren’t crazy enough to jump in it.

As you entered your boyfriend’s room, your heart was beating like crazy. You felt like a kid again: When you knew you did something wrong and your mother was about to punish you for it. The anxiety did not sit well with you, maybe you should start being nicer to the man.

“San, I-” You tried reasoning as soon as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“I don’t give a fuck, sit down.”

Damn.

You were happy to comply, legs getting wobbly as his strict tone had a weird effect on you. You sat on the edge of the bed and San was quick to stand up in between your legs, you tried to look anywhere but at him, but that was proven impossible as his hand softly but confidently grabbed your chin and tipped your head up so you were forced to stare at him like a deer stuck in head lights. You could hear your own pulse throbbing inside your ears. 

Well, no use acting all innocent now, you really did bring this upon yourself.

“Had fun?” He asked, his voice could cut you right open. You didn’t know what to answer, nervous of any extra consequences that may come if you did, but your silence was clearly not accepted as his grip on your jaw tightened, “Speak.”

“Yeah.”

He hummed, eyes slowly skimming over your face as his thumb softly brushed your cheek, “So pretty. Too bad you don’t know how to behave, huh? I think it’s about time for me to put you back in your place, don’t you agree?”

You close your eyes and enjoy the smooth circles he was tracing with his thumb, not sure where he was going with this - your heart was trying to leave this room, though, by the way it kept pounding against your ribcage- but knowing you wouldn’t get a lot of soft moments from this point forward.

“Did you think I would find it cute?” He sternly asked, his tone contrasting with the light touches on your face. He knew your answer to that and you knew he was just playing your cards, and well, it was working.

“No.”

“So you acted like a brat on purpose?” He tried giving you a chance, knowing you really had no way out of your own mess.

“At your service, sir,” You joked as you rolled your eyes, trying to lighten the mood, maybe make the man laugh a bit so he would forgive you.

“Watch it,” He spat out and you kind of regretted saying it when his hand flew to the back of your head, pulling on your hair harshly so you were forced to look up.

Ok, San was mad mad.

His cold expression didn’t faze at the way you groaned in pain, neither did his grip on your hair as he bent down so his face would be right in front of yours as he warned, “You brought this upon yourself. Clothes off.”

You had it in you to fight a bit, but honestly, you were already aching between your legs and curious to know how all of this would unroll. You quickly undressed, leaving your panties on since he didn’t say anything about it, your eyes not leaving the floor as you did it. You then stared at your boyfriend, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for the next instructions. San simply looked at the place between his spread legs, signing where he wanted you. As you sat down, you noticed the man had placed the full body mirror he owned right in front of you while you were undressing.

Oh, boy.

You two locked eyes through the mirror and he calmly asked, “What’s the safe word?”

And that’s when your brain stopped working, knowing you had really fucked up. San has always been a little bit more on the rough side in bed, even kind of dominant sometimes, but never like this. You two had never used a safe word before. He noticed your struggle and suggested in a soft but strict tone, “Is Apple ok?”

“Yeah,” You muttered and he nodded in acknowledgement before harshly forcing your thighs open with his hands, making you gasp. His chest was pressed against your back, but you couldn’t feel his heart hammering crazy like yours was.

San slowly moved his hands higher up your thighs, getting goosebumps to erupt all over your body. He ever so lightly traced one single finger against your clothed slit as he said, eyes still locked with yours in the mirror, “I want you to watch yourself being a slut, maybe then you’ll be embarrassed and learn how to behave.”

You whined, not sure if it was at the tip of his finger barely grazing over your clit or at his words. Honestly, who the fuck was this man?

You could see the wet patch of fabric between your legs in the mirror and San caught you staring at it as his middle finger rubbed slow circles on you, only smirking at you in response, clearly satisfied with the effect he had over you.

It was embarrassing how quickly you were squirming under your boyfriend’s touches; your bottom lip was almost bleeding from how strongly you were biting it to keep your whines inside your mouth as you tried to move away from his finger because it was soon becoming too much. He was having none of it and his other hand firmly found its place  on your jaw once again as he grunted right into your ear, “Be a good girl for once and take it. We have barely started.”

You did whine at that, his stare not fading for one second as he tightened his grip on your face and pulled your head back to the front every time you tried to look away from the mirror.

“Look at you. I haven’t even touched you properly yet and you’re already a mess, what happened to all that attitude, huh?”

He was right, he had only touched you through your panties and you were already so close. Guess you really were all bark and no bite – But to be honest: You were dripping, your underwear was soaked and his finger drawing shapes against your clit just felt so good you didn’t care about your little personality problem at all.

Your thighs were quivering from the stimulation and when he sped up his movements they tried to fly shut, but his voice stopped you midway, “Don’t you dare.”

You grabbed the fabric from his pants harshly, “San, I’m-”

“Only talk when spoken to.”

This new side of San, his heavenly (or devilish) finger teasing you plus his hard dick throbbing against your lower back, got you spasming in record time. Your nails carving shapes on the skin of his thighs as your whole body shook when you orgasmed. San continued tracing your clit through your high, until you were jumping from sensitivity and whining at him to stop. He lightly pushed you so you would stand up and you struggled to comply with your shaky legs, but tried your best.

You stood in front of your boyfriend, expecting him to then order you to suck his dick or something and this would be all over with, but were surprised when he pulled your panties down your legs with delicate fingers. Goosebumps filled your skin again at the mere touch of his knuckles against your lower abdomen. It was weird how he touched you so softly while his eyes burned holes into you, you had never seen San so worked up before, you felt like he could explode at the wrong move of a finger from you.

He slowly kneeled in front of you, eyes locked in yours. His hands were on the back of your thighs and you felt cold and warm at the same time, nipples hard with the shivers that ran up your spine. San didn’t comment on your shaking frame, giving your clit a soft kiss as he stared up at you.

“San, I-“ You began, trying to inform your boyfriend you were too sensitive from just cumming.

“I’ll make you cum once for every time you flirted with someone this week, and now once more for disobeying me,” He simply informed before going back to work, tongue doing wonders against your swollen clit.

You cried out at his words.

The man pulled your legs slightly apart so he could go all in, his wet lips and warm tongue playing with you until the sensitivity turned into pleasure and you were entering a place of euphoria, trying to not moan too loudly since his roommates were right outside. He noticed you were trying to contain your noises and tskd, eating you out more fervidly. When it became too much again, your hands grabbed his hair for support, which only resulted in you receiving a firm look, “No touching. If you want to act like a whore, I’ll treat you like one.”

Ouch.

You tried balancing on your feet, but your body was quivering at San’s ministration and he wouldn’t let you go. Not managing it anymore, you let your body fall to the front, supporting your hands on the bed, thanking the heavens your boyfriend didn’t complain about it. You wanted to tell him you needed his fingers inside of you but didn’t want to disobey his order once again, only letting moan after moan leave your lips. San simply looked animalistic kneeled in between your legs and you forced yourself to close your eyes, throwing your head back in pleasure.

You were not recognizing yourself but that thought was far from your worries as you released once again against his tongue, hand gripping  the sheets so tightly you were afraid of breaking your fingers. San stood up, holding your waist so you would do the same as you breathed hard, “This one was for rubbing yourself all over Mingi at Yeonjun’s.”

You could see the way San’s cock was throbbing against his pants, but he seemed to pay it no mind as he pushed you down into the bed on your back. He hovered over you, slightly brushing his lips against yours before telling you, “I’m giving you 10 seconds to recover.”

One, he counted out loud before kissing your cheek. Two, he mouthed just below your jaw. Three, he whispered and sucked on the side of your neck, making you twitch in bliss. Four, he licked your collarbone. Five, he kissed between your breasts, your back automatically arching. Six, he brushed his fingers against your hardened nipple, loving the sound of your mewls. Seven, he left an open-mouthed kiss on your stomach. Eight, he did the same to your navel, feeling your abdomen tense under his fingers.

Honestly, this was not helping you calm down at all. Shivering this much couldn’t be healthy.

On the count of nine, his nails scratched the inside of your thigh and on the count of ten, he plunged two fingers inside of you with no warning. You chocked around nothing, biting the back of your hand so you wouldn’t legit scream. You had never been so wet in your life and the way his fingers were slowly rubbing so good against your walls, had you out of your mind.

“Put your hand away, I want to hear you,” He ordered, eyes locked on the way his fingers disappeared inside of you. How did he even know you were biting on your hand?

He continued pumping and curling his fingers, speeding up when he felt your walls tightening. You started feeling your third orgasm approach you even faster than the first one, tensing your legs so you wouldn’t close them because of the sensitivity.

San smirked at you, “Look who’s being a good girl for once.”

You didn’t even care anymore, everything felt so good you couldn’t even remember your name and you were sure you sounded like a porn star, having no control over your voice. You were so close, knuckles white again at the force you were holding onto your pillow. So, so close.

And then it all stopped.

You whined loudly and San simply ordered, “Use my fingers.”

When you gave him a confused look, hoping you hadn’t understood what he said right, he nodded at you, “You heard me.”

You groaned and dropped back down, San easing three fingers into you and waiting still, patiently. This was humiliating but when he gave you a pointed look, you simply forgot about your pride and pushed yourself against his fingers until you were ready to explode again, and as promised, San didn’t do a thing, letting you make yourself cum only using his fingers. It didn’t take long, considering how fucked out you were already (and you weren’t even actually fucked yet). A few more bounces and you were done for, wanting to cry at how good it felt.

“This one was for getting my friends hard, prancing around in those mini clothes of yours.”

You couldn’t help shutting your legs now, body spasming every 2 seconds. San said nothing about it this time as he stood on his knees, undoing his belt with one hand, groaning he couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped his pants and boxers, letting his cock out and your heart pumped faster at how hard and swollen it was.

Your boyfriend roughly opened your legs, positioning himself on top of you and entering you in one harsh thrust, not even waiting for you to adjust (not that you needed it much, considering he was just 3 fingers knuckles deep into you). Real tears started to run down your face at the oversensitivity, your mind couldn’t form a single comprehensible thought, “San, I can’t-“

“I’m not stopping unless I hear the safe word, you can take it,” He snapped, voice as harsh as his thrusts inside of you. He had never fucked you this hard, the whole bed shaking and complaining. There was no way people wouldn’t know what was going on by now.

You trashed under him, it felt like too much but at the same time you didn’t want it to stop. San’s hand was quick to wrap around your throat, squeezing on the sides to hold you down so you would stop moving.

“My pretty princess crying over getting fucked after acting like a slut for days. That doesn’t seem right, now, does it?” He groaned, not faltering his speed or strength one bit. “Tell me, if I didn’t give you the attention you wanted, would you have let one of them fuck you?”

You whined, nails digging harshly on his back (which he thankfully allowed). You thought about answering but you couldn’t really mutter any words with the way San was drilling into you and he knew it.

“I asked you a question,” He hissed, tightening his grip around your neck, cutting the blood circulation from reaching your head.

The lightheadedness didn’t help your case and after another few seconds without an answer, you felt a sting from the slap San gave right across your face. He had never done that before and as a strong independent woman, you didn’t expect to like it as much as you did it.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“N-no.”

“No what?” He demanded. The neighbors must really hate you from the way the bed frame kept hitting the wall, but nothing else really matter besides how you were being so pleasantly destroyed.

“Only you can fuck me.”

“That’s right, you’re mine. Open up.”

You were not sure what he meant, embarrassed of doing what you thought he was implying and being wrong, but when he stared you down so intensely that you got actually scared, you slowly opened your mouth. He gave you a wicked smile before slowing down his thrusts a bit, his hold on your neck still strong and when he slowly lowered himself and spit right into your mouth, your body betrayed you and you came all over the place without a warning, not even giving you the chance to brace yourself.

“Good girl,” He caressed the place he had slapped you with his thumb, stopping his movements to let you calm down for a bit. You were not even sure your brain would ever go back to working normally. He silently and slowly sucked marks on your body until your breathing somewhat resembled something normal again.

“Come look at yourself,” He called, tone a bit gentler. Maybe your tears softened him up a bit.

You tried to obey, carefully dragging yourself to the edge of the bed so you could stand up in front of the mirror where he wanted you. As soon as you tried standing up, your legs gave out, but San was right behind you to catch you, holding you up by your waist and pointing to the mirror, “Look.”

And you did. You had purple bruises on the left side of your neck, on your breasts and on the inside of your thighs. Your hair was clearly all tangled up, there was dark mascara running down your face and smudged around your eyes. You looked absolutely wrecked already.

“So fucking pretty,” He whispered, littering your shoulder with soft kisses. “All of you. Every single part, and they are all mine.”

You shakily nodded. At this point, if San wanted you to walk around wearing his hand as a necklace you wouldn’t even complain.

“It’s all of my friends’ wet dreams to fuck you, I don’t want to ever hear you moaning Seonghwa’s name or see you kissing Wooyoung again, understood?” Your boyfriend told you, placing two of his fingers on your lip for you to suck. You wrapped your mouth around him, sucking on it gently and drawing your tongue along the length of his fingers, feeling his still hard cock against your lower back. He had no reason behind that action, he just wanted to show he could do whatever he wanted with you, whenever he wanted, and you would enjoy it.

“It was a joke,” You breathed out once he retrieved his hand, referring to the kiss your boyfriend was talking about.

“I know baby girl, but let’s not give them any hope. I want them to know who you belong to,” He quietly told you, his breath hitting your ear. “Get on all fours.”

Your body stiffened, “San, I really can’t-“

“Did I ask?” He cocked his eyebrow at you and you took a deep breath before shakingly obeying.

As you crawled in bed, your boyfriend finally took his clothes off before positioning himself behind you. At least this time he pitied you enough to at least start fucking you slowly.

A hiccup escaped your throat, almost sure you couldn’t handle it anymore and San caressed your lower back to comfort you as he grinded his cock inside you, “Only one more, princess.”

You were in heaven and hell at the same time, your pussy was so sensitive that every thrust felt like you were right on edge, you had never experienced anything like that before. Your arms gave out quicker than your attitude dropped, left side of your face pressing against the sheet and staining it with your mascara and tears. You were honestly not even sure you were moaning anymore, not being able to hear yourself, but with the way San sped up his movements you figured you were.

“Hands,” San asked and you complied, like being used by him was your sole purpose in life.

He grabbed both of your wrists and held it together on your back, the bruising tight grip and the low groans leaving the man’s mouth brought you closer to reality.  If you were in a normal state of mind, you would wonder how your boyfriend could last so long, he had been hard and throbbing since he locked the door earlier - But since your mind was floating somewhere far away, your only reaction was to sob in pleasure and overstimulation.

“Do you remember the safeword, baby?”

You shut your eyes tightly and nodded your head desperately.

“Tell me,” San asked.

“A-apple.”

“Good girl. We’re almost done,” He told you and you could feel how his thrust were getting shallower and messier. You were so close too.

After another few minutes, San let out a loud moan with a broken whine and shot inside of you (something else you two rarely do, both of you enjoyed it but the pregnancy scares were always too much), you could feel his cum hitting your walls and you loved it. He continued to fuck into you for a whole minute, riding out his high as the hottest sounds left his lips. You clenched around his sensitive member, signaling you were close and he hissed, suddenly pulling out.

You whined like you had never whined before and he simply shushed you, slowly gathering his cum dripping from your hole with his fingers and pushing all of it back inside. You cried out, using your now free hands to hold onto the sheets as he pumped his finger into you – You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if the sheets were ripped by the end of the day. He was teasing you, knowing you wouldn’t be able to reach your high with the speed he was using. You tried pushing back into his fingers but he was quick to hold your hip still, “I don’t think so. Sit down against the wall.”

You wanted to scream.

“San, please,” You sobbed.

“What? You’ve been teasing me with Mingi for almost 2 whole weeks and I can’t even tease you for a few minutes? Don’t you think that’s a little bit unfair?” He asked, stopping his fingers only when he felt your walls spasming around him. “Now do as I say.”

You accepted your fate, trembling as you followed his instructions, surprised when he got out of the bed and sat down on his desk chair, calmly looking at you.

“Touch yourself,” He instructed. “But don’t cum, or else we will go for another round.”

“You said we were almost over,” You wail.

“And we are baby, just do this one more thing for me.”

You opened up your legs, letting your fingers rub against your clit. You were so wet and San’s cum just made you more lubricated. Since you were already so worked up, you had to trace less than 5 circles against yourself before becoming a noisy mess, ready to let it all go.

“Stop,” Your boyfriend’s strict voice cut you off.

You opened your eyes, which you hadn’t even noticed you had closed, and stared at San in shock, halting your motions.

“Now do it again while looking at me.”

You held the sob that wanted to escape down your throat, shakingly nodding and obeying, just doing anything he wanted so you could cum already. You touched yourself while you looked into San’s stern eyes, your cheeks burning at the fact he had never seen you so vulnerable before.

“I can’t hold it any-“ You stuttered, your eyes stinging again.

“Stop.”

The sob that you had been trying to hold back escaped, ripping through your whole body, you had no pride anymore, or shame, as you let your tears spill freely as you begged, “Please, San. Please. I ca-can’t-“

San silently got up and crawled into bed, positioning his head in between your legs.

“It’s ok, princess. You can cum now,” He told you gently before lowering his head and sucking on your clit. He only had to do that three times and you were seeing colors you never had before. The wave of pleasure hit you so strongly that you tough you passed out for a second or two, seeming lost when you managed to open your eyes again.

“Hey baby, it’s ok,” San comforted you softly, quickly getting up on his knees to hug you with one hand while drying the tears that wouldn’t stop soaking your flushed face. “I got you, it’s all over now.”

He was fast to embrace you tightly, bouncing you gently like people do to calm babies down as he muttered praising words after praising words against your ears. It all filled your heart with warmth and pride.

“Want to take a bath?” He asked you in his baby voice and you managed  to form a small smile, remembering that was the same man who was slapping you across the face and spitting in your mouth a few minutes ago.

You nodded and the boy ran into the bathroom so quickly you didn’t even process his absence.

“I’m only preparing the bath, baby. I’m here,” He assured you when he wasn’t back after a minute or so. You were thankful he understood how vulnerable you felt in this moment and how it was something new to you.

He eventually came back and cuddled you until he felt like the tub was full enough. San carried you easily to the bathroom and tested the water temperature before placing you down with care.

“I used your favorite bath bomb,” He smiled and you returned the gesture, appreciating the warm water around your muscles and the gold glittery appearance of it. “I’m just going to go grab our towels, ok? I’ll be right back.”

You waited for a while, playing with the water and taking deep breaths to inhale the vanilla scent coming from it. The water looked so creamy and you slowly rubbed your face with it, trying to clean all the make up and dried tears. You were content, you just had the best sex of your life and San was proud of you.

You were almost falling asleep when you heard your boyfriend’s voice, “Honey, are you covered?”

You looked down confusedly at the opaque water, the man had just almost chocked you to death, why was he worrying about your modesty now out of all times?

“Yeah, why?”

“Wooyoung and Mingi are being a pain in the ass, they want to make sure I didn’t kill you.”

At that you laughed and just let yourself slide down the bathtub, letting the water drown you in shame.

    ____________________________________

“Babe?” You called, watching the way San played with your fingers. When the boy hummed at you, his chest pressed against your back making your body vibrate, you continued, “What finally set you off?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I’ve been trying to get on your nerves for days-“

“Oh,” He laughed and then sighed in embarrassment at his confession, “Yunho called you baby, only I get to call you that.”

You turned around from where he was holding you on the tub, trying to see if he was serious, only to find your boyfriend pouting.

“I can’t fucking believe you, Choi San.”

[virginreprise]

J U N K Y ' P R I D E

joel miller x reader

" I KNOW I CAUGHT YOU AT A NOT SO HAPPY TIME OF YOUR LIFE " ✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

WARNINGS: age difference (big one), pervy joel, trailer park joel, joel miller has a vintage porn collection, joel's a sad old man, video game joel was in mind when writing, joel is six foot because i say so, multi-part, smut in the next chapter because i can't write anything if it isn't slowburn

WORD COUNT: 7.7k

CHAPTER TWO

AO3LINK

CHAPTER ONE—BAD DISEASE

Static from the television set tucked in a corner, a beaten leather armchair parked in front of it and a stack of vintage, VHS porn tapes on the unit. One half of “Agent 69” stuck in the VCR, balancing on its side due to the lack of care from its owner who’d jacked off in the very chair that towered over it—cum stained fist and a name on his lips, slipped out between plush flesh. Hand frantic, jerking in tandem with the buck of his hips as he flit his eyes between the TV and the wood-panelled ceiling, profanities spilling from his filthy mouth. Muttering to himself as pornstar moans graced his ears, words whispered into the night, stolen by the archangels and flown up to God: conspiring, scheming, uttering under their breath that he should not be allowed through the holy gates on judgement day. That the defiled Bible on his bookshelf and the cross that had been left for him by the previous owners, pinned to the trailer wall, was not enough for them to ignore the strained sentences that he spewed in a desperate bid for the Trailer Park Princess on her knees—red nails and red lips wrapped around his cock. A ring of colour staining the base. 

Utter filth. And Joel knew it. 

The perversions he didn’t keep to himself, laughed about bending over the pretty thing next door whilst nursing a beer on Pete’s porch—puffing away on the cheap cigars he’d stolen from the liquor store. They tasted like shit, smelt like shit and Joel would’ve been better without it, but it added to the image: kept Susan from asking him stupid questions like why he didn’t have a woman. It was her way of flirting, bikini top displaying her sagging tits, bending over the kitchen counter whilst his buddies watched baseball. 

“You got your eye on anyone, Joel?” 

“Not really, Susan.” 

Then Pete interjecting. 

“Come off it, Susan. Just cause he ain’t committed don’t mean that he ain’t got women.”

That kept her quiet, made her slink away into the hallway, slipping into their bedroom and pulling a cover-up on—suddenly insecure. 

Joel wasn’t a pervert. He didn’t have some strange penchant for young women. They were just…nice to look at. Pretty and sun-kissed in the Texan heat, ass hanging out their shorts, bikini top doing much more to entice than Susan’s did. There was no harm in looking—they never knew. He prided himself on being discreet, nursing a beer in the late afternoon whilst Kenny Rogers lulled from the radio, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the porch floor—eyes trained on your open window, cracked just a tad to let the air through. Drapes open. 

At times, he thinks you do it on purpose, a gentle taunt, a silent jeer: “You can only look, perv.” 

If the invitation was there, he’d take you up on it. Because out of all the women he’d fucked, headboard bashing against the wall, a chip in the wood of the trailer evidence of his trysts, you were the only one who’d worked him up to the point of no return. The only one who’d grabbed him completely by the collar and forced him to lick your boots. 

Like Joel said, he wasn’t a pervert. You were just a fucking whore who needed to be put in her place. 

So he’d sit there, in the white garden chair he’d snatched up from the pile of scrap that accumulated just east of his trailer, and watch. Most days, you’d be doing nothing in particular, unfortunately already dressed, dirty clothes in hand and wet hair dripping down your back. Other days, the days where Joel thought he was really lucky, where he’d stumble inside with a hard-on, sit on his recliner and hastily shove whatever he got his hands on, into the VCR, skipping over the poorly acted introductions, and pretend that the moans reverberating the trailer, were yours. Images of you slipping your shorts over your hips, swaying slightly to whatever tune you were listening to, peeling your shirt off your body. No bra. Slyly stepping towards your window, catching his eye once, a look so slight that he wouldn’t be surprised if he imagined it, and pulled your drapes shut. 

He’d spilt all over his hand, white on his knuckles and a smile on his lips. 

Joel would never feel guilty for wanting you, not when he had already made peace with the fact he was a deadbeat, bound to the white trash lifestyle, unemployed and living off the pills he paid for and sold for a ridiculously high price, still grieving his losses and wondering what the fuck he could’ve done differently. If he would’ve done anything differently given the chance. 

No, Joel was not a bad person. He just looked for her in every person, desperately seeking a will. And so far, you had succeeded in helping him remove the gun from his mouth—evenings spent in different, dangerous ways. 

Texan summers were unlike anything you’d experienced before, the heat so incredibly stifling that your love for the sun disappeared completely. Mornings spent on the porch, soaking in the last bits of breeze before cycling your ass to work, sweating and heaving by the time you got there, in the same condition when you rode back home and locked yourself away with every window flung open before nightfall fell and you felt you could breathe again. 

The cicadas were loud, the snakes huddled up in the shade, waiting for you to trample on them, and the beast next door, Joel Miller: terrifying, gorgeous and a fucking pervert. 

The day you’d moved into the trailer, despairing the loss of stability, ruminating upon your desperate escape from a home now dead and lost to the prairies of your mind, he’d been there. Wifebeater stretched across his wide torso, a cigarette placed on his lips, unused as it hung there, smoking away, the grey wisps begging with each dissipation into the atmosphere: breathe me in. He’d stared. Unable to be subtle no matter how slick he thinks he is, eyes flitting between your tits and your ass. Tits. Ass. Tits. Ass. A calculated dance that left a funny feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach, a lurch in your bowels that made nausea claw its way up your throat. 

Tits. Ass. Then, he suddenly looked at your face, standing there on his porch, the sunrise building its way up the horizon, too early for anybody to see him looking you over like you were a dead deer he’d just shot, smirking at the notion of sawing your head off and displaying it on the wall above his mantle. Heaving boxes into the empty trailer, lot number seventeen, whilst the owner of lot eighteen wouldn’t take his fucking eyes off you, was a terrible feat. 

Once you’d shoved the last box into your bedroom, you’d shut the door, locked it tight and peeked through the window to see that he had gone back inside, retreating to the haven of steel and veneer. 

Over time, Joel became easier to manage. After the initial, awkward introductions where he’d called you princess, babydoll, sugar (almost adding a “tits” to the end of the nickname before realising where he was) your stomach reeling at the monikers, time settled your unmistakable disgust for him, the universe replaced the sickness you felt when you spoke to him with another stomach-turning anxiety that you pushed down far into every crevasse and high onto every mountain. 

You grew to enjoy the nicknames, skipping a few paces up his porch steps and ask him ever so kindly if he could come and fix the cupboard door that was swinging off its hinges, change the lightbulb because you couldn’t reach the ceiling yourself, stop the leaky tap that seemed to start drip drip dripping every month—just to bully you. 

Although you knew that Joel was a dirtbag, hearing him talking about the filthiest things, laughing as Pete clapped him on the back in praise and acknowledgement, knowing that he wanted nothing more than to treat you like a whore, he gave you nothing except a sly smile, a sleazy nickname and the occasional help around the house. Fixing things. 

So, naturally, you began asking around about Joel. Susan liked to gossip. So did Lillian, a woman who had spent her entire life in the park and, at sixty-two, had no interest in leaving. 

“I remember when he moved here,” she’d told you one fine summer evening, when the heat wasn’t as menacing and you felt content being away from the air conditioning, sipping sweet tea in Lillian’s wooden garden chairs, feet placed on the seat—chin resting on your knees. “All stoic, wouldn’t speak ‘ta anyone. I could tell he’d gone through something bad, you know me and my sixth sense.” 

She’d paused for a moment, taking a drag, a sip, a sigh before looking at you solemnly. 

“He was a catch with the ladies,” she’d muttered. “They were all after him, even this one over here,” she’d pointed to Susan who’d smacked her arm, complaining about her disrespect. She was a married, loyal woman after all. “Well, it’s true. If I were twenty years younger, I would’ve gone for him too, but it wouldn’t have done much anyway cause he didn’t touch anyone. There ain’t many pretty young ladies round here, you know you’re the only one,” she’d said plainly, addressing you with a hint of affection. 

Waving her cigarette around as she relayed every single detail she knew about Joel’s love life, telling you how after a few years of moping, he’d bring back girls in the middle of the night, fuck them, and then throw them out the next day. 

“He’s not a romantic,” Lillian had prefaced, Susan interjecting with:

“Ya think so? I think he is…if he just found the right woman-”

“Oh don’t listen to her Darlin’, he’s a man who likes to play. He ain’t lookin’ to settle, I tell you that much.” 

Listening to them both, their anecdotes, their stories, and their opinions, you concluded one thing about Joel Miller. He was an asshole. A man who had done nothing to better his life since he stepped foot in the trailer park ten years ago, a sag in his shoulders and an anger in his eyes. 

You weren’t sure if he’d mellowed since then, or if he’d just managed to conceal it better. Joel hadn’t been angry around you, not when you knocked on his door at three in the morning, asking him if he could come get the spider out of your bedroom, not when you’d accidentally run into his truck with your bike or told him that he was an asshole when you’d caught him talking about you one day in springtime. 

“She’s as dumb as fucking rocks,” he’d chuckled. “Bet she gets cockdrunk so easy.” 

He’d grumbled out the last sentence, an afterthought that was more for him than the men he was talking to, but you, stumbling around, half-asleep after your shift, were not willing to take the degradation. You’d berated him in front of his peers, slammed the door behind you, and regretted it immediately. Because, even though it shouldn’t matter, even though you thought he was pervy and angry and wouldn’t treat you how you’d been told you deserved, the last thing you wanted was for him to hate you. 

Every time he praised you, told you that you looked good as you stepped out of your home, on your way to Lillian’s for a catch-up and the cigarettes she bought you every three weeks, just for being good and keeping her company, you felt that tingle, the synaptic transmissions running down your spine every time he stepped through your door, asking what the issue with your tap was. You should’ve been disgusted when he’d left and you’d gone to the bathroom only to find the panties you’d left on the floor were gone, but you’d felt that same spark instead. A deep, sliding ache that consumed every part of you. 

Luckily for you, your sink decided to start leaking again on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon. Perfect time to lure him into your trailer, grab him by the neck and ask him as nicely as you could if he could cease the pain. 

Sip of beer, drag of cigarette, click of the remote to change the channel, repeat. 

A usual Sunday afternoon pastime. 

Joel would’ve rifled through his VHS’s, find something he could jack off to whilst he deliberated whether today would be the day he’d say “fuck it” and saunter on over to next door, hoping to god he’d get his dick wet by someone other than a whore, but he couldn’t be bothered to move from his seat. It was effort enough trying to change the channel, arm aching as he pressed the button, rolling his eyes as the same boring drab illuminated his TV screen. 

It was another one of those days. Glancing at the watch on his wrist, the broken glass, the notion that he would never fix it no matter how easy it would’ve been to go over to Shane’s and ask him to get it working again, all for the low price of a few pills. 

She’d left him with it and he would die with it. 

A reminder of her every time he glanced at his watch, swallowing hard as he remembered the way he’d pressed cool metal to the side of his head, a tear slipping down his cheek before realising that he never could. Because Joel was an asshole, he knew that. He was selfish and cruel and spoke about people as if they could get any lower than he already was. But more so than anything, Joel was a sad old man.

Tommy, the damn bastard, who’d left Joel to fend for himself while he went off with his new-found “true love” to have kids and a decent life, had sent a few thousand dollars and a pitiful “I’m sorry, Joel,” over the phone after his big brother had fucked up and lost his job. When Joel had been left penniless and broken. Nothing to fight for. No one to hold him or tell him that he was loved. He’d spent all his money raiding gas stations for cases of beer, bottles of whisky, anything that could numb the pain—choosing the alcohol over food, over his mortgage. When he’d lost the house, he hadn’t taken anything of hers. Even after she’d died, he’d insisted that everything needed getting rid of. Her clothes, her posters, even her damn phone. He’d slammed Tommy against the wall after realising that he was taking everything with him, that he was not doing as he was told. After that, Joel had closed the door on her bedroom and never stepped foot in it again. 

All he had of her was a damn watch, a photo that his little brother had shoved into his hands, a harsh, “Take it, you damn bastard. You’ll regret it when you stop feeling so sorry for yourself,” on his lips, and the memory of her in his arms when he’d felt that huge heart of hers stop beating. 

There had been many low points in Joel’s life, wandering through his existence on a tightrope that was ready to snap with every step, but none had been lower than that. 

Not even when he’d called Tommy in the middle of the night, sobbing, struggling to breathe with a clean bottle of Jim Beam in his hands, begging him to help. He’d lost his house, he’d lost his job, he’d lost his daughter. Where to next? 

Tommy, all the way in Wyoming had scraped together some money, told Joel to get himself down to the mobile park and a steady job. Start from the bottom again. 

Sometimes, Joel resented his brother for not giving him that money for a flight to the West, smiling down the phone as he informed that they had a spare room for him, his nephew cooing in his bassinet and waiting for his old uncle. 

He understood though. When he wasn’t drunk it made more sense why he hadn’t invited him to his home. 

They hadn’t spoken in sixteen years. To his nephew whom he did not know the name of, he was just the deadbeat uncle who hadn’t made it out of Texas—still alive but lost. 

Tommy would’ve probably hated him more if he was sitting on Joel’s couch, staring at the porn and the beer, the cigarettes that his little brother knew he had only smoked when he was a rebellious teenager—the occasional pull never becoming a habit, especially when his daughter came along. 

Almost certainly would’ve despised him if he knew how he felt about the girl next door, the perverse catharsis he experienced when he took himself in hand and imagined taking care of her, shushing her whimpers, making her whine with the way he stretched her open. 

Oh, and he was a bad man. A bad fucking man and he was the last thing you needed. Some poor, young girl who was doing her best to make it. Pay the rent on time, make sure she was kept fed, all whilst juggling the inescapable feeling that once you were in the trailer park there was no getting out. 

Joel didn’t see an end. He’d been here for over a decade; his drug money was not for a new house or a new life, it was for whores and booze, a carton of Marlboro reds that he got for cheap from Bill, and porn. He’d collected all the goddamn vices—became a person so unlike who he was, so far from the quietly loveable single dad he’d been hailed as years ago. 

As far as Joel now was concerned, that guy was a fucking pussy. 

That guy would think he needed professional help for the way he thought about you, would expel every single image of you naked and writhing, tits bouncing in time with his thrusts as you lay boneless and crying in his grasp. 

You were legal. What was the big fucking deal? 

Joel needed this. You were not just some throwaway material good that would leave him in debt for the next ten years—you were full and gorgeous, smart, quick-witted and made him harder than the oak tree that stood centuries-old just a little down the road from the old Palmer farmhouse. 

That day you’d heard him talking about you to his friends, the way he’d lied and said that you were dumb, when you’d come storming up his porch steps—all rage and heat—and cussed him out, he’d laughed. It didn’t matter about the taunts and the sniggers he got from his buddies who he would have no issue never speaking to again. They could go fuck themselves for all he cared because you hadn’t willingly thrown yourself at his feet and licked his boots. 

Whores were easy. No challenge with a whore, no longing, no desire, just a mutual understanding that this was transactional and she was going to moan as loud as you wanted her to whether it felt good or not. 

But you had given Joel something worth chasing. And fuck he was going to catch you, even if it meant he’d die in the chair he sat in, with nothing to show for his life except a case of Bud, an empty fridge, and a stain on his bedsheets where you’d reached for him—begging for everything he could not give.

Something about him had you checking your appearance before you walked out the door, making your hair presentable, touching up your lipgloss, blotting the oil from your face. All for a man who saw you as nothing but jailbait

You wanted to be wanted. To be looked at with a fire, an urge to grasp you and take you fully, pull you close when you cried and kiss you when you shook with the need to run far away. You wanted to be kept, to be reminded every day that you were needed, loved and desired.

You wanted Joel. 

Joel: the sad old man next door, the dangerously handsome figure in your life that stood six feet tall, jaw sharp and strong, muscles straining with his arms crossed—built big and firm. A chest you’d very much like to lay your head on. A bulge in his pants you’d very much like to see stripped bare. 

So when the opportunity came, you seized it, with an iron first, intent on capturing what had been yours since the day you’d moved to the free prison—since the day he’d stared at you, an unadulterated and irremovable, perverse desire that shook the very beings of your existence. That determined exactly who you are and how you would fall for the watchful eyes and glinting gaze that befell you every time you stepped down the rotten wood steps at the foot of the trailer entrance. 

You stepped onto them then, Chuck Taylors strapped to your feet, laces loose and lazily tied, skin smoothed from the razor you’d pressed against it in the shower that morning—all for him. The appearance every bit of expectation you had for his fantasies and ideals, hoping that the attire would thrust him further into abandoning a morality he did not have. 

The sun set rapidly behind you, the grass long and dry around your ankles, unmowed—as you nor Joel had ever discussed who would get mowing duty—and a clear head. A set destination, unstifled by a long day at work, the sweat curling along your back too harsh to be ignored and the sometimes discourteous demeanour of Joel’s so powerful that you often wondered why you liked him. Why you gave so much attention to a man years ahead of you, unable to look at you without laughing at the prospect you thought you were more to him than a pretty thing to look at whilst he wallowed in his castle of self-pity he’d built for himself all these years spent trapped and lonely. 

It all seemed insignificant that day you’d crossed the boundary between lot seventeen and lot eighteen. When you’d shakily advanced up his steps, onto the porch you grew so fond of, and knocked once, twice, thrice on the white door—stepping back to await his welcome. Hoping to god that he’d see you and take you there.��

The shuffling on the other side of the door raised your heart rate, a sweat forming on the back of your neck which you brushed away with a hasty hand, intimidated by what awaited you when the white disappeared and transformed into bulking arms and a firm chest—a tall body that you gazed up at with ardour. 

When the sight appeared, you gulped away the desire to run away, to pretend that you’d just come here for the leaky tap and that there was no other reason you had bothered him on his peaceful Sunday afternoon. No ulterior motive. Not that you just wanted to see him because he had hardly been around the past couple of days and in truth you were worried about him; you wanted to make him feel better. 

“Hi.” He struggled to conceal the surprise in his voice, seemingly struggling further to keep the thickness in his throat at bay, the redness of his eyes that displayed days of restlessness and insomnia. “You alright?” 

“Yeah,” you murmured impassively, licking your lips, swallowing away the dryness in your throat at the state of him: burning cigarette in hand, flannel shirt unbuttoned and displaying the white wifebeater that lay underneath. The shape of his belly was visible underneath it, his belt purposefully unbuckled and hanging from the loops of his jeans. “I’m alright.” 

There was a twitch of his lips as he stared down at you, eyes flitting from head to toe—shameless in the way he always was. In the way you liked. 

“You sure?” 

It seemed stupid suddenly: the entire situation. The call you felt towards him, the want you had to curl up against his chest, let him hold you and tell you he was proud of you for opening up to him—telling him how fucking much you wanted him, despite knowing exactly how it would end if you were to venture further into a relationship that surpassed just neighbours. 

So instead of inviting yourself in, seducing him until he fell to his knees, tugged you by the waist and begged you for just the smallest piece of yourself, you succumbed to your insecurity, and retreated from the palace walls. 

“Yeah…yeah, it’s just that my taps leaking again.” For a split second, he almost looked irritated, eyes honing in on you, narrowing with a look of aggravation—confirmed by the clench of his jaw. You appeased him, saying, “You don’t have to come over now. I just thought I’d tell you,” and the expression slowly slipped away into something much more sinister: mirth. 

“Sure thing, pretty girl,” he said as he slinked away from the doorframe, inviting you into his home, coaxing you past the threshold as he fumbled about in the fridge and pulled out two beers. 

Contemplating, you stared at him, the flex of his muscles as he uncapped each bottle, the stature and size of him as he hunched over the counters, turning around to hold out a drink to you. An invitation. One that you had expected you’d have to give yourself—that you’d have to kick and cry before he ever let himself find you. 

“Just have a drink,” he soothed in that southern lull of his, the words rolling from his tongue with ease. As if he had practised the scenario before he knew it would befall him. “No point in worrying over your tap, I can’t do anything until I buy new washers. I’m out 'cause of you.” 

The irritation he’d shown earlier seemed palpable now—as if he was inviting you into his home simply to make you as uncomfortable as possible, hold you down by the hips until you promised to leave him alone. A taunt, a ploy to make sure you would never get what you wanted. 

However, you had never stepped foot in his trailer, had only ever been on his porch and ran your hand over the chair he frequented, wondering what it looked like beyond the four walls, and curiosity prevailed as it always did. 

Uncertainly, you stepped onto the carpet, gently closing the door behind you, and mumbled a thank you as you took the beer from his hand. 

Almost immediately, you felt like apologising for his irrational emotions. 

“I’m sorry,” you muttered. “I didn’t mean to put you out. I’ll pay for whatever you need-”

“You pay in ways you don’t know. I don’t need your money.” 

The cryptic way in which he spoke, the casualness as he gave you a look that hinted at something you couldn’t decipher and the slow saunter to his armchair left you in a state of uncertainty. Standing there, with a beer wetting your hand, a frown on your face and a furrowed brow, you had no idea where to go next. What would await you if you questioned him—the things you would discover that were best left in the hands of God and no one else. 

Again, curiosity thrust its violent hand into your stomach and forced your feet to start moving towards him, hoping that he’d appreciate your bravery—your denial of your urges to run far away. It was noted, however, that Joel Miller could care less about bravery. That the quality itself was right down at the bottom of the ladder and that he could and would not give a shit if you welcomed his advances in spite of your lack of courage. 

Hesitantly, you planted yourself on his couch, the furniture built into the wall, curving into an L shape where you imagined he’d kick his feet up after a long day, palm the bulge in his jeans and pick from the litany of porn that you took one glance at and thought better than to stare at it too long in case he felt offended by your interest. 

The discovery admittedly took away a little of his allure. 

“Make yourself at home,” he insisted, taking a sip of his beer and urging you to do the same with a single nod of his head. The slight twitch of his lips when you did so caused your body to go squirming, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as the fire raged within you—unable to be sated with the way he looked at you then. 

Just a scoff, a sip, and a glance at your lips before he turned away completely and focused his attention on the blank TV screen— his reflection the only entertainment. 

Silence grew uncomfortable, the bitter taste of alcohol coating the back of your throat, dripping down your oesophagus and choking any words that you wished to say. The heat emanating from him was overpowering even from the distance you sat apart, the scent of cigarettes overwhelming, so much so that you needed a distraction, anything to dull the rest of your senses from shutting down—all because of his powerful presence; the effect he had on you even when he sat still and awaited your call. 

“What did you mean?” The words came tumbling from your mouth, driven by an insatiable desire and lacklustre confidence you had somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach, bubbling with the acid that nestled there until it rose to the surface—bile transforming into questions that could leave you in a shell of humiliation. At his furrowed brow, you expanded. “About me paying in ways I don’t know.” 

He leaned forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees. Sombre, all of a sudden. Staring into the barrel of his bottle, the brown glass reflecting like constellations on his face—accentuating the sharp angle of his jawline, the sunken hollows of his cheekbones. 

When his eyes nestled on yours, burrowing right into your skull, you couldn’t move. Couldn’t even fathom the thought of taking a lungful of air, waiting with your breath held tight inside, for his answer. 

“You shouldn’t go asking questions like that.” He sipped quietly, wetting his lips by flicking his tongue in and out, averting his gaze back to the shadow of himself in the television. “You’ll get yourself in trouble.” 

It was not the answer you wished for, eyes downcast, focused on your shaking knee as you tried to gauge some form of clarity beneath the mystery that clouded the gates to his head—what lay beneath his skull; what you wished to find. 

Against your better judgment, you pressed further, keeping the beer bottle clutched between your hands and hoping it would stay cold forever. 

“I can handle myself.” It came out more confident than you had expected, your bobbing knee ceasing its movement, your dry throat provided with moisture. A break from the anxious sweat you had broken out in. “If you don’t tell me I’ll just leave a hundred dollars on your doorstep and leave you alone.” 

You hoped quietly, in that stifling room, that he would make sure it didn’t come to that. That he would let you pay in any way he saw fit. You hoped that the sad hulk of a man sitting in the lone chair with porn in every drawer and money set aside for whores, would let you have him—bring back a semblance of light to his eyes. Find out what kept the despondency trapped so tight around him, the crown of thorns on his head expanding until it reached his feet and kept him locked in nature's prison—skin scratched, bloody and unable to be healed unless he found someone willing to cut through the overgrowth. 

He seemed to bristle at your words, shoulders tightening, jaw clenching in the manner he did when he was irritated. You’d seen it before when Dale had been drunk and had followed you home. When you’d stumbled uncomfortably to your trailer and pleaded Joel who sat on his porch, almost looking like he was waiting for you, to get him off your back. That tick, the downturn of his brow, the twitch of his lip, the look so intimidating you had rushed inside and watched through the window as Joel clapped a hand on Dale’s back and ushered him away from you.

You had no idea what he’d done after they’d left your sight but Dale barely looked at you after. The last interaction you’d had with him was the morning after when he’d knocked on your door, timid for a fifty-year-old man, and apologised. Joel had been there, like he almost always was—always dancing in your peripheral, waiting for you, taunting you���with a cup of coffee clasped between two hands and a smug look on his face when he watched the interaction. 

“You ain’t as smart as you think you are,” he uttered, slipping you away from the vignette and shattering the memory with his simple words. 

They stung. More than you cared to admit. 

Men were never this difficult, never this hard to get through to, never this confusing. He had given you every possible sign, every protection, every knowing look that confessed: you are everything I wish to have. 

It seemed every day he was further from you, every day he looked at you and thought that he was blinded by loneliness and that you were the last thing he needed to dote on. 

With the rejection, came vexation, a rumbling little thing that forced its way into your mouth—lips parting to let it out. 

“You’re not as discreet as you think you are.” As soon as they fell, the rest came following like a herd of bulls, a huge red flag flying through the air, right where Joel sat. They came for him, and you didn’t care enough to stop them. “I’m not stupid, no matter what you say.” 

The tick, tick, tick of his jaw. That subtle way his eyes narrowed, honing in on everything but the thing causing his problems, trying desperately to stop the truths from betraying his conceptions. 

“I see you, Joel. I see you through my bedroom window, using me as your personal stripper because you’re too fucking cheap to go down to the strip club and give a tip.” The push and pull was becoming apparent, the sympathy and disgust you held for him all at once growing and growing until all that prevailed was rage. That after everything, he still refused. That he was still a fucking coward no matter how many faces he pulled at anyone who looked at him wrong. You would not be deterred by the look he gave you then: one that should’ve made you shrink away in fear he would do something rash. “I see the way you looked at me from day fucking one. Just a pair of tits to stare at, a new young girl that you can prey on-”

“Stop.” 

“I’m not stupid.” Your voice was rising rapidly, your lips downturned in a scowl, unable to see the danger that befell you if you continued. “I know how you talk about me to your friends, I know that you make a show of being this immovable thing that no one can ever get to because you’re so wrapped up in your own self-pity that you can’t even admit to yourself that the only thing you are is a fucking pervert. And an asshole.” 

“You are crossing a line, little girl.” 

His words fell on deaf ears, a scoff coming from the back of your throat—so many things that you wanted to say but couldn’t voice. You settled for a final, blow. One that might kick him off his feet. 

“I know you stole my panties.” Jaw ticking, teeth grinding so hard they were liable to turn to dust in his mouth. “Took them right off my bathroom floor. Could you not help yourself? Are you that sad, Joel? Are you that much of a fucking perve-” 

Silenced by the way he towered, standing upright, bottle discarded by the leg of his chair and fury dancing in his eyes—so apparent and profound you finally stopped and cowered. 

“You don’t know a thing about me.” 

You were stunned into submission, finally on the end of his intimidation—a feat that was sure to happen sooner rather than later. You were just another Dale, just another one of his victims that he shot down with narrowed eyes and a nasty tone of voice that forced you to swallow down the confidence—sending it right back to your stomach, and burning the false assurance away. 

“I have been cordial with you for as long as possible.” There was danger in the way he spoke so calmly, a tremor in your hands as he stepped forward, facing you completely, and kneeled before you—eyes boring into yours, forcing you to look at him with the hand he placed on the couch beside you. “I’ve tried my hardest to be respectable but you make it so damn difficult.” 

“I’m sorry,” you began, wishing you could take it all back, wishing that you could’ve used your boldness for better: crawled into his lap and let him hold you, sank to your knees like he and worshipped him with every bit of yourself you had.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he shook his head, the hand on the couch, moving, the weight of it resting there dissipating and falling even heavier on the side of your face. “You can’t take it back now.” 

Nerves slipped like rapids through your stomach, the damn thing churning so much you began to feel sick with the anticipation and fear you felt being closer to him than you ever had been before. Your mouth opened as if to speak, then closed again when you realised that your throat had closed, the inside of your mouth dry and unable to lubricate your words with credibility as they fell from your lips.

“You think I’m a pervert?” he asked, eyes expecting an answer, eyebrows raising to help you find a response. “Hm?” 

“Yes.” The monosyllable fell shakily, unable to lie when he was looking at you so harshly, all whilst stroking your cheekbone with his thumb and engulfing the right side of your face with one, big, warm hand. 

He nodded with knowing, his other hand falling to your bare knee. You were crowded by him, completely consumed by his presence and with a harsh swallow, you hoped that he would slip away and allow you to breathe—if only for a moment. 

“I know,” he said with finality, your cheek whacked with cold air as he removed his hand, quickly providing you with warmth again as he pressed his thumb to your chin, holding it delicately. Making sure you couldn’t look away from him. “But you like it, don’t you?” he brushed the bottom of your lip with his nail, an uncontrollable shiver running through you that he revelled in.

He’d called your bluff entirely. He’d locked you up in his cage, gave you the upper hand for just a second, made you believe that you could get away from him if you kicked and screamed enough, only to leave you hopeless as he twisted the key to the right, and threw the metal that granted you freedom, into the fire. 

“If you had an issue with me looking, you’d close the drapes. You’re a smart girl, I’m sure it ain’t too hard for you.” 

His patronisation, his demeanour that consisted of arousal and determination, had a small breath puffing from your lungs, a sudden and overwhelming heat crawling from each of his hands and into your head—breaking your rationale and leaving you pliable and willing in his grasp. He’d got you. Right there. And if he wanted you, you would let him have you. 

“And if you didn’t want me to steal your panties, then you shouldn’t have left them there.” 

It was unbelievable, the way he twisted the blame onto you, the way he made you believe in everything he was saying with a simple swipe of his thumb over your bottom lip and a look in his eyes that stopped you from questioning him. 

“Yes, Joel, I’m sorry, Joel,” were the only words swimming through your head: words that you would’ve spoken aloud had he not stunned you into silence, the hand on your knee sliding along your skin, up towards the hem of your shorts where he slipped his fingers under and skimmed the skin concealed by the denim. 

“You understand me, little girl?” 

“I’m not a little girl,” you managed, voice shaky as the warmth of him engulfed you entirely, wrapped up in the scent of him, the feel of the callouses along your smooth skin and the eyes piercing you. If looks could kill…if those pretty eyes could rip you apart with the viciousness of their stare. 

“No you ain’t,” he murmured, gripping your chin, thumb rubbing along the flesh of your bottom lip, the skin bouncing as he peeled it back and let go. “I know you ain’t.” 

There seemed a flood came over his being, a white wave of purity dowsing him, ridding him of every adulteration and forcing sense back into his head as the hand fell from your face, the one on your inner thigh taking longer to slip away before the cloud of insensibility faded and he arrived to a semblance of morality. 

You watched as he stumbled over to the kitchen, hand working over the scruff he called a beard and forced his eyes away from you. 

“Joel,” you called softly, finally gaining back a little strength now he wasn’t crowding you; forcing you to look at him and make the first move so his conscience could be clean. 

“Just go.” The words were uttered much softer than before, the delicacy of his voice surprising you but the strain that coated his throat a reminder that this was still Joel Miller. Dangerously beautiful Joel Miller with a lifetime of terror stashed somewhere in the backrooms of his mind, a darkness in the depths of his eyes you couldn’t help but be frightened by, and a story you wished he would tell. A story that stretched years back to the life before he crept past the opening gates of Shady Springs Mobile Park and left a life that you had no clue wether  had been better or worse than his life now. “I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon and have a look at that tap. You might have to get maintenance round soon though if it keeps up.” 

“I don’t like strangers…in my house.” Your words trailed off at the end of your sentence, caught up in the possibilities of your words and how he would reply. If he would see right through you and clock how you’d only spoken because the tap was one of the biggest ties you had to Joel. If he would realise that you’d thought about getting maintenance months ago when it first started dripping but didn’t want a permanent fix, no matter how annoying. All because of Joel Miller and the way he’d perversely captured you in the plot of some barely legal porno that you would’ve turned your nose up at if it was anyone but him and you. 

You and Joel. 

The thought sounded nice—the reality a little less nicer. 

“Yeah, well…” he leant back on the countertops, arms crossed over his chest, eyes bloodshot and bordered by black—an undeniable piece of evidence that Joel perhaps wasn’t doing as well as he made everyone believe; that there was something deeper tugging at his mind and causing such aggravation. 

After a moments silence, when he looked at you and you looked right back at him, your head clear and working properly again, you diverted the conversation elsewhere—a ploy to hack deeper at his head and find what lay underneath his skull. 

“Are you okay?” Simple, easy. Not difficult to ascertain the concern laced deep in your tone because you were concerned for him. The moment he’d opened the door after days of barely seeing him, time spent cursing the fact he could peer through your windows but you could not peer through his, you knew something was wrong. That there was something happening to him. Something dangerous. Your sympathy began to overtake everything else, memory shed of all the times he had wronged you and replaced with the very little he had done right. “You look…tired. Exhausted, really.” 

“I’m fine,” he said with finality, the rage in his eyes returning but with less power this time. The fatigue was setting in, the constant running from himself finally catching up to him. 

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’m fine.” It shut you up well enough, so much so that you began to lose the commiserations. You could always say you tried. “Now get out of my house.” 

It was the final thing he said to you before he slipped away, striding down the hallway, footsteps echoing until he reached the bedroom; the click of the door resounding throughout the trailer. 

You stared at the spot where he’d kneeled, a finger brushing softly over your lip before shaking away the self-pity and gently placing the beer bottle on the table that sat next to his chair. 

Looking one last time at the door at the end of the hallway, shadowed and guarded by snapping dogs, you opened the door, the damn thing creaking as if to shout to everyone within a mile radius that you had made no progress with the man you desperately wanted, and stepped out. Leaving your pride on the doorstep. 

© virginreprise

thanks for reading !

[raphael-angele]

The Gift

POV: It's Regulus' birthday and he's opening presents at the breakfast table.

Regulus: Okay, so far I got a journal that cannot be opened unless I'm the one holding it; thank you, Evan. The Cain's Jawbone book; thank you, Barty. A brand new stationary set; thank you, Pandora. And a silver snake ring that has a needle that injects poison to whoever it punctures; thank you, Dorcas.

Pandora: Happy birthday, Reg.

Evan: Happy birthday, buddy.

Barty: Yeah, yeah, yeah, happy birthday and all that. So which one is your favorite?

Dorcas: You kidding? I win by a mile.

Evan: Oh, I almost forgot *pulls out a small box* This is from Potter.

Dorcas: Why was James Potter giving you a gift for Regulus?

Barty: And why was he with you in the first place?

Evan: Calm down. We bumped into each other in the halls and he asked me to give it to Reg.

Regulus: *opens the box* oh wow.

Pandora: What is it?

Regulus: *shows it to Pandora*

Pandora: Aww, that's so cute.

Barty: What is it?

Pandora: It's like an small pin of the golden snitch but instead of a ball, it's shaped like a star.

Regulus: *reads the note* "Still can't believe I caught you. JP"

Dorcas: Aw, Now that's just romantic

Barty: If Potter wanted to be romantic, he'd realign the stars to say, "I am untterly, undoubtedly, and deeply in love with Regulus Arcturus Black. I say with with sound mind and body. Love, James Potter"

Regulus, putting the pin on his robe: So whose gift is that one? *points to a box*

Everyone:

Regulus: ...no one?

Evan: *inspects* Well, it's addressed to you. And it says Happy Birthday. Maybe it's from your parents?

Regulus: Unlikely. Give it? *takes the box* Really nothing written on here.

Barty: Open it.

Regulus: *opens it and gasps*

Dorcas: What is it?

Regulus: *looks over at the Gryffindor table* Nothing *packs up the gifts, stands and leaves* Thanks for the gifts.

At the Gryffindor table:

Sirius: Hey, the birthday boy himself.

James: Oh, hi, babe.

Regulus: Hey. Sirius, a word? *they move a bit farther away*

Sirius: So what's up? Did you need something?

Regulus: The gift.

Sirius: Yeah? What about it?

Regulus: ...help me put it on?

Sirius: ...*smiles softly* Yeah, okay.

In the bathroom:

Sirius: You okay in there?

Regulus: *comes out of the stall with a roll of bandage*

Sirius: What do you think?

Regulus: *runs his hands through his torso, looks at the mirror and turns to the side*

Sirius: It's not too tight right? I think I hooked it on the right row.

Regulus: *cries*

Sirius: *goes up to him* Hey, hey, c'mon, don't cry. It's okay. What's wrong? Is it too small? Does it hurt?

Regulus: *shakes his head* No. It's perfect.

Sirius: Aww, I'm glad. Feels better right?

Regulus: Mhm.

Sirius: *sighs* I told you to stop using bandages to bind. You're gonna hurt yourself.

Regulus: I didn't have a binder to use.

Sirius: Well now you do. And this is a lot safer and comfier. Right?

Regulus: *nods*

Sirius: Yeah. Now, you have to promise me that you won't wear it for too long. If I find out that you've been binding longer than what's safe, I'm confiscating them. Understand?

Regulus: Mhm. I promise

Sirius: Okay.

Regulus: *hugs Sirius tightly* Love you

Sirius: *kisses the top of his head* Love you, too. Now, let's get you to class.

[drabbles-mc]

We Were Just Leaving

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut (protected p in v), language, alcohol, strangers to lovers

For Week 2 of Hot Bucky Summer: "What should I call you?"

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: my first time ever writing smut for bucky. it truly is a Hot Bucky Summer! 😂 biggest thanks to @buckybarnesevents for putting on this event! endless appreciation for all of your hard work 💞 maybe i'll write more for these two in this event if another prompt strikes inspo for them 👀

Going out on your own to get a drink and decompress after a long week had sounded like a great idea until about three minutes ago. Ever since then you’d been silently kicking and cursing yourself for not taking up your coworkers on their Happy Hour offer. The last thing you’d wanted to do after the way your week had gone was socialize, even with coworkers that you generally liked and got along with.

But now that seemed like the greatest thing in the world compared to the situation you were about to find yourself in. Theo from the finance department and his same half a dozen jokes seemed like a dream to be across a table from compared to your ex who had just walked through the door of the bar you were at.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath.

You had less than a couple minutes to try and scamper out before he saw you. And the only reason you had that kind of time at all was because the bar was busy and it would take longer to spot you in the midst of everyone. But the second that your ex got up to the bar with his buddies to order drinks, your cover would be blown.

You dug some cash out of your purse, tossing enough onto the top of the bar to cover the one drink you’d ordered so far and the tip for the bartender. You were zipping your bag back up as you were hopping off the stool that you’d been sitting on. Your eyes were fixed on your purse, frustrated that this was the one time that the zipper decided to jam. The whole time you were straining your ear to make sure that you could hear how close your ex was, trying to hear his voice or his laughter.

“Fuck,” you were trying to weave your way through the crowd but the clusters and groups of friends all lingering and waiting for their chance to slink up to the bar and order were all packed tightly. You didn’t remember when this spot became a popular place to be. You huffed, trying to say, “Excuse me,” loud enough for people to hear you but not so loud that it came across as rude or drew any real attention to you.

A pocket of space opened up and you were more relieved than you should’ve been. Clutching your bag tight to you, you took long, measured strides to try and slip through the small groups of people that had parted ways just enough for you to sneak through. You were almost to the other side of them, almost out of what would be an easy range for your ex to see you, when someone took a step backwards as they laughed and inadvertently bumped right into you.

The fact that it was an accident did nothing to soothe your nerves. Them stepping back sent you stumbling mid-stride and bumping right into someone sitting at one of the few small high-top tables that the bar had scattered around. You felt a hand on your back and the heat flaring up in your face and you were already sputtering out five different apologies at once before you’d even fully turned around to face the person you’d bumped into.

When you looked at his face, all the words stopped cascading past your lips. Still white-knuckling your purse, still feeling like your face and throat were on fire from embarrassment, you found yourself incapable of looking anywhere but at the icy blue eyes staring back at you.

He didn’t look happy about you bumping into him, per se, but he didn’t look as angry or annoyed as other people in the bar might’ve been. No drinks were spilled in the process, which was a bonus. He raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked at you, but his expression was otherwise neutral.

“S-sorry,” you finally forced out, clear but still uncertain.

He shook his head. “It’s fine.”

“Okay.” You nodded, knowing that you should be forcing your feet to carry you away, but you were locked in place.

His eyebrows went from raised to pinched together. Apparently, he took your hesitancy to leave as you not believing his simple reassurance. “Really,” he emphasized with a small nod, “it’s fine. You can go—seemed like you were in a rush anyway.”

Your eyes widened slightly at that, the full scope of the situation coming back to you. You cleared your throat. “Right. Thanks. Thank you. Sorry. I’m just gonna—” you were halfway to motioning over your shoulder when a vaguely familiar voice blared like an airhorn in your ear.

“Well look who it is!”

Turning to look over your shoulder, your stomach dropped. It wasn’t your ex, but you knew that he was going to run right back to your ex and tell him that you were here. Even if you tried to bolt it wasn’t going to do you any good. You were in it now.

“Hey,” you said, keeping it short, trying to make your tone as unenthusiastic as possible.

“Oh, Ricky’s gonna be stoked that you’re—”

“I was just—”

He waved you off. “Wait right here—I’ll go grab him.”

“Don’t—” It didn’t matter what you were going to say next because he was already taking back off towards the bar. You let out a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

You’d nearly forgotten the man stuck in the middle of all this until he spoke up again. “So, who’s Ricky?” There was a hint of amusement to his voice despite the fact that his expression hadn’t changed much at all.

You shook your head. “Whatever you’re already thinking, just go with that,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Rough.”

You had to laugh at the simple response. “Yeah. That’s why I was, you know,” you gestured vaguely towards the door that you had previously been trying to get to as quickly as possible.

You shook your head again, unable to do anything else. Each second that passed you could feel the anxious jitters building. You had no interest in talking to him ever again, and you knew that if he started talking to you, it was going to be nearly impossible to get out of it. That’s just how he was. You were so deep in thought and oncoming panic that you hadn’t noticed the way you were gnawing the inside of your lip until you felt a slight sting from it.

Turning to look at the man who hadn’t asked for any of this, you said, “You don’t owe me a favor, but do you think you could still do one for me?”

He shook his head, “I’m not gonna beat up—”

That got a genuine laugh out of you. “No, no. I mean, I bet you could. But just, can you pretend that we were here together and that we were leaving? I just, I need an exit strategy.”

“What, you want me to pretend to be your new boyfriend so your old one will leave you alone?”

“You don’t have to be my boyfriend. Just, be some friend that wanted to grab a drink with me. And get me the fuck out of here. Please.”

The pause that ensued didn’t give you anything resembling hope. But he must’ve taken just enough pity on you because his shoulders dropped as he sighed. “Alright, fine.”

Relief coursed through you even though you were nowhere near through this exchange yet. “Thank you.”

“What should I call you?” he asked.

You gave him a confused look. “My…my name, I guess?”

Your face and the tone of your response had him feeling whatever embarrassment you’d been battling with earlier when you bumped into him. He saw it all over your face then, and he was certain that you could see it all over his face now. The whole situation was much simpler about sixty seconds ago when you were the more flustered one in the scenario. Now he was the one in uncertain territory. He didn’t know why he asked it like that, but it was what had come out of his mouth when he tried to ask you for your name. It crossed his mind for a moment that maybe you’d bumped into the wrong person to get you out of this mess but it was too late now.

“Yeah. Um, enlighten me?” The laugh that you let out at that wasn’t a cruel one, which was the only reason he didn’t double-down on his embarrassment. You were amused, perhaps even a little relieved. After all, you could’ve just told him your name in response to his first question. As it stood, you told him now and he nodded. “Right.”

You figured you should know his too. “What’s—”

You didn’t get to finish the question let alone get the answer before your ex and his friend reappeared in front of you. They each had a drink in their hand and smug smiles on their faces. The reality of what had you asking ridiculous favors of a stranger you’d only known for about five minutes suddenly crashed down over you again. The knot in your stomach was back with a vengeance as you looked at the man in front of you, knowing that he was feeling none of the dread that you currently were.

“I didn’t believe it when he told me,” Ricky spoke up, nodding in the direction of his friend. “Thought you were still avoiding me.”

You forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat. “I tried to tell him that we were just taking off,” you replied, hating how defeated you sounded.

The smug look on your ex’s face disappeared instantly when he heard the word we. It was only then that he realized you were standing right next to a man. A man whose name you still didn’t know but he didn’t know that part.

“We?” Ricky repeated. “Well, care to introduce us?”

You tried not to let your panic show on your face. At this point you were ready to just give this random stranger you’d met in a bar an equally random name and apologize for it later. You barely registered the sound of his chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it away from the table and stood himself up from it.

Fighting the uncertainty out of your voice, you said, “This is—”

He cut you off by putting himself between you and Ricky, holding his hand out for the man to shake in the process. “James,” he said as he nonchalantly slipped his free hand into yours. It wasn’t a gesture you’d been expecting, but you weren’t going to go against it either. There was something reassuring about the callouses of his palm against your skin as he threaded your fingers together. When he broke off the handshake with your ex, he gave a small tilt of his head and said, “Ricky, right?”

You knew that you weren’t doing a good job at all at hiding the pleased and surprised look on your face. The feeling only intensified when you saw the way it through Ricky completely off-kilter, whatever hand he had been planning on playing now no longer available to him.

He cleared his throat, and you noticed the way he adjusted, tightened his grip on the glass he was holding. He tried to recover from the temporary upset. “So, you’ve heard about me, then?” he asked, the look on his face letting you know that he considered it to be a good thing.

You were rolling your eyes and about to come back with something when James beat you to the punch. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

You tried to suppress the smile that wanted to take over your face but you weren’t sure if you did. You found yourself giving James’s hand a light squeeze, instinctively placing your other hand in the center of his back.

Ricky was trying to sputter out a response and James didn’t let him get a single coherent word out. “Like she said,” he gave you a small, gentle nudge towards the door, “we were just leaving.”

“I—”

James was already turning around and taking off towards the door. He called back over his shoulder, more nonchalant than your ex could ever hope to be, “Nice meeting you, Ricky.”

You were glad that the music and general chatter of the bar was hiding the sound of your laughter as the two of you made your way towards the door. Navigating the crowds was so much easier when you were attached to a man built the way that he was—funny how that seemed to work. The two of you were able to quickly maneuver your way to and out the door.

There was no better sound in the world to you than your boots hitting the concrete sidewalk outside the bar. The relief of being out of there was more than you were able to say in the moment, so instead you just kept laughing as you instinctively headed in the direction on the sidewalk that would eventually lead back to your apartment.

In that moment, there was no better sound in the world to James than the sound of you laughing. You were thanking him as the two of you walked away, and he was content to follow you under the guise of being committed to the little ruse you’d put together, to getting you far enough away from the bar to be considered out of the danger zone. He wondered if you, in the midst of your relief, even noticed that you were still holding onto his hand. He certainly still noticed.

You stopped suddenly and turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Oh, shit,” you gasped.

He looked over his shoulder, expecting your reaction to be because your ex had followed the two of you, or something similar. “What?”

You gestured back towards the bar. “Your drink! We didn’t pay—”

His laughter stopped you short. Shaking his head he said, “I was paid up.”

Your shock and tension both disappeared. “Oh. Okay.” It was then that you realized you were still holding his hand. You let go immediately, face warm as you let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The two of you stood on the sidewalk, a few inches separating you as you faced each other. “So,” you started, the awkwardness that had previously disappeared rearing its head again, “James your real name or just something you made up so my ex can’t stalk you on Facebook or something?”

He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t have Facebook. But yeah, it’s my real name. You,” he cracked a tiny grin, “you can call me Bucky, though.”

You smiled. “Bucky? That, you know, that what I should call you?” you joked.

He laughed, head tilting back slightly as did. He felt the way his face heated up at that and he just hoped that it was dark enough outside to hide the fact that he was probably blushing. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Reaching out, you gently placed your hand on the outside of his bicep for all of a moment, not that it stopped him from being able to feel the warmth of your palm through the blue fabric of his henley. “Well, thank you, Bucky. I appreciate it. Sorry if I totally ruined your night.”

“You didn’t,” he said with no hesitation. “Sorry that your ex ruined yours.”

You shrugged, feeling the way that your lips were slowly tugging up into a smile. “Could’ve been worse.”

“Do you have plans right now?” Bucky asked, unsure of where the question came from or how it got out past his lips.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “I was just planning on going home. Why? Have better plans in mind?”

It took him no time at all to realize that he’d walked himself into this with no idea where he was going with it. He knew that he had a decent poker face but even so he had a feeling you could read him like a book in that moment. And he definitely wasn’t reading like a mystery novel.

“I didn’t know if…you know…” he trailed off for a moment, “Wanna get…coffee? Or something?”

You chuckled and gave a small shrug. “Sure. Coffee sounds good.” You started to walk. “Or something.”

He quickly strode to catch up with you. “Got a place in mind?”

You laughed as you looked over at him. “Well, it didn’t seem like you did.”

It could’ve been a much more embarrassing call out if there hadn’t been such a warm look in your eyes. The only thing that he could think to do in the moment was follow you, so that was exactly what he did.

You couldn’t remember the last time that an invitation for a simple cup of coffee had suddenly caused an entire night to slip by. You didn’t even end up drinking all your coffee, too wrapped up in the conversation that you were having with Bucky. Funny that at the start of your evening you’d figured that a night alone was what you’d been needing, and yet sitting across from Bucky at a little café table, going wherever the conversation strayed to, left you feeling better than any number of nights by yourself at a bar or at home.

Bucky was fairly certain that he could talk to you all the way until the sun came back up again. He was also fairly certain that that fact had nothing to do with the caffeine from the coffee he’d had. His cup was empty, but he still found himself toying with it in his hands as the two of you talked. He didn’t know when the last time he got coffee with someone was. At least, someone who wasn’t Steve or Sam or Nat. This felt so foreign and new, yet there was something so familiar about you.

The pair of young twenty-somethings who were working at the coffee shop didn’t exactly tell you both to leave, didn’t exactly kick you out. But you both noticed the way that they were starting to wipe down the counter and tables and you knew better than to be the people who stayed right up until the last minute. Even though this time, you really wanted to. Getting a few more minutes with Bucky almost seemed worth it.

When the two of you were back out on the sidewalk once more, you turned to face him. The jitters you’d had when you left the bar hours before were gone, but there was a new feeling in its place. Similar but different. More excitement, more curiosity, more hope. You didn’t know what to do about it, though, didn’t know what to say to articulate those feelings.

“Well,” you finally said with a soft laugh, “now I really took up your whole night.”

The smile that Bucky gave you was charming enough to nearly have your knees knocking together. “Not the whole night.”

You hummed in amusement. “Then I’ll let you go before it turns into that.”

He tucked his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “You’re alright getting home?”

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’m only a couple blocks away.”

“I can walk you,” he offered.

You should’ve hesitated at least a little bit, but you didn’t. “That’d be nice.”

The two of you fell into stride beside each other. The first little stint was silent, but not uncomfortably so. You couldn’t speak for Bucky, but you knew that you were trying to figure out what was going to happen when you made it to the main door of your apartment building. You also knew, though, that no amount of overthinking it now was going to make it any easier to navigate then. So, you did what the two of you had been doing successfully for the last few hours, and picked a new topic out of thin air to talk about.

By the time you reached your building, you were walking so close to Bucky that your arm was practically pressed against his. He didn’t seem to mind—it wasn’t as though he was trying to pull away. Every now and then when you laughed, you’d give him a playful little bump, shoulder to shoulder, and Bucky had to fight the urge to drape his arm around you and pull you closer.

Stopping in front of one of the many tall brick buildings on the block, you nodded towards the door before opening your purse to find your keys. “This is me.”

Even though you’d hold him that you were only a couple of blocks away from the café, he still found himself surprised at how quickly you’d arrived. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that the evening was over so soon. Never mind the fact that the evening had started hours ago, and completely on accident.

It took him a couple seconds longer than it should’ve to realize he was supposed to be saying something to you. “Oh,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment show, “okay.”

You were smiling as your eyes stayed trained on your purse, still fishing around for your keys. “Thank you for, well, all of it I guess,” you punctuated your sentence with a laugh.

He smiled warmly at you even though you weren’t looking at him yet. “No problem.”

“Ah,” you said as you finally found your keyring. You never thought your purse was all that large and yet you never seemed to find what you needed when you needed it. “Right. Well, I’d, um,” you stammered, wanting to ask and say about twenty different things and unable to decide on a single one of them. Taking a breath to get yourself together, you said, “I had a really good time, despite how all of this started,” you laughed for a moment and so did he, “and it’d be, I don’t know, I’d like to see you again…” you trailed off even though you didn’t mean to.

He smiled, relief and excitement battling it out in his chest. “I’d like that.”

Without giving it a second thought, he pulled out his phone and gave it to you, fumbling his way through asking you for your number. He would’ve been more self-conscious about his lack of grace with it if you hadn’t seemed so eager to type in your name and number.

You held his phone back out to him. “So, yeah, let me know when you’re free.”

He reached to take it back from you. There was the briefest moment of hesitation before you let his phone go, one that got him to look up from where your hands were nearly touching and into your eyes. You let go of his phone, and he slipped it back into the pocket of his jeans, but neither of you took your eyes off the other. Bucky couldn’t help but to notice the way that your teeth pulled just slightly at your bottom lip. He found himself opening his mouth to say something, but no words came out. He could’ve let it all die out there, or he could’ve let himself succumb to the nerves of not being able to conjure up something to say, but instead he found himself choosing a third option that he hadn’t even thought was available to him.

Stepping in and closing the tiny strip of space left between you, Bucky pressed his lips to yours. It was gentle, and brief. He pulled away when you’d barely gotten past the shock of him kissing you at all. You saw the way his eyes were searching yours, looking for the cue to either get lost or come back for more. The moment of silence terrified him, almost had him sputtering out an apology.

Then you closed the gap and kissed him again. A little more conviction, a palm resting against his chest. It was a minor miracle that you hadn’t dropped your keys to the ground as he kissed you back. His hand came up and cupped your cheek, palm warm against you despite the chilly night air.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t hide that it’d left you a little breathless. His hand was still cupping your face and it had you smiling wide enough to make your cheeks ache. Fidgeting with the keys in your hand, you forced yourself to speak. You purposely ignored how soft and breathy your voice was.

“You can come up if you want,” you offered.

You were just far enough away from him to see the surprise that crossed his features. “Yeah?”

You nodded, keenly aware of the way his hand felt on your face as you did. “Yeah.”

The slowness of the elevator in your apartment building was usually something that served to be a mild annoyance for you. However, this time, you wished that it would’ve taken longer to climb up to the fifth floor where your apartment was. Hell, you would’ve been fine if it had gotten stuck if it meant you had a few more moments with Bucky keeping you pressed against the wall, his lips capturing yours over and over again.

It was the singular chime that broke the two of you apart, the alert that you’d arrived at your floor. The walk from the elevator door to your apartment door was a short one but it felt tragically long when you had Bucky behind you with his hands on your hips and his lips on your neck. You had no idea how you managed to get your key into the lock so that the two of you could get inside, but you did it.

You closed and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Out of habit you reached and flicked the lights on. Bucky still had one hand on the small of your back, using the other to deftly undo the laces on his boots so he could toe them off beside your door where the rest of your shoes had been tossed haphazardly as the weeks had passed by.

You’d hardly dropped your purse and keys off when he was pressed up against you again, his chest flush against your back. You sucked in a tiny gasp as your body melted back into him. You wanted to say something but the second he was pulling the collar of your shirt to the side and pressing his lips to your shoulders, whatever pleasantries you’d been thinking of went completely out the window.

 Even though you knew your apartment like the back of your hand, had navigated through it in the dark and after nights out when you had more than a few drinks, you nearly found yourself stumbling as you walked through the lit-up room with Bucky attached to you.

Once the two of you were in your bedroom, Bucky put his hands on your hips and spun you around so that you were facing him. He wasted no time as he leaned in and kissed your lips, like the few minutes of being unable to had been hours instead. His hands trailed their way up to your face, palms warm and rough to the touch all at once. Keeping his lips on yours, he walked you back towards your bed. You were reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt just as the backs of your legs pressed against the side of your mattress.

Bucky indulged you, assisting you in peeling his shirt off over his head and tossing it aside. Any time that you would’ve spent standing there gawking at him was quickly stolen away as he pressed himself close to you again, firmly but gently getting you back onto the bed.

Every movement felt like it fed so easily into the next. The pair of you were nothing but wandering hands and ragged breaths as you stripped the clothes off each other. The floor was littered with them but neither of you cared. Bucky was down to his boxers, you your bra and panties. He had you pinned underneath him but it didn’t stop his hands from roaming everywhere they could. They wandered across your stomach, up and down your thighs, grazing over your chest. Every touch and graze had you pressing yourself into him more and more, teeth pulling at his bottom lip as you let out little whines and whimpers of encouragement.

You could feel the effect that it had on him. No amount of wanting to feel every inch of you underneath his fingertips could stop him from grinding his hips against yours. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had him feeling so desperate so quickly—he didn’t know if there ever had been a last time.

Like you could hear his thoughts, Bucky felt your fingers curling over the edge of the waistband of his boxers. You started pushing them down his hips and Bucky had no intention of stopping you. He quickly kicked them off the rest of the way before his fingertips dragged down your stomach until they slipped underneath the waistband of your panties. The lightest brush of his fingers had you bucking into his hand and whatever plans he’d had to drag this out no longer mattered. He easily pulled the flimsy fabric down your legs, making quick work of it as you lifted your legs to help.

It took every last shred of Bucky’s self-control to not just slip right into you. The way you had your legs wrapped around his waist would’ve made it so easy to do. He kissed you, neediness bleeding from his lips to yours as his hands continued to trace lines up and down your thighs.

 “Do you have—” Pulling away just enough so that your lips weren’t touching anymore, but not so much that you couldn’t feel his breath on your skin as he spoke. He managed to get out half the question he had before you cut him off.

“Top drawer,” you answered, already knowing where it was going.

The chuckle he let out got a smile out of you. The awkwardness and discomfort that occasionally accompanied first-time hookups was nowhere to be found. He pressed a brisk kiss to your lips before leaning and reaching over for the handle of the top drawer of your nightstand. You took advantage of the momentary position of vulnerability that he was in, lifting your head to kiss and then suck a mark where his neck met his shoulder. You heard the groan he let out, but more than that you could feel it as you kept your lips pressed there.

Him quickly tearing the foil of the condom with his teeth shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and yet you found yourself staring. He caught it, too, and the smirk on his face would’ve made your knees week if you’d been standing rather than on your back beneath him.

You watched him roll the condom on, biting down so hard on your lip you were surprised that you didn’t draw blood. Your eyes slowly traveled their way back up his torso until you were looking into his. The eagerness, the tension in his body could be felt in all the places the two of you were connected. Even so, he still waited for one more yes from you.

The yes he was waiting for came in the form of you putting your hand on the back of his neck and pulling him down into a kiss, in the way you wrapped your legs a little tighter around him and pulled him in closer to you. You felt the way that he instantly gave in, slowly pushing into you as you moaned into his mouth at the sensation. You felt the way that he smiled into your kiss as your nails bit down into the flesh of his neck and shoulder.

“Fuck,” he rasped out, lips brushing against yours as he spoke. He took a moment to revel in it, the feeling of being buried into you so that his hips were flush against yours.

Moving your hand from the back of his neck so that it was cupping his chin, you pulled him back into another kiss. You felt each little hum and moan that he let out as he started to thrust into you, his arms on either side of your head caging you in. He kept himself pressed tightly to you, leaving your hands to wander the broad, muscular expanse of his back. The way you moaned his name, the moments when you’d rake your nails down his back, let him know that he was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

He peeled himself off you, separating his chest from yours. You longed for the contact as soon as it was gone, but before you could think too much on it, he moved one of your legs so that it was draped over his shoulder. When he picked up his rhythm once more, you were grabbing onto his hips before you even knew what you were doing, begging him not to stop like he’d ever even dream of that in the first place.

Your leg was starting to tremble against his shoulder. Instinctively he turned and pressed a kiss to the side of your calf as he continued to thrust into you. Your grip on him tightened as you breathlessly moaned, “Just like that.”

A few more thrusts just like that and you were coming undone around him. He soaked in every moment of it, the feeling of you, the way you cried out his name, the way your body arched and tensed before going pliant.

He was chasing right after you, after that same high. He was nearly there and the soft, needy way you whined out, “Bucky,” in the waves of aftershock sent him clean over the edge. His hips stuttered as he came, your name tumbling from his lips. He collapsed against you, face buried in the crook of your neck as your legs went back to looping around his waist, keeping him pulled tight and still inside you.

You weren’t sure if it was your own heartbeat that you were feeling thudding in your chest or his, but you supposed it didn’t matter. Both of you were fighting to catch your breath, bodies practically melting into each other’s. You wrapped your arms around him, hands gentle on his back where just minutes before you’d been digging your nails into the cords of muscle there. He kissed the column of your throat, the little bit of stubble that was growing in feeling extra ticklish in your sensitive state, enough to get you to giggle and twitch at the sensation.

Once he’d gotten a little bit of his breath back, he propped himself up enough to look at you properly. “You okay?”

You laughed, unable to do anything else but that and nod for a moment. Finally, you said, “I’m great, yeah.” It got a chuckle out of him as you reached and trailed your fingertips down his cheek. “You okay?”

He nodded before leaning in and kissing you. “I’m great.” A few more moments passed in comfortable silence, the two of you just taking in the sight and state of each other. You noticed the small shifts in his expression, and you waited for whatever was coming next. “Um,” he looked over towards the door of your bedroom, “where’s your…so I can…”

You laughed, head dropping back against your pillow. “Out the door and to the left.”

He chuckled, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll be, you know, right back.”

You afforded him the illusion of privacy as he searched and grabbed his boxers off the floor and scampered off to your bathroom. You chuckled as you managed to get yourself out of bed, making your way over to your dresser on wobbly legs to you could grab your own shirt to sleep in. You were back in bed and under the covers by the time Bucky came back.

When he got back to your bedside, he reached down and grabbed his shirt off the floor. He didn’t make an immediate move to put it on, instead just holding it loosely in his hand. “I can—”

“Stay,” you didn’t even want him to put the idea of leaving out into the universe. Not after the night the two of you had just had. “I mean,” you laughed softly, “if you want. I’d like that.”

There was no hesitation as he dropped his shirt to the ground. “Okay.”

He easily shimmied down underneath the covers beside you. You curled into him, allowing his arm to slip beneath you and pull you tighter so that your head was resting on his chest. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the thrumming of his heartbeat. You also started to feel not just the tiredness in your muscles from everything that had just happened, but also the exhaustion of how late it was now.

The same tiredness was present in Bucky’s voice as he spoke, words partially mumbled as he spoke them into your hair. “Light’s still on out there.”

“Leave it,” you replied words equally mumbled as you said them with your lips partially pressed against his chest. “I’ll worry about it tomorrow.”

The hum of amusement that he made let you know that he wasn’t going to worry about it now either. Draping his other arm around you, he slipped his hand underneath your shirt so that his hand was splayed across the center of your back and keeping you tight to him. Nestling farther into him, you rested your palm on his chest as you finally let yourself start drifting off to sleep.

(divider by @saradika-graphics 💞)

MCU Taglist: @garbinge @beardburnsupersoldiers @artemiseamoon @late-to-the-party-81 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists please let me know! xo)

[inkdrinkerworld]

Terrified

Cw: idiots in love, remus being scared of fucking up, maybe some swear words, angst to fluff

Wc: 2.6k

You never want to see Remus again.

Your chest burns as you watch him dance in James’ back garden with a girl who looks nothing like you and all you can feel is bile climbing your throat.

Sure you hadn’t believed him when he’d first asked you out, but his persistence, his kind words and the way he would constantly flirt with you had gotten you to agree to one date.

You’d hoped he was being honest, that he had feelings for you too. Maybe not as strong as yours were, but at least enough.

Now you see you’d been a fool.

One Week Earlier:

Remus and you have been dancing around your feelings for each other for as long as you’ve been friends. You always flirt and tease each other, but nothing ever comes of it. Remus likes you- it sometimes feels a bit more than like, especially when he smells your chamomile conditioner, or when you offer him his favourite sea salt and caramel chocolates.

You feel the same. Remus always wants to buddy read with you, or hear you talk about your day and over the years, you’ve both gotten into a steady routine of either calling or messaging the other before you go to sleep.

It feels very much like the two of you are together already even though you’re not.

Your friends have become annoyed with you both for the amount of teasing banter that’s tossed back and forth that yields nothing.

“Just ask her out, Moony. Bloody fucking ‘ell, you’d swear you didn’t know the girl was tripping up about you.” Sirius moans, sipping his beer as Remus watches you talk with Lily and Mary at the other side of the long table.

You’re all at a pub to celebrate the end of the week, needing drinks after the way work has shafted you all in some way or the other.

You hair’s out tonight, a rare occurrence, and Remus swears that he can smell your shampoo from where he’s sat.

You’ve got on your work pants still, just with a different top- a softer looking top to your usual scrub tops. Even though you’re tired, and the lighting is shit in the pub, Remus’ breath is stolen by you.

“S’not like it would hurt anything.” James chimes in, Remus keeping his eyes on you as he tries to distract himself from acting on his friends’ goading. “C’mon Moony, you’d both be happy together.”

James would never root for you both if he thought there would be any major falling outs and a lack of chemistry, still Remus is hesitant.

It’s a bit different to liking you from the safe title of, ‘just friends,’ to liking you and doing something to turn the title into something else- something more.

You turn in his direction, a wide smile on your face when you find his hazel green eyes across the room.

“You’re far away tonight, Remus.” There’s no real sadness in your voice, but something about your eyes has Remus readying himself to change positions with Mary.

Sirius snickers, “He’s fighting your love, poppet. Doesn’t want to sit too near, lest he embarrass himself.” You frown, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as you examine Remus.

“You don’t actually have to come over.” you say, your mouth curving into a soft pout. Remus doesn’t hesitate in slamming the heel of his shoe into Sirius’ shin.

“Why don’t you come sit with me here, dove? Sirius can go sit with Mary.” you shake your head, turning back to Lily and Mary who glare at Sirius and shake their heads at Remus.

He sighs, sitting back into his chair. Remus’ mood doesn’t brighten till you’re all leaving. James and Sirius have gone to the till to settle up, Mary and Marlene have hitched a taxi, Lily is already in the car per James’ request with the doors locked and you’re standing at the door waiting for Sirius because he’s yours and Remus’ ride home.

“Sirius didn’t mean what he said earlier as anything more than a joke. You know that right dove?” Remus asks gently, scuffing his shoe against the pavement as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Mhm.” You pull your arms around you before letting them fall and then reach for the cigarette hanging from Remus’ lips. “Is this the strawberry menthol one?” You ask, looking up at Remus with eyes that seem to ensnare him like a siren ensnares its prey.

“Yeah,” it’s breathy and wispy, unlike Remus in all ways. It isn’t the first time you’ve shared a smoke- you don’t do it half as often as Remus, but every now and then, it’s a nice feeling between your teeth and fingers.

“You also don’t have to just do things to prove them wrong, which is why I gave you the out.” You turn your head to blow the smoke behind you, shoulders dropping just a little more as the smoke curls around your face.

Remus is enraptured. This close he can definitely smell the chamomile shampoo, though it also smells like sterility and sanitizer.

“I don’t need an out when it comes to you,” his hand reaches your lips, thumb dragging against your bottom lip just a second longer than it should before he plucks the cigarette from your mouth.

“You don’t have to keep the flirting up when it’s just Remus.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when Remus doesn’t look away. He tilts his head down towards you just as he takes a drag. It’s a little hypnotic to watch him inhale a little and then breathe out, blowing his smoke just over your shoulder.

Maybe it’s two pints he’d had, loosening his lips, but his words wash over you slowly. “I don’t flirt with you for their benefit, pretty girl. It’s not a farce.”

You feel your palms sweat against your thighs. “Oh really?”

He nods, a small grin spreading on his lips and making him look even hotter with the cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Yes really,” He throws the butt to the floor, stamping it out with the toe of his shoes. “I’ll prove it to you too. How abouts next Saturday, you and I go on a date.”

You shiver when his hand reaches for your elbow, drawing you a tad closer to him and out of the way of the opening door. “Just the two of us?”

Remus chuckles, “That’s how dates usually go, pretty girl.”

You hum, mulling it over in your head. You’re really only dragging it out like this so you don’t seem desperate, just in case this is a joke. “Sure, I’d love to go out with you Remus.”

You’d been excited about the date all week, not telling anyone about it lest you jinx the whole thing. When Friday rolled around you’d been practically bouncing off the walls.

Remus had texted you during the day, a little reminder of the date and the dress code for the fancy restaurant.

Your mind had been reeling with all the outfit options.

In the end, you’d chosen a pretty green dress with silver kitten heels. You’d curled your hair and told Remus you’d meet him at the restaurant.

You’d looked perfect and despite the trepidation over this all being one elaborate joke, you’d been hopeful. So, so hopeful.

Only when you got to the restaurant and texted Remus that you’d been there, he’d not responded.

Twenty minutes passed, then forty five, and you’d almost cried when the pretty waitress came in to ask if you were still waiting or if they could give the table away.

You’d at least ordered a slice of caramel cheesecake and then texted Sirius if you could come over to wallow.

That’s when you’d found out.

“Wallow? Poppet, I’m at a party.”He’s a little hard to hear, but you make him out fine and you frown.

“What party? Is everyone there?” you’re trying to be covert, but with Sirius there is anything but.

“Yeah, Moony’s here too. How come’s you’re not here, poppet?”

You won’t cry on the phone in the middle of the street.

“I’m coming over now.”

And that’s how you find Remus with his hand over your direct opposite’s bum, a flirty smile on his face and where you hear the splinter then shatter of your heart as you watch him kiss her neck.

“Hey poppet, you look like a stunner!” you blush a little, leaning into Sirius just a little. He shoves a red cup into your hand and you hardly even sniff it before knocking the entire thing back without flinching. Sirius laughs, fully impressed. “Okay, I assume you’ve had a rough night?”

“Yeah, but I just came to give this to Remus. When you find him will you give it to him?” Sirius nods, turning to find Remus but you’ve already shoved the box into his hands and making your way to the door.

You spend the entire night in your pyjamas eating the last of your caramel ice cream while you try to remind yourself that you and Remus aren’t a thing. You’re just friends, you just flirt with each other. It wasn’t that serious.

Nothing works, not even when Sirius messages you to tell you he’s never seen cheesecake make someone sad.

You feel a little numb, all through the weekend, avoiding your friends and their invites to bars and brunch.

You last a total of four days, then someone is banging on your door and you have to drag yourself out of bed with messy hair and stained Christmas pyjamas and open the door.

Sirius and James stand on the other side of the door. James is sympathetic, frowning when he spots your red rimmed eyes. Sirius opens his arms to you and the tears are back again.

“Oh poppet. He's a total idiot.” he mumbles, rubbing your back as you sniffle.

“We sent the girls on him,” James says soothingly, squeezing your shoulder.

“He won’t survive them.” you say wetly, stepping back to let the boys in.

Sirius smirks, “Moony’s a fucking twat, he shouldn’t survive them.”

You laugh and so does James. “Isn’t he your best friend?”

James nods, “Yeah, but he can still be a twat, angel girl.” You don’t feel comfortable telling them everything that had happened or everything you felt, but the boys use their tendency of imbuing you with confidence to get you to take a long hot shower, do your hair and find your sexiest outfit. Then, they drive you over to Remus’ apartment. .

Lily, Marlene and Mary are all leaving his apartment when you get there, smirks on their face when they see you.

“Make him work for it.” Mary whispers and you nod, letting Lily kiss your forehead just before sending you to Remus’ door.

“Open your door Remus.” The door opens almost immediately, Remus looks as horrible as you had been before your intervention.

Your friends don’t linger, they all pile into their cars and leave and you’re grateful that for once their nosiness hasn’t overridden their regular senses.

“Fuck,” he mutters, head hung low like he can’t stand to look at you. “Dove.”

“Can I come inside?” you ask and he nods, stepping out of the way so you could walk into his place.

Before you can say anything, Remus tugs your hand to pull you close to him. “Just for a minute.” he mumbles, his arms wrapping around you. Remus can’t stop the deep inhale, all he can smell is you and all he wants to smell is your chamomile shampoo. Maybe even some of your vanilla perfume.

You smell him too, his citrus and mint body wash. His clean cotton laundry detergent and something else that’s distinctly Remus. It feels good to hug him like this, but also you worry about the girl from the other night. You worry about your friendship and what’s going on.

When his hand cups the back of your head and his nose drags along your cheek you feel your breath hitch and your heart speed up. Your legs wobble, knees knocking slightly.

“I don’t know why you stood me up, or why you were dancing with that girl but I suspect she may not be happy to know you get this close to all the women in your life.”

You try for a joke, but it falls flat and Remus pulls away from you like you’ve burnt him.

He sighs, “I’ve been an idiot.” You nod, not wanting to lie.

“It would’ve been nicer if you just said you didn’t want to go anymore.” You’re trying hard not to let your voice crack, the last thing you want is Remus and you to make up just because you’re crying.

Remus bites his lip, the pretty scar slicing through it pulling tight as you watch his teeth sink into it.

“Dove,” you take a step back from him then. You don’t know what’s going to happen but you need a clearer head than the one you have right now.

“I did want to go.” He sounds sincere but you remember being at the restaurant for nearly an hour all alone.

“Then why didn’t you? I stayed for an hour waiting for you.”

Remus flinches. His chest burns with shame, guilt swirls his stomach. “I don’t have a good reason, other than I was scared it was just a joke. Just another thing we say and don’t do.”

You shake your head, “I texted you telling you I was there. Then I called Sirius and he said you were at a party with him and when I came you were dancing with a girl.” You take a deep breath to dispel the emotion clogging your throat. “This isn’t going to go anywhere if you’re not going to be honest Remus.”

His hand is rough against his face as he leans against his kitchen island.

“I wanted to get over you. I knew if I went on the date I’d just fall for you even more and I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship- I haven’t had the best track record when it comes to being in relationships. I’d have rather been friends than be your boyfriend and potentially lose everything.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I’d have rather you said that and cancelled the date. I’d have told you, you have nothing to be worried about and that we’d work through it together. Now, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

Remus nods. “I’m sorry dove. If it’s worth anything, it didn’t help. I was thinking of you the entire night and when Sirius gave me the cheesecake I almost ran over to your place. He and James stopped me and made me tell them everything. They told me I was being rash and stupid, said I was going to lose you now for sure.”

You sigh, tears pooling in your eyes finally. “I wish you just told me.”

Remus reaches for you, not being able to stomach the way your chin wobbles. “Darling,” he pulls you to his chest again, letting you cry. “I’ve been such a fucking twat.” You laugh through your tears.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, Remus chuckles. “You have been.”

“You’re really making me work for your forgiveness, precious girl. I don’t mind,” he kisses the crown of your head. “Would it be too much if I asked if you still wanted to go out on a date?”

You pull away, teary eyes looking into his. “Why?”

“I’m still head over heels but I need to prove I’m not a complete and utter knobhead.”

Remus is putting the ball in your court, knows it’s the best thing he’s ever done.

Still, his nerves are on fire. His chest constricts like you’ve already rejected him.

“Now?” He nods.

“You’re already all dolled up, don’t see a point in wasting this outfit in my dusty apartment.”

You nibble on your lip, “Maybe in a few days, Remus. I think we need to let this all settle.”

His smile dims a little but he nods, “I understand, dove. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

You leave his apartment and for the next couple of weeks you and Remus take it slow, slow to hang out, slow in speaking to each other one on one.

When you end up going out, he picks you up at home flowers in hand and a small box of your favourite chocolates.

“Let me do it right this time.”

[saveyourblood]

Roll the Dice (Buddie x Reader)

Summary: Buck makes a humming noise, rubbing his lips in thought. “I could do it.” You and Eddie share a look. Eddie is the first to test the waters. “Do what?” “Give someone a lap dance.” The one where you're best friends with Buck and Eddie, the three of you are drunk, and the topic of lap dances comes up.

Word Count: 2.4k Prompt (from @happyhauntt): buddie and reader are hanging out and drinking maybe and maybe they're watching magic mike as a joke or they had a call to a strip club earlier that day and buck asks reader who they think would give a better lapdance, buck or eddie, reader bluescreens and they both give a demonstration. A/N: This was such a fun write! Thanks for letting me steal your idea, Ollie! You can find their work on AO3 too. :^) Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays everyone! Warnings: Spice (not smut), drinking, mentions of vomiting

It started with beer. 

Well, it started with the boys drinking beer. 

You’ve never been a big fan of beer. You’ll occasionally indulge in something on tap at a fancy bar, but other than that, it isn’t your drink. And that cheap shit that Buck buys at the corner store? Absolutely not. 

So, it started with the boys drinking beer and you drinking a canned cocktail. 

See, Buck may have bad taste, but he has a good heart. He always has a 6-pack of cheap beer in his fridge, but since you started coming over, you notice he always has a 12-pack of ready-to-drink canned cocktails. You know he doesn’t drink them; he buys them for you. 

You really don’t drink that much, in terms of both frequency and amount. It takes a singular drink for you to feel a nice buzz, and really, that’s all you need. You’ve never had the desire to get blackout drunk, and more than three drinks gives you a raging headache in the morning. 

You were only going to have one, maybe two drinks, just like you usually do. 

But then Eddie found the fucking tequila. 

“Where’d you even get that?” you giggle. You'd be embarrassed by the sound if you were even a little bit sober. Thankfully, you’re halfway through your second can, and any sense of embarrassment is filled by the warm pool of alcohol in your stomach. 

“Maddie made margaritas the night I moved in,” Buck says, raising his beer bottle to his lips. 

The boys are both on their third beers, but between the lower alcohol content and their stronger tolerances, they aren’t as drunk as you are. Hopefully, the tequila will even the score. 

“Where did she buy it?” Eddie laughs as he inspects the bottle. 

It’s cheap: you can tell that much by looking at it. It’s a 1.75 liter plastic bottle — not exactly top shelf. You expected nothing less from Maddie, since she doesn’t strike you as a girl who sips high-end tequila. No, she’s more like the girl who makes way too strong margaritas and bullies her brother into taking shots in the kitchen. 

Buck shrugs. “Grocery store, probably.”

Eddie starts looking through the cabinets. “You got a blender?”

Buck snorts. “I have shot glasses.”

“I’m not doing shots,” you laugh. “Tequila shots and I have… a bad relationship.” 

Eddie gives you a look. “What type of relationship?” 

“Whatever type ends in me throwing up in someone’s sink.”

Buck tips his head back and cackles. “You did that?! You?!”

“I just graduated from the Academy and went out with some classmates to celebrate,” you explain, cheeks flushing as you smile. “It started with bar hopping and ended with tequila shots at someone’s house.”

“Sounds like it actually ended with you throwing up in someone’s sink,” Eddie points out. 

“And you’re trying to make it happen again!” You accuse as Eddie continues scouring the kitchen. “Shame on you, Diaz!”

“Hey, it would be nice to see the most professional member of the 118 get a little crazy,” Buck says. 

You snort again. “I’m the most professional member of the 118?”

“Professional isn’t the right word,” Eddie says, finally finding a cocktail shaker. 

“Formal?” Buck proposes, looking to the other man. 

Eddie hums in consideration as he fills the shaker with ice, leaving the tequila on the island. “Classy?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, that’s not it either.”

Eddie sets the shaker, now filled with ice, on the island. He then opens the fridge door and comes back with lime juice. “Proper?”

“Proper,” Buck agrees, leaning his hip on the island. His body is turned towards Eddie, watching him as he pours the ingredients into the shaker. 

“Proper,” you echo, your lips wrapping around the word as you say it. “How exactly am I proper?” 

“I don’t know,” Buck says after taking another sip. “Just… the way you carry yourself, I guess.”

“How specific.”

Buck flicks a beer cap, previously sitting on the island, at you. You try to catch it, but it slides off the table before you can catch it. You flip him off. 

“Not so proper anymore,” Eddie remarks. 

The tequila takes you by the hand and leads the three of you into Buck’s living room. You’re on your second margarita on the rocks, courtesy of Edmundo Diaz. The boys decide to take two shots each, back to back, and simply watching them kind of made you sick. 

“You are so full of shit!” you yell. 

You don’t know much at this moment, other than the fact that you’re completely and entirely drunk. Not wasted, not blackout. You’re in that sweet spot where you’re sober enough to know that you’re being obnoxious but too intoxicated to care. As someone who normally presents as ‘proper’ (apparently),  it’s a combination akin to fire and kerosene — absolutely ruthless. 

“I am not!” Buck laughs.

Buck claims he’s never had a lap dance, and you don’t believe him for a second. 

You’re not entirely sure how you got on this topic. It definitely didn’t start like this, that you’re almost entirely most likely probably sure of. It had something to do with the ‘old partners’ discussion. Or maybe the ‘craziest night out’ swapping of stories. It’s hard to tell — you’ve cycled through several topics tonight, and you’ll be lucky to remember half of them. 

“Eddie, do you believe him?”

Eddie chuckles as he raises his hands. “I’m staying out of this one.”

Like you or Buck would let that happen.

“What about you, hotshot?” Buck asks, cocking an eyebrow. “You ever had a lap dance?” 

Eddie’s eyes narrow slightly, almost like he’s sizing up Buck. It makes the alcohol in your belly burn a little warmer. 

“Once,” Eddie eventually answers. 

You turn your head to the side like a curious dog. “Oh?”

“Do tell,” Buck says, leaning forward. 

“It was at my shitty excuse of a bachelor party,” Eddie explains, taking a sip of his fourth beer. “One of my friends in Texas insisted. We went out to a strip club, he paid for it, and… that’s it.” 

“He paid for it,” you echo. “What a gentleman.” 

Sitting in the armchair, Eddie gently kicks your leg on the coffee table. You giggle, pulling both your legs back onto the couch. Buck, at the other end of the couch, puts his feet in your lap. 

“You’re being awfully quiet,” he observes. “Have you?”

You snort. “Have I ever had a lap dance?”

“Or given one.”

You press into the nailbed on one of Buck’s toes using your thumb. He yelps and pulls his legs back. 

“Half an hour ago, you were calling me ‘proper.’ Now, you’re asking if I’ve given someone a lap dance,” you recall. You turn to Eddie. “Can you believe him?”

“Absolutely not,” Eddie says as he shakes his head. “...Have you, though?”

Buck cackles as you kick Eddie’s leg. 

“I’ve never given anyone a lap dance,” you answer loudly. “I almost got one, though.” 

Both the boys raise their eyebrows.

“Do you remember that call we went on a few months back? To a male strip club?”

“Yeahhh,” Buck says. At some point, he replaced his beer bottle with the tequila bottle, which he’s now cradling like a baby. “What was that place called? Thirsty?”

“Just Thirst, I think,” Eddie remarks. “The one where a dancer rolled his ankle, right?”

You nod. “One of his buddies offered me a dance for being such a great first responder.”

Buck smiles and takes a swig of the tequila, wincing as it goes down. You nudge his knee, then pull your fingers towards yourself, gesturing for the bottle. Buck’s smile looks a little more cocky, but he hands the bottle over anyways. 

“You didn’t accept, huh?”

You sip a  little more of the tequila than you should. You can’t help it — it goes down so easily, leaving nothing but fuzzy warmth in its wake. You’ll regret it tomorrow, but for now, you’re basking in it. “Not really my thing.”

“Not even for the story?” Eddie asks. 

“You don’t get to be the ‘proper’ one by doing something ‘for the story,’” you counter. 

Eddie makes a face of contemplation as he reaches for the bottle. “Fair.” 

“You are really hung up on that word,” Buck notes. 

“It was… surprising, that’s all,” you chuckle. 

Buck makes a humming noise, rubbing his lips in thought. “I could do it.”

You and Eddie share a look. Eddie is the first to test the waters. “Do what?” 

“Give someone a lap dance.” 

You can feel your face get hot. You swallow the lump that suddenly took residence in your throat. 

Meanwhile, Eddie laughs. “You’ve never gotten a lap dance, but you think you can give one?” 

Buck shrugs, leaning one elbow on his knee. “Why not? I’ve seen Magic Mike.” 

“You’ve seen Magic Mike but never gotten a lap dance,” Eddie continues after taking a swig of liquor. “That makes sense.” 

You reach for the bottle, which Eddie grants you. You take a long drink, gulping a few times. Pulling the bottle back, you use your thumb to wipe your bottom lip. “Do your worst, Buckley.”

He turns his head to stare at you. He huffs out a laugh, looking at you the whole time. “What?” 

“Let’s see what you’ve got,” you continue, leaning back in the couch. You prop one arm on the back and the other on the armrest, the tequila bottle hitting the end table in the process. “You’ve never given a lap dance, I’ve never gotten one. We’ll pop each other’s cherries.” 

You’d never say any of this sober. Shit, you’d never say any of this two drinks in. You’re in so much deeper than that now; between the margs and the sips, you’ve had at least 6 shots. You can practically feel the alcohol in your blood. It’s hot, thick, and wanting. 

You're 100% throwing up in Buck's sink tomorrow.

You blink, and Buck is on top of you. His hands press into the back of the couch, holding his weight so he can be face-to-face with you. If the booze in your veins is hot, then his breath on your lips is fucking scalding. 

He lifts his hips and brings them back down in a rippling motion: he’s grinding on you. You giggle, high-pitched and shameless. You move your hands to cover your mouth. You can’t wrap your head around the idea that this is actually happening. 

Buck sits up straighter in your lap. He’s careful to keep his weight on his knees, which are on either side of your legs. He puffs his chest before rolling his shoulders forward and his ass backwards on your thighs in a fluid motion. You can feel the friction of his pants on your bare legs. You thank your past self for choosing to wear shorts. 

He gently takes your wrists, moving your hands from your mouth to his chest. He’s fully clothed, so you’re dragging your hands down his sweater. Still, you can feel the rippling of his muscles under his shirt. You throw your head back in laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it, but you know the burning in your stomach is no longer entirely thanks to the liquor. 

“Not bad,” Eddie critiques from his seat. 

You laugh harder. 

“What, you can do better?” Buck challenges. 

Eddie narrows his eyes again before smirking. He pushes himself out of the chair, shooing Buck away with his hand. 

Buck raises his hands in surrender, turning on one knee before flopping on the couch beside you. 

“This isn’t happening,” you laugh, shaking your head like you’re trying to wake yourself up from a dream. 

You’ve had a crush on both of them since the first time you saw them. How could you not? They are completely and utterly gorgeous men. When you realized how funny and caring they both are, it just sealed the deal. You never, in your wildest imagination, pictured yourself in a situation like this with either of them, let alone both of them. 

Not that you’re complaining, of course.

Eddie takes Buck’s place, only he’s towering over you since he’s standing instead of sitting. He puts his hands on your sides, trailing down to your thighs. You shudder under his touch, hoping it isn’t noticeable. The way the corner of his mouth turns up tells you that it’s definitely noticeable. 

Eddie’s hands reach your knees, which he loops his fingers under. In a swift motion, he pulls your legs up and presses his body against yours. You yelp in surprise and wrap your legs around his back, somehow pulling him closer. 

His hands move to your back, and he picks you up. You yelp again, astonished by the ease he can lift you. You shouldn’t be so shocked, considering his career. When his grasp moves from your back to your ass, though, he’s no longer Firefighter Diaz; he’s Eddie, the man you have a crush on. And the man who’s currently holding your ass. 

Eddie turns on his heel and carefully lays you on Buck’s coffee table, which makes you cackle again. Your laughter dies in your throat when Eddie places himself over you again. Your chests are touching, as are your noses. 

You look into Eddie’s eyes, and it’s as if you can suddenly read his mind. “Dancers aren’t supposed to kiss the clientele.”

Eddie smiles again. It’s the kind where only one corner of his mouth curls up, and his lips shift to the side. “Good thing I’m not a dancer.”

His lips meet yours, and it’s nothing but heat. He tastes like a mix of cheap beer and tequila, and if you weren’t already, you could get drunk off of it. Your tongues meet and separate like lovers on a dance floor. When you’re out of breath, you wonder if you could suck the air out of his lungs, just to keep you connected to him for a little longer. 

Eddie pulls away first, his chest heaving desperately for air. 

“You lose,” Buck remarks. 

“How did I lose?”

“It was a competition?” you interject. 

“It’s called a lap dance,” Buck points out. “That wasn’t in her lap.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly. They eventually settle on your mouth. “Eh, I think I won.” 

[cherryblossom-heart]

Cry (One-shot)

Nanami x Reader

Summary: Love was never an option for you. Until you met him.

Content warning: ANGST (Yes, this is about Shibuya) Do not read this if you are already sad or if you’re happy, still don’t read it.

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: Felt a little angsty, sorry besties.

Love only comes for those who are willing to get hurt by it, your mother used to say.

You should’ve known it was a warning.

Life as a sorcerer wasn’t for the average person. The imminent danger, the great possibility of death along with the realization that you had signed up for a life of loneliness. Maybe if you had been born in one of the clans there would’ve been a marriage arranged for you at the cost of self-value as a woman. Even then, the thought of an arranged marriage more than always meant a loveless relationship, a transaction if you will. An heir for status.

With time you had accepted it. You kept relationships superficial, nothing more than a one-night stand or, if they were good enough, you kept them in your rooster of fuck buddies for whenever the stress of the job proved itself too big.

You didn’t want a relationship. You weren’t looking for love. You weren’t looking for your happy ending.

Not until Nanami.

He wasn’t around when you had transferred to Tokyo, the rumors of a fellow student’s death being the reason reaching your ears whenever you asked who Gojo always referred as Nanamin. He had left the sorcerers life to pursue a mundane life, just like your father had done.

After a mission that required at least two first grade sorcerers had put itself on top of the list, Gojo had reached out to him as the school had to face a lack of manpower, leaving you as the only one available. Reluctantly, Nanami had agreed to help.

Nanami and you got along the same way oil and water mix. The man was everything you weren’t: cold, composed, calculated and over all he needed to be in control. His presence felt like a gigantic iceberg surrounding you.

You, on the other hand, were everything that Nanami had grown to dislike. Your unpredictability, your hot temper, the rashness of your decisions along with your tendency to over share your thoughts. Nanami hated the fact that you always took him by surprise, yet it seemed like as a team, you both were gears of the same machine.

Neither could deny the abilities the other possessed, it wasn’t for anything that you both held the title of first grade sorcerers. However, neither of you would admit it, unwilling to give a compliment one to another.

That’s why, when Nanami decided to leave the mundane life he had worked for and came back to the dangerous world he left behind, the higherups decided to pair him off with you, much to his distaste.

It’s funny how life works. Pair two people that dislike each other for hours on end, two things are bound to happen. The dislike for each other would increase, its tentacles reaching the depts of your mind until pure, scolding hate would be the only thing you had in common.

Or, as it turned out with you, a spark of something would ignite.

After a particular taxing mission, Nanami had suggested resting up in a nearby motel. It’s reputation wasn’t to your liking, the love seats posted in every room warned you off of even laying down in the bed. But after spending days hunting down curses without much rest, you didn’t really care for it. You took your key, and you went to your room.

Of course that would be the time you couldn’t fall asleep, even with every muscle in your body aching for relief as they tried to relax. Your mind, on the other hand, couldn’t stop working, thought after thought racing through your brain as you closed your eyes.

You decided to take a walk, the silver flask you caried with you carefully placed inside the left pocket of your jacket. You hoped a nice walk in the middle of the night might pacify the demons that clouded your thoughts. What you weren’t expecting was to see a blond, tall man outside of his room, a cigarette between his fingers as he laid against the wall.

That night you learned Kento Nanami was capable of surprising you. The blush that settled across his face and the non so discreet way he tried to conceal the lit cigarette. If it were another day, perhaps you would’ve laughed. The oh so perfect Kento Nanami, so prideful on his own control on any situation and overall, his emotions, the one that had said his worst habit was overworking himself, who had scolded you instantly of your tendency to drink and smoke after a hard day of work.

Any other day you would’ve rubbed it in his face.

Instead, you walked to his side, taking out your flask as you unscrewed the cap. You took a long sip, the bitter taste of whiskey invading your taste buds. Kentos eyes followed your every move until you laid back against the same wall he was on. After a minute of silence and a couple of swings, you offered him the flask. Silently, he took it off your hands, replacing it with the cigarette he had been smoking of.

That night something changed between you. Perhaps the deep dislike had turned into camaraderie, the constant pressure that death held on both pushing you together. After all, who better to talk about the occupational hazards than the man that experienced them with you. Who could understand better the perpetual state of loneliness that came with the job?

You should’ve stopped it that night, cut it from the root.

Fight after fight, curse after curse, drink after drink a night came a long where everything came to surface.

You couldn’t remember what it was. Maybe it was the way his eyes traveled over your face as you ranted over the lack of freedom you had. Maybe it was the way his eyes had lighted up when you had asked him what his biggest wish was, a storm of thoughts clouding his expression. Maybe it was the way his shoulder bumped against you, his warmth extending past the darkness you carried where your heart should be.

You kissed him. Everything came to a stop around you and for the first time in a long time you felt what peace was.

He kissed you back and from that moment it was over.

Neither of you defined things, the words relationship and love were never spoken as in the Jujutsu world they were considered a jinx. So, for your surprise, both of you were able to just go with it. You slept together, you went out to places, you held hands as you walked down the street, you cuddled each other at night as he peppered kisses along your neck.

One night you had brought a duffle bag with a change of clothes and a toothbrush, that night Kento had surprised you once again.

“You should leave that here, it’s unnecessary to keep bringing back and forth if you stay here most of the nights.”

Almost a year after, he did it again.

“I have to go, I have to go resign my lease before the office closes.” You said as you gather your things.

A hand in the small of your back stopped you.

“You don’t have to resign it.”

His eyes shined with the glimmer of hope while the shadows of fear creeped up. You would never forget the small smile that plaster over his face when you said one word.

“Ok.”

For years you had each others back in the field. There was no curse that could stand a chance, not when all you could think about was what Nanami would cook for dinner that night.

For years you had known what pure happiness was.

Until Shibuya came.

Everything happened faster than you could process it. A special grade curse had shown up, swallowing all of you into its domain. A beach so beautiful it had almost made you forget how certain death was knocking on the door.

Naobito had lost his arms, a couple of your fingers had turned into chump and Nanamis eye had taken a hit. There was no escape, no hope other than a fifteen-year-old kid opening a small gateway that could save all of you.

Hit after hit, you kept fighting. You couldn’t understand the sudden doom that had fell on you as you clawed at the hope you could scape, not until a hit sent Nanami flying into a monsters mouth. A scream left your lungs, the anger vibrating along your body but most of all the fear. You had been close to death too many times to count and not one of those times had you ever been as scared as you were in that moment.

You wanted to stay alive.

You wanted Kento to stay alive.

You wanted a life with him.

A tear had ran down your cheek as you kept fighting.

Suddenly things had changed, a man had bursted through your gates of hope, annihilating the curse. The domain had broken, leaving you all in the train station the battle had started on. You were ready to fight the man with the dark eyes as he walked towards you, the deadly smirk he possessed chilling you to the bone as his eyes fell in each one of you.

You had barely any time to react as he pushed the Fushiguro kid through the window, himself disappearing along.

You ran to the window he had gone through, trying to catch on where Megumi had fallen but there wasn’t a trace of them behind. You had readied yourself to jump down, but a hand stopped you in your tracks.

Silence fell on you all, Naobito and Maki assessing their own wounds. Nanami’s eyes fell on your left hand as yours feel on his eye, blood cascading down his face. Your heart had crumbled as you reached out to touch him.

“Your eye” you whispered, the words choking on your throat as you tried to stop the tears.

His hand cupped yours, your body welcoming the familiar warmth he had you accustomed to.

“I’m ok” with care, as if you were a porcelain doll, he lifted your wounded hand. “Your fingers…”

“It’s ok” you assured him. “I didn’t like them anyways.”

Nanami chuckled.

“Even now you can’t stop trying to drive me crazy, can you?”

“As if you don’t love it.”

He paused, hesitation plaguing him.

“I do. I love everything about you.”

Your eyes prickled with tears as a happy smile extended over your lips.

“I love you too.”

Your blood had begun pooling underneath you, a few drops falling each second.

“After this, we should go to Malasyia.” He whispered.

“We should retire there.”

“Yeah, we should.”

You felt him before you heard him. A suffocating amount of cursed energy entering the room. It was a special grade, there was no doubt about it.

His speed was something out of this world, only compared to the man that has saved all your asses. He has placed himself in front of Nanami, his hand placed on his torso.

Your heart rose to your throat, the same desperation that had caught you in the other curses domain. Your hand has already began to form into a fist, ready to take on the hit Nanami was about to be struck with. Kento had been faster than you though.

One second, that was all it took for Nanami to react.

His hand pushed you out of the window, your body tensing as you lost your balance. You blinked as you tried to hold on to anything to prevent your fall but when you opened your eyes you saw it.

Fire. Deathly flames engulfing his body, starting from the place where the curse had placed its hand.

A curling scream burned through your throat, each millisecond passing slower than the last. Before the flames covered his face, you had seen the relief that filled his eyes.

The last thing you saw was his body falling to the floor, it’s echo barely reaching your ears as your body raced to the ground.

You had woken up hours later, Shoko’s face welcoming you back as you jumped on your feet. You were in a random alley in the outskirts of the dome, far away from where you had fell. You tried to make your way towards the middle of the city but a sharp pain on your side stopped you halfway through your attempt.

Shokos hands held onto you, trying to drag you back with her but your arms flayed, fighting with whatever energy you had left.

“There’s nothing you can do.” She said, eyes sadder than usual.

You shook your head, your mind and hear unable to listen to reason.

“You don’t understand. I have to– I can go and– I need to get to him.” You pleaded, the burning despair in your chest overwhelming your senses.

“You can’t help him.” She whispered. “He’s gone.”

Your mother had been right, love could only come with pain. It’s claws tearing apart the hopes and dreams you had foolishly allowed yourself to have.

Love came with pain, and as your heart bleed out in the streets of Shibuya you wondered whether you were strong enough to survive it.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

[mixsethaddams]

Eddie and Steve were sitting on the back porch of the little two bedroom house that Owens and his merry band of government lackies gave to the Munsons in exchange for signed NDAs.

It was getting late and Steve knows he should go home, but Eddie keeps finding new conversations to strike up and it just feels too natural to keep responding. Getting up and announcing he was going home would be downright rude. The deckchair he was lounging in was confortable too, so it just made more sense to stay.

Eddie passed Steve the joint they had been nursing between them. Steve had lost track of what they were talking about a long time ago. He was too caught up in the low rumble of Eddie’s voice, quiet enough to make it feel like they were sharing secrets even if they were all alone with nothing scandalous to say. It didn’t matter what Eddie was saying. Steve was happy to just listen. The subtle fizz of the weed spread across his skin as he leaned his head back and enjoyed the light breeze that cut through the warm night.

Today was the same as every other day.

Steve woke up, showered, picked Robin up for work, and then spent eight hours rewinding tapes. He listened to her go on and on about her latest discovery of why Vickie was the perfect person, adding commentary where needed. Steve was happy for her, he was. He just wished she wasn’t so distracted. Not today.

And then he ferried Mike to Dustin’s, Will to the hospital to visit Max, brought Lucas home from the hospital so he could shower and then right back over again. He was barely through the door when Eddie called and asked how his day was, insisting Steve come over to hang out when he heard it was just ‘fine, average, nothing special’.

Steve had wanted nothing more than to fall asleep on the couch with a terrible tv movie in the background. There was something about Eddie, though. Something in the way he moved, the way he said Steve’s name and dragged his teeth along his bottom lip over the V sound. The thoughts of staring at the stars with Eddie might just be the one thing that could redeem today. Even if no one else would understand.

Steve arrived thirty seconds before two large pizzas, courtesy of one of Argyle’s buddies in the business. They each had all Steve’s favourite toppings. Which was weird because Eddie definitely didn’t like olives or pineapple. Steve had a cold beer in one hand and hot slice in the other before he even said ‘hello’.

If there was any way Steve wanted to spend the final hours of today, it was with Eddie. He knew why, of course. He bit his tongue every time he got close to saying it out loud, but he knew exactly what that something was.

“And I figured hey, if it means I don’t have to sell weed to highschoolers anymore, then why not, you know?”

Steve’s brain took a second to catch up to Eddie’s train of thought about his new job. He was going to be working in a garage with Reefer Rick’s nephew.

“Totally,” said Steve, sipping the mostly empty bottle in his hand, the liquid warmed by being held so long. “I bet you’ll be great at it too,”

“Yeah well,” said Eddie, quirking his eyebrows. “I hope so,”

They fell into silence again and Steve started to think it might not be rude to leave any more. The joint was down to the nub, the beer was gone, and Eddie’s eyelids were looking heavy.

“I should, uh…” said Steve, shifting his weight on the chair to stand up.

“Why didn’t you tell them?” asked Eddie, looking up at the moon. Steve could see its reflection in his eyes.

Steve stopped.

“Tell who?” he asked. “Tell them what?”

Eddie sighed.

“It’s your birthday, man…” breathed Eddie. “Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“Oh…” said Steve. He could feel his face heat up. “I don’t… I guess its not a big deal for me… Not for years…”

Eddie nodded solemnly.

“You’re too good for us, Harrington,” said Eddie, shaking his head. “I saw what you did for Robin’s birthday. Did she remember, at least?”

Steve didn’t say anything. He knew he’d probably get a frantic apology and a card tomorrow. It wasn’t like he was going to hold it against her.

“Pizza and beer isn’t exactly the five star treatment you deserve,” said Eddie. “Hope it’s enough to, you know, make today not suck entirely,”

Eddie waved his hand around in a circle, as if gesturing to the very day itself.

“This actually might be the best end to a birthday I’ve ever had,” admitted Steve. “So, you know, thanks. For doing this for me, I mean,”

“Thanks for eating all the olives,” joked Eddie, draining his beer bottle. “Besides, any excuse to hang out with you, I’ll take it,”

“Yeah?” asked Steve, his voice smaller than he expected.

“Yeah,” answered Eddie gently. “I like being with you,”

Steve’s stomach lurched. He followed Eddie’s gaze to the moon. She was beautiful tonight and Steve felt safe the cool glow she cast over them.

“How did you know?” asked Steve, playing with the hem of his sweater. “Or like, care?”

“Saw it on your license a whole back,” Eddie answered, lighting two cigarettes at once and handing one to Steve. “And I cared because… Because I care. I didn’t want you to be sad on your birthday,”

“Oh,” said Steve meekly. “I’m not sad. Not now. I’m happy now, so it worked,”

Steve took the offering of the cigarette and sat back in his chair, looking at his hand and the subtle hint of ‘don’t go’.

“Did you have a birthday wish?” asked Eddie, holding up the still-lit match. It was burning quickly down towards his fingertips.

“Just one…” said Steve slowly, looking through the flame at Eddie.

“A person?” asked Eddie.

Steve gulped, and nodded.

“So make it,” Eddie said. “Don’t tell me, or it won’t come true,”

Steve blew out the flame, still gazing into brown eyes, watching them turn black when the light was gone.

Eddie’s watch beeped. It was midnight.

“Didn’t come true,” said Steve sadly, his eyes still fixed on the point where Eddie had been holding the match between them.

“Give it time…” said Eddie softly.

Steve took a long drag of his cigarette and wondered if this is what every night would be like. If his wish came true and he got exactly what he wanted, would he sit out here and smoke and stare at the stars and listen to Eddie talk every night? Was he allowed to have that?

“I wished for the person that makes me happy,” said Steve, not looking over at Eddie but feeling bolstered by weed and boldened by beer.

“It won’t come true now,” teased Eddie, his voice low.

“Even if I tell them?” asked Steve, turning to look at Eddie. He looked into Eddie’s eyes again and thought of all the things he wanted to say. He felt something shift between them when Eddie didn’t look away.

“I made a wish on my birthday too,” said Eddie. “That didn’t come true either,”

“What did you wish for?” asked Steve.

Eddie’s arm flopped between their chairs, his cigarette burning steadily between his fingers.

“To make someone happy,” he said.

“Like…” whispered Steve.

Steve slowly moved his hand so it brushed against Eddie’s, the backs of their fingers rubbing together. Steve hooked Eddie’s pinkie with his own. Eddie looked at their hands and smiled gently.

“Yeah,” said Eddie quietly.

Steve hummed.

“Guess I just needed to wish for it too,” said Steve.

[solxamber]

Could I request Trey's lover teaming up with Heartslabyul to throw him a suprise party? They make him a lot of sweets themed after him (green, clover and glasses) including a huge pinata cake filled with chocolates.

Birthday Party - Trey Clover x reader

I loved the ask its so cute <3 i hope you like it!

Trey’s been in Heartslabyul for years, so he knows when something’s off. But this? This was on a whole new level of off.

You’d been suspiciously avoiding him for a week. You, the one who usually clung to him like a koala whenever he had time to spare, were suddenly evasive, always sneaking glances at your phone or whispering with the other dorm members. Ace and Deuce would freeze whenever he entered a room, flashing him awkward smiles that were way too wide to be genuine. Even Cater, usually the laid-back goofball, was being overly...enthusiastic.

But the worst part? Riddle.

Riddle had been pacing, frowning harder than normal, and would mumble things like, "If this goes wrong, I don’t even want to think about the consequences."

Trey leaned back in his chair, biting his lip. This wasn’t normal. Sure, his initial thought was maybe they were planning something romantic, but the amount of actual, genuine fear in Riddle’s eyes ruled that out immediately.

Rubbing his temples, Trey muttered to himself, "It can’t be cheating... no, you're too honest for that. But... sabotage? An underground card game ring? Are they planning to overthrow the entire campus??”

The more he thought about it, the worse his theories got. Finally, he cornered Riddle in the library.

"Okay, spill," Trey said, blocking the aisle with his arms crossed. "What are you planning? Should I be getting worried?"

Riddle flinched, then looked at him with wide eyes, clearly panicking. "T-Trey! No need to worry. Nothing’s going on, absolutely nothing suspicious! It’s just... uh... a simple, very controlled... event. No danger to the school’s reputation!"

Trey narrowed his eyes. "What kind of event?"

"Nothing... explosive," Riddle said quickly, which only made Trey’s anxiety skyrocket.

Trey leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Riddle, buddy, if something bad happens to the school... I’ll have to bake so many apology cakes. Just tell me now."

Riddle visibly shuddered and stammered, “Trust me, Trey, it’s not that kind of event. I... I can’t say more. But everything is fine. Everything is fine.”

It was not fine.

So Trey spent the next day actively trying to investigate. He saw you sneaking into the kitchen with Floyd of all people, which was just asking for disaster. Deuce was lugging bags of what looked like sugar and flour across the courtyard, and Cater was setting up some sort of odd contraption outside the dorm. Even the first-years were helping, though they kept stumbling around, looking more stressed than usual.

At this point, Trey was pretty sure he’d need to call in an exterminator, a fire marshal, and possibly a therapist.

But then the day came.

After avoiding Trey like you were trying to evade the plague, you finally invited him to Heartslabyul's garden. And when he walked into the courtyard, a loud "SURPRISE!" erupted from behind a massive table covered in sweets.

The entire dorm was there, grinning like mad. And at the center of the table?

A massive, towering cake shaped like a giant clover—green icing, edible chocolate glasses perched on top, and a carefully piped message that read, "Happy Trey Day!"

Trey blinked. Once. Twice. He stared at the display. It took him a second to process everything, but then he realized—this was all for him. And suddenly, all the suspicion, all the stress melted away.

"We... we wanted to throw you a surprise party!" you exclaimed, looking so proud of yourself. "I know you’re always the one baking, so we thought it’d be nice for you to have a break. Plus, we made everything themed after you!"

There was a giant piñata cake on the side too, stuffed with chocolates and little sugar clovers, and even the cups and napkins had tiny green glasses printed on them.

Trey couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. "You did all this? For me?"

"Yeah!" Ace chimed in, grinning. "We thought you’d like it—well, I thought of the piñata cake idea. Pretty genius, huh?"

Riddle, who had been unusually quiet, looked at Trey with genuine relief. “I hope it meets your expectations. We didn’t want anything... dangerous, but well, there was that small incident with the frosting explosion. But everything’s under control now.”

Trey raised an eyebrow. “Frosting explosion?”

Cater nudged Riddle. “Don’t worry, it’s mostly cleaned up! No harm, no foul.”

Trey chuckled, feeling warmth flood his chest. He was surrounded by his chaotic friends—everyone with flour in their hair, frosting smudged on their faces—and you, standing next to the giant clover cake, looking as proud as could be.

"I love it," Trey said softly, pulling you into a hug. "I’m just... relieved the campus is still standing."

“Barely,” Deuce whispered to Ace, who elbowed him.

Trey laughed, shaking his head. “Seriously, thank you. This is incredible. I had no idea you were all planning something like this.”

Riddle let out a breath he’d clearly been holding for days. “I’m... glad. For a while, I thought we were on the brink of a catastrophe.”

Trey glanced over at the piñata cake, eyeing the large wooden stick leaning next to it. “We’re still hitting that thing with a bat, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, grinning up at him.

And so, surrounded by you, his friends, sweets, and chaos, Trey felt that familiar warmth—like baking the perfect pie, but sweeter. This was home.

Masterlist

[hazbinwhoree]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do Adam/Reader where its post-one night stand with a girl who comes to his shows? Like he hooked up with her a couple times and it meant nothing but its starting to mean something to him and he asks to hookup more just so they can hang out? Like he'll ask, she'll come over and he just wants to watch a movie lol. Tysmm

(Repost of my request from a couple days ago)

Hangout or Hookup?

“And what’s your name, babe?” Adam asked, leaning over the smaller angel in front of him. She was pretty, exactly Adam’s type, and didn’t give off the desperate energy that his groupies gave off.

“(Name).” Adam took (Name)’s hand and mockingly kissed it. “Beautiful name for a beautiful bitch.” (Name) raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. Adam liked that.

She played hard to get but Adam knew he would take her home that night. She was dedicated, coming to all his shows. He always spotted her in the crowd.

Sure enough, his flirting and charisma had (Name) agreeing when Adam finally suggested they go back to his place.

Adam was pretty sure it was the best sex he’d had in his life. Shit was so good it made him want to cuddle after. But (Name) was already redressing, ready to head out the door. “You don’t have to rush out,” Adam told her. “It’s okay,” she replied. “I know how this works.”

And she was gone.

(Name) was supposed to be a one time treat for Adam. But she kept coming to all of his shows and Adam found himself seeking her out after each one, and inevitably, she was who he would take home every night.

They were just supposed to be fuck buddies, at least that’s what Adam told himself. But he soon found himself enjoying her company even more than he enjoyed the sex.

He could never get her to stay the night, she seemed convinced that the sex was purely physical and nothing else. It kind of bothered Adam, but he supposed he dug his own grave there with his reputation.

One night, after a show, Adam invited (Name) to his place as usual. Usually, as soon as they were in the door, Adam was on top of (Name), but tonight he just walked past her. Confused, (Name) followed him into his bedroom. Maybe he was mad at her?

“I was thinking,” Adam said as he began to shed his concert clothes. “We should watch a movie tonight.”

“Like, put a movie on while we fuck?” (Name) asked.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Shit, (Name), I just want to watch a fucking movie with you. Is that so crazy?”

(Name) shrugged. “Kind of.”

“Why?”

This was certainly not the direction (Name) had thought this night was going.

“Because… we’re fuck buddies? Fuck buddies don’t just hang out and watch movies.”

“Well maybe I don’t want to be just fuck buddies,” Adam said, throwing one of his t-shirts at her. “Get comfortable.”

Slightly apprehensive, (Name) stripped her concert attire and put on Adam’s shirt. She didn’t have pants, but his shirt was large enough that it didn’t matter. It fell down right above her knees. She climbed onto Adam’s bed where Adam was already sitting with the TV remote.

She’d never been in his bed doing anything but fucking before. It was kind of nice. But she wouldn’t allow herself to get too comfortable. She couldn’t. Adam wasn’t the kind of guy she trusted with her heart.

Adam picked a movie and got up to turn off the lights. He discarded the remote on the bedside table and climbed back onto his bed, leaning back against his pillows.

(Name) sat stiffly on the other side.

“Come here.”

(Name) turned to look at Adam, who had his arms open.

“What are you so scared of? Come here.”

(Name) was scared that the feelings for him she had bottled up would be let loose if they fucking cuddled. Still, she found she could never say no to Adam, and reluctantly scooted up the bed and into his arms.

She wanted nothing more than to cuddle into his side, but she remained frigid. Adam noticed.

“Would you relax?”

(Name) couldn’t, not internally at least. But she relaxed her body, letting herself melt into Adam’s side. Adam smiled, content. He wrapped a wing around her like a blanket and (Name)’s heart skipped a beat.

The movie played on, and as it did, (Name) grew more and more restless. About halfway through the movie, she snapped.

She pushed away from Adam like he’d burned her. “Okay, what the fuck?”

Adam blinked in surprise. “Sorry?”

“What’s your fucking game?” (Name) was fuming. “I understand inviting me back again after the first time we fucked, I understand being fuck buddies, but I don’t understand your motives behind…” she made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “This.”

“Did it ever occur to you that maybe I want to do more than fuck because I genuinely fucking like you?”

Tears welled in (Name)’s eyes. “Don’t. Don’t say things like that. It’s not like you’re going to get into a relationship with me. The great Adam could never settle with just one girl. What about your groupies?”

Adam was getting frustrated. “Did you know that I haven’t fucked another bitch since the very first time we fucked?”

The question hung heavy in the air.

Adam continued. “Because after we fucked that first time, the best sex I’ve ever had by the way, I kept coming back to you. Night after night. And the more we hooked up, the more I realised I didn’t want anyone else. I wanted more with you.”

The confession left (Name) stunned.

“But you’d always leave after we’d fuck, I could never get you to stay and cuddle or talk. I tried, damnit, I fucking did. You’re an impossible bitch, you know that?”

(Name) should be offended, but she was still hung up on the confession. “So what, you’re telling me that you want me to be your girlfriend or some shit?”

“I didn’t plan on asking you like this, but yes, fuck, I’d love to have you as my girl.”

“You’re not joking?”

Adam sighed. “Babe, I know what my reputation is, okay? But everyone seems to forget that I’ve been married twice and I was not the one to end either marriage. I might sleep around when I’m unattached but I’m perfectly capable of committing to the right person.”

(Name) sniffed, a tear running down her cheek.

“Oh don’t start crying, you pussy.”

(Name) laughed through her tears.

“So?” Adam asked.

“So?”

“Will you be my fucking girl?”

(Name) nodded and Adam grinned. “Great, now get your ass over here.” He opened his arms again and (Name) practically dove into them. Adam held her, wrapping his wings around her like extra security. “Girls are so dramatic,” he muttered into her hair.

“Shut up, fuck boy.”

“Slut.”

“Whore.”

Adam kissed her forehead.

“Your whore.”

[rukia-writes]

hi rukia.

can you do Rangiku kind of reader as Hades and Poseidon s/o, separately of course.

the other is up to you

T/N: Let’s see what I can cook up. 🧑‍🍳 I love Rangiku a lot. Top 3 BLEACH characters

Poseidon.

Tyrant of ocean.

The Most Fearsome God.

Poseidon was that and much more.

A complex individual with his own principles and beliefs.

Poseidon also wasn’t much of a talker, he spoke only when necessity or when something was out of line.

However, not many people knew it but he did like talking. Rather, with someone. (Name), his beloved who was the opposite of him in every way and yet somehow the two clicked.

(Name) could be lazy, Poseidon had his days but he liked doing stuff.

Poseidon liked modesty, (Name) was a beauty with loved showing her body and curves getting the attention of other gods.

(Name) has an easy-going and free-spirited personality, Posieodn was the exact opposite.

The biggest contrast between the two that people noticed was that (Name) liked wearing human clothing and Poseidon always found that the hardest to tolerate about her as he considered human nothing but filth.

Yet, the two clicked.

“Human clothes again? You should take that filth off.”

“But I like it, the fashion those are developing is slick and stylish. If you want me to take off these clothes you’ll have to do it yourself.”

Yes.

No shyness or shame.

Poseidon sighed in response while she enjoying teasing Poseidon smiled as the other gods found their conversation “entertaining” as the cleared their throats changing the subject.

Zeus called the two the weirdest soulmates ever.

Before the two became an item (Name) was arguably the most beautiful goddess in Valhalla. Hades had a saying about her,” A voluptuous beauty with an adult charm in Valhalla. With her broad-minded personality, the chances of men in Valhalla who say no to her... simply do not exist."

Even Poseidon.

(Name) had a habit of whenever she felt like drinking, she would find free people and then invite them to come out with her, and then has them treat her to drinks, so that she wouldn't have to spend any money. Drinking buddies were many but she enjoyed Hades and Poseidon as drinking buddies.

Why Poseidon? People didn’t know.

Poseidon didn’t know. Unlike his brother, Poseidon wouldn’t talk much.

So, Poseidon came to the conclusion that (Name) was using for free drinks and while this could have been true…he didn’t care if it was.

Because he liked her company and he had more than enough money that he didn’t seem to mind.

That’s how it started.

From drinking buddies to lovers.

“Please, don’t tell me you brought that human shit.”

“Listen, listen. This is really good, top notch.”

“You said that last time. It was disappointing to say the least.”

“No, no. Not this one. Here, here. Just close your eyes, tip it back and swallow. It’s really good…See! That’s good right?!”

(Name) gracefully got the tyrant of the seas to drink the alcohol from the human world, only for Poseidon to say it was worse than the last one. Which made the two go back and forth that they had “bad taste” in alcohol.

Although, the next day (Name) was in for a real treat when Proteus invited her to Poseidon’s palace. In the dining room was a small bottle of wine, two wine glasses with Poseidon already at the table.

“Sit. I have somethings I wanted to discuss.”

Poseidon didn’t have to repeat himself as (Name) sat infront of him with a happy smile on her face while Proteus opened the wine bottle.

The two discussed politics and seemingly family problems.

Seemed like Poseidon when he had a few drinks would talk about family a bit.

(Name) mentioned that the wine was exceptionally great and took the bottle wanting to know where Poseidon got it from. Sure, (Name) had a few drinks but the wine wasn’t necessarily strong that she couldn’t recall what wine was what.

“What is this, Poseidon?”

“Wine from those humans. It’s called “Beaujolais nouveau” apparently.”

“…You like human wine-oh my god.”

Smiling in a teasing manner while Poseidon simply shrugged his shoulders, simply saying, “It’s not bad.”

“Not bad you say, and yet you took it. Why?”

“…You enjoy teasing me don’t you?”

“I’m just wondering why we are enjoying human wine, since you called it gross yesterday.”

Cold blue eyes saw how much his visitor was liking this situation, of course she was. A quick sigh and Poseidon poured her another drink and then himself.

“Shut up and drink.”

The two clinked their glasses together and enjoyed a night of drinking and talking.

Poseidon loved those moments.

“That’s my seat.”

The unknown god that was seated next to his drinking buddy quickly got up from the seat as the king Helheim, not only being one the most respected gods but also feared wanted his seat beside (Name).

The gods were having a party, a reason didn’t have to be, and Hades managed to arrive just in time knowing (Name) was already partaking in the wine with a few unknown gods wanting her attention.

Something Hades didn’t like.

“Why is it whenever I leave you alone there’s always a no name god wanting your affection?”

“I honestly, didn’t notice him there. I think you scared him.”

Hades sat down beside (Name) and like any gentleman poured her a drink and then himself, sighing in a tired smile.

“Oh no, how dare I?”

“Jealous?”

“Protective. Now drink and tell me about why you’re visiting the human world for clothes.”

Hades didn’t have big disdain for humans like his brother Poseidon, (Name)’s other drinking buddy. While she had many drinking buddies Hades and Poseidon seemed to be her favorite.

(Name) also had a habit of going to the human world for clothes, sometimes the clothes were modest and sometimes they were a bit revealing.

Hades didn’t mind either.

(Name) was a rather beautiful goddess arguably the most beautiful goddess in Valhalla. She wasn’t above using her charms to get what she wanted which could be drinks, so she didn’t have to pay, or getting support on anything she wanted.

“They are comfortable. The humans aren’t all bad, great fashion sense. However, your brother thinks otherwise.”

“Of course he does. Especially, since you gave him that wine from the human world.”

“It was great! You had to admit it was great!”

(Name) seemed to already be a bit tipsy as she gently shook Hades shoulder trying to get Hades agree with her. Drinking from his wine glass, Hades eyes quickly, very quickly, glanced at down her shirt to admire those beautiful breasts.

Hades didn’t have to quickly look in honesty as (Name) and himself were close and (Name) liked it when he gave her compliments on her body or how she dressed.

“Whatever you say. I’m not arguing with you.”

“Good! I was hoping you would let me see your Bident.”

Hades kindly chocked on the wine he was drinking as a easy going and kindly flirty (Name) patted the top of his head with a teasing smile. A smile, Hades came to love just as much as the smile that was charming.

“You can’t see my bident. Are you insane?”

“Aw, come on! Just for a little while~”

Slightly giving Hades a peek down the split shirt, which Hades already took a quick peek at, but Hades quickly played coy. Saying that he couldn’t be swayed. Even when, (Name) tried again Hades still said no. As the night went on and the two talked, as though the two were the only ones there, and had some more drinks for the night.

“I don’t like cold men, Hades.”

“Then why are you friends with Thor?”

“He has good company! Just because he doesn’t talk to you doesn’t mean he doesn’t talk. Don’t laugh! It isn’t funny.”

Hades had to laugh.

Imagining the indifferent and cold Norse talking and keeping good company seemed a bit out there to think about. While laughing (Name) kindly shook him trying get Hades to take her seriously, it didn’t work.

But that was Hades way of flirting; teasing.

The two liked to tease each other whether the two were together personally or on the phone.

“You’re still on that?”

Days later, Hades was sitting on his chair in his king’s chambers reading a book while on the phone with his favorite drinking buddy; beautiful drinking buddy.

“If you won’t let me see your bident. At least name an attack after me. Shows that you love me~”

“What makes you think I love you?”

Hades had a smile on his face as he awaited (Name)’s answer, on the other end (Name) was back in the human world. Shopping no doubt.

“Poseidon told me.”

“Lies.”

“Are you calling your brother a liar? Shame on you~”

Smirking Hades found (Name)’s teasing and charming, that’s what he loved about her. That and how he could just be himself around her.

“I’m not calling my brother a liar. Just my favorite drinking buddy.”

“I’m hurt! Just for that you and I are no longer friends.”

Playing hurt (Name) knew Hades would reply back with something just as sly or funny and he did as he clutched his hand over his heart and pretended to be hurt.

“Oh no! Whatever will I do? My one and only friend is gone. I enjoyed placing my head on your lap. Looks like I’ll to find another place for my head to rest.”

“It’s not too late to apologize.”

“Good night, (Name). I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Hades.”

The two said good bye and ended their call, Hades had to admit he must have had it bad if he found her saying bye to him was sexy.

(Name) was truly beautiful goddess inside and out.

Hades had a saying about her;

“A voluptuous beauty with an adult charm in Valhalla. With her broad-minded personality, the chances of men in Valhalla who say no to her... simply do not exist."

Her beauty alone was what made gods trip over their own feet, except for Hades. Hades didn’t seem to let her beauty rule his desire, it was in truth that her personality that he loved.

Her teasing.

The way he could talk to her about anything, as he laid his head on his lap and she gave him sound advice. The way she waved and smiled at him would make him a liar if he said he didn’t feel his heart skip a beat.

Jealous? Protective? Hades wasn’t sure.

All he knew was he didn’t like certain gods coming around, not everyone has a warm agenda. Hades had to keep an eye out for her.

As the years passed, it wasn’t a secret that Hades and (Name) were close. A few gods and goddess became jealous of the two good looking, close friends, but it didn’t matter to them as the two just became closer and closer.

“Where are you two going?”

“Where does it look like we’re going?”

Poseidon caught his brother and (Name) at the gate that went to the world of the living both were dressed for the beach. Hades was carrying all the equipment, no doubt (Name) asked him to do so.

“You have a domain to run, you know.”

“Yeah, but if he stay cooped up in Helheim all the time he’s going to age faster than Zeus.”

“Helheim can’t be left unattended.”

“Beelzebub is taking command.”

Poseidon heard (Name)’s stance on taking Hades with her to the beach and while he hoped he could get some sense into Hades it was too late, (Name) already had her claws in him. Gently grabbing Poseidon’s well toned arm (Name) tried to convince Poseidon to join them.

(Name) was the only one in Valhalla who could hug Poseidon’s arm and get away with it.

Poseidon declined to go and instead told his brother not to be gone too long. Hades promised he would be gone two hours tops…

Hades and (Name) were gone the entire day.

🎀Rukia-Writes🎀

[sweetercalypso]

Texas Hold ‘Em || Joel Miller

Summary: when a heatwave interrupts your lake house vacation, you and dbf!Joel find another way to have some fun

Word Count: 2.4k

Notes: minors dni; stripping, blowjob, unprotected p in v sex, pull-out method, reader on top, implied age gap, afab reader, mentions of alcohol and drinking

Summer in Texas is hot.

Cracked asphalt sidewalks burn underfoot, paired with sharp, dry grass that pricks at your skin when you stray off the path in search of relief.

The sun is too bright, the air is unbearably warm, and the humidity is enough to take your breath away.

Days like this are best spent inside.

With an impending heat wave looming in the forecast, it seems like summer might pass by entirely before you have the chance to enjoy your break. Joel Miller – a drinking buddy your dad had picked up in recent years – had offered you a trip to his lakeside cabin with the promise that a cold drink and a dip in the water would be the perfect remedy for the high temperatures.

You’d arrived three days ago, and every afternoon since had brought a thick, sweltering heat that made it impossible to pull yourself away from the comfort of the living room. Even the calm, inviting waves lapping gently at the lake’s edge weren’t enough to tempt you back outdoors to fry under the brutal sun.

The only solution was to sulk inside, bitterly cherishing the tiny air conditioner working overtime to keep you cool. Joel didn’t seem outwardly bothered by the heat, but you could tell he preferred to stay indoors, too.

“S’posed to be in the high 90’s today,” he says, strolling into the living room with his attention turned to the vivid landscape beyond the patio doors. “But it’s so humid, it’ll feel like a hundred.”

You tip your head back and let out a dramatic groan, resenting the prospect of another day spent inside. You liked Joel, and his cabin was nice, but you wanted nothing more than to feel the sun on your skin, to be submerged in the cool, twinkling lake like you’d been promised.

“Can’t we go sit by the water, just for a little while?”

His mouth turns down at the corners, frowning as he thinks. “That’s up to you, darlin’. Just don’t want you gettin’ burnt up out there.”

You know he’s right. Even from the comfort of the living room, you could tell that it was too hot to venture outside. The handful of other cabins scattered around the lake were all vacant for the season, driveways sitting empty and abandoned canoes rocking idly at the pier.

“How ‘bout we find something else to do? Don’t have to sit here bored just ‘cause we’re stuck inside.”

Joel’s cabin was barely furnished beyond the necessities – an outdated kitchen, a stiff living room set, and a couple beds tucked away in otherwise empty rooms. But you couldn’t complain.

No one comes to a lake house to admire the décor.

He perches himself on the other end of the couch and you move to sit up beside him. “What d’you want to do?”

“Well,” he drawls, stalling as he looks around for an answer. “There’s cold beer in the fridge. Got a deck of cars around here somewhere. That could be a good start.”

“Beer and poker? Sounds like quite the party.”

“Hey,” he laughs, hands raised in mock offense. “It’s the best I can do for now.”

Your head tilts as you consider his offer.

Joel was handsome, aged like fine wine with a glint in his eye that spoke of a hidden depth you’d like to explore. Maybe you could have some fun this summer after all.

“All right,” you decide, slipping off the couch with newfound interest. “You find the cards, I’ll get the beer.”

Five minutes later and you’re sitting across the cabin’s small, circular kitchen table, dealing cards from the worn-out deck that Joel had pulled from the junk drawer.  

“Poker, huh?” He grabs his drink by the neck of the bottle. “We don’t have any chips, though. How are we gonna know who wins?”

You place the rest of the deck to the side and pick up the two cards you’d been dealt, fingertips gliding over their frayed, softened corners. “I know another way we can play.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Instead of winning poker chips, whoever has the best hand picks something for the other person to take off. If you refuse, you lose.”

“So, strip poker?” he says with a dry laugh. “You’re not serious.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Besides – as hot as it is, we don’t need clothes anyway.”

Joel shrugs and tips back his drink, thinking about the day you’d arrived at the cabin, still clinging to your hopes of having the perfect vacation.

Stubbornly glued to the beach towel you’d placed at the edge of the water, sweat glistening on your bare skin, donning a swimsuit that would’ve made a lesser man blush – he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.  

“Okay, fine.” He concedes and rests his forearms against the table, a wry grin pulling at his features. “But I’ll have you know, I’m very good at poker.”

Four rounds later, and Joel had yet to live up to his claim. Maybe it was just the luck of the cards, or maybe you’d spent enough time observing the man’s expressions to call his bluff, but you’d won every hand so far.

The first round was a close call – a full house versus three-of-a-kind. You’d chosen Joel’s watch to ease into the game, and he’d stared you down with a fire in his eyes as he placed it face-up on the table.

Next, you’d doubled down and won with an ace high, and Joel had been relieved of his shoes and his belt, which he’d dropped onto the floor with the promise of a comeback. The third hand played out the same way and you’d demanded his flannel, stealing glances at his toned arms as he handed over your reward.

By the fourth turn, you were reeling from the high of your winning streak and ready to make your move.

“I thought you said you were good at this, Mr. Miller.” You bat your lashes at him with an exaggerated simper as he deals out the next hand.

“I’m a pro, sweetheart. Just thought I’d let you have your fun.”

Throughout the round, your attention flickers back and forth between your cards and the man sitting across from you. Joel’s left with only his t-shirt and jeans to gamble away, and while you’re deciding which to relieve him of next, he slaps his cards down with a boisterous laugh.

“Well, would you look at that – a royal flush.”

A king and queen lay strewn out on the table, their stony, time-worn faces taunting you with their triumph. You’d been too distracted to notice that the community cards all shared a common suit, lining up perfectly with the cards Joel had been dealt.

He sucks in a slow breath and looks over you in careful consideration, debating what to take for his win. Finally, he gestures to your top and says, “take it off”.  

Still shocked by the unanticipated loss, you place your cards down with a huff and shrug the thin material over your head without complaint. The sunlight glaring through the windows warms your exposed skin as you reveal yourself to Joel’s unwavering stare.

You toss your shirt at his chest and he catches it with a raised brow, eyes tracing over the curve of your breasts before trailing gradually back to your face. He adds your top to the growing pile of clothes littering the floor around his chair. When he speaks, his voice is low in his throat, like he’d finally understood your plan.

“Just beautiful, darlin’,” he says under his breath. “How ‘bout we raise the stakes a bit?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

His jaw tenses as he mulls over his options. “If I win, you come over here and use that pretty mouth for something other than trash talkin’. If you win, I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

You bite your lip to hold back the pleased grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. Either way, you’re bound to have a good time.

“Sounds like a deal, cowboy.”

A palpable tension fills the air as Joel shuffles the deck with a renewed confidence. He lays out the sequence and flips the first three over, and it doesn’t seem like the cards are in your favor.

It’s an aimless, faceless group, and the next two aren’t much better. None of your cards pair together, and there’s nothing to do but accept your fate.

You muck your hand onto the pile with a mumbled profanity, waiting for Joel to flaunt his win. When he drops his own useless cards in the middle of the table, you look up to find him just as perplexed as you.

It’s a tie.

Neither of you have enough to make a decent hand, leaving the game in a dead heat. All this built-up tension relying on this pivotal round, and it’s a tie.

“Well,” Joel says, scratching absently at the salt and pepper stubble lining his cheeks. “I’d say it’s a draw.”

“So, who wins?”

He thinks for a moment before leaning back in his chair and not-so-subtly positioning his knees with room for you to sit in between them. “I think we both win.”

You take the glaringly obvious suggestion and pull yourself out of your seat, slinking around the table to situate yourself between Joel’s legs.

“Claim your prize, Mr. Miller.”

Your hands sweep over his thighs as he pops open the button of his jeans and drags his thickening cock from the confines of his boxers. Beaded precum drools from the tip as he languidly palms his shaft.   

The sight of his digits running over the length of his cock is hypnotizing – rough, calloused fingers against warm, flushed skin. A burning fire builds in your core as you imagine how his cock would feel inside of you.

“Open up for me, sugar.”

He cups your jaw with his free hand and guides you closer until his salty head rests against the plush of your bottom lip. When your tongue darts out to trace the vein on the underside of his cock, he groans and inches forward in his seat.

“Fuck- take it all.”

You eagerly bob over his length and Joel revels in your rapt attention, in the way you dedicate yourself to the task at hand.

“Such a nice mouth,” he pants, prodding the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek and admiring the protrusion it creates. Your fingers twist into the material of his jeans and you chastise yourself for not starting the game with a bolder approach.

Joel’s hips buck against your face as he dips his cock further into your mouth, lingering briefly on the back of your tongue before hesitantly pulling back with a hiss.

“As much as I’d like to keep you down there all day, we’d better stop now if you want your reward.”

You’d almost forgotten about the bet you’d made, too preoccupied with swallowing Joel’s length to remember how you’d gotten into this position in the first place.

He holds a hand out to help you up, and you lick the remnants of his presence from your lips.

“Where d’you want me?” He trails a hand over your arm, sending a shiver up the length of your spine.

“Here,” you say with impressive ambition. “Right here in this chair, just like I’ve pictured all evening.”

“Yeah? Gonna ride my cock right here in the kitchen?”

You nod with conviction and Joel grins as his hands move to the button of your jeans. He yanks the material down past your thighs, fingers hooked into the waist band of you underwear to leave you bare in one move.

“This too,” you mention with a tug to his t-shirt. You want to see everything while you have the chance – who knows how many times a simple game of poker will amount to this.

Your jeans pool at your feet and you step out of them while Joel throws his shirt somewhere off to the side, dark curls sticking up in odd directions from the fabric disrupting their shape.

He leans back against the chair and holds your waist while you position yourself in his lap, his cock twitching with interest as it brushes against your skin. You’re not sure who’s more eager for what’s to come – you or the man beneath you.  

Joel laments the lost opportunity of taking you apart on his fingers and his mouth, but there’s no delaying the zealous way you sink down onto his cock. That’s alright, he thinks with a choked noise, there’s always next time.

His thick length parts your walls with a delicious pressure, nudging against your sweet spot when you settle completely onto his lap. You’re still for a moment as you adjust to the strain, chest heaving with the effort of keeping yourself upright.

“Oh, fuck- you feel perfect.”

Joel’s hands travel up your sides until his warm palms find the swell of your tits. He leans in to sweep messy, open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat, distracting himself with your heavy breath until you’re ready to move.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting in greedy impatience, you regain your strength enough to wrap your thighs around his waist, molding yourself to his frame as you lift up halfway before coming back down, smearing slick over his skin.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Take what you need.”

Your pace quickens each time you raise off his cock, coming back down and grinding against his pelvis in one fluid motion. His broad, freckled shoulders are warm under your hands, an anchor for the rhythmic cycle of your hips over his.

“M’not gonna last much longer.”

You pant as his hand abandons your breast to stroke circles against your puffy clit, carrying you to the precipice of your release.

When your movements falter and you crumple against his chest, Joel picks up where you left off. He thrusts up into you in search of his pleasure, grunting as your walls flex around him.

Just as he’s about to tip over the edge, he slides his length free and grips the base with a tight fist, rubbing the head of his cock against your balmy skin as he paints the evidence of his arousal over your naval.

The air is filled with a litany of lewd sounds, pants and sighs overlapping in your equal states of bliss. Joel’s softening cock rests against your thigh as you run your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and he flattens a hand against the arch of your back, both thinking about how fortunate it was that Joel suggested a card game to cure your mutual boredom.

[jaylver]

YOU BELONG WITH ME — Y.JW

synopsis: The boy next door was practically everyone’s dream. Straight As and top of his class, basketball captain, popular kid with a heart of gold, who wouldn’t want him? Yang Jungwon happened to be him, your childhood best friend who you’ve been pining for almost forever. But how could you compete when you were the complete opposite of his girlfriend? Except that you’ve been there in his life all along, the one who understood most. All you could think was: you belong with me.

pairings: non-idol!jungwon x afab!reader

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, boy next door + athlete jungwon, romance, very very slight angst, fluff

warning(s): profanities, both are kinda idiots xx

wc: 3445

a/n: yes, this is based on tswift's you belong with me song + mv 💓 (please tell me you're not sick of me and tay atp) tbh this was originally a hee fic (idk why he always inspires a lot of fics for me LMAO) but i wanted to change it up! hope you enjoyed it! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah muah!

masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.

You were down bad. 

That wasn’t a statement, it was a fact.

Nothing could simply hide the fact that you were down bad and feral for your neighbour. Yes, you heard that right, the neighbour. And no, your neighbour doesn’t happen to be someone who was on the edge of deathbed kind of old, but he was, in fact, the same age as you, which didn’t help the ample amount of delusions that you could actually get him. 

Yang Jungwon. 

He wasn’t just an average boy next door, he was your childhood friend, who you knew since he moved in when you were six. Naturally, his mum and yours became buddies and it was a big factor in pulling you two together. As you grew older, you and him got closer and were practically stuck to the hip. The downside of highschool and Jungwon looking as though he was personally carved by Greek Gods was that he got popular instantly, while you, on the other hand, was regarded as a simpleton. 

To be fair, you get it. Jungwon was a smart guy other than his obvious charming features and particularly those dimples. Gosh. He was a perfect straight As student, a student loved by teachers and his peers. What made him even alluring was his athletic abilities as well. Wasn’t it just cruel to others to be absolutely blessed both academically and athletically? Captain of the basketball team who’ve won many championships and tournaments. Right, you finally understand why you’ve got to fight other girls for him. 

High School was hell. Being splitted into either the popular kids or the nerdy kids, you happen to be stuck in the middle. Jungwon was off with his popular bunch and you were with Sim Ja Yun, or Yoon, your platonic soulmate that you found equally dying in Maths class. Without her, you were never surviving this hell hole. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss hanging out with Jungwon. Now that you were in two different friend groups, you only got to see him after school or during the weekends. But at least there was a fun part to it, considering how his window faced yours and you two ended up creating this new way of communicating where you would write on either a whiteboard or a piece of paper.

There were ‘how are you’s and ‘good’s and some random rants, most of these ended up being something sentimental to look back to, and they were piled up in a small section in your drawer. 

“Did you hear? Jungwon’s dating that popular cheerleader,” Yoon nudged your side, whispering quietly as you two made your way to Chemistry. 

“Wonyoung?” you exclaimed, a shocked look on your face. 

Jang Wonyoung, the cheer captain of the school, an equivalent of Regina George that practically ran the school without saying. She was the total opposite of you: she wore short skirts, you wore t-shirts; she was cheer captain, you were on the bleachers; she wore high heels, you wore sneakers. How cliche could this be? Of course it had to be the cheer captain and the basketball captain that got together.

Yoon nodded. “Out of everyone, it had to be her. She’s literally known to be a serial cheater.”

Jungwon deserved better. That was all you could think during the entirety of Chemistry. Why didn’t he tell me? Was this new? Countless thoughts filled your mind till the point you swore you were seeing stars. At the end of the day, you concluded it was none of your business, seemingly reaching ‘acceptance’ in the five stages of grief. Maybe this was an actual sign for you to finally stop harbouring a small teeny liking towards Jungwon. Just maybe.

Sitting by the window and staring out into the dark skies completely distracted you from the fact that Jungwon had entered his bedroom right opposite your window. He was the phone, face twisted and expressions screaming out the signs that things didn’t seem to be well. He was yelling something back before hanging up with a sigh and a frustrated ruffle of his hair. 

It took a few minutes for him to recollect himself before regaining composure completely. You pretended you didn’t see the whole commotion when he sat on his bed, facing towards you and your window, casting you a smile and waving at you, to which you reciprocated. You couldn’t help noticing the disappointment on his face.

You reached over for your notepad, scribbling on it quickly.

‘You okay?’

His face instantly lit up, beaming happily, contrary to the expression from a minute ago. 

It was his turn to write something down on his notepad.

‘Tired of drama.’

You then wrote your reply.

‘Sorry :(’ 

He shrugged, shaking his head slightly. You wished you could do something to help, but simply, there was nothing.

‘I like—’

You found yourself writing those words of confession unknowingly, as if your hands knew what your mind constantly thought of. You didn’t even finish writing it, you couldn’t. By the time you glanced up, Jungwon was gone and a shade of blue covered his window.

Well, there goes another chance.

It might’ve been a typical Tuesday night, but that wasn’t stopping you from staying up and acting insane. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with your headphones plugged in. The late night was calm and peaceful, no schoolwork, no trouble, no crush to mull over about, you were finally alone and at peace. The upbeat songs blasting into your ears had you jumping from your bed and dancing around, feeling as if you were the only one in the world.

But you weren’t the only one. 

Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon was by his window secretly looking at your dancing figure who mimicked a singer, a smile on his face.

If only you knew.

Sitting alone in your own front yard shouldn’t sound as depressing as it was. 

You thought the best self healing method was getting in touch with nature like what those magazines had claimed, but it was only making you seem pathetic to people that drove past. Plus, how could you achieve peace when the person who destroyed it countless times was walking in your direction towards you.

“Hey, hey,” Jungwon greeted, dressed in his worn-out jeans and a white t-shirt.

“Hi,” you replied, patting the empty spot next to you.

“You’re reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’?” he wondered as he sat down, catching a glimpse of the book in your hand.

“I’m pretending to read, but I’d like to say that I am,”

Jungwon laughed in amusement, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll pretend to be impressed,” his dimpled smile never leaving, which persisted in tormenting you, because how could anyone look like that.

He’s got a smile that could light up this whole town. Hell, he was the sun that shone over your measly sad town. The light of your life and the happy pill of everyone else’s life. 

It was just a shame that you hadn’t seen it in a while ever since his girlfriend has brought him down. Even though he has reassured you that he was fine many times before whenever you asked, you could tell he wasn’t fully truthful, you know him better than that. 

Speaking of his girlfriend, Wonyoung soon pulled up by his house, and he had to eventually say goodbye to you too. Staring at the sight of them being close simply had your stomach turning and twisting, especially when she herself probably knew that you were secretly pining after him. Were you that transparent? Who cares?

As they drove off, you felt your grip on your book loosen, your heart equally dropping. 

Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that?

It was one of the most important times in the school calendar. 

No, not exams. The national basketball competition. 

You weren’t a big sports fan, but somehow, this tournament would always rope you in every year, mainly because of the influence around you too. Exhibit A, Jungwon. But other than him, your friends were constant supporters of the school’s basketball team, not to mention, the atmosphere every year would go insane.

The game against the rival school was something you couldn’t and wouldn’t miss. Well, you didn’t have a choice either way. Being in the band team meant you were spending most of your time on the bleachers. Sigh.

On game day, you were there at the basketball court earlier than the scheduled time for final preparations, helping your bandmates around and idling boredly. You didn’t realise someone sneaking up on you until you heard your name being called, startling you and almost had you dropping an instrument. 

“Jungwon?”

“Hey,” he was in his practice gear, basketball trainers in his hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you. How’s the performance for tonight?”

“I’m hoping it’ll go well,” you said honestly, feeling uneasy under his intense stare. “I’m hoping your game goes good too,”

“Thank you,” he smiled, and there it was, his dimples. One look and it had you lightheaded. You couldn’t believe he had this effect on you still. “Will you finally treat me to some of your signature cupcakes again if we win?”

“I’ll consider it,”

“Great,” he beamed, a pleased and confident smirk replacing that sweet smile. “I’ll make sure to win it for you then,”

How could he say that and casually bid you goodbye after? Has he got no regard for your sanity whatsoever? 

His words continuously occupied your head even when your performance ended and the game started, your focus only trained on his running figure. The score was narrow, time was ticking and Jungwon had one target in mind, dashing towards the hoop and shooting the ball into it. That was the winning point and there was no doubt that the home team had won. You and your bandmates got up cheering, yelling and giving each other’s high fives. You were proud.

The cheerleaders by the court were cheering as well and doing their routine. The sight of Wonyoung caught your attention, her gaze was not on her boyfriend, but on another player. What? 

Once the game had ended, the team stayed on court celebrating. You were still on the bleachers, so all you could do was observe the scene unfolding below. Jungwon approached Wonyoung, but what you failed to notice was her standing with the player you saw her eyeing earlier. A fight broke out, a sour expression on Jungwon’s face, betrayal evident. It didn’t take long before he stormed away.

Oh no.

Upon returning home, tired and drained, you saw Jungwon in his room by the window, head hung low staring at his phone. At first, you didn’t know whether to get his attention and ‘talk’ or rather stay silent, but how could you when he seemed like a sad sappy kitten. So, you sent him a text, prompting him to stare up.

‘Hope you’re ok’ you wrote on your notepad.

He gave you a small smile, scribbling something down and holding his notepad up after,

‘I think I am? Whatever :/’

‘I’m here if you need to talk.’

‘Thanks :) you’re the best.’

‘I know’

He laughed at your response, but you continued on.

‘Congrats on your win! Super proud.’

‘Thank you! Does that mean I get my cupcakes now?’

You rolled your eyes, feigning an angry look. 

‘Fine >:(’

‘Sweeet. Talk tomorrow? We both need a rest.’

You nodded, and with a last wave from him, he closed his curtains and you did the same. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the clear fight from earlier and you didn’t want to push him either, but the sadness in his eyes told you he wasn’t getting over that easily.

Can’t he see that you were the one who understands him?

Prom, the day you dreaded. 

You were adamant on not attending initially, but the convincing from Yoon and your other friends had you eventually caving in. Poor you.

It wasn't like there was no one out there who asked you, you were actually just a great friend who agreed to go with them instead. Besides, men scared you, mostly the ones you didn't know. Not Jungwon, he's an exception, or maybe you were biased.

Once you were done getting ready in your bedroom, you opened your window curtains out of reflex and with purpose, gazing out. There was Jungwon, in his sleek black suit and tie, looking like a graceful prince. Abort, abort, abort—

Too late.

Upon seeing him noticing your figure by your window, it was too late to flee or hide. So, you waved at him, taking your notepad along.

'You look great!'

He smiled once he saw your writing, seemingly relieved and less tensed up.

'Thanks! You're beautiful in that dress. I love it on you.'

You're praying he didn't notice the slight tinge of scarlet on your cheeks from a distance away. Well, unless he has great vision. 

Shaking your feelings and thoughts away, you wrote your last message since it was time to leave soon. 

'I need to leave soon :( see you tonight?'

He nodded, writing swiftly before showing it.

'Yes! Will see you soon. Have fun :)'

Having fun isn't exactly the expression you would precisely describe how you felt at that hour. 

Alright, you found it dumb to get slightly jealous over the fact that Jungwon was with his girlfriend tonight, but you couldn't help mulling over it. You just wanted him, but why couldn't he see that?

Or maybe … you didn't know that he does.

Jungwon, on the other hand, was in the men's restroom, washing his face over and over again. He needed to think.

Breaking up with Wonyoung after the whole fiasco at the basketball game had affected him. Although a month and a half seemed like a  short time, it was still a relationship anyway, wasn't it? That's besides the point here.

Jungwon realised he liked you. 

He found it douchey especially when he had just gotten out of a relationship, he didn't want you to think that you're some rebound, but he ended up realising his true feelings. Gosh, couldn't the timing be any better?

His childhood friend, number one supporter since the start, you were the one he was in love with, and it was ridiculous he had to go through a long while just to find out his actual thoughts and feelings. It seemed unfair to you.

Rather impulsively, he hit the 'send' button on his message app, asking for you to meet him outside the hotel. 

Waiting for him to arrive was nerve-wracking for you. Having not seen him almost the entire night and now he had sent an ominous message to top it all off, it simply didn't come off as nonchalant as he intended it to be.

"Hi," you greeted as he made his way towards you. 

"Hey," his eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of you in the prettiest dress, one that complimented you to the brim.

"You … wanted to see me?"

"Oh," a gear clicked in Jungwon's mind. Seeing you had completely malfunctioned him and he almost forgot the task at hand. "Right. This is going to sound in–insane but, here me out,"

"Okay?" 

"I like you," 

He likes … you?

Were you tripping or was that genuinely what he'd said? 

"I'm so stupid for not realising sooner. You were always there for me, since we were kids till now. At my basketball practices and competitions, I can spot you in the crowd easily, you're the shining star. Whenever you're playing by the bleachers, I wish I could just run to you. I like you, Y/N, I do,"

Every word was filled with pent up frustration and love, unaware how much he has been pushing back until now. But what concerned him most was your quietness.

"Y/N?"

You blinked, instead it was your turn to malfunction. "I like you too," those words came out pouring naturally, as if you were built for it, fully ready and prepared. "Wait!"

Your exclamation had him jumping up in shock, startling him and catching him off guard.

"I broke it off with her. A–and before you think I'm trying to replace you with her or anything, I'm not. Just wanted to make it clear," he said quickly, almost slurring, clearly panicked. “We can take it slow, don’t need to rush into anything, all it matters is you knowing,”

“I’d like that,” you fiddled with your fingers, nervousness eating you up from within. “I–uh–can I kiss you?”

Where did that come from?

Jungwon flushed a shade of red, coughing from shock. Your eyes widened in horror at his reaction, waving your arms frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t want to! I’m sorry, I don’t know what got over me—”

“I–I do want to kiss you,” he rushed his words out, sounding in a hurry. He was just as whipped as you. 

You smiled, and that was all it took before you grabbed his tie, pulling him in to lock your lips with his.

It was magical. The feeling was something you’ve anticipated since forever, living up to those scenes you’ve seen in your favourite rom coms and having you giddy. His kiss was gentle but desperate, palms resting against the back of your neck and cheek, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. 

You drove him insane. The cherry chapstick he could taste on his tongue, the touch of your lips against his, never in a million years had he imagined himself in this exact scenario, usually he expected himself to fumble, but he was glad he didn’t. He wished the night would never end, and so did you.

Reluctantly so, you eventually pulled away from him, both of you having your breaths taken away and breathing deeply. Even though it was silent, no words even exchanged for a while, you found yourself basking in his presence and taking in the moment. Then, you broke out into a giddy smile, giggling out of nowhere.

Jungwon couldn’t help but be infected by you, smiling along and laughing. There it was, his smile, his dimples, the crinkles by his eyes. Everything about him was surreal to you, whatever happened tonight seemed surreal as a whole. 

“Can I take you home?”

“Of course you can.”

That night, you made sure to have him waiting outside your front yard as you ran in looking like cinderella dashing out of the ball, dashing towards the kitchen to fetch what you had promised. Cupcakes.

“I’ve made them,” you presented the cupcakes in all their glory, each decorated prettily and cutely. 

“You remembered!” he stared at them in awe, then looked back at you with the same expression. “Thank you, really,”

“It’s no biggie,” 

You passed him a reassuring smile, one that he responded back with a small grin. He glanced at his wrist watch for a second, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s late, I’m sure you’re tired, and I still have to drive the car into the garage,”

“Right,” you laughed at his car parked half-assed by the sidewalk, luckily no passing car was present. “Goodnight, Won,”

“Goodnight, Y/N. I had a lot of fun tonight with you. I’m glad you were there,”

“Me too.”

Back in your room, you were done washing up and getting ready for bed, looking out your window as it has become a habit by now. Surprisingly,  Jungwon’s light was still switched on, and you had thought he was sound asleep by now, but guess he wasn’t. 

Speaking of him, he came crashing into your sight not even a minute later, notepad in hand and a cheeky smile that told you he had a plan up his sleeve. He stood right in front of the window, directly across your room, then held up the notepad in hand.

‘Be mine?’

This guy …

You grabbed your notepad, writing down the obvious answer, a lovesick smile that he never failed to put on your face. 

‘Yes!! Duh!!’

He let out a laugh at your response, but said nothing more, acting out a sleeping gesture to signal you to sleep soon and that he himself was also off to bed. You only nodded, but before bidding one another goodbye, he blew you a kiss.

You rolled your eyes at his playfulness, blowing one back and waving him goodnight, both of you unwilling to close the curtains and go to bed.

Either way, you were going to bed that night with peace and love in your mind, because finally, he belonged to you.

( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog

[lustnhim]

‘ grown. ‘ — elvis x fem! reader

note: requested + elvis is a family friend / warnings: MDNI, p in v sex, loss of virginity, risk of being caught, pervy elvis, oral m-receiving, inconspicuous touching, elvis kinda coerces reader, panty stealing elvis cause its my fav, prob typos. / summary:  your dad and elvis are really close friends so when elvis invited your whole family over to graceland for the 100th time, you didn’t expect much more than another boring evening

“Now I want you to be on your best behavior while we’re here.” Your mother said, looking at you from the rearview mirror. Scoffing, you kept your gaze fixed out the window, watching the passing trees. “I always am. You don’t have to tell me that everytime we go over.” You say, causing your father to chime in too. “Honey, your mother doesn't mean anything by it, we know you’re a good kid.” Shaking your head gently you let out a soft sigh, “And I ain’t a kid anymore.” You said under your breath, knowing that they probably heard you anyway.

As your family pulled into Graceland for what felt like the hundredth time, your eyes wandered the familiar landscape. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of boredom, despite the grandeur of Elvis' estate. His house was huge, much bigger than yours, but you had been in every room a gazillion times– It was nothing exciting anymore. A familiar figure approached your car as you got out; Elvis Presley, your dad's old buddy, was dressed a black shirt with a flowered pattern and black pants, he looked a little bit different since you last seen him- but then again that was a few months ago so he couldn’t have changed that much. Elvis brought your father into a hug and shook his hand before turning to your mother who he kissed promptly on her cheek. Your mother fussed over Elvis, babbling about how great it was to see him again. He flashed his million-dollar smile, a sign he was glad to see her too.The three talked a bit as they walked to the front door before he turned around, his piercing gaze seemed to linger on you for a moment longer than usual, making you feel a bit uneasy. “I’m sorry Darlin’ I ain’t even talked to you yet.” He said, walking over to you a strange smile on his face. “My, my…how you’ve grown.” He said, causing you to cringe a bit internally. “It’s only been a few months since we last came over-” You replied, laughing nervously. Pulling you into a hug which lasted a few moments too long he pulled away before walking back inside. 

You noticed a few other men who were all sitting in the living room which you recognized as his “Memphis Mafia”, you followed behind your parents and Elvis as he led them to the backyard. The aroma of BBQ filled the air, and laughter echoed as children played around. You meandered to find a spot to relax while your family talked to Elvis. You watched as the men from the Living Room slowly pooled outside. You noticed a few of them taking short glances at you making you feel a little nervous.Your father motioned you over and reluctantly you got up and walked over to the group of men he was speaking to. “My daughter here graduated high school not too long ago, top of her class too!” Your father bragged, pulling you close to him in an awkward side hug. You listened as the men all said their own praises to you, words of ‘congratulations’ and ‘good jobs’ but you noticed Elvis was staying oddly silent. Once your father started talking about other things you silently excused yourself back to your chair away from everyone else. 

You stayed away from the crowd as much as you could, hiding behind your sunglasses you couldn’t help but feel eyes on you most of the time. “Honey! Food’s ready!” You heard your mother call out, setting food on a table under a canopy as the other women scrambled to get their kids to sit down. Walking to the table you took a seat towards the end, your mother placing a plate of a burger and some chips in front of you. You looked around and saw everyone else getting their food, and you nibbled on some chips silently before you heard a gentle sigh and some scuffling beside of you. It was Elvis, sitting his plate down and smiling at you gently. “Well hello there stranger.” He teased, as your mother and father sat across from the two of you. “Been awfully distant today,” he said, taking a bite of one of his burgers. “Ah, yeah- Just tired.” You responded a bit dryly. “Pay her no mind, Elvis…she’s moody.” Your mother said, shooting you a look. 

As you ate in silence, your parents, Elvis and a few of the men all engaged in conversation, talking about music, family, politics and everything in between. You dissociated a bit, not really paying attention till you felt something against your thigh. A quick, fleeting touch, but one that made you jump. Looking down at your legs you noticed Elvis’ hand laid awfully close to your leg. You looked up at Elvis who was smiling, staring at you parents who talked his ear off about any old thing. Excusing it as just an accident you continued eating, but more tuned in this time. It wasn't long before you felt it again, this time it wasn’t just a graze of his fingers, his hand was resting on your thigh. You tried not to move too much, acting like you didn’t notice, but you felt his thumb drawing circles on your skin. Your face flushed as you tried to grab your drink, almost spilling it in the process. “Watch out!” Your father warmed, catching the drink before it spilled. “Sorry!” You replied, cursing yourself. You heard Elvis chuckle, his hand squeezing your thigh under the table.You winced internally, trying to play it cool as your heart raced. For a moment, all you could hear was the beat of your heart. You focused on the conversation at the table, hoping Elvis would give up and stop. You took a deep breath as your father started to joke about something, the entire table laughing, including Elvis. When the laughter died down, you felt his hand slide up your thigh, under the table, creeping closer to your core. Your eyes widened, and you froze, unsure of what to do. 

Just as his middle finger brushed against your panties causing your chair to scrape against the grass. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, feeling the heat in your cheeks. Your parents looked at you curiously, but Elvis merely smiled, raising an eyebrow suggestively. You didn't look back as you walked away, your heart pounding harder with every step. You couldn’t believe what was happening, you rushed into the house and went to the bathroom. Looking at your face in the mirror, god. You were blushing like crazy…your body shook a bit as you turned on the sink, splashing a bit of water on your face to try and fight the warmth that ran through your body. Wiping your face off you heard a knock at the door causing you to jump. “Yeah?” You called out, your heart rate quickening. “It’s me…” The voice said, and you felt your legs grow weak. “Elvis?” You asked and you heard a small laugh from the other side. “Yes, Darlin’...I think you and I need to talk…just the two of us.” You hesitated, not knowing what to do or even say, what would he want to talk about anyways? You took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door, seeing Elvis face to face. “Okay.” You said plainly, making him smile. “M’kay honey.” He said, moving away from the doorframe, allowing you to walk out. He placed his hand on your lower back as he led you through the house to the empty living room. The sounds of laughter and the chatter of the party faded away, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. 

Elvis led you to a plush sofa, arranging you to sit on the edge while he positioned himself beside you. His hands rested gently on his knees, smiling at you he let out a soft groan. "I wanted to say sorry...." He started, his tongue flicking across his lips nervously. “I- I watched you grow up n’ Lord knows how guilt I feel for….thinkin’ about you.” Elvis confessed and you shifted nervously on the couch, something about his tone, his voice wasn’t genuine. “You’ve grown into a beautiful woman…and I- I don’t think I can help myself around you.” You tried to respond, tried to say anything but you couldn't find the words. You didn’t know how you felt. You didn’t know what you wanted. God knows you thought he was handsome, but something felt…wrong. “E-Elvis I don’t know what to say…” You finally managed to say, fiddling with the hem of your dress nervously.” Elvis leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "You don't need to say anything, darlin'. Just let me show you how much I want you." As he spoke, Elvis reached out and cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as his other hand slipped under your dress, finding its way to your core. You gasped into the kiss, your hand pushing at his chest gently– unsure of what to do. You felt yourself involuntarily melt into the kiss, your hand sliding down his chest to his lap. Easing yourself into the kiss you felt his hands snake up the back of your dress, rubbing your back before snapping the back of your bra off with ease. Pulling away he smiled, “Atta girl.” He said, sliding your bra off from under your dress. Guiding your hand to his crotch, his erection pressing against your palm, you cupped it gently. “Get down on the floor honey…on your knees.” He said, leading you gently down between his legs. "Look so good…" he whispered huskily.

You looked into his eyes and began to unbutton his pants. Elvis helped you out, freeing his length from his boxers. He was larger than what you expected, making you hesitate. "Don't worry, baby," he said, stroking your hair. "Just put it in your mouth.. We gotta hurry, don’t wantcha daddy to see his only daughter down on her knees" His words sent a jolt down your spine. You hesitated for a moment longer before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, looking up at him he urged you to go deeper. Taking his cock into your mouth you struggled to fit most of it- feeling his hand grip your hair he moaned as you began to bob your head, your hand gripping his base. Elvis's thrusts became more urgent, his hand tightening in your hair, urging you to take in more of his length. The sound of his desperate moans filling the room. "That's it, baby... take it all," he encouraged you. You found yourself glancing at the doorway, hoping and praying no one would catch the two of you. Elvis groaned, his grip on your hair tightening. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum…" he warned you, his voice hoarse. In a moment, his release flooded your mouth, the warm sensation spreading throughout as he filled you. The orgasm sent waves of pleasure through him, and he pulled out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath. Small bits of cum dribbled out of your mouth, wiping it gently you looked up at him, his still semi-hard cock twitching gently. “Take off your pannies’ honey.” Elvis ordered, licking his lips and stroking himself lightly. 

You struggled to stand, your legs wobbly but you managed to get to your feet. Lifting your dress a bit and sliding off your underwear, you felt the wetness between your legs almost immediately begin to pool onto your inner thighs. Embarrassed, you stood there, your dress raised and your cunt exposed. Letting out a shaky whimper Elvis smirked, moving over to make room for you on the couch. “Come lay down, sweetheart.”  You did as you were told, laying back on the couch as Elvis positioned himself between your legs,your dress pulled up to your chin. "Legs up, darlin', spread 'em wide for me." He demanded, and you obliged, hooking your ankles together, giving him full access to your wet, aching pussy. You looked away in embarrassment as he ran his fingers gently across your swollen clit. “You a virgin?” He asked, and you nodded. You watch as his smile grows wider. "Fuck, you're so ready for me." He said, rubbing the head of his cock over your swollen lips, teasing you. Without warning, he thrust himself inside, filling you in one smooth motion. You gasped, the sensation unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. The pain flooded your body in an instant, slamming your eyes shut you let out a pained moan. “Shhh now..” Elvis whispered, rubbing your clit gently. Elvis began to pump his cock into you, his thrusts slow, but deliberate. Each one sent shivers down your spine as waves of pain turned to pleasure. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a desperate, claiming kiss, as his pace quickened. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as his thrusts grew more aggressive. The sound of wet slaps filled the empty room, both of your breathing ragged in unison. "Fuck, you're tight... so damn tight." Elvis said through gritted teeth, his hips slamming into you. You moaned into the crook of his neck, desperate to make as little noise as possible. 

You felt yourself nearing the edge, the pressure building within you. "Elvis..." you whimpered, unable to form a coherent sentence. He nodded, understanding, and began to thrust into you with renewed vigor, his cock hitting your sweet spot, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your pussy clenching around him. "Fuck, such a good girl..." Elvis groaned, his thrusts growing even more erratic. Elvis slammed into you one final time, groaning loudly as his release filled you without warning. His hot seed spilled into your quivering cunt, triggering another wave of pleasure that left you breathless. He pulled out of you and collapsed onto you, his breath ragged. You lay there, your body humming, as the reality of what you just experienced sunk in. Elvis crawled off of you, tucking himself back in his pants as you adjusted your dress back down and stood up, almost falling. Elvis chuckled and grabbed your hand.  "Where are my panties..?" You asked, looking around the floor for them.

“Souvenir.”

i might be slow posting fanfics for a bit, i really haven’t been feeling well lately BUT THAT OKAY. okay love u guys <3

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @18lkpeters @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @mysteriouslymagicalwolf @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @elvisalltheway101 @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 (if you wanna be added or removed lmk!)

[sits-bound]

Bound: All the Young Dudes by MsKingBean89

Well THIS took a long time.

I started typesetting it months ago. It's so long with a lot of chapters, and a lot of details. At first I split it into three volumes, but one would have been way longer than the others, so I resplit it into four, which I like, but just made it take that much longer.

Compared to the typesetting, binding it was a breeze. I purposely did not put any color on the inside so that I could just print it out on my laser printer. I put that thing through a workout! I had to stop and let it rest quite a bit. Poor buddy. Everything went smoothly with the folding and the punching and the sewing. I had fun making the end papers.

So lovely and clean and straight!

And then.

Then.

See, I was going to sand the edges instead of putting it through the guillotine. I even bought a power hand sander a few weeks ago. I was going to embrace the sawtooth, just sand the top and bottom a bit.

But for SOME reason I decided to trim the edges and, well, that was a big mistake.

Nothing ended up square. Everything shifted while cutting. The best I can say is that no text got cut off in the making of these binds.

As I was creating the cases, I realized that the boards (which I also cut with the guillotine) were not square either. It was all such a mess. But in the end, the text blocks fit within their cases, just not squarely. So looking at the outside of the set, you'd never know they're all cattywampus inside.

Moony says they look fine.

Oh, lovely!

Well, let's take a peek at the inside, shall we? I'm going to put them under a cut because it's a horror show.

Well, the endpapers are cute.

Oh that's not so bad!

OH GOD

Moony does not like this, though.

What's a "square"?

So, there you have it. Sigh.

Fonts: Chapters and titles: Krifon Body: Miller Display

This was supposed to be a gift for a friend, but I'm going to make a paperback version next and let her decide which one she wants.