#he fucking quotes time in a bottle

[soft-october-night]

Me midway through act 1 of Inscryption:

Me in the finale:

[loganbcrnes]

Mine

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x female!reader

Tags/Warnings: Smut, Fluff and Smut, Rough Sex, Dom/sub, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Logan (X-Men), Feral Behavior, Rut Sex, mention of frank castle, Explicit Sexual Content, Breeding, Impregnation, Marking, Blow Jobs, Logan has a big cock, and hes very hairy yes, Reader-Insert Authors note: originally posted this on my ao3, but decided to just upload the full one-shot here as well. link. Not beta'ed and no description of reader Summary: Logan unexpectedly goes into rut and you're there to help him through it.

You had no idea what you were anticipating when Logan came home from work. Before he left in the morning, he was acting stranger than normal. His temper was short, his motions were labored, and he wasn’t himself. His scent was also stronger than normal. It didn’t take you long to realize something was wrong, the bond felt stronger between you two like it was during the war and before you even began to make lunch, you received a text from your Logan.

Logan: I don’t want you to be alarmed, but I think I’m in rut.

This caught you by surprise. Most alphas these days didn’t get ruts and omegas didn’t get heats either. Just like they’re becoming rarer as time goes by. it’s sad really, back before the war, before Hydra - you were able to go into heat. You always spent it alone back in the 30s, you even got time off from your part-time job as a nurse when you were temporarily staying in Ireland. Logan could go into ruts too before Project X. during the war you both would help each other out, which led to you both bonding until the train mission fucked all of that up.

But now it’s 2021, over 70 years have gone by and 3 years since The Snap. You are forever thankful that both you and Logan survived it. You don’t know what you would have done if your beloved alpha was taken away from you once again. Since then you both decided to get a nice cabin in the mountains to get away from everything. You both were done fighting, tired of constantly losing people you loved. 

Logan got a job in construction in town about an hour away. So he didn’t usually come home until around 6 pm. You were thankful when you got the news that Frank Castle and his pack of alphas were moving a few miles away from your cabin a few months ago. You know it can get isolated in this area, so to have friends that you consider family to come and visit was nice.

There was no time to think about the next course of action though, it was clear what you had to do and something you thought you wouldn’t ever do again. Logan would be back in about half an hour, which gave you time to set up the room and go for a nice shower. 

You immediately went into one of the cupboards in your walk-in wardrobe for blankets. Logan didn’t necessarily like making nests, he always said and his quote: “ya’ don’t need to make those things no more lady, you use your alpha.” in his deep gruff tone. So you resorted to cuddling at least 2 times a day instead and he would fuck you into the mattress just how like it every time. 

Once you got a mattress onto the floor with a ton of blankets and pillows littered onto it, you went into the bathroom and stripped down. You cleaned up and once you were done, you slipped on a white silky nightie that reached down to your thighs. After that you got some nice cold water bottles to put beside the nest. As you were done you heard the door click open.

Logan could smell you before he even got out of his truck. His heightened senses were even more sensitive and he could smell just how wet you already were. All he could think about was knot, breed, mate- over and over as he got closer to the door.

It was rather embarrassing when he started to sweat and get a hard-on on his lunch break. He didn’t understand at first, but then recognized the symptoms to be a rut. Thankfully Frank was there to get him to leave, but damn did that hurt his ego a little.

Once he entered he was hit again with your strong scent. It was so sweet, sweeter than usual that he was beginning to think that maybe his rut could trigger your heat. He sure hoped so. Your scent was a mixture of roses and strawberries, he used to hate strawberries before he met you, but now it’s one of his favourite fruits.

You looked up from your iPad as Logan walked in and put down his backpack. “Hey,” you said as you got up, but were cut off by a squeak when he immediately jumped you. He picked you up by your thighs, making his way to your bedroom, his lips never leaving your neck. He nipped and sucked little bruises into your soft flesh. He put you down gently onto the mattress and started groping your breasts. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day, Darlin’”. Logan growls as he starts kissing down the valley between your breasts. He pulled back and slipped off your nightie, revealing your breasts and wet cunt. You blushed and looked away, but your alpha immediately notices. “Hey, no looking away from your alpha now,” Logan says as he grips your jaw to look back at him. 

“Sorry, Alpha” you shyly say. Logan only grunts back in reply as he stares down at you. You grip at his clothes, “off, please” you whine at him. Logan immediately starts to strip down, you stare at his glorious beefy body as he takes off his pleated shirt and jeans. Your eyes traveled the trail of hair down to his already hard cock. You lick your lips wanting to taste so badly. 

Logan notices as smirks, he leans back down to press his lips against yours, just as a whimper escapes through your lips, giving you a smoldering kiss which leaves you breathless within seconds, distracting you as he continues to run his hand up and down the curves of your body, getting closer to your sensitive parts.

You are gasping for breath when he pulls away, and in your complete haze, you watch him as he slowly climbs down your body, his lips never leaving your skin as he trails his hot kisses on you all the way down. He parts your legs further so he could get more comfortable between them, then when he presses a kiss at your nether lips, his fingers parting your folds so he could find your slick entrance and give a long, hungry lick right at where your desire is centered until you cry out. “Taste so fucking sweet ‘mega”. Logan growls as he licks your clit. You hear him moan and you open your eyes to look down at him, to see that his eyes are closed, totally blissed out as he sucks on your cunt, licking your entrance. You feel the hard tips of Logan’s fingers right at your opening, you moan when you feel two fingers parting your hot pussy, your walls instantly begin spasming around them, sucking them inside your depth.

“So hot, baby,” Logan growls, his warm breath falling on your sensitive folds as he whispers between the kisses he is giving you right at your heated core. “I’ve wanted to taste you since I could smell your sweet scent before I even got outta my car.”

You can’t think straight, you’re totally blissed out and your mind is filled with alphalphabreedmatealphabreed constantly, you reckon he has triggered your heat, but you don’t even realize and neither does he. His cock is stiff and swollen, you notice the center of his length has a bulge, showing that his knot is starting to form.  Your cheeks begin to heat up realizing that you’re doing this to your alpha. 

You go deeper and deeper into submission, surrendering yourself to your alpha, letting him know he can use you however he wants. Logan feels everything you feel, your bond is so strong that it’s overwhelming for the both of you. 

He continues to tease you with his fingers for a few more seconds and then the warm rasp of his tongue sends a series of shivers trembling through your body. He licks across your sensitive bud leisurely, biding his time with his eyes on you to take in every single reaction you are giving him through every lick, every swirl of his tongue. He has never seen anything so beautiful. He flicks his tongue from around your clit, down to your slit, moving back and forth as he continues to plunge his fingers into you. You begin to shake as you are nearing the edge.

He must have felt it, because he continues to lick at your cunt, slick pouring out as he slurps it all up, growls deeply against your pussy. “Come for me, little mate.”

You let out a whimper at his command but feel helpless to resist him. You can’t hold it in anymore as you come to your release. “Alpha!”. You moan out as you arch your back, Logan continues to milk through your orgasm and makes sure to gather every drop of cum.

Once you come down from your high, Logan pulls back and climbs up the bed kneeling right beside your head. Keeping one hand at your chin, he raises your head up as he uses the other hand to pump his cock, aiming the crown tip on your swollen lips. “Go and put your pretty mouth to use, Darlin’,” Logan says. A drop of pre-cum leaks from the slit, making you drool at the taste, while the heady scent of his cock fills your senses as you breathe him in.

You eagerly nod, barely catching a breath from your strong orgasm, he slips his cock through your open mouth, wanting to satisfy your alpha.

Groaning, Logan reaches down and squeezes your nipple as he thrust in and out of your mouth with almost the same force he would use if he is deep inside your pussy. 

“Love these tits of yours baby, love to see them jiggle when I fuck your tight cunt” Logan continues to grope your tits as he dirty talks. He thrusts into your mouth hard and you moan at his words, cheeks reddened at how dirty he’s making you feel.

You suck the entire length of him each time, loving the feel of the head of his cock at the back of your throat. Using his other hand, Logan grabs onto your hair, keeping you steady as he plunges deeper inside your mouth, pummelling deep into your throat each time he reaches to the brim.

His heavy balls filled with seed, slaps against your chin, loving the sensation and feeling dirty all at the same time. You dig your nails into his thigh with one hand and into the sheets with the other, holding on tightly as your lover uses your mouth for his pleasure. “So fucking good, baby. Always taking my fat cock so well. Look at you choking on it” Logan rambles as he thrusts into your mouth. He groans as you suck hard. You continue to choke as his knot is forming. 

Logan’s cock falls out of your mouth with a pop. The spasms of your climax remain. You close your eyes trying to catch your breath. You feel movement and blankets being moved on the mattress. After a few minutes, you feel a hand caress your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ears. You open your eyes to see Logan, his pupils are dilated to the point you only almost only see black. “You okay, Honey?” Logan asked. He leans down to press soft kisses to your cheeks and down to your neck. You hum as you lean into his touch, “Want you now Lo”. you said, “please knot me, need it so bad”. 

You’re a whimpering mess now, grinding your clit against Logan’s muscular thigh. Logan growls as he pulls back, he grabs a hold of your hips, flipping you over so that you're laying with your chest pushed flush against the mattress, legs bent, and the knees with your ass and pussy on full display. Your smell consumes him; all that he can think about is the taste of your arousal on his lips and how badly he needs to be inside you now.

His long fingers trace your slit as arousal floods from your entrance, coating your slick on his fingertips. Anticipation pangs at your chest as you wait for his next move. Everything in him wants to drive his hardened cock into you and knot you full of his seed.

Logan’s eyes screwed shut as he brings a finger up to his mouth, basking in the taste of you. A wanton moan erupts from his lips at the taste – so perfectly sweet he would never be able to get enough.

Dire thoughts rush through your mind as you rest on your elbows, face turned to the side to try and see Logan out of your peripheral vision. His pupils are completely blown, eyes focused only on your center as his chest heaves in anticipation. “Please Alpha, breed me, I’m ready,” you say to him. 

Logan is always less talkative during sex and now that he’s in his rut and possibly gone feral, his mind is screaming to him to knot and breed your tight cunt, to the point he can’t form words.

His hand is quick to line himself up with your entrance, grasping onto your hips with such pressure that it is sure to leave bruises tomorrow, even with your fast healing. Sharp fingernails dig into your skin as his tip meets your entrance. It’s fiery and red, inflamed and veins popping out alongside his length from how hard he is. The precum that leaks from his tip coat your slit, combining with the wetness dripping down your thighs to create a delicious mixture.

One last reassuring squeeze of your side is all he gives before pushing into you ruggedly. A sharp gasp leaves your lips as he makes his way into your core, feeling the familiar sensation you felt back during the war. His size is bigger, so much thicker and longer than his normal length when he is not in rut. It’s a lot to take in at once, and he’s trying his best to let you relax as your body adjusts to his size. 

“You can move,” you say, lip caught between your teeth as your walls stretch further around him.

With your fists grasping for the sheets, Logan begins thrusting his hips slowly into you– holding out a second each time he bottoms out to let you breathe. His nails only dig into your sides further, barely giving him a grip onto reality to hold back his animalistic instincts.

Deep grunts leave his mouth as he tries to hold himself back, but he can feel his humanity slipping further and further away with each clench of your pussy. His heavy balls slap against your clit.

“Can’t hold back much longer,” he bares his teeth, “need to breed you now.”

You moan out loud “please, please alpha, need you to fill me up with your pups” you continue to beg him. 

Quickly, his hips snap into yours, his thick muscles flexing as he holds your body steady, fucking into you deeply. Breath is sucked out of you as his pace increases; stars forming at the back of your eyelids as you squeeze them shut, mouth salivating at the increasing pleasure bestowing upon you. His length is a lot to get used to again, even though Logan tried to avoid knotting you back then because you both didn’t have enough time, there were times when he would sneak into your sleeping quarters to knot you in the middle of the night, his hand pressed against your mouth to reduce your loud moans as he thrusts his large cock into you; but the everlasting pressure against your g-spot was making the pain melt away.

Logan thrusts in and out of your pussy effortlessly, your slick coating his cock and making it easy for him to slide in and out of your velvety walls. With each thrust, he bottoms out, and it becomes difficult for you to remain upright. Limbs shaking from pleasure, your elbows begin to give way, landing you flat against the mattress.

Your mouth opens, but the only thing able to escape is a silent scream, too immersed in the feeling of him battering your walls and hitting your cervix to make a sound. A loud moan leaves your lips as he pulls you back up, his arms wrapping around your waist to use all his strength to hold you in position. His sweaty hairy chest is pressed flush against your back, the heat radiating off his body soothing you as his mouth meets your ear. A quick nip is placed on your earlobe as he catches it between his teeth.

“Taking me so well.”

He says in his deep voice. The praise quickly soothes your nerves, helping you relax into him as he holds your body close, closer than you had ever felt to him before. His tip is repeatedly hitting against the sensitive spot deep inside of you, you know he’s not ready to let up just yet, but you’re too on edge to hold on.

“Logan I-I’m gonna–”

“I can smell it,” he groans, mouth meeting your bond mark as he sucks harshly on it. 

A string of cuss words falls from your lips as your eyes clamp shut, relishing in your release as your pussy spasms around his cock. His movements don’t slow either – his pace is still erratic, plummeting into you at an ungodly rate.

Feeling your release over him only makes him thrust harder, deeper. It sends him into a full-blown frenzy, unable to keep himself from chasing his high. “Smells so sweet, gonna breed you, Baby, have you pumped up with my pups. Gonna look so sexy with your tits filled with milk and your pregnant belly.” he rambles, the more he talks dirty the closer you get to the edge. 

And you knew what this meant. You both finally have a chance to have children. Something you have always wanted when you first got together with Logan. Before meeting him, you never had high hopes to find a man and have a child or two. You were insecure and no one wanted a 26-year-old virgin omega. Especially since omegas were looked down upon back then.

But that time is over now, you're with the love of your life 70+ years into the future and everything you have ever wanted is here right now.

“God, do it, Logan, please knot me,” the words slip between cries, still shaking in the aftermath of your orgasm, “Breed me.”

So he does.

His eyes slam shut as his mouth finds the crook of your neck, breaking the flesh as his sharp teeth sink into your skin, reclaiming you once again. Screams blow past your lips as blood begins to trickle from the wound on your shoulder. Your chest tightens in pain, loving and hating the sensation all at once. Relief takes over once his tongue meets the small incisions made on your skin, his saliva filling the holes and alleviating the wounds as he licks up the blood.

“That’s it ‘mega. Doing so good for me. So perfect.”

Your heart flutters at his claim, have never felt as close to him as you do right now. Firecrackers lit through your veins, the connection between you and Logan binding stronger than ever and you couldn’t be happier. It felt like you were floating in thin air. Your body is unable to focus on any pain right now, you’re too blissed out from the shock of him reclaiming you to notice how his cock is beginning to swell inside of you.

Cum shoots out of his member, filling you up to the brim until your abdomen begins to feel heavy and swell. That floating feeling quickly begins to fade as his orgasm keeps coming and coming, no inch of your insides gone untouched by his seed. It seems like it's never going to end, and you can feel the pressure from his release building and building inside of you. Your sensitive walls stretch as his cock expands, your body doing the job it’s supposed to; knotting to plug you up and make sure none of his cum drips out.

“Logan,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock continues to inflate inside of you, “Logan it kinda hurts.”

“Shhh It’s almost over, baby,” he comforts you, stroking your hair before guiding you onto your side, laying behind you. After such a rough round, his familiar touch eases your pain. The light kisses he places along your spine let you sink back into him, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips instead of the balloon-sized cock stretching your vagina. Gentle hands trace circles up and down your arms as you listen to the sound of his calming breath. His chest heaves as he tries to come down from the adrenaline rush.

Soft kisses soon turn into small licks running over the length of your back as you lay there, still speared on his cock. Now that his animalistic needs were met, it was all about you.

“What are you doing?” you frown slightly.

“Cleaning you up,” he answers calmly, his even more heightened senses finding nothing strange with this new method of aftercare. You’re too immersed in your thoughts to question him any further; if this is what his alpha side was telling him to do then so be it.

As Logan’s knot begins to subdue he doesn’t let go. His tongue soothes over the spot of his mark, all red, but could see the bond mark more visible than it was before. 

“Do you really think this will work?” you ask Logan. You don’t know what you will do with yourself if you aren’t able to get pregnant by this. “It will trust me, Darlin’. And if it doesn’t, we’ll try again and again until it does,” he says as he kisses your shoulder.

“You’re so beautiful, I’m so happy you’re mine after all these years.”

Butterflies flutter in your tummy as a smile stretches across your face. All you want to do right now is to turn around and kiss him, so you do. His face is just as bright as yours when you meet his eyes. His hair is messy and his skin is shining with perspiration, but he looks handsome as ever. He welcomes your kiss like he’s been waiting for it all day. Mouth chasing after your lips, capturing them in a quick kiss before pulling away.

It's the first time he’s seen your eyes since you’ve gotten home, and even then he couldn’t appreciate them as he could now. There's a different glow that he didn’t notice before. Maybe it's because he’s reclaimed you and knotted you after all these years, but he is willing to do anything and everything for you.

“I love you,” you sigh, pressing your palm to his cheek. He looks so innocent now, the blackness in his eyes now faded back to the hazel color you love so much. All the years and pain he’s been through, disappeared. 

“And I love that you’re mine.”

[keepthedelta]

scenes that should be included in the brad pitt f1 film

(for legal purposes this is a joke, no one should support this film)

60 year old  brad pitt has to do the mandatory driver fitness test and almost collapses at the cardio. 28 year old carlos sainz does it next to him without hesitation or struggle two weeks after an appendectomy whilst wearing a mesh shirt

alex albon’s radio message calling brad pitt an ancient fuck after cutting the corner to smash the williams out of the way

leo leclerc and/or roscoe shitting next to brad pitt’s feet

damson idris’s character saying fernando’s “I knew he would brake because he has a wife and two children at home” quote. the wife and children will never be mentioned again or seen on screen. the romance will be exclusively between 60 year old brad pitt and the engineer woman half his age

damson idris’s character tweeting ocon’s my teammate tried to kill me but I survived tweet before getting drunk with a billionaire’s son

brad pitt attends a team principal’s meeting that goes oddly silent the moment that he walks in and three of the other team bosses immediately begin speaking to each other in italian. zak brown gives a sympathetic look but turns away, andreas seidl sniggers in german

four drivers call out brad and damson idris for their bullshit driving during the drivers’ briefing romain grosjean head of the gpda style. george russell ends the meeting with a powerpoint explaining to them why they are assholes

brad and damson idris have an emotional bonding moment where 60 year old brad reminds 32 year old damson idris that he is still young, still a rookie, and he has plenty of time to develop as, I assume, the lewis hamilton character insert despite lewis actually being in the film??? in the background kimi antonelli scooters past on his way to get a bath and bottle because it’s nearly his bedtime

k-mag hands over his stewards room loyalty card to brad pitt who gets a race ban

triumphant moment where the team finally scores a podium but the post-race inspection reveals that their car is wildly illegal and they are disqualified

stefano domenicali enthusiastically welcomes the american audience that brad pitt’s team brings, ross brawn is sat next to him listing off the many ways that their car does not comply with the fia’s safety standards

brad pitt and damson idris are battling for their lives at the back of the grid, max verstappen laps them

the engineer woman describes speed in kilometres. brad pitt tells her to explain it in “english”

a hilariously corrupt Italian businessman who bears absolutely no resemblance to flavio briatore none at all says something hilariously corrupt at a sponsor meeting. brad pitt nobly rises above it

fernando alonso sniffing plants in the background of every other scene

a blonde reporter/presenter has sexual tension with damson idris. when brad pitt asks who she is, he simply says “a girl I used to know” and looks longingly in the distance

michael and/or mario andretti with an axe demanding to know why it’s okay for brad pitt to have an 11th f1 team but not him, even though the andretti name is incredibly well respected in the motorsports world

[hoshifighting]

𖧷 crybaby

— synopsis: seungcheol can’t help but be a crybaby every time you break his heart, yet he always comes running back to you, desperate for your attention. even when you leave him cold for days or push him away, he can’t seem to stay away. his friends and family don’t get it—they hate how you treat him.

— WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: agnst, smut, emotionallly detached!reader, emotionally attached!seungcheol, crying, he kind of pisses his friends and family out because of his whiny ass, explicit language, blowjob, cock riding, clit stimulation, face slapping, choking. — inspired by: cry baby by megan thee stallion — ''his friends and his dad hate me, I broke his lil' heart, he's a crybaby"

seungcheol was such a fucking crybaby. like, how does a man that big, that beefy, built like he could crush a watermelon between his thighs, have the emotional resilience of a damp tissue? 5′10 of pure gym dedication and somehow, here he was, sulking like a kicked puppy in the corner of his own damn birthday party. honestly, you broke his heart so many times you’d lost count, but the man was like a boomerang—always came back. didn’t matter how hard you threw him.

his friends absolutely hated you. well, maybe hate was strong—more like they hated how he acted because of you. jeonghan said you lived rent-free in his head, which you knew was true. but the real kicker was his family. they couldn’t stand hearing your name. apparently, he cried into his whiskey glass over you at his last family dinner. like, straight-up sniffles and shaky voice in front of his dad. the boys’ nights weren’t any better; they’d barely crack open a soju bottle before seungcheol was teary-eyed, rambling about you like you were the love of his life and not the emotional hurricane you were.

but that’s the thing, though. seungcheol was built for family. the whole package—white picket fence, Sunday brunches, PTA meetings. meanwhile, you were emotionally unavailable as fuck. couldn’t even commit to a favorite boba flavor, let alone a relationship. and now, you’d ghosted him for a week. a whole-ass week. no texts, no calls, not even the stupid memes you usually sent him at 3 a.m.

today was his birthday. his fucking birthday.

the party at his place was in full swing—laughter, good food, good drinks, jeonghan and mingyu lowkey roasting him about his “girlfriend” (air quotes and all). his parents were there too, of course. his brother had even flown in. but cheol barely moved from the couch all night. just sat there, one arm slung over the backrest, looking at his phone like a guy waiting for a miracle.

because in his head, if you were his girlfriend—like, properly his—you’d be here. with him. celebrating, holding his hand, maybe sitting in his lap. but instead, he got radio silence.

“bro, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” jeonghan hissed, leaning over the couch to snatch the beer from cheol’s hand. “your mom’s asking why you look like you’re about to cry into the birthday cake.”

“i’m fine,” cheol muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

“no, you’re not. you’ve checked your phone like a hundred times, and it’s giving ‘sad loser.’ cut it out before mingyu makes a meme out of you.”

but cheol didn’t cut it out. he just stared at the screen, lips pulled into a pout so tragic it could’ve been a fucking Greek play. the hours dragged. one by one, people started leaving, and eventually, it wasn’t even his birthday anymore.

august 9th. 9:54 p.m.

cheol sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to combust.

and then, his phone buzzed.

one message.

from: future girlfriend ❤️ - “come over.”

that’s it. two words, no explanation. cheol shot up from the couch so fast he nearly knocked over the coffee table.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “where the hell are you going?”

cheol didn’t answer. he was already grabbing his keys, muttering something about how he’d “she texted me.”

he hard his friend groan out in defeat, disappointment, some even surprised that seungcheol would leave his own party like that.

while you were still just chilling at your place, sitting there like nothing had happened, waiting to see if this man who you’d left on read for a week would actually show up.

spoiler alert—he would.

the door wasn’t even locked—like you’d left it wide open for him, knowing he’d come running the second you told him to. seungcheol stepped inside your apartment, and it was so you in a way that made his chest tighten. that familiar scent? god, it was everywhere. in the air, clinging to the couch, the walls, probably gonna soak into his clothes and stay there for days, torturing him. like you’d marked your territory without even trying.

he moved on autopilot, his feet carrying him down the hallway to your bedroom like he didn’t even need directions. the door was cracked open, and he froze for a second when he saw you.

you were standing there, slipping a sheer robe over your shoulders—transparent. and it wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide you. the way the fabric barely skimmed over your hips, nipples peeking through, leading his eyes all the way down to the hem that just teased your thighs… it was insane.

you turned your head slightly, catching him in the doorway like some kind of lost puppy. your expression was unreadable, but he looked at you like you were magic or something—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. pathetic.

you stepped toward him, and before he could even process it, his hands moved to your waist like they belonged there. your arms looped lazily around his neck, and the warmth of your skin had his breath hitching. you glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall—10:01 p.m.—then met his gaze, your lips curling.

“happy birthday… birthday boy,” you said, your voice smooth as velvet.

he exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering shut like the sound of your voice was too much. his brows knit together in that pitiful little frown you’d missed more than you cared to admit.

“why’d you leave me like that?” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. “did… did i do something? i’m sorry, i—”

you didn’t answer, didn’t even flinch, because honestly? you didn’t have a reason. there was no deep, dark explanation, no hidden agenda. you just did.

instead, you pushed him backward toward the bed, your hands firm on his chest. he stumbled slightly but kept talking, his voice climbing higher in pitch.

“please, just—just tell me. what did i do? i can fix it, i swear, just—”

you pushed him harder this time, and he landed on the bed with a bounce. he stared up at you, eyes glassy, lips trembling. “answer me,” he whined, his voice soft and desperate.

“shhh,” you hushed, pressing a finger to his lips.

he whimpered at the touch, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “why—why won’t you just—”

your hand came down on his cheek in a sharp slap. not too hard, but enough to make him moan, his mouth falling open in a perfect little “o.”

“quiet,” you said firmly, watching as his expression shifted. the sting seemed to zap the fight out of him, his mouth closing into a pout as his tears spilled over.

“aww,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your thumb under his eye. “don’t cry, birthday boy. let me give you a gift.”

his gaze flickered immesiately. a gift? he nodded eagerly.

“you gonna be good for me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice so small it made you smile.

your hands moving to his belt. the way he watched you, like you were about to destroy his dignity, was almost comical.

you tugged his pants and underwear down in with a graceful sweep, leaving him bare and exposed. his cock was already rock hard, flushed red and leaking precum that smeared against his stomach.

“look at you,” you teased, wrapping a hand around the base. his breath hitched at the contact, his hips jerking slightly. “crying all over yourself, huh?”

he let out a choked whimper, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. “i—i can’t help it,” he whispered.

“poor baby,” you mocked, your thumb swiping over the tip to collect the sticky wetness. his whole body twitched at the motion, his eyes squeezing shut as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

you leaned down, letting your lips hover just above him. “you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? never let you have it before, but tonight… you’re special.”

he nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

you smiled, finally taking him into your mouth. the heat and wetness made him sob outright, his hands flying to your hair but stopping short—like he was scared to touch you without permission.

“oh—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled, his thighs trembling as you worked him over. your tongue dragged along the veins as your hand played with his balls, and he keened, his head falling back against the pillows.

“so good,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “m-missed you.”

you hummed around him, and the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. his whole body tensed, his hips bucking slightly as he moaned your name.

“gonna be good for me?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

“y-yes,” he stammered, his eyes glassy and desperate. “so good, i’ll be so good, please—”

“then take it,” you said, and he did.

your tongue swirled around the swollen tip of his cock, drawing a shuddering breath out of him that turned into a whimper when you pulled back slightly, letting a string of spit connect your lips to his flushed skin. his chest heaved, his abs clenching under the weight of your stare.

you fold your tongue up and slid along the underside of his length, like you had all the time in the world. his thighs trembled as you worked your way down, your nails scratching lightly along the sides of his hips, keeping him still. by the time you reached his base, his whole body was taut, his hands fisted so tightly into the sheets you thought he might rip them.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, letting your breath ghost over his skin.

“i can’t—” he choked, cutting himself off with a high-pitched moan when your tongue flicked over the soft skin of his balls.

you smiled against him, pressing a kiss to one of the heavy globes before taking it into your mouth, sucking gently. his hips jerked off the bed, but your hand pressed firmly against his stomach, pinning him down.

“stay still,” you ordered.

“i’m trying—fuck, i’m trying,” he babbled, his voice cracking. his head lolled to the side, his lips parted in a silent cry as you continued to suck and lick at him, your tongue tracing slow, wet circles.

your free hand moved back to his cock, wrapping around the shaft and stroking it slowly, your thumb smearing the precum that was steadily leaking from the tip.

“look at me,” you said, your voice softer this time.

his eyes fluttered open, glassy and red-rimmed, his gaze locking onto yours. the sight of you, lips wrapped around him, your hand working him in tandem, had him letting out a desperate, broken sound that went straight to your core.

“you like this?” you asked, pulling back slightly, your hand still stroking him as you kissed along his inner thigh.

“yes,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “fuck, yes. feels so good.”

“yeah?” you teased, your lips quirking into a smirk as you nipped at his skin. “you’ve been waiting for this? waiting for me to touch you like this?”

he nodded frantically, “always,” he admitted. “always wanted you like this. please don’t stop.”

you purred, letting your tongue glide back up to his base before taking him into your mouth again, this time deeper, letting him feel the heat of your throat. “fuck—oh my god,” he sobbed, his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare.

“go on,” you encouraged, pulling off just enough to speak. “touch me. you’re being good, aren’t you?”

his hands immediately flew to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he let out another choked moan. “yes,” he breathed, “yes, so good, i’ll be so good for you.”

you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head slowly, your hand working in time with your movements. his thighs shook beneath you, his breath hitching every time your tongue pressed against the sensitive vein running along the underside of his cock.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” you said, pulling back just enough to let your spit-coated hand continue stroking him. “all flushed and crying for me. does it feel that good?”

“so good!” he gasped, tears spilling over again as he bucked his hips involuntarily.

you hummed in approval, your tongue flicking over the tip before dipping lower again, taking one of his balls into your mouth once more. the way his entire body shook beneath you, his voice breaking into desperate little cries—it was everything.

“you’re mine,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin. “aren’t you?”

“yours!” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “all yours...”

you pulled back, your lips slick with spit and precum, watching as seungcheol’s chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. his head was tilted back against the pillows, mouth slightly open, a trail of drool glistening at the corner of his lips. his cock twitched in your hand, still throbbing and leaking like it couldn’t survive a second without you.

“cheol,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut through the haze.

he didn’t answer. his eyes were half-lidded, rolling back as another pathetic whimper slipped past his lips.

“yah,” you hissed, your free hand moving down to cup his balls, squeezing them just enough to snap him out of it.

he jerked, his hips twitching as a choked cry tore from his throat. his wide, glassy eyes met yours, full of confusion, like he wasn’t sure whether to apologize or beg for more.

“you listening now?” you asked, your tone playful but firm.

“y-yeah,” he stammered.

you smirked, leaning forward just enough to let your breath fan over his cock. “good. now, tell me—do you want me to make you cum like this?” your hand gave his length a slow, deliberate stroke, watching as his eyes fluttered shut again. “or do you want me to ride you?”

his eyes snapped open at the second option, but he still didn’t answer. his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to speak but couldn’t get the words out, and you swore he looked like a little kid trying to pick between candy flavors.

“cheol,” you said again, your grip on his balls tightening just enough to make him yelp. “i’m not giving you both, so choose. now.”

he whimpered, his lower lip trembling as he looked at you like you were some kind of goddess and he didn’t want to disappoint.

“i—i want…” he trailed off, his voice cracking as his cock twitched in your hand again.

“come on,” you urged. “use your words, birthday boy.”

his cheeks flushed deeper, and he swallowed hard before finally stammering out, “i want you to ride me.”

“do you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as your hand gave him one last teasing stroke.

“mhmm,” he breathed, his voice shaky but certain. “please. want to feel you. need to—need to be close to you.”

you smiled, your chest swelling. “good boy,” you murmured, releasing him completely and watching as he whimpered at the cut-off.

you climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips as his hands immediately flew to your thighs, gripping them like he was scared you’d disappear—again. the way his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin through the transparency of the robe, and the big slit that have been created as the robe opened up, made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

you reached between your legs, guiding his cock to your entrance, letting the tip tease your folds just enough to have him squirming beneath you.

“mm..fuck” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “you’re so wet. is that—fuck, is that for me?”

“all for you,” you lied, he knew you were mocking him as you slowly sank down onto him.

the stretch was so good, never fails to make you arch your back, his cock filled you so perfectly had your breath hitching. but the sound he made was way down pathetic. it was half moan, half sob, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“oh my god,” he choked, his hands flying to your waist as his hips jerked involuntarily. “you’re so—so tight. best birthday gift ever.”

you rolled your hips slowly, letting him feel every inch of your gummy walls, and his grip tightened, you can feel his strong fingers marking your meat.

“you like being used like this?”

“yes!” he gasped, his voice high and broken. “love it. love you.”

you froze for half a second, the words catching you off guard, but you quickly recovered, your lips curling into a smirk. “that so?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut as you started to move again. “fuck, i love you. love everything about you.”

every roll of your hips, pulled more sounds from him than you thought possible—moans, gasps, sobs, all spilling from his lips like a declaration.

your hips moved in a steady rhythm, dragging his cock in and out of you in a way that made your thighs burn, but the way seungcheol looked at you—like you were the fucking universe—made it impossible to stop. you clenched around him, squeezing tightly, and his mouth fell open, a strained whimper spilling out as his fingers dug into your hips as you rocked your pussy back and forth.

you pushed his shirt up higher, your eyes falling on his chest, where his nipples were flushed a deep red against his tan skin. his brows furrowed in confusion when he noticed your gaze.

“what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.

“you don’t even know, do you?” you teased, your nails trailing up his chest. “how red they get when you’re about to cum?”

“what?” he repeated, his tone higher this time, all embarassed.

“oh, baby,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re so fucking cute.”

his face flushed even deeper, and you felt his cock twitch inside you as your hands wrapped around his neck. his eyes widened immediately, his breath hitching as he stared up at you, his lips parted in surprise.

“you like this?” you asked, your grip tightening just enough to make his pulse race beneath your fingers.

he let out a strangled moan, his hands flying up to your thighs like he didn’t know whether to stop you or hold on tighter. “y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “fuck, yeah.”

“then be good for me, cum for me, cheol. now.”

his entire body tensed, his hips jerking up. you clenched around him again, your grip on his neck firm as you ground down harder as the first waves of your orgasm hit you.

you raised your hips just in time, letting his cock slip out of you as he spilled all over his stomach, ropes of cum painting his skin. his head fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving as he let out a broken sob, his hands trembling against your thighs.

you collapsed onto his chest, your hand moving between your legs to circle your clit frantically, your moans muffled against his ear as you chased the last remnants of your own orgasm.

“oh my fucking god...” you panted, your fingers working faster as your hips ground against his thigh.

he turned his head slightly, his eyes hazy as he watched you, his lips parted in awe. “you’re…so beautiful...”

you moaned loudly as your orgasm hit you, your body shaking against his as you buried your face in his neck, your hand slowing to a stop.

as the high ebbed away, your body melted into his, your limbs heavy and your breath evening out. you let your full weight settle on him, and he groaned softly, the sound less of discomfort and more of deep, satisfied contentment. his arms came around you instinctively, holding you close, his hands splayed wide against your back like he never wanted to let go.

you lay there, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. you tried to ignore how your own heart raced, guilt creeping in as you replayed the last week in your head.

sometimes, you really felt like shit about the way you treated him. seungcheol was too good for you, with that big heart of his—always giving, always forgiving. the problem wasn’t him. it was you.

you hoped he couldn’t feel the way your heart thudded against his chest, the weight of your remorse making it beat faster.

you lifted your head slightly, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gently scratched at his scalp. he sighed, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.

“cheol,” you murmured, your voice softer than you planned. “can i give you one more gift tonight?”

he didn’t answer right away. his eyes drifted to the ceiling, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“only one?” he asked after a moment.

you hummed, matching his teasing tone. “yeah. just one. better make it count, birthday boy.”

he chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back.

“i don’t think you can give me what i really want...” he said finally.

you tilted your head, your brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

he hesitated before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“i want to be here with you... but knowing that you… that you actually like me back.”

he held your gaze, his eyes raw and vulnerable, waiting for a response that you didn’t know how to give.

“cheol, you know that right now i—” you started, your voice cracking.

but he shook his head, his lips curving into a small, sad smile. “it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the way his arms tightened around you betrayed his words. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment. i just… i had to say it.”

you didn’t know what to say. guilt churned in your stomach, your heart pounding against his chest as his words echoed in your head.

he deserved so much more than you could give, and yet here he was, holding you like you were his whole world.

seungcheol let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against the curve of your spine. “but since that won’t happen…” he trailed off, his voice wistful.

your chest tightened, the words striking a nerve you weren’t ready to deal with. you stayed silent, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t see the way your brows knitted together.

“can you…” he hesitated, his fingers twitching against your skin. “can you come to my birthday party tonight? i know it’s late, but it’s probably still going. i’d love to see you there.”

you froze. you knew what he was asking—he wanted you to show up for him, to step into his world, even if it made you uncomfortable.

“cheol,” you said slowly, lifting your head to look at him. his expression was expectant.

“please,” he added, whispering in an almost pityful way. “just for a little while. it’s my birthday.”

you bit your lip, glancing away. the idea of walking into a room full of people who probably hated you wasn’t exactly appealing, but the way he looked at you, made it hard to say no.

“fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“really?” he asked, his face lighting up instantly.

“yeah, really,” you said, rolling your eyes.

he sat up, pulling you with him.

you groaned, pushing against his chest. “ugh, fine. let me get ready, then.”

he followed you into the bathroom like a puppy, leaning against the doorway as you washed your face and fixed your hair. his gaze was soft, trailing over you like he was memorizing every detail.

“stop staring,” you said, your tone sharp but lacking any real bite.

“can’t help it,” he replied, his voice warm. “you’re gorgeous.”

you rolled your eyes again, but your cheeks flushed anyway, and you hated how easily he got to you.

“you should get ready too,” you said, pointing at him with a toothbrush in hand.

“i’m fine like this,” he said with a shrug, gesturing to his wrinkled shirt and jeans.

“you’re not showing up to your own party looking like you just got laid,” you shot back, smirking when his ears turned red.

“fine,” he grumbled, shuffling off.

by the time you were both dressed and ready, the nerves in your stomach were in full swing. seungcheol, however, looked ridiculously pleased with himself, his hand finding yours as he led you toward the door.

seungcheol practically vibrated with happiness as he led you up to the front door of his house. he tried so damn hard to play it cool, to keep his steps measured and his grin from stretching too wide. but his chest felt like it might burst at any moment, the thought of walking in with you by his side enough to make him wanna jump like some kind of elf in a fairytale.

this was it. you were here. about to meet his family, his friends. his whole world.

he took a deep breath and opened the door, immediately met with a chorus of voices.

“finally!” jeonghan shouted, throwing his arms up like he’d been waiting for years.

“where the hell have you been?” his brother added exasperatedly.

seungcheol pressed his lips together, holding back a smile as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “i, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before looking back up, his voice soft but proud. “i needed to bring someone special before the ‘happy birthday.’”

the room fell silent as you stepped out from behind him, your hands clutching the straps of your bag like a lifeline. your small, tentative smile was enough to stop everyone in their tracks.

you shifted awkwardly under the weight of their stares, the sound of the music thumping softly in the background the only thing filling the silence.

and that’s when it hit them.

oh.

this was the reason seungcheol had been acting so out of character, the reason he’d been spiraling for months. you weren’t just some girl he was into. no, you were a fucking vision. gorgeous in a way that made the room seem brighter. mesmerizing without even trying.

now they understood. now it all made sense.

of course he was crazy over you. of course he’d been spiraling. who wouldn’t be?

but the realization also came with a quieter, more awkward truth: this was the girl they’d all cursed out in private. the girl they’d ranted about after every drunken night where seungcheol had cried into his beer or disappeared to avoid them.

they exchanged quick glances. yeah, they got it now, but it didn’t erase the fact that they’d judged you before even meeting you.

a nagging question none of them dared to voice but couldn’t shake.

were you really worth it?

jeonghan, the one who never held his tongue, raised a brow and smirked. “well, shit. now i get it.”

seungcheol’s face flushed a deep red, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back as if to shield you from the inevitable onslaught of teasing.

but instead of cracking a joke, jeonghan just smiled and nodded, his eyes softening. “welcome,” he said, his voice genuine.

the others slowly followed suit, their smiles tentative but warm as they tried to mask their lingering curiosity.

and as seungcheol led you further into the house, his hand never leaving your back, he felt like he’d just won the lottery. because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t walking into this house feeling defeated or embarrassed.

this time, he was walking in with you.

© 2024 Hoshi Fighting | All Rights Reserved

[misaerabl]

"Take it like a taker, Cause baby I'm a giver"

SHE GETS THE JOB DONE

Farmer!Ellie X F!Reader (from this prompt)

Minors and Men DNI! word count : 2.4k words

SUMMARY: after a breakup, you find yourself sulking at a town gathering, trying to dodge the relentless pity of those around you. ellie approaches with a teasing grin that cuts through your gloom. what starts with lighthearted teasing unfolds into an intimate encounter that leaves you realizing ellie makes you feel in ways no man ever has. (Inspired by The Giver by Chappell Roan)

WARNINGS/Contains Adult Language: smut with some plot, smoking weed, fucking outside, bottom r, stone top e, e calling r princess, baby, eating out (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), also idk how to write in a southern accent so pls just imagine lol

A/N: soooo, this is my first smut on this account. I've been working on this for 2 days and I'm publishing this while on the way to a resort lol. I hope you enjoy it, please inform me if I miss any warnings! ALSO THIS ISN'T PROOFREAD

 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

You sit alone at the table, the one you’d helped your parents set up earlier, surrounded by the dull hum of voices and clinking glasses. Everyone at the gathering knows about the breakup, and one by one, they stop by to offer their condolences, each making the sting more unbearable.

An older woman pauses beside you, clutching her chest with dramatic flair as if she could feel every ounce of your pain. You force a tight smile, but it's clear she’s milking the moment for all it's worth.

A beer bottle, half-empty, rolls toward your feet, breaking the uncomfortable tension. You nudge it away with a light kick, and it rolls until it stops at someone’s scuffed Converse. You’d recognize those shoes anywhere. You look up and meet the familiar eyes of Ellie Williams, who lives a few farms over with her parents. She’s leaning against a post, the same mischievous grin on her face that she had when you first met at Joel Miller’s farm during a community gathering your parents had dragged you to. Even then, she stood apart, a little defiant, too cool for small talk.

She raises an eyebrow, smirking. “So, third time aint the charm, huh? Don’t worry—maybe you’re just warming up for the main event.” She winks, the teasing tone in her voice pulling a real smile from you for the first time that night.

You roll your eyes, smirking back. “What? are you going to suggest I date your brother next? Cause he’s such a ‘nice guy’,” you say, making air quotes.

Ellie laughs, the sound rough and genuine. “Oh, hell no,” she says, shaking her head. “I was thinking more along the lines of gettin out of this circus. What d'ya say?”

The thought of escaping, even for just a little while, tugs at you. You nod, your smile growing.

She holds out her hand. “Come on, before someone else comes over to tell you how ‘brave’ you are.”

You hesitate for a moment, then take her hand. She leads you around the back of the house, past the clinking bottles and the laughter, until you reach the quiet of the horse stables. The night air is crisp, and it smells faintly of hay and earth. You both settle down on the cool ground, a silence stretching between you that feels oddly comforting.

Ellie pulls something from her pocket—a slim joint. She catches your raised eyebrow and grins. “What? You didn’t think I’d come empty-handed, did you? Best remedy for a breakup.”

You snort, half in amusement and half in disbelief. “Is that… weed?”

“Only the best,” she says, smirking as she lights it. She takes a slow drag before holding it out to you, eyes twinkling with challenge.

You glance at the joint, then back at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never smoked before,” she teases, nudging it toward you.

You haven’t, but tonight feels like a night for firsts. You take it, trying to act casual, and inhale—too deeply, it turns out. You’re soon doubled over, coughing hard enough to make your eyes water.

Ellie bursts into laughter, a sound so infectious you can’t help but join in between coughs. “Okay, not quite like that,” she says, patting your back. “But hey, first time for everything, right?”

“Clearly,” you wheeze, handing it back and shaking your head as you catch your breath.

The laughter fades into a comfortable silence. Ellie flicks the joint away, watching it fizzle out on the ground. The distant stars seem brighter out here, and you find yourself staring at them until she speaks.

“You’re pretty, y’ know that?” Ellie’s voice is softer now, her gaze meeting yours. “He was an asshole, anyway.”

A short laugh escapes you, rough but sincere. “Yeah, I’m not even sad ‘bout him. I don’t know why everyone thinks I am. I hated the guy and didn’t try to hide it. Fuck he was so bad in bed like the rest of ‘em.”

She nods knowingly, a smirk tugging at her lips. “People love a good breakup story. Makes them feel included in the drama.”

You roll your eyes, the last bit of tension slipping away. “Too bad I’m not giving them the heartbreak they want.”

Ellie nudges your shoulder, the touch light but grounding. “But I do meant it,” she says, a serious edge to her tone. “You’re pretty.”

You meet her eyes, and something shifts in the quiet between you. The world around you fades out, leaving just the two of you under the stars. Without thinking, you lean in, your hand lifting to cup her cheek.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, but the moment your lips touch, a rush of warmth spreads through you, making everything else feel distant. When you pull back, the air feels charged, like you’ve stepped into something unfamiliar but right.

Ellie’s eyes widen slightly, then curve with a grin. “You like me that much already, princess?” Her voice is teasing, but there’s a softness to it, a vulnerability that wasn’t there before.

A blush warms your cheeks, and you look away with a laugh. “Maybe I do,” you admit, the words surprising you.

Ellie tilts her head, her grin shifting into something deeper, more genuine. “You know how long I’ve been wantin to make a move on you?” she whispers, her voice low, a secret just for the two of you. 

Before you can respond, she leans in, closing the distance in a heartbeat. The kiss this time isn’t hesitant or testing—it’s sure, carrying the weight of all those moments neither of you spoke of. Her hand finds the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as the world around you blurs out of focus.

There’s a rush, a quickening of everything—your heartbeat, your breath, the feeling of her lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency. It’s like all the time she’d spent holding back is now pouring into this one moment, and you match her, letting yourself fall into it.

“Fuck I can’t take it anymore princess…” Ellie pushes herself back before straddling you on the ground. She lifts your shirt and kisses your collarbone, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

You take off your shirt and toss it aside. Seeing the stupid smile Ellie had on her face when you did made your stomach whirl. She reaches behind and unhooks your bra, fully exposing yourself to her. 

You start to unbutton her shirt, she was wearing a wife beater underneath it which made you frown. 

She notices it and chuckles a bit to herself. She starts to kiss you slowly, getting lower and lower until she reaches your stomach. 

You stare at her as she starts to undo your jeans, growing more impatient, and hungrier for her touch. 

There's no describing what you're feeling right now. Being so responsive to her touch, letting out moans and groans... 

Once she had removed everything you were wearing leaving nothing but your panties, she positioned herself between your legs, staring up at you and then back to the wetness you had underneath. 

"Fuck princess," She glides her fingers over your soaking underwear, making sure to admire your body "So wet f'me already?"  

You moaned and reached for her hand which was still caressing your breasts. “Mhm… Shit” Your response made her smile. She slowly started to remove your panties, two of her fingers sliding into your wet folds. 

Her touch is gentle yet firm, as she slowly slides two fingers inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that's been building up. She looks up at you, maintaining eye contact as she starts to move her hand, her fingers curling upward to hit that spot that makes your breath hitch.

She continues to watch you intently, her touch unyielding as she works her fingers in and out of you. "You like that, princess?" She asks, voice low. "Tell me how much you want me.”

"I want you so bad..."

Ellie's fingers continue their relentless pace, curling and stroking inside you. Her other hand comes up to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple. She leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear as she whispers, “That's it, baby, let me hear those pretty moans.”

With no warning, she flips you over onto your stomach with a strong hand on your hip. She straddles your thighs from behind, pressing her clothed body against your bare back. Her fingers never leave your slick heat as she continues to thrust and stroke, now reaching even deeper.

You feel completely overwhelmed as Ellie's fingers continue to pump in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot inside that makes your whole body tremble. Your chest is pressed against the ground, your face buried in your arms as you try to stifle your screams.

“Fuck Ellie!” Your scream muffled, barely being able to talk. 

She chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Grip the dirt, princess. Let it feel your desperation." Her fingers never stop moving, now scissoring inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. "What's the matter, can't you take it?"

Her voice turns rougher, laced with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine. "No man has ever touched you like this, have they? They couldn't, because this…” She pauses to curl her fingers inside you, chuckling against your ear at your broken cry.

She continues her relentless assault, fingers pumping faster as her palm grinds against your clit. "This is what you needed all along. To be taken, claimed, owned by someone who knows exactly how to make your body sing." Her teeth graze your shoulder. "Say it.”

"Tell me, has a man ever made you feel this good? Made you this desperate? Made you this... needy?" Her fingers curve upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you arch your back and let out a cry to the night sky.

“NO! FUCK NO!” You whimper. 

"And don't you forget it," She says, her voice low and dominating. 

You know that you wouldn't. Right in this very moment, you feel like you're seeing stars. You know that every time you touch yourself remembering this night, you'll be screaming her name.

She grins, her hand working faster "I love seeing you like this princess…" She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper

"So responsive, so vulnerable. And all mine to play with." Her breath is hot on your neck, her voice laced with power and satisfaction. "You're going to come for me now, aren't you? With my fingers inside you, and my voice in your ear, saying you're mine.”

“Ellie- I want to see your face… Please?” 

She pauses for a moment, considering your request before nodding. "Good girl." She slowly removes her fingers from your trembling body, leaving you empty and aching for a moment before she flips you over onto your back. "Look at me, princess.”

You lock eyes with her as she brings her shiny, wet fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean. A smirk plays on her lips as she leans down between your spread thighs, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "Wrap your legs around my neck, baby.”

You do as she says, You wrap your legs tightly around her neck, holding on as she buries her face between your thighs. Her tongue dives inside you, lapping at your sensitive walls with ruthless enthusiasm. She sucks on your clit, her fingers digging into your hips as she eats you out with wild abandon.

As if reading your mind, she slides two fingers inside you once more, pumping them in rhythm with her thrusting tongue. Her mouth is merciless, her tongue flicking against you as her fingers stretch you wide. "Look at me,”

You're forced to keep eye contact with her as she devours you, her gaze burning with intensity. "I want to see the look on your face when you come. I want to see the moment you break." Her fingers curl inside you, rubbing against that spot that makes your vision blur.

Your breath hitches, and you dig into her back as your hips buck against her mouth. She growls against your flesh, the vibrations sending you hurtling towards the edge. "Ellie... please..." Your words trail off into a moan as she feels you clamp down around her fingers.

Her expression darkens, eyes locked onto yours as she redoubles her efforts. Her tongue swirls around your throbbing nub while her fingers pump in and out of you, the dual sensation becoming too much to bear. "Come for me, princess,”

Your back arches off the ground, legs shaking violently as you find your release. You scream her name, eyes wide and unblinking as you come undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, drowning out everything else. You hope the loud music inside was able to drown out your desperate screams.

As you shake and tremble, Ellie finally releases your hip, using her free hand to spread your pussy open wide. She looks at you with a hungry gaze, admiring the way your juices drip out of you. "Fuck, look at you," 

With a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, she lifts her head and crawls up your body to wrap you in her arms. She strokes your hair and rubs your back soothingly as you catch your breath. "Shh, you're okay, princess. I've got you.”

You nuzzle against her chest, the beating of her heart a soothing rhythm that calms your racing thoughts. The way she holds you now, tender and gentle, is a stark contrast to the intense passion from moments before. You feel cherished, protected.

You let out a content sigh, nestling closer. "I feel... satisfied. Really satisfied." You look up at her, tracing her jawline with your fingertips. "And you were right” 

Her eyes sparkle with a mix of amusement and affection, her voice low and husky. "I told you, princess. I know exactly what y’ need." She presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. "And I'm glad I could be the one to give it to you.”

She continues to hold you, the warmth of her body and the security of her embrace making you feel safe and loved in a way you never have before. "You're mine now, princess. Mine to protect, mine to care for, and mine to love.”

 ⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

do not republish any of my works! all rights reserved to me I guess

[jobean12-blog]

Had to be You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (enemies to lovers ish)

Word Count: 2,270

Summary: You and Bucky have been going at each other for months. He's grumpy and defensive. You're sassy and frustrated. Steve's had enough. So when Steve steps in to do something will it work? Or will it makes things worse?

Author's Note: At this point all I want is for Bucky to kiss me senseless for the rest of my life (and do everything else) but really. Kisses. Yes please. Anyway. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: some light mead comsumption, angsty ex talk, tension but softness, happy ending

“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS! You get back here right now and open this door before I kick your ass!”

Steve’s chuckle only makes you angrier. “I’ll open it when you two make nice.”

“STEVE!” you screech.

His retreating footsteps have you banging your forehead into the thick metal of the door, muttering curses under your breath.

“Please tell me Stark has some hidden exit in here somewhere?” you sigh.

“I’m going to kill Steve.”

When Bucky’s speaks his first words since you got locked in the gym together you spin to face him, eyes hard.

“Get in line Barnes!”

“Hey, look at that kids, you’re agreeing already!” Steve’s voice rings out from down the hall.

With that last remark everything goes silent other than your frustrated huffs.

“Is this actually happening?” you whine. “Can’t you just break the door down?”

Bucky’s blue eyes stare blankly and you grow more agitated.

“Why the hell did he do this?”

You glare back in his direction, hands on your hips. “Because of your sunshine and rainbows attitude toward me!”

You spit out the words, letting them drip with sarcasm.

“MY attitude?” Bucky grits out as he sticks a finger in his chest. “Doll face. I’ve been nothing but a perfect gentleman to you.” That same finger spins to point at you now.

You face him fully and take a step closer.

“Grunts do not equal a greeting and barely answering questions and barely making conversation definitely does not show your gentlemanly side!”

Bucky opens his mouth to retort but you continue on. “And what about avoiding me all together!? What the fuck is that about?”

He runs his large hand through his hair and squeezes the back of his neck, setting his lips in a hard line.

“Fuck. Please tell me there’s still some of Thor’s mead in here,” he mutters.

“Why the hell would he leave alcohol in the gym?” you ask, your brows nearly hitting your hairline.

With a shrug Bucky starts moving about and searching under things. “He likes to ‘get drunk’” and he makes air quotes as he says it, “and then show us how he can still lift heavier weights.”

You can’t help the laughter that boils up and over but you quickly cover your mouth when Bucky gives you an unamused look.

“Here it is!” he chimes, seeming far too relieved.

You move toward him as you watch him take a swig from the bottle, the muscles in his neck shifting with every swallow.

“Save some for me,” you say quietly and hold out your hand.

He smirks.

“Careful doll. Too much of this and I’ll have to carry you out of here.”

As more of the mead circulates through your body you start to relax marginally, thoughts of killing Steve slowly fading.

Bucky has been sure to keep your consumption under control and other than feeling less murderous and calmer you’re lucid.

“So,” you muse. “It doesn’t look like Steve is coming back any time soon. And we’ve been quiet. No yelling or fighting.”

Bucky simply grunts in agreement.

“SEE!” you nearly shout. “That’s exactly what I mean. I say something and your answer is a grunt…WHAT. THE. FUCK!”

While waiting for his explanation you notice a slight pink flush to his cheeks and you find it hard not to throw him a triumphant smile.

Deciding to let him off the hook for now, you ask, “how long have you known your best friend is insane?”

To your surprise, Bucky laughs. A real laugh that has his eyes crinkling and his nose scrunching up.

You try not to stare too long but you find it difficult to look away.

“Are you drunk Barnes?”

His eyes meet yours and the corner of his mouth twitches with a boyish smile.

“You’re full of questions tonight doll. And for the record it takes a lot more than this to get me drunk,” he admits as his smile widens.

He shifts in his spot on the floor, his long legs now stretched out in front of him and you can’t help but focus on his thighs and the way his jeans pull tightly over the thick muscle.

“Who knew all we needed was a little alcohol to not fight.”

You chuckle and hold your hand out for the more.

He shakes his head no and places the bottle down on the floor before leaning forward.

“I don’t want to fight with you. Ever.”

At his admission, your expression hardens.

“Then why are you so….so… unfriendly?” you ask.

“Why are you always so sassy?” he shoots back. “Seems to me like you’re the one always looking for a fight.”

His answer makes you sigh.

“I don’t see you doing that to Barton or Steve…hell anyone else!” he adds.

He waits patiently, his eyes trained on you and his body straining forward.

With more nonchalance than you feel, you confess, “you’re kind of my type. And my dating track record sucks. So…you know…”

You motion to him. All of him. His long legs, broad shoulders, hard chest, sculpted arms and his perfectly handsome face.

Stunned, Bucky stares for a second too long and too fiercely.

Heat starts to tickle your skin as you feel your body react to his focused attention.

“Are you…” he starts, before clearing his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re attracted to me and that’s why you hate me?”

The tension is thick, stretching between you for many long seconds before you wrench your eyes away and look down at your hands.

“I don’t hate you.”

Your words are quiet and the next sentence that passes your lips is even softer. “I just have a hard time trusting men.”

When he doesn’t say anything you look up at him and see the hurt etched across his features.

“Are you sure it’s not just me you don’t trust?”

At his question, the realization of what he’s implying hits you and you immediately slide closer to him and reach your hands toward him.

“No Bucky. That’s not it at all. In fact I trust you with my life…just not necessarily my heart.”

When he continues to study you, his features softening, but doesn’t speak, you add. “It’s not your fault. Really.”

“I want to know why.”

“Why what?” you ask.

“Why you don’t trust men.”

His jaw is tight and his fists are clenched in his lap.

He’s clearly distraught over the fact that you’ve been hurt and you’re sure he’s thinking the worst. It melts you more and you want to reach out and trace the hard line of his jaw to reassure him.

“It’s not anything that bad. I’ve just been hurt. A lot. And not just in romantic relationships. Friendships too.”

He scowls. “In what ways?”

You shrug like it’s nothing.

“What is there to say? The first real relationship I was in ended when he found something better. He told me when we broke up, ‘why would I say with you when I can do better’.”

“That motherfucker,” Bucky fumes as he opens and closes his metal fist, the whirring metal sounds momentarily distracting you.

“Yeah. But that wasn’t the last. My boyfriend after that I found out was sleeping with my friend. Or I thought she was my friend.”

“Fucking hell. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He stands slowly, visibly agitated.

“And we haven’t even gotten to my last boyfriend yet. Better sit back down.”

“I’m too fucking pissed off to sit,” he growls.

“Honestly, it’s more my fault. I knew I shouldn’t have dated him. He was just like the rest and when my friend sent me a video of the two of them fucking I was hardly surprised.”

You couldn’t look at Bucky anymore and you dropped your eyes.

“Guess I’m just not good enough to stick around for.”

“Fuck,” he exhaled. “Doll.”

He sat down in front of you, forcing your attention back to him.

“Please don’t tell me you really believe that.”

You give him an exasperated look. “After being dumped three times you kind of start to believe it.”

Suddenly, he kicks at one of the weight machines, making the metal creak and bend then he falls to his knees in front of you and takes your hands in his.

The smell of him surrounds you and you have no where to look but into his eyes.

“These men,” and he spits out the last word. “Fuck that, they aren’t men. These pieces of shit have no idea what a gift you are and they don’t deserve you. They deserve a fucking beating.”

“Bucky.”

You squeeze his hands. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he counters. “Tell you the truth? Tell you that you’re gorgeous, sexy, smart, and kind.”

His eyes drop to your mouth and he licks his lips.

“Hardly kind,” you scoff. “Look how poorly I treated you.”

He reluctantly drags his eyes from your mouth and determination hardens his gaze.

“Nah doll face. I get it now. And honestly, a lot of that is on me. I couldn’t understand why someone as perfect as you wanted anything to do with me. I put up my defensives the only way I know how.”

You whisper his name hoarsely and run your thumb along his jawline.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and he exhales.

Even if you wanted to you couldn’t stop the way your body moved closer to his and when he slides his hand up your arm and around the back of your neck your lips part in a gasp.

Just as you feel his warm breath tickle your skin the lock on the door turns and Steve calls your names.

You quickly pull away with wide eyes, shooting one last look at Bucky before you lift your eyes to Steve.

He stares between the two of you and then at the half empty bottle of mead.

“What…?”

“Nothing,” you and Bucky say at the same time.

Bucky jumps to his feet and holds his hand out for you.

You take it and let him pull you up and into his body. Your chest brushes his with your every breath and you’re right back where you were just seconds ago…under his spell.

It only takes a moment for your past hurt to flood back and wash away the desire you’re feeling and in the next breath you’re mumbling goodbyes and rushing off.

When Bucky finally finds you the next day the apology you’ve been wanting to give him spills out.

“I just want to say that I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting.”

He takes a step closer to you, crowding you against the door of your room.

“I really appreciate that doll, but I should be the one apologizing to you. I’m sorry. For everything.”

“Thank you.”

It’s all you can manage to say with him so close to you.

You can feel your pulse jump and when you hear the moving metal plates in his arm you look down at his hands to see them clenched into fists at his sides.

“Bucky?” you ask.

“I’m having a really hard time not touching you,” he explains in a pained whisper.

“Oh,” you breathe out.

He closes the space between you and your back hits the door. He slowly lifts his hand, caressing your cheek with his thumb and then slowly sliding his fingers down to stroke your neck.

The gentle dominance in his touch sets you on fire and you lean into him.

“I’m scared of getting hurt Bucky.”

The words tumble out and you start to drop your gaze but he stops you with the press of his fingers under your chin.

His eyes harden and he doesn’t speak.

You whisper his name, your voice shaky.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m just talking myself out of hunting every one of your exes down and skinning them alive.”

His voice grows with anger and you press a soft hand to his hard chest.

“They aren’t worth it.”

“You’re worth it.”

Taken aback by the intensity of his words you stare into his eyes, their blue color filled with longing and fierceness.

“Fuck doll. You have no idea how fucking gorgeous you are, do you? I can hardly catch my breath.”

Your hand shoots to your mouth and you quietly inhale, nibbling your bottom lip to stop the smile that wants to break out across your face.

“Do you want me to go?” he asks.

You drop your hand from your lips and reach for him. “No.”

He tilts his head and inches closer, his mouth lightly brushing yours.

Your fists clench the front of his Henley and your eyes close at the light press of his lips. You stay like that, trying to remember to breathe.

He pulls away only enough to stare at your mouth and then traces his thumb across your upper lip.

“What is it?” you ask with a worried tone.

His thumb falls to your lower lip and he gives it the same attention, savoring the softness.

“Why won’t you kiss me?”

He drops his hand from your lips and as his fingers fall they trace the outline of your neck before his hand wraps around the back of it and he brings you impossibly closer.

“I’m worried that once I start…” he breathes against your lips. “I won’t be able to stop.”

When he presses his lips to yours he groans low in the back of his throat, his hands desperate to get you closer.

The way you taste, the feel of your lips, your gasps and moans…he can’t stop.

He can’t stop.

@hiddles-rose @randomfandompenguin @kmc1989 @goldylions @blackwidownat2814 @buckysdollforlife @littleseasiren @lizette50

[tempobaekh]

A Love (Not) Torn Apart

pairings: daryl dixon x fem!reader (takes place in alexandria)

warnings: not much, fluff, crack, alcohol consumption, some shouting, maybe ooc daryl? the images at the top DO NOT indicate any physical appearance of the reader

a/n: i’ve been meaning to write something for this fine ass man for a while but I’ve been having a major writer block and busy with my junior hairdresser exam BUT i stumbled upon this post by @angelwings-crossbowstrings and i just had to turn it into a story. also i’ve been binge reading and rereading all of @dixons-sunshine works. she’s an amazing writing with enjoyable writing and also gave me some motivation to write something🤍 anyways this had me laughing at work and trying to write in-between customers💀

The sun had long dipped behind the walls of Alexandria, and the sky was an inky black, littered with stars.

You barely remember how it started. One minute, you were lounging on the couch, minding your own business and chatting with Carol after a particularly tough day in Alexandria. The next? Well, you were plastered—thanks to the moonshine Carol stashed away "for special occasions." She called this a special occasion because she was "bored," and apparently boredom justified cracking open a bottle. You didn’t argue. Why would you? It had been a rough week.

You should’ve known better. You’re not much of a drinker.

You have always had a low alcohol tolerance. When you got drunk, you would often do the most stupidly odd things.

Like the day you got shitfaced drunk and told Rick you could outshoot him blindfolded, almost shooting the man in the damn head. Or the day you insisted Daryl hand over your marriage papers so you could set it ablaze, saying, quote, 'Good luck returning me without the fucking receipt, Dixon!' Before collapsing into his embrace.

However, following Rick's incident, there was always a 10-foot radius check for weapons if you and a drink were present.

Now, you’re sitting in the middle of the living room floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Your hair is a wild mess—like, wilder than usual—and your hand clutches an old, tattered Polaroid picture of Daryl’s wife.

Except... you are Daryl’s wife.

 It was an old, weathered picture of you and Daryl taken back when things weren’t so apocalyptic. You looked happy in it—probably because there wasn’t a horde of walkers trying to eat you at the time. Your arm was looped around Daryl’s waist, and he had that rare, soft smile on his face. It was a picture you loved.

Right now, though? You hated it.

"She’s so pretty!" you wail, voice wobbling dramatically, holding up the photo to no one in particular. “How did he end up with someone so gorgeous?” Your head lolls back as you take another swig from the bottle of moonshine in your hand. “I’m never gonna be as good as her!"

Across the room, Carol watches from her seat with a mixture of amusement and concern, sipping from her own glass. She’s been trying to calm you down, but her efforts haven’t been successful. At this point, she’s just waiting for the storm to pass. Rick, however, looking for Daryl, steps through the door right at the pinnacle of your emotional breakdown.

“Carol,” Rick begins, eyeing your tear-streaked face and the empty bottle in your hand. “Why is Y/N cryin’?”

“She’s drunk,” Carol responds, deadpan, like that explains everything. Which, in all fairness, it kind of does.

Rick looks at you, then back at Carol, eyebrows raised. “And?”

Carol lets out a long breath, like she’s explained this one too many times. “She saw a picture of Daryl’s wife.”

Rick frowns in confusion, scratching the back of his head. "But… she is Daryl’s wife."

“I know,” Carol deadpans.

Rick shoots her an incredulous look. “She don’t realize that’s her?”

Carol just shrugs. "You ever try reasoning with a drunk person?"

Rick’s eyes narrow slightly as he processes the absurdity of the situation. “Where’s Daryl?”

Carol shakes her head, an amused grin tugging at the corners of her lips. “She kicked him out for cheatin’. He’s in the garage, waitin’ it out."

Rick looks like he’s about to say something, but instead, he just shakes his head, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a sigh and decides to approach you instead, “Y/N?”

You hear Rick’s voice, but you can’t bring yourself to respond. 

Rick’s footsteps draw closer, and you can see him out of the corner of your eye. He’s frowning, his brows pulling together in confusion. That’s the look. The ‘what the hell is going on’ look. You’ve seen it plenty of times before. He squats down in front of you, hands resting on his knees as he assesses the situation.

Your face screws up again, tears welling as you shove the bottle toward Rick in a grand gesture of misery. “He’s cheating on me!”

Rick recoils slightly, probably because your breath smells like a distillery at this point. “Uh... what?”

“He’s cheating!” you repeat, throwing your arms wide like this should be obvious to everyone around you. You wave the photo in the air dramatically, like you were presenting your case to the high court. “With some—some woman!”

Rick looks at Carol again, completely confused by how your drunken brain came up with this. Carol just shrugs, but there's a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth like she’s fighting a smile.

“Okay... slow down,” Rick says cautiously, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s good with walkers, not so good with drunk people. Especially drunk people who are screaming about imaginary affairs. “Who’s he cheating with?”

You look around conspiratorially before leaning in like you’re about to spill the world’s most scandalous secret. “His wife,” you whisper dramatically, as if that explains everything.

Rick’s brow furrows again. “But... you’re his wife.”

You nod enthusiastically, your head wobbling a little. “Exactly! He’s cheating on me with me!” You hiccup, your hand flying up to cover your mouth. The bottle dangles dangerously from your other hand. 

 You knew this day would come. It’s just like you always feared—Daryl’s finally realized he deserves better. Someone prettier, smarter, and far less dramatic than you. You’re sure of it. You pull the Polaroid close to your face and squint at it.

"Look at her," you sniffle, voice thick with drunken emotion. “Look at how flawless she is. He’s probably out there with her right now!" 

Rick and Carol share a look, clearly unsure of how to handle this. Carol steps forward, cautiously approaching you like you’re a wild animal. “Y/N,” she says softly, “honey, that’s… that’s a picture of you.”

You blink, turning the photo back toward you and studying it intensely, your brows furrowing in concentration. “What?”

“That’s you in the picture,” Carol repeats gently, trying not to laugh.

You frown deeply, staring at the woman in the photo. “No, it’s not!” you argue, shaking your head as if they’ve lost their minds. “I don’t look like this—she’s so beautiful!” You lean forward, grabbing Carol by the arm, eyes wide with desperation. “Carol, how could he do this to me?”

Carol struggles to keep her composure. “He didn’t do anything to you, Y/N. You’re drunk.”

You collapse back on the carpeted floor, letting out a fresh wave of sobs. “I’m gonna divorce him! And then—and then—he’ll regret it!” The words come out in a slurred mess, your anger morphing back into sadness almost instantly. “He doesn’t even care! I kicked him out and everything.”

Rick pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing like he’s aged a hundred years in the last five minutes. He turns to Carol. “Okay. Where did you say Daryl was?”

You choose to answer instead before Carol can speak. “Who cares?! He’s probably with her right now!” You hiccup again, and then your face scrunches up as if you’re about to cry harder. “I’m his wife, Rick! And he’s out there... with her! She’s... she’s prettier than me!”

Carol lets out a bark of laughter at that, and even Rick cracks a smile despite himself. “Y/N, you are his wife.”

“I know!” you sob, throwing your head back in despair. “It’s awful!”

Rick lets out another long-suffering sigh. “Alright. I’m gonna go find Daryl.”

“He’s in the garage.” Carol mutters, and decides to console your hysterical self for the tenth time while Rick brings in Daryl.

“He’s gonna have to crawl back to me on his knees.”

Carol pats your shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure he will.”

You sniffle, nodding. “He’s just…he’s a man. They do dumb things sometimes.”

Carol tries to keep a straight face, but the corners of her mouth twitch. “Right. Exactly.”

After what seems like hours but is really just a few minutes, you hear the familiar sound of the front door opening and closing, with Daryl and Rick returning inside. 

Carol managed to peel the bottle of moonshine from between your fingers and pull you over to the couch, so you're now slumped over on the couch with the bottle somewhere in the kitchen. Your eyes narrow when you see him, but you’re too tired—and too drunk—to get up.

When Carol sees Daryl and Rick arrive, she gives Daryl a nod and decides to call it a night, returning home and leaving you to Daryl. Rick also says a quick goodbye to Daryl before leaving you two to be.

“I’m still mad at you,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and looking away.

Daryl crouches down infront of you, resting his arms on his knees. “I know.”

“I’m divorcing you.”

Daryl smirks, brushing some hair out of your face. “You’re not divorcin’ me.”

“Am too.”

“Nope.”

You let out a dramatic sigh and lean into his shoulder, tucking your face in his neck, too exhausted to fight anymore. “I hate that picture.”

Daryl chuckles, wrapping an arm around you as he pulls you to your feet. “Yeah, well, I ain’t too fond of it myself right’ now.” He helps you inside, your steps wobbly as you lean against him, your anger slowly dissolving into sleepy acceptance.

“I was just... so mad,” you mumble, your voice slurred as you nuzzle against his chest. “Didn’t mean to kick you out.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Daryl murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Still... divorcing you tomorrow.”

Daryl just shakes his head with a smile as he helps you up the stairs. “Sure you are, darlin’. Sure you are.”

Daryl walks you towards the bedroom with the patience of a saint, keeping an arm securely wrapped around your waist as your legs wobble like a newborn fawn. You’re still grumbling under your breath, your words slurred and barely coherent, but your determination to maintain your fury has not wavered. Not entirely.

“You didn’t even say sorry,” you mumble, leaning heavily against him as you stumble over the threshold. “Should make you sleep outside again.”

Daryl chuckles softly, his grip tightening just enough to keep you from tripping over the rug. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to apologize first thing in the mornin’, sweetheart. C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.”

“Nooo,” you protest, your feet dragging with exaggerated effort. “You gotta... gotta say it now. Or—divorce.” Your head wobbles dangerously as you point a finger at his chest, your attempt to look stern falling completely flat.

Daryl shakes his head with an amused smirk, scooping you up in his arms in one swift motion. “Ain’t divorcin’ me if you’re too drunk to remember how.”

You give a half-hearted squawk of protest, but the sound dissolves into a giggle as he carries you upstairs. “I can remember!” you declare, though you’re already nuzzling into the crook of his neck, the warmth of him seeping through your foggy brain. “Daryl Dixon... divorced... for bein’ a big, dumb... dumbass.”

He reaches the bedroom and gently deposits you on the bed. You flop back like a rag doll, limbs splayed out as if you’ve completely given up on the world. “That’s a real solid case you got there,” Daryl mutters, shaking his head in amusement as he reaches down to tug off your boots.

You wiggle your toes when your feet are freed, watching him with a lazy, half-lidded gaze. “Yup. Real solid,” you repeat, mimicking his accent with a sloppy grin. “I’m real smart, you know. Like... a genius.”

Daryl pulls a face like he’s seriously contemplating this. “A genius, huh?”

“Yup,” you confirm, clearly proud of yourself. “Genius. That’s why I’m divorcin’ you. ’Cause... geniuses don’t put up with cheaters.”

He snorts and moves to grab a glass of water from the bedside table, holding it out to you. “Here. Drink.”

You take the glass but make no move to actually drink from it, instead eyeing Daryl suspiciously. “What’s this?”

“It’s water.”

“Water?” You narrow your eyes like he’s trying to trick you. “What for?”

“To sober you up,” Daryl explains, deadpan. “So you can remember all this nonsense tomorrow.”

You stick out your lower lip in a pout but finally lift the glass to your lips, taking a tentative sip. You immediately make a face like it’s the most offensive thing you’ve ever tasted, pushing the glass back at him. “I don’t like it.”

Daryl chuckles again, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he takes the glass and sets it back on the table. “Ain’t supposed to like it. It’s just water.”

“Doesn’t taste like moonshine,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest as if this is some great injustice.

“Yeah, well, you ain’t gettin’ any more moonshine tonight,” Daryl says, his voice low and teasing as he crouches down to pull the covers over you. “Now, settle down.”

You huff, wriggling around as you try to find a comfortable position. “Still mad,” you mumble, though your words are getting softer, your body succumbing to the overwhelming need for sleep. “Divorce papers... in the mornin’.”

Daryl lets out a soft chuckle, lying down next to you and pulling you into his chest. “Sure thing, darlin’. I’ll be waitin’ for ‘em.”

You curl up against him, burying your face in his chest with a content sigh despite your earlier threats. “Better be sorry,” you mumble one last time, already drifting off into a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep.

“Real sorry,” Daryl mutters, his lips brushing against your hair. “Real sorry for marryin’ such a stubborn little thing.”

The next morning hits like a freight train.

Your eyelids flutter open, and the sunlight streaming through the window feels like it’s stabbing directly into your skull. With a groan, you roll over and immediately regret it. Your head throbs, your mouth is drier than the Sahara desert, and your entire body feels like it’s been dragged through a pit of walkers. Twice.

“Oh my God,” you croak, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Never drinking again. Ever.”

From beside you, Daryl lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.”

You crack one eye open, glaring at him through the blinding light. “I’m serious.”

“Mhm.” He’s sitting up on his elbow, watching you with an infuriating smirk. “You said the same thing last time you drank, too. After you told Rick you could outshoot him blindfolded.”

You groan again, dragging a pillow over your face. “Please tell me I didn’t do anything stupid last night.”

“Oh, nothin’ too stupid,” Daryl says casually, but you can hear the laughter in his voice. “Just threatened to divorce me. You know, normal stuff.”

You freeze under the pillow, a wave of embarrassment washing over you. Slowly, you pull the pillow down just enough to peek out at him. “...What?”

“Yup,” Daryl confirms with a smug grin. “Kicked me out of the house for ‘cheatin’ on you’ with yourself.”

You groan again, throwing the pillow at his face with all the energy you can muster. “Oh my God, shut up.”

He catches the pillow easily, laughing as he sets it aside. “Ain’t lettin’ you live that one down, sweetheart.”

You cover your face with your hands, mortified. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Daryl says with a pop of the ‘p,’ clearly enjoying your misery. “Carol and Rick were real concerned. Thought they’d have to draw up them divorce papers right then and there.”

You peek out from between your fingers, narrowing your eyes at him. “I hate you.”

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead with that same infuriating smirk. “Love you too.”

You try to scowl at him, but it’s hard to stay mad when he’s looking at you like that. Still, you groan and roll over, burying your face in the pillow again. “I’m never drinking again,” you mutter into the fabric.

Daryl chuckles, lying back down beside you and pulling you into his arms. “Sure you aren’t, darlin’. Sure you aren’t.”

Note: gifs, pictures, and header DOES NOT belong to me. CREDITS TO THE RIGHTFUL OWNERS!! Feedback and reblog is appreciated.<3

[caffeineaddictwriter]

DEAPOOL + WOLVERINE + YOU = INCORRECT QUOTES PART 2 🤭🤭🤭🤭

These are so fun to make so I hope you enjoy this and I will most defenitly make a part 3. Love you my little caffeine addicts 😘.

Logan, driving Wade and Y/N home: So, how was your day?

Wade: we almost got surprise adopted!

Logan: what?

Y/N: we almost got kidnapped.

Logan: oh okay.

Logan, slamming on the brakes: YOU FUCKING WHAT?

Y/N: go tell Wade about the birds and the bees.

Logan: they’re disappearing at an alarming rate.

Wade, crying.

Logan: me and Y/N are having a baby.

Wade: you had sex?

Logan, handing over adoption papers: no it’s you sign at the bottom.

Logan: we need a distraction.

Y/N: is anyone good at being a fucking idiot?

Wade: my time as come…

Wade: Y/N what does IDK, LY, and TTYL mean?

Y/N: I don’t know, love you, talk to you later.

Wade: oh okay love you to, I’ll go ask Logan.

Logan: what do you think Wade will do as the distraction?

Y/N: i dunno maybe throw something that’s what I’d do.

*building explodes and multiple car alarms go off*

Y/N: or he could do that.

Y/N: what’s a word that’s a mix between sad and mad?

Logan: disgruntled, miserable, desolated…-

Wade: Smad.

Logan: let me show you a photo from last night that really upset me.

Wade: okay but in my defence Y/N bet me a dollar if I’d drink the whole shampoo bottle.

Logan: that’s not what I wan- YOU DRANK THE SHAMPOO?

Logan: why did you give Wade a knife?

Y/N: because they felt unsafe.

Logan: but now I feel unsafe.

Y/N: oh… would you like a knife?

[spidergrysn]

CHALLENGERS: markhyuck x reader

cw: 18++ reader is kinda like tashi, challengers quotes in green, a bit of tennis lingo i had to google LOL. markhyuck are lowkey pathetic losers in a hot way, cussing, flirting, innuendos with tennis racquets, slightly switch! haechan but mostly dom, mark slight switch! (markie is mostly subby at first), switch! reader, tennis is kind of hot idk, degradation/name calling, ass slapping, don’t be silly wrap ur wily!, fat cock haechan, alcohol and cigarette mention, CUNT!!!!!, fingering, making out, blow jobs, use of the word “sir”, boys kissing. (this is my first time writing smut LOL)

“Mark, you really fucking suck,” Haechan teases, his laughter and voice bouncing around the court.

Haechan jogs to the corner of the court grabbing his chunky bottle of gatorade, chugging it down as dewey sweat drops, drop from his sun-kissed complexion. He then jogs back over to join Mark again, Haechan reaches over the net and hands the bottle to Mark. The black-haired boy grabs it as he thirstly chugs the remaining liquid, not caring about the drops of sweat rimming the bottle from Haechan or the slight backwash his friend left.

“Thanks,” Mark utters with a half-hearted grin as he walks back to his spot on the court. He picks up his tennis racket, gripping it as he takes a spare neon tennis ball out of his black gym shorts before serving the ball to Haechan, who is locked in, ready in position.

The ball bounces between the boys rhythmically as the two best friends engage in lively banter about the happenings in their lives: from girls to tennis to the excitement of their favorite artist releasing a new album. They babble back and forth, eagerly awaiting the moment when one of them slips up in their exchange.

"That's game!" Haechan's voice echoes across the court as Mark's racquet swings through empty air, narrowly missing the trajectory of the ball. With precision, Haechan had delivered a swift and well-placed shot, leaving Mark scrambling to catch up. The ball zips past him, its velocity a testament to Haechan's pure skill. Mark's dark brown eyes follow the ball's path, a mix of frustration and admiration evident in his expression, as he realizes he's unable to return the shot in time. With a defeated nod, he acknowledges the end of their match.

Mark rolls his eyes in frustration, his fingers tightening around the grip of his his racquet as he trudges to the corner of the court where his backpack lies in wait. Beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, evidence of the intensity of their match, he bends down to retrieve his bag, his chest rising and falling with each panting breath. With a quick sigh of relief, he unzips the side pouch and fishes out a bottle of water, the cool liquid soothing his heated throat as he takes a refreshing sip, quenching his thirst.

Meanwhile, Haechan approaches with a light jog, his movements fluid and effortless, really showing off his endurance. With practiced ease, he scoops up his red duffel bag, effortlessly tucking his racquet inside before hoisting it onto his shoulder with a nonchalant shrug. Mark watches with a mixture of envy and admiration, always impressed by Haechan's composure even after theirs grueling matches and practices.

"Yo, let's go," Mark suggests to his friend, signaling toward the exit of the court. The chestnut-haired boy beside him simply nods in agreement.

As they stroll side by side, they leave the court behind, lost in the thought of getting to go home; and let loose by playing video games so loud their neighbors complain.

"Ahem, watch where you're going," Haechan hears a sharp voice cut through the air, and he looks up to find a girl standing directly in his and Mark’s path. She's clad in an old grey tennis competition shirt from 2021 and a matching tennis skirt, her hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. The sunlight dances off her radiant skin, unadorned by makeup, its clear to testimony to her natural beauty. Her finely plucked eyebrows arch elegantly above her big doe eyes that exude a natural confidence, she holds onto a duffel bag in one hand and a baby blue tennis racquet in the other, the ribbon in her hair mirroring the color.

"Holy shit," Haechan gasps, caught off guard by her presence, while Mark shoots him a quizzical look. The girl, however, remains unfazed, her demeanor poised and self-assured.

"So, are you going to stand there with your mouth open, or are you going to apologize for bumping into me?" she demands matter-of-factly, her gaze fixed on Haechan as though she were towering over him with her confidence alone despite, Haechan being quite a few inches taller than the girl.

"Uh, yeah, my bad," Haechan stammers, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

Mark elbows Haechan, confusion etched on his face as he wonders why his typically quick to fire back friend would allow someone to talk to him like that. The girl's piercing gaze shifts between them before she directs her attention blankly at Mark.

"You kinda suck, not gonna lie," the girl remarks, her tongue clicking in a somewhat condescending manner, a twisted smile playing at the corners of her lips. Mark is taken aback; he was used to Haechan poking at him about his skills, but hearing it from a stranger irritated him.

"And who even are you?" Mark retorts, his tone laced with skepticism.

The girl raises an eyebrow, unfazed by his challenge. "I was watching you guys play. You play really sloppy, you don’t know how to focus, and your serve is pretty shit," she says casually, her words cutting through the air like a well-aimed volley.

“Like you could do any better," Mark fires back defensively, his confidence wavering slightly as he notices Haechan's nervous laughter, a rare occurrence from his usually cocky friend.

"Hmm, well then, play me?" she suggests casually, her smirk showing a hint of amusement. "My teammate is running a bit late. I don’t mind taking you on as a warm-up."

With graceful poise, she lightly jogs to one side of the court, positioning herself with effortless confidence. As she stretches her toned legs, her movements deliberate and fluid, Mark can't help but admire the beauty and strength evident in her slender form.

Haechan shot Mark a disapproving glance before his hand swiftly met the back of Mark's head with a resounding smack.

"You're an absolute idiot," Haechan grumbled, irritation lacing his words. "Do you have any idea who that is?"Mark's head tilted in confusion as he shook it slowly, indicating his lack of knowledge.

Haechan shot Mark a disapproving glance before his hand swiftly met the back of Mark's head with a resounding smack.

Haechan let out an exasperated groan, his frustration sketched all over his face. "For someone who spends so much time on the court, you're clueless about the social scene.

That's MOTHER FUCKING Y/N L/N, one of the most formidable players at the college level. She's undefeated, has crazy-ass brand deals, and let's not forget, she's drop-dead gorgeous. Easily in the top three of my 'women I'd let fuck me with my tennis racquet list, and she's not second or third, I'll tell you that much."

Suddenly, it dawned on Mark. Though he had never seen her up close, the name Y/N L/N had circulated in his head at one point or another, whether through passing mentions or Haechan's enthusiastic discussions about her tennis prowess. She was undeniably beautiful, but her reputation for arrogance and rudeness preceded her, making Mark annoyed at the thought of facing her on the court.

"Are you two gonna jerk each other off all day, or are we here to play tennis?" Y/N's voice interrupted, punctuated by the thud of a tennis ball landing at their feet. Mark snapped into action, catching the ball and grabbing his racket, positioning himself on the opposite side of the court.

"Your serve first, princess," Y/N says with a smirk, her competitive spirit evident as she awaited the match to start.

Haechan's gaze shifted from Mark to Y/N, He stood on the sidelines, practically drooling, mesmerized by the presence of the infamous tennis player.

As Mark began to serve, Haechan couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "His serve kinda sucks," observing with a critical eye as Y/N effortlessly returned the ball, her movements graceful and fluid.

As the games goes-on, Mark began to understand why Haechan had spoken so highly of her. Y/N's skill on the court surpassed anything he had ever witnessed. The way she wielded her racket with precision and power was mesmerizing, almost enchanting. It was as if she weren't just playing tennis; she was conducting a symphony of athleticism and beauty , each stroke executed with a her own powerful flair that bordered on ethereal.

Caught in the spell of her dance-like performance, Mark found himself growing increasingly frustrated with his own skills. He could only watch in awe as Y/N dominated the game with her masterful strokes and unwavering focus. It was a sight to behold.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted as Y/N served the ball, and Mark, caught off guard by her skill and agility, missed his return. Her laughter, light and melodic, filled the air as she declares the game is over.Y/N sways up to the net, her eyes gazing at Mark intrigued with a mix of scrutiny.

“You really do suck," she stated matter-of-factly again , her tone holding a hint of brutal honesty. "But you've got crazy potential. You don't give up easily, and that's a good trait."

Mark's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?" he retorted, a tinge of defensiveness creeping into his voice.Y/N shook her head, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

"No, it's supposed to be a critique," she clarifies, her gaze unwavering.

She then shifted her attention towards Haechan, nodding approvingly. "Your friend over there, the one with the brown hair and tiny man-whore shorts, he's not bad at all. Pretty good, actually. But you," she turned back to Mark, her expression serious, "you'll never catch up to him if you keep playing like that."

Mark felt a surge of annoyance bubbling within him. Who did this stranger think she was, passing judgment on his skills just because she was some kind of "tennis god"? Before he could voice his protest, Y/N cut him off, her words piercing through his thoughts like a sharp blade.

"Let me coach you."

Mark's jaw dropped in disbelief, a mixture of shock and irritation coursing through him."You're taking pity on me? How lucky I must be," he scoffed, rolling his eyes in frustration.

Y/N merely shrugged, unfazed by his sarcasm. "Well, yes. You should be very lucky," she replied, her tone unwavering as she extended a once and a lifetime offer.

Y/N flashed a mischievous grin as she extended her offer, her eyes darting towards Haechan, who hovered nearby like an eager labrador puppy."You can bring your little friend too," she quipped, her tone teasing yet serious . "Just tell him to lay off on the 'Fuck me eyes.' He's very obvious with it."

Before Mark could protest, Y/N continued, her words cutting through his initial resistance just like her well-aimed serve.

"If you actually want to get far in life, you need to be skilled at hitting a ball with a tennis racquet," she stated bluntly, her gaze unfazed as she laid bare the reality of the situation. Mark let out a defeated sigh, his insecurities gnawing at him as he hesitantly nodded in reluctant agreement.

"So, are you gonna give me your number?" he ventured, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Y/N's lips curved into a playful smile. "No! You have to earn that," she replied, her demeanor unyielding yet playful. "Just meet me here tomorrow at 6 am."

"6 am? You're crazy," Mark exclaimed, his disbelief evident in his tone.

"Yes, I fucking am," Y/N replied nonchalantly, already turning to meet up with her teammate who arrived a little bit ago. "Bye."

"Wait, you're not even gonna ask for my name?" Mark called out, his frustration mounting as she walked away without a backward glance.

The girl hummed slightly, a mysterious smile dancing on her lips as she jogged up to her teammate, enveloped in a cloud of laughter and chatter.

Mark let out a heavy sigh as he approached Haechan, who stood with raised eyebrows, his curiosity piqued by the encounter."We've got to be here at 6 am tomorrow," Mark announced, his tone a mixture of resignation and disbelief. "She offered to coach me."

Haechan's eyes widened in surprise, a grin spreading across his face as he processed the news. With a hearty clap on Mark's back, he exclaimed, "Mark Lee, you dirty bastard!” Grabbing Mark by the arm and pulling him away, their laughter echoing across the tennis court as they made their exit.

•

•

"You're late!" the girl's voice rang out across the court, her tone sharp with annoyance. "Yeah, well, some of us aren't used to waking up at 6 am," Haechan retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm as he jogged onto the court alongside Mark.

The girl scoffed, her irritation evident as she shook her head. "Which is exactly why you guys will never get better than where you are now," she shot back saying, her gaze piercing as she focused on Haechan. "You aren't that bad at all, but you have a big ego, and you won't get very far with that attitude, I'll tell you that."

Haechan tilted his head, muttering under his breath about her audacity, but the girl paid him no mind as she shifted her attention to Mark.

"And you.. YOU need my help the most," she continued, her tone firm and slightly unkind. "Don't waste my time again."

With a click of her tongue, she flashed a brief smile before announcing about today’s drills.

By the time their intense session came to an end, the boys' bodies felt as if they had been through a meat grinder. Every muscle screamed in protest, their arms threatening to detach from their sockets, and their hair clung damply to their foreheads. Gasping for breath, they dashed to their water bottles, gulping down the refreshing liquid before Y/N could subject them to any more torture.

Leaning against the fence surrounding the court, the boys found temporary solace, their bodies sinking gratefully into the cool metal. Y/N approached them with a slight smile, her demeanor more relaxed now that the intense training session was over.

"Not too bad today," she remarked, glancing at her watch, the time reading 9 am. Her gaze shifted back to the boys. "Keep practicing like this, and you both might actually stand a chance against other players."

With a collective sigh of relief, the boys slumped down against the fence sitting on the ground, finally allowing themselves a moment of peace. Surprisingly, they found themselves not minding Y/N's presence as she joined them, the three of them sitting in comfortable silence.

From that day forward, their routine was set in stone. Four times a week, at the ungodly hour of 6 am, Mark and Haechan met Y/N on the court. She pushed them to their limits, mixing half-assed compliments with snide remarks, but beneath her tough exterior, she was undeniably a good fucking coach.

•

•

Before the sun could even rise on the clear day, Mark and Haechan piled into Mark's sleek black car, the engine humming to life as they head to the tennis field. The clock on the dashboard read 5:40 am, showing their intense dedication to the crazy Y/N’s early morning training sessions.

"You know, I think we are kinda warming up on her more more," Mark speaks up quietly, his gaze focused on the road ahead as he maneuvered through the empty streets. Haechan nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "You still don't think it's weird she hasn't asked for our names or our numbers?"

Mark tilted his head in consideration before shaking it. "Nah, I think she's just weird like that. Who knows?"

With a nod of acknowledgment, Haechan launched into a passionate discussion about an upcoming women's tennis match, his enthusiasm showing as he detailed the fierce competition from renowned colleges across the country and even internationally.

"You think she's got this in the bag?" Haechan inquired, his curiosity evident as they neared their destination. "There's some pretty sick competition out there." Mark nodded fastly, his confidence unwavering. "There's no one as good as her, I'm convinced. Not with that fiery personality."

Haechan chuckled in agreement as they pulled into the parking lot, the quiet hum of their conversation dissipating as they exited the car and joined their "coach" on the court, ready to tackle another challenging session Y/N is about to throw at them.

The boys positioned themselves on opposite sides of the court, their anticipation making them shake as they awaited Y/N's next move. With a smile playing on her lips, she spoke up, her voice carrying a playful edge.

"As you know you guys have a competition soon," she remarked, her observation drawing their attention back to their upcoming match, momentarily forgotten amidst the excitement of the women's tournament.

"Do you guys think you're ready?" she inquired, arching an eyebrow expectantly. Mark and Haechan exchanged glances, their minds racing as they mentally assessed their readiness. With a determined nod, they both replied in unison, "Yes."

“Good, because whoever wins gets my phone number,” Y/N declared with a teasing smirk, her words sparking a competitive fire within the boys.

Despite her occasional harshness, both boys found themselves growing increasingly fond of her, their admiration morphing into a subtle crush on the elite tennis player. On days when she wasn't with them, their conversations inevitably drifted towards the egotistical but enigmatic girl, filled with friendly banter and playful jabs about who could win her “heart” first.

The boys' faces lit up with excitement as they eagerly awaited Y/N's next move, her mischievous gaze locking onto theirs with a playful glint in her e/c eyes.

"Now get off the court, I have a competition soon and I need to practice," she commanded, her voice carrying a hint of urgency beneath its casual tone.

"You made us come here at 6 fucking am to tell us this?" Haechan half-yelled, his frustration bubbling to the surface as Mark groaned, upset at the lost opportunity for precious sleep.

"Yes, I did. Now leave, you idiots are gonna distract me," Y/N retorted, her tone firm yet tinged with amusement.

The boys exchanged annoyed groans, not even surprised by her antics anymore, as they gathered their belongings getting ready to leave.As they began to walk away, they heard her airy voice call out from behind them, her words carrying a rare soft warmth that opposed her tough exterior.

“I would love it if you guys showed up at my game tomorrow," she called, her smile evident even though they couldn't see her face.Though their heads weren’t facing her, both boys felt a giddy anticipation stir within them as they made their way off the court.

•

•

The next day, both boys arrived at the tennis court, their anticipation piling up with each step as they navigated through the bustling crowd. Their day had been a whirlwind of non Y/N tennis practice and classes, and they couldn't help but wonder if they should have skipped the latter as they scanned the packed arena. Coaches from various schools, students, and eager spectators filled every available space, their collective excitement palpable in the air.

After some searching, the boys eventually found two seats in the stands, settling into the middle row adorned in their red college tennis t-shirts. Mark nervously chewed on a churro, his heart racing as his anxiety starts to spike, as he awaited the start of the final game. Now while they boys were confident in Y/N's abilities, their nerves were stirred by the buzz surrounding her opponent, a formidable German player who had garnered quite a reputation.

Mark's hearts was beating fast as he fidgeted in his seat, his mind swirling with thoughts of the impending match. Haechan, ever the calming presence, turned to him, rubbing his back in a comforting gesture.

"Chill out bro, she'll do fine," Haechan reassured him with a laugh, reaching over to take a bite of Mark's churro. Mark offered a weak nod in response, his apprehension still evident despite his friend's attempt to ease his nerves.

"Dude, I know, but still," Mark sighed, his eyes glued to the court below as they waited for the match to begin, their hearts pounding in unison ready for the match to end before it even started. Both boys sat on the edge of their seats, their eyes glued to the court below, anxiety coursing through their veins as the announcer's voice resonated through the overpriced black speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming to the 2023 women’s tennis final. Let's welcome to the court two formidable competitors tonight: representing the home team, we have the fiery powerhouse, Y/N L/N!”The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers, and Mark and Haechan joined in enthusiastically, their voices ringing out amidst the excitement.

Their breath caught in their throats as they watched Y/N dash onto the court, a vision of athleticism and grace. She wore an all-white Adidas tennis dress, accented with a red bow that proudly displayed her school colors. Her hair was woven into an intricate braid, and her pristine white shoes hinted at the elegance she always brought onto the court. Clutching a slightly red racquet, which appeared to be brand new, Y/N's face radiated with a contagious smile, her confidence contagious as she waved to the crowd, her eyes locking onto Mark and Haechan with a warmth that sent a surge of excitement through them.

As the announcer introduced her opponent, Ingrid Schmidt from Germany, the cheers were more subdued. Ingrid, with her blonde bouncing ponytail and deep scowl, exuded an aura of intense determination that stood in stark contrast to Y/N's easy confidence.

The two girls approached the net, and Y/N extended her hand in a gesture of sportsmanship. As they shook hands, Y/N leaned in to whisper something in Ingrid's ear, a playful glint in her eye. Ingrid's reaction, a dismissive eye roll and a scoff, only fueled the intrigue, leaving Mark and Haechan to speculate on the nature of their exchange as the game started with competitive tension hanging in the air.

The tennis match unfolded like a symphony, with a flurry of powerful serves and lightning-fast volleys dancing across the court. Y/N and Ingrid engaged in a fierce battle, their movements a graceful fusion of athleticism and finesse. Each exchange was punctuated by blistering groundstrokes that landed with pinpoint accuracy, showcasing the players' unrivaled skill and determination.

Despite Ingrid's insane skill, it was evident to everyone watching that Y/N was simply in a league of her own. Mark watched in awe as Y/N moved across the court with a fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly. With each swing of her racquet, she effortlessly unleashed a torrent of power and precision, her movements reminiscent of a prima ballerina performing Swan Lake, her ponytail bouncing with each graceful step.

"FUCK!" Ingrid yelled in frustration as Y/N unleashed a particularly devastating shot, causing Ingrid to slip up and miss her return.

"Code violation, Schmidt!" the announcer boomed, but Y/N merely smirked, her confidence unshaken as she watched her opponent falter. The boys could only watch in awe as the game resumed, Y/N's serve eliciting gasps of admiration from the crowd. It was a sight to behold, the ball soaring through the air with speedy grace and elegance that seemed almost surreal.

As the mix of cheers and chatter stretched across the court, the tension in the stadium reached a fever pitch. Despite Ingrid's valiant efforts, Y/N maintained an easy lead in points, inching closer and closer to victory with each passing moment. And finally, after a somewhat tough battle that left both players breathless, Y/N delivered the winning point, her triumph met with an eruption of applause and cheers from the crowd.

As Ingrid angrily beat her racket in defeat, Y/N let out a giddy scream of victory, her exhilaration contagious as she basked in the praises of the crowd. Mark and Haechan quickly made their way down to the court, eager to congratulate their friend on her well-deserved win, their hearts swelling with pride and admiration..

The boys begin talking over each other showering her in compliments. “That was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen in my life. Haechan says. “Please do my balls like that next.” Y/N laughs as Mark elbows him- “No but seriously- Mark begins You were incredible today. I mean it wasn't even like tennis, it was an entirely different game.”

“You’re truly amazing.” Y/N smiles at them before embracing both of the boys. They both stand their surprised at the randomsudden affection.

“Thank you guys.” She says earnestly. Before reaching for mark’s phone

“Open this.” She states. Mark nods quickly entering his passcode.

“WAIT HOLD UP you’re giving him your phone number because he was glazing you but not me.” Haechan says almost pouting.

“No you idiot.” Y/N says. I’m having a party tonight a bunch of rich pricks and coaches are gonna be there, I thought I would invite you guys. the boys look at each other surprised before nodding.

“Dress nice please Minhyung and Donghyuck.” she says smiling, showing her teeth.

“WAIT YOU KNOW OUR NAMES???” the boys say at the same time surprised.

“Well yes why wouldn’t i..” the girl says tilting her head at their dumb question. “Well you never asked.” Haechan states and we don’t even go by our government names.” Mark finishes.

“i did a bit of research.” she smiles before someone calls her name. she waves a goodbye at the boys before jogging to a crowed calling her name.

“She’s so fucking weird, I know her pussy is crazy good.” Haechan says jokingly, as Mark watches her fade into a crowd of excited people.

•

•

Now despite being a college student, Mark harbored a distinct distaste to parties and overly large crowds. Haechan, his roommate, embodied the opposite end of the spectrum—a typical frat boy wannabe who attends all the biggest parties. Throughout their 3 years at college, Mark was convinced Haechan had attended every party every thrown on campus or off, a feat Mark found perplexing considering the consistency of his friend’s hangovers and yet his remarkable ability to maintain attendance in classes and excel at tennis.

Haechan sauntered into their shared college apartment’s living room, clad in a sky blue button-down polo paired nicely with khaki trousers that accentuated his well-defined thighs. He settled onto the couch beside Mark, his gaze eyeing Mark’s figure as the latter nervously tapped his foot. Mark, sporting a fitted long-sleeved button-down that showcased his growing biceps and snug blue jeans cinched with a belt and adorned with a silver chain, playfully punched his friend.

“Try-hard,” Haechan teased, eliciting a playful jab from Mark in response. “Ready to bounce?” Mark inquired, retrieving the keys from their weathered brown coffee table. With a swift exit from their apartment, they made their way to Mark’s black car, leading the way to the address provided by Y/N.

As the engine hummed softly, the boys lounged in the car, nodding along to the tunes dancing from the radio while engaging in casual banter. It was a familiar ritual, comfortablity filled the air between them. However, Haechan couldn't resist bringing up their upcoming tennis match.

"You're in for a challenge, Mark. Let's face it, you've never been able to beat me," Haechan teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Mark chuckled, a hint of defiance in his response. "Hey, I've been putting in the work. Don't be surprised if I give you a run for your money this time dickhead."

Haechan raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by Mark's sudden confidence. Their banter continued, laced with friendly jabs and laughter, each remark fueling their competitive spirits.

“Desperate for her number, huh?” Haechan retorted, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re the one talking about letting her mess with your balls, Hyuck.” Mark shoots back.

Their laughter once again fills the car as they continued to playfully joke with each other, the excitement of the evening's events adding an extra layeto their exchange. Finally, they arrived at their destination—a sprawling mansion adorned with luxurious sports cars lining the street.

After a brief struggle to find parking, they made their way inside, greeted by the pulsating beats of dance music and the buzz of animated conversations. The high-class surroundings dazzled them as they navigated through the crowd, their eyes drawn to the grandeur of the estate.

Amidst the sea of glamorous guests, they found themselves, settling into two chairs to get a full layout on the type of party the were at. Snacking on treats and sipping on beers, they exchanged jokes and observations, enjoying the rare opportunity for both of them to be at a party.

Suddenly, their attention was drawn to her, and both Mark and Haechan found themselves momentarily transfixed on the figure in front of them. Y/N emerged onto the dance floor, a vision of ethereal beauty that left them speechless. Her h/c hair, usually styled in a braid or ponytail, cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders, adding to the enchantment of her presence. Clad in a stunning green floral dress that hugged her curves perfectly , the fabric shimmered softly under the glow of the lights, leaving an impression of effortless elegance.

Today, Y/N had adorned herself with a touch of makeup, enhancing her already captivating features. Dark and sleek eyeliner accentuated her mesmerizing doe eyes, while her long lashes fluttered with every movement, like butterfly wings. Her lips, painted a delicate shade of pink, appeared plump and inviting, complementing the subtle flush that graced her cheeks. Despite the challenge of dancing in heels, she moved with a grace that seemed otherworldly, just like how she looked when she played tennis. Absolutely fucking stunning.

As the music shifted to "Flashing Lights," her gaze met theirs, and with a subtle beckoning gesture, she invited them to join her on the dance floor. The boys, affected slightly by the buzz of their drinks and the allure of her presence, eagerly rose to their feet and made their way towards her.

“As i recall i know you love to show off”

Y/N greeted them with a warm smile, her eyes alight with mischief. "Well, look who decided to grace my little party with their presence," she remarked, her voice carrying a playful tone as she welcomed them into her world.

"Little?" Mark's voice squeaked incredulously. "I've seen so many famous tennis players, 'little' my ass. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle at Mark’s remark. “Excuse me for trying to be a bit humble then,” she replied, her laughter filling the air as her hips swayed to the beat of the music. Taking both boys by the hand, she pulled them into a lively dance, their movements synchronized effortlessly.

"But I never thought you'd take it this far,"

Haechan’s eyes fixed on Y/N, not being able to hold backing on complimenting her. "You look really good, Y/N," he remarked, his admiration evident in his gaze.

“What do i know”? (flashing lights)”

“What do i know? (flashing lights)”

"Thanks," Y/N replied with a smile, her eyes flickering between the two admittedly handsome boys. "You guys clean up nicely as well," she added, a genuine warmth in her voice that sent a flush to both of their cheeks.

As the music boomed around them, they danced in perfect harmony, their laughter mingling with the beat. Y/N's eyes danced between Mark and Haechan, a playful glint in her gaze as she observed their lidded expressions.

"You guys aren't half bad dancers," she teased, her words punctuated by their shared laughter.

"I know it's been awhile, sweetheart. We hardly talk. I was doing my thing."

The boys shared a playful giggle as they took turns spinning Y/N around the dance floor, their laughter mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music. With each twirl, they savored the fleeting moments, their movements synchronized. As the music reached an end, Y/N leaned in close, whispering something in each of their ears, causing their faces to flush with a shared understanding.

Grabbing their hands with an air of determination, Y/N led them through a pathway that wound its way through the backyard of the estate, the fading music serving as a backdrop to their little secret adventure. As they emerged from the wooded area, the tranquil expanse of the beach stretched out before them, the gentle lapping of the waves providing a soothing melody to their senses.

Taking seats on chairs arranged by the shore, the trio settled into a comfortable silence, the cool sea breeze mingling with the warmth of their shared company. Y/N, her eyes sparkling with mischief, couldn't resist a playful jab at their indulgence in alcohol before their upcoming games.

"Drinking is kind of stupid when you both have games tomorrow," she teased, her gaze flickering between the boys. Tempted to flick their foreheads for this.

Haechan rolled his eyes, retrieving a cigarette and offering one to Mark before lighting it for him. Y/N raised an eyebrow at the gesture, declining the offer with a faux disgusted giggle.

"Hell no, those are nasty," she exclaimed, her voice light hearted.

Haechan shrugged nonchalantly, taking a drag from his cigarette. As Y/N e/c orbs peer into Mark’s. “That’s exactly why y’alls stamina is so shit. You’re killing your precious lungs.”

Mark chuckled at the girl reprimanding their bad habits, he crosses his legs as he blew smoke into the air. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he replied, his tone laced with amusement before moving to another subject.

"So, why exactly did you bring us here?" Mark inquired, his gaze drifting towards the ocean as Y/N turned to face the vast expanse before them. His heart skipped a beat as he admired her beautiful side profile, captivated by her pure natural allure. With a shrug, Y/N remained silent, leaving an air of intrigue hanging between them as they all savored the serenity of the moment.

"I dunno, it was getting loud over there, and I didn't wanna fake socialize with people who aren't better than me," Y/N explained with a smirk, her eyes twinkling mischievously as the boys chuckled at her honesty. It was a classic Y/N move, prioritizing authenticity over superficiality.

"So, you're hanging with us because we're on your level now?" Haechan teased, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed Y/N's reaction.

Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head in amusement. "Nah, you guys are just decent company at times," she replied lighthearted, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them easily. As the three go quiet again, Haechan felt a surge of boldness wash over him. Whether it was the influence of the alcohol, Y/N’s captivating beauty, or the buzz from the cigarette, he blurted out the idea of Y/N coming over to their apartment later that night.

Y/N's soft giggles filled the air, and Mark groaned inwardly, already bracing himself for the inevitable rejection. To their surprise, however, Y/N nodded in agreement.

"Oh, what the hell, why not?" she replied with a shrug, her playful demeanor sparking a newfound excitement in the boys.

"But you try anything funny, and I will beat you to death with my racquet , and I mean that," she added with an scary grin, her warning laced with a hint of seriousness that sent a shiver down the boys' spines. With nervous laughter, they led her back to their car, their minds buzzing with anticipation for the night ahead.

•

•

The car ride was enveloped in a tranquil silence, the soft strains of "Good Days" gently filling the airwaves as Mark navigated the familiar route to their off-campus apartment. As they pulled into the parking spot, Haechan gracefully exited the passenger seat, extending a courteous gesture to Y/N who had opted to sit in the back. "After you, milady," he quipped, offering his hand to assist her as they made their way towards the apartment.

Mark fumbled with the keys for a moment before finally unlocking the door, gesturing inside as he ushered Y/N in. "Welcome to our humble abode," he declared, a hint of pride evident in his voice as Y/N surveyed the surprisingly tidy surroundings.

The apartment exuded a cozy charm, with vinyl records and album posters adorning the walls, interspersed with a smattering of tennis plaques and a vintage karaoke machine nestled in the corner. A case of beer awaited in the living room, a silent invitation to unwind and enjoy the evening.

"Wow, it's really nice in here," Y/N remarked, slipping off her heels and settling onto the inviting gray couch.

The boys followed suit, with Mark offering Y/N a beer, which she graciously accepted. As they cracked open their beverages, the atmosphere relaxed further, the alcohol warming their throats and each others presences filling the room with warmth.

Seated on the couch, they engaged in casual conversation, with Y/N initiating a series of random personal questions that sparked laughter and semi-detailed answers. Before long, the effects of the alcohol began to take hold, their inhibitions loosening as they found themselves sprawled on the floor, Y/N playfully investigating them from her perch on the couch. As the night unfolded, they embraced the weird intimacy of their shared moments, the alcohol-induced haze adding to the boldness of their hangout.

"How long have you known each other?" Y/N inquired, her curiosity piqued as she leaned back on the couch, her eyes flickering between Mark and Haechan.

"Since we were 12," Mark replied, launching into a detailed account of their shared history, recounting the years spent at a preppy all-boys boarding school.

“It makes sense, you guys seem really close. Not gonna lie, I thought you were boyfriends at first,” Y/N admitted with a half-serious tone, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “And as much as I tease you guys, I’m not a homewrecker,” she added, her words causing both boys to flush crimson and nearly choke on their beers.

"No, no, it's nothing like that," Mark interjected hastily, wiping his beer-covered mouth with the back of his hand. Despite his initial embarrassment, Haechan couldn't help but giggle as a memory from a few years ago resurfaced.

"Well, actually..." Haechan began, but Mark caught wind of what he was about to say and attempted to interject. However, Y/N's curiosity was piqued, and she leaned forward, her attention solely focused on Haechan as she urged him to continue, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

"Well, a few years ago, Mark needed help learning how to kiss a girl, right?" Haechan started, prompting an audible groan from Mark, who buried his face in a nearby pillow, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Haechan continued, his laughter slightly slurred from the alcohol. "So, he asked for my help," he admitted, wiggling his eyebrows playfully as Mark retaliated with a punch to his arm.

"Markie over here didn't lose his virginity until he was like 20, and he definitely was late on kissing girls," Haechan teased, earning another embarrassed groan from Mark. "So, around this time, we were about 17 or 18-ish, and little Markie here comes to me, all upset, saying some girl from his class asked him out, but he's nervous because he's never kissed a girl before."

Y/N nodded, intrigued by the unfolding story, her eyes flickering between Haechan and Mark. "So, we sat in my bedroom, watching kissing videos on fucking pornhub, weird, right?" Haechan chuckled, glancing at Mark, who looked away in embarrassment.

"And then I told him to apply that to me," Haechan continued, his tone tinged with amusement. "And we kissed. He actually wasn't too bad, surprisingly, a bit better than some of the girls I've been with," he confessed honestly raising his arms up , chuckling as Mark reprimanded him for telling the story.

"See, I knew there was something between you two," Y/N remarked with a giggle, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned back on the couch, reveling in the shared intimacy of their conversation.

“Ugh, it was one time. I’d rather have a tennis ball hit at my balls full speed than kiss him again.” Mark whines as Haecahn laughs at the boy.

For a minute the room went silent at the and Y/N stared at both of the boys mischievously before sitting up on the couch and patting each spot next to her.

“Come here,” she says, eyeing both of the boys as they both perk up in synchronicity.

“Which one of us?”

Y/N just shrugs as both boys quickly join her on the couch.

The tension in the air is electrifying as Y/N turns to face Haechan. His big brown eyes are beautiful and full of mischief; she’s never been this close to him before, and she can see the little moles on his face, which fit his golden skin so well. She leans in, landing a kiss on his soft, plump lips. She whines into this kiss, slightly tugging at his hair as he squeaks at the sudden pain, which felt so good at the same time. She can taste the cigarette smoke on his breath with the combo of beer and peppermint he and Mark popped in the midst of their earlier conversation. The taste was so addicting that she almost didn’t want to pull away.

Mark is sitting on the other side of her, watching everything go down. His heart is beating out of his chest, and he feels blood rush down his pants. He doesn’t know if he feels jealously or turned on, maybe a combo of both, but holy shit, this has to be the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Haechan whines as his eyes flutter open, his eyelashes tickling Y/N’s cheek as he slowly pulls away , watching as Y/N turns to mark.

“Don’t think I forgot you, Markie.”

The boy blushes at the nickname he’s never heard her say before, and he can feel himself getting more and more antsy as she leans in, crashing his lips into hers.

Not to much surprise, Mark was way more of a messier kisser than Haechan. Maybe it was just desperation, but Mark was practically eating Y/N’s mouth, devouring her entirely. Haechan giggled watching Mark try and be in control, only for Y/N to bite his lips, causing him to yelp a bit as his pink lips open slightly and Y/N takes this opportunity to stick her tongue in his mouth. After awhile, Mark gets a hang of it, and their tongues dance in each other's mouths, swapping spit that tasted of alcoholic peppermint nicotine, and cherry lipgloss which only made them feel more dizzy.

She threads her slender hands through Mark’s pitch-black hair. Tugging it like she did Hyuck’s causing Mark to moan loudly into her mouth. Y/N giggles against his mouth before slowly separating a trail of spit, connecting their mouths together.

“Okay no homo, but that was so fucking hot,” Haechan says, staring at the two lust evident in his lidded eyes as they all giggle at his remark.

“Come a bit closer. Y/N commands softly but sternly. Both boys quickly obey, not questioning her intentions one bit.

Y/N turns again to kiss Haechan, he eagerly engulfs her lips, as Y/N feels a strong hand trailing her body, to her surprise not wanting to be left out Mark’s hand is swirling on her thigh, hiking up her floral green dress before tracing his hand around her whole body finding her neck.

Y/N moans from the stimulation of Haechan’s tongue, hungrily exploring her mouth and then desperate touch of Mark’s finger tips surveying her neck. Mark then latches his mouth on Y/N’s neck, causing an high pitched moan causing her to pull away a bit from Haechan. The slow peppered kisses turn into biting as Mark sucks little mark’s on her neck (lol). Haechan grabs her thighs, before moving close to kiss her deeper. He can feel her mouth vibrate in his as his friend leaves trails all along her long neck.

Haechan being competitive person he was, moves his hand up closer, finding her soaked black panties and trailing his fingers around hee clit slowly from the outside. Y/N arches her back in pleasure unintentionally moving away from Mar’s assault on her neck.

“Holy Shit, you’re so fucking wet.” Haechan stammers in awe. Y/N needly whines as Haechan moves his fingers a little bit more.

"I can’t believe you’re getting off to this; you’re so weird.” He says, laughing, as she rolls her eyes too horny to argue.

Mark, who is just as competitive, was raking his brain trying to figure out how to one up on Haechan. He begins to move his hand down from her neck, to her dress so he can grope her tits. Before he could get a chance, Y/N swiftly pushed the boys back, seizing their hands of in a sudden, decisive move. Their faces morphed into surprise and confusion , gazing at her with pleading, puppy-like expressions.

She coos as them opening her mouth to speak, her throat slightly hoarse from their activities. Turning to Mark, she plants a gentle kiss on his lips, then repeats the gesture with Haechan. With a smirk on her face, she draws both of their lips close to hers, initiating a three-way , all their lips drunkily taking each other's in, in a blissful haze. They weren’t worried about anything in the world other than tasting each other. Moans escape their lips, the sounds were so lewd, but melodic at the same time. Their tongues poke out exploring one another eagerly, mingling saliva as they hungrily devour each other's essence.

Y/N leans back, her eyes half-lidded, savoring the scene unfolding before her. In a sneaky movement, she removes herself from the embrace of the two boys. Watching as, the brown and black-haired boy’s become lost in each other's lips, completely oblivious to the fact that Y/N is no longer in the middle.

Sensations of warmth and arousal intensify within her as she continues to observe the scene before her, slowly biting her lips lustfully. With each passing moment, their kisses grow more fervent, each boy trying to fight for dominance. Haechan emerges victorious, asserting his control over Mark with a deep moan inducing kiss. His fingers tangle in Mark's soft hair, eliciting raspy moans of desire from the other boy. Haechan responds with a throaty groan, deepening their kiss with an insatiable hunger to please.

Y/N gasps softly, as she moves her hand to her black panties, slowly sticking her hand in and playing with her clit area as she softly pants, watching the scene in front of her.

The boys come to an erupt stop, as their ears hear the melodic voice of what seems to be an angel in disguise. They open their eyes and look at each other, both of the boys eyes were blown out, their pupils huge and lips swollen as they back away from each other. They turn their attention to the girl laying back on the couch in-between them, they eyes follow her delicate fingers, watching her play with her soaked cunt caused by them. A groan is drawled out of both of the boys, both of them hard as they feel their pants strain against them.

Mark's gaze scans over Y/N's form, taking in every detail before exchanging a knowing glance with Haechan, silently conveying his intentions. With a mischievous grin, he moves towards Y/N, prompting her to let out an unexpected shriek as he scoops her up into his arms.

As Mark carries her, Haechan follows closely behind, their footsteps echoing through the hallway as they make their way to Haechan's room. Haechan throws open the door, and Mark gently sets Y/N onto the bed. Y/N confidently giggles, scooting back against some soft pillows as Mark gets up to close the bedroom door.She looks up and down at the boys, before clearing her throat.

“I’m in charge. I hope you guys know that,” she says, crossing her arms as Mark joins Haechan and her on the bed.

“And for the love of God, use condoms; I don’t know where your dick’s have been.” She snickers as Haechan points to the dresser next to her, signaling her to open it.

She opens a brown drawer to find a pack of condoms before tossing them on the bed.

“How often does this happen? going after the same girl, I mean?” Y/N says, giggling.

“Not as often as you think” Haechan says, as Mark nods, saying they tend to have different types.

Y/N hums looking at them.

“What makes me so different?”

The way she said it was so sultry, almost like it was a challenge, which, for some reason, turned on the two even more.

“Please let us show you.” Mark says, inching closer, and Y/N nods at the eager boy, patting his head.

“Be my fucking guest.”. she replies shortly.

She slowly pulls off her dress, revealing the fact she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her tits sit perfectly, and she turns to Haechan as she hears a loud groan from him. She giggles, slowly taking off her pants, getting a gasp from Mark.

“Ugh, Y/N, please stop teasing us.” Mark says strained. His eyes were dark and desperate, as the girl ahushed him before flinging her panties at him. Catching them he brings his nose up to the piece fabric taking in the scent and groaning.

“You’re such a freak,” Y/N says, laughing before turning her attention to the two boys equally.

 “Strip,” she says in one word, and in a whirlwind, both of the boys are sitting on the fluffy, king-size bed naked in front of her.

“Fuck.” Y/N mutters, looking at the two.The vigorous practice, plus the diet and gym routine she had given both of the boys, had them looking too fucking good. Both of their bodies were so toned and sculpted, with flat tummies and abs that would make any Greek god jealous. Y/N let out a small moan at this beautiful sight.

“Eager, much?.” Haechan cheekily says, eyeing her.

“Don’t get too cocky; remember, I’m the one calling the shots.” She says she is crawling towards the boy, grabbing his chin and squeezing is cheeks. Haechan nods. gazing at the girl, not even wanting to argue with the beautiful goddess in front of him. She then turns to face Mark, grabbing his chin as well with her free hand.

“Show me how bad you fucking want me,” she whispers loud enough for them to hear.

All of a sudden, hands are everywhere, grabbing at everything. The room is filled with desperation, sweat, and melodic sounds as both boys explore Y/N’s bodies. Their eyes took everything in as their fingers delved into every part of her body before Haechan decided to sink a slender finger in her cunt, receiving a shaky moan.

“Shush, baby, it’s okay; we’ve got you,” Mark says.

“Mmhm, we are going to take such good care of you.” Haechan adds, slowly pumping his finger in and out, feeling it get wetter and wetter.

“Fuckk, you’re so fucking wet.” Mark says watching as his best friend's fingers go in an out-of Y/N’s puffy cunt, he can’t help but slowly rub himself at the sight.

“Shut up, I’m in charge.” Y/N huffs out before being shushed.

“Oh, please, you love this; you’re so fucking wet from watching me and my best friend play with each other and play with you.” Haechan hums, adding an extra finger and slightly speeding up.

“You’re going to be so good for me and Markie, hm?” Haechans says, watching as the girl's eyes roll to the back of her head, slowly muttering a defeated, “Mhmm.”

“Damn, I wasn’t expecting you to give up this easily, he says before turning his attention to Mark. “Quit playing with your dick and join me.” He scoffs as Mark’s hands glide against Y/N’s tits, flicking and toying with her nipples, listening to the sounds of her moans like it’s the most beautiful song he’s ever heard.

He lowers his mouth to her perfect tits, clasping his mouth on the buds before sucking rhythmically. Y/N’s back arches, her cunt clenching around Haechan's fingers.

“Fuck Mark, keep doing that; her little cunt is squeezing my fingers so tight; fuckk, I bet it feels so good.”

Mark moans at his friends words as he sucks harder and plays with the other tit in his hand.

“Yeah, good boy, keep doing that.” Haechan says watching at how both Y/N and Mark react to the praise he gave Mark.

Mark groans at the praise, eyeing Haechan as intensifies his pace, eliciting louder and more desperate cries from Y/N. Her orgasm approaching rapidly, her moans escalating in getting higher and higher. However, just as she fills her organs about to wash over, Haechan abruptly stops, leaving Y/N to bolt up in frustration. "Ah! Why did you stop?" she groans, her expression a mix of defeat and longing, her eyes pleading with Haechan as Mark retreats, creating space between them.

“Because I don’t want you to cum yet,” he simply says.

“You need to cum on one of our cocks.” He adds, causing both Mark and Y/N to lewdly gasp.“Our Markie has been so good, don’t you think?” Haechan says, looking at y/n, her eyes sparking as she nods.

“Why don’t you give me a little treat? You know he’s been practicing so hard just to get your attention, just to get your number.” He trails off, and I think he deserves this“.

Y/N nods slowly, getting off the bed, and finding her way on her knees. She watches as Mark turns to face the edge of the bed, eyes looking down at her, and she swears she can see his heart being out of his chest.

“H-Hey, Y/N” Mark stutters lustfully.

“Hi Markie,” Y/N says just as lustfully before tracing a hand on his thigh, slowly grabbing his hard cock and pumping it.

Mark immediately reacts, bucking his hips as he lets out groans at the sensation.

“Open your hand.” Haechan says to Y/N as he sits next to Mark.

The girl obeys; opening her hands as Haechan spats in them. Mark tilts his head quizzically, then he feels his best friend's warm spit on his cock being pumped by the girl of any persons dreams, and he can’t help but absolutely lose his mind in the moment.

Haechan closes the small distance between him and Mark, his breath hot against his ear as he murmurs words of praise and desire, fueling the intensity of this scene. With a sense of urgency, he pulls Mark into a passionate kiss, their lips meeting in an electrifying embrace. The intensity of their kiss sparks a reaction from Y/N, who widens are mouth, her tongue swirling around the tip of Mark's cock, sending shivers coursing through his body as she begins to softly suck.

Breaking away from the kiss, Mark guides Y/N's flowy hair, urging her to go deeper, whimpering cutely in the proces. She complies, knowing exactly how to please him. Mark's head falls back, his hair disheveled, strands clinging to his forehead like he's just emerged from a heated tennis match. Occasionally, his gaze meets Y/N's big, doe-like eyes as she works her magic, causing a surge of arousal mixed with a pang of overwhelmingness to ripple through him. At this point Mark unable to tear his gaze away, even as the heat of the moment threatens to overwhelm him.

As Mark's hips buck forward, Y/N's hand travels up Haechan's thigh, her fingers finding his thick hard cock, guiding it with deliberate precision. "Holy fuck, this slut knows how to handle cocks," Haechan moans appreciatively, his voice thick with desire as he encourages her to quicken her pace. “Maybe tennis isn’t the only thing you’re good at- He stammers barely finishing his sentence so loss in pleasure. Y/N groans around Mark’s cock, as she can sense him getting closer by the twitching of his legs.

Sensing that he’s about to cum, she takes her hand off of Haechan, focusing all her attention on Mark. His exclamations of "fuck," "shit," and "dude" fill the air, punctuating the intensity of the moment as he edges closer to climax.

She takes him in the back of her throat as she feels his cock twitch in her mouth, releasing a slightly sweet and salty thick liquid, which she swallows half of before getting off her knees and turning to kiss Haechan, Mark’s cum still in her mouth.

Although he just came, Mark can feel himself getting hard all over again watching Y/N and his best friend swap his cum in their mouths before they swallow, it backing away from each other, smirking.

“Good job, Markie." she says pinching the boy's cheeks before she feels two bodies pin her down.

 “Ah, we aren’t done with you just yet.” Haechan says as Y/N gulps a bit.

“Remember I said I wanted you to cum all over our cocks?”Y/N nods as Haechan smiles wickedly, looking at Mark. “So that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”

“Mark, sit and watch how I tame this slut.” Mark nods obediently as he watches Y/N whimper at the degrading nickname. He watches as Haechan quickly slips a condom on and positions himself right in between Y/N’s sticky thighs.

“Beg for it,” Haechan says, looking down at the girl.

“Oh, cmon, Donghyuck, stop it.” She sassily says using his full name.

This causes Haechan to softly grab the girl's neck and getting near her ear.

“Be a fucking good girl and beg; you know you fucking want it.” He demands sternly, signaling that he is not playing any games. Y/N gulps before opening her mouth to beg.

“Please, hyuckie, I need your cock so bad, please fuck.” She breathed out slightly embarrassed, causing Haechan to evilly giggle at her submission.

“Fuck, I wish you could be like this all the time. He says as he slowly slips the tip in, causing the two to both moan.

“Oh fuck, this hurts.” Y/N whimpers, her eyes watering, as Mark glides his hand over her hair, playing with it, hushing her and whispering sweet words.

“Oh, cmon, you can’t take it,” Haechan says, slowly lowering himself more as he feels her tight pussy squeeze around him.

“See, you’re squeezing around me, and I can feel you getting wetter, you fucking love it,” he says, bottoming out and pushing his fat cock into her.

She moans, almost crying, as Mark continues to play with her hair, trying to calm her down as Haechan begins to go at a steady pace.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight and wet, you’re swallowing my fucking cock whole.”

Y/N moans in esctacy as the pain fades into pure pleasure.

“S-sooo good, hyuckie.” She purrs, her eyes squeezing closed .

“Aht, open those pretty eyes doll, Haechan says, reaching down to grab her face.

“Look at me when I’m fucking you, slut.” He ordered causing Y/N to gush around him, only makes him speed up.

“Yeah, you like that? You like when I degrade you while my soft little best friend coddles you, hm?” Y/N whimpers, shaking her head and babbling incoherent nonsense as Mark pulls her hair a bit.“Use your words when Haechan is talking to you baby.” Mark says, surprising both Haechan & Y/N.

“Y-yes, sir,” Y/N stammers.

“Well, who are you talking to, Haechan or Me?” Mark says sternly tugging a bit more as she utters both softly.

“Yeah, that’s our good girl,” Mark says, feeling this surge of confidence out of nowhere.

Mark watches as Haechan continues to fuck Y/Ns cunt, igniting a pang of jealousy within him. He wants more than anything to feel her warm cunt coating his cock. He groans at the thought of it, wishing he could trade places with Haechan.

Haechan laughs, looking at Mark’s desperate state, before raising an eyebrow practically reading the boy’s mind .

“You want a turn?”

Mark eagerly nods as, slowly pulls out of Y/N, she moans at the absence.

“Oh, don’t be so sad, doll; Markie just wants a turn.” Hyuck winks before moving so Mark can get in between her thighs. Mark shuffles off the bed before looking at Y/N’s needy state.

There was something so hot about seeing their arrogant, sassy “coach” absolutely fucking desperate. Her eyes were glazed and wet as a few tears stained her beautiful cheeks; the makeup she had on from the party was smeared; her lips plump and swollen; and in the dim bedroom light, he could make out the marks and hickeys from earlier on her neck.

His eyes trailed down to her cunt; it’s still wet and waiting to be touched. He notices that it’s a bit puffy and swollen from Haechan’s assault on it.

Mark groans, biting his lip before hovering over the girl closer.

“Hey!” he says looking down into her beautiful eyes.

“Hi Markie.” She gives me a half-smile, her eyes pleading to be used.

Before she could say anything else, she yelps as she felt herself being flipped over on her stomach. Mark quickly grabbing her hair into a make shift pony, as she arched back from pleasure and pain.

Haechan whistles as he makes a comment not realizing Mark was such an “ass guy” Mark ignored him and rubs y/n’s ass groaning before giving a small slap, she moans enjoying it more than she’d like to admit.

“You like that, hm?” Mark says, using his surge of confidence

“Mayb-.” Her sentence is cut off as she feels Mark slide into her wet cunt. She moans at how deep he feels. Haechan may be thick, but Mark’s cock was so long, and Y/N swears she can feel it hitting every spot as he begins to thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good.” He groans, pushing her face down into the pillow.

“Shhhhh, be quiet, baby,” Mark says, speeding up absolutely loss in bliss.

Haechan, on the other hand, was totally enjoying the show; he decided to let his friend take over because, for some reason, he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time something like that happened. So he sat on the other end of the bed, pumping his cock, watching his best friend fuck Y/N so desperately.

Haechan pumps his thick cock faster his tip is bright red and his hands slightly slippery, a mix of spit, cum, and the wetness from being Y/N’s warm cunt. Haechan moans, eyes glued at the sight.

Mark can feel himself getting closer and closer as he speeds up.“F-fuck mark, I'm going to cum please, please.” Y/N whimpers into the pillow; they can almost barely make out her garbled speech as Mark speeds up even faster. He reaches his hand to toy with her clit, causing her to cry into the pillow in pleasure.

“Fuck yes, cum all over my cock, baby, show me how good we make you feel,” Mark moans, feeling his orgasm catch up as well.

With one hand Haechan lifts Y/N’s head up from the pillow as he feverishly pumps his thick cock. Reaching his breaking point , he groans her name, glazing her face in his warm cum. This in turn caused Y/N to clench around Mark’s cock even more. Mark began to quickly rub on Y/N’s swollen clit area as she lets out a string of strained moans cumming all over him.

She clenches one more time around his cock due to the overestimation, which in turn causes Mark to throw his head back, cumming with a loud moan.

The trio are all frozen for a bit before Mark slips his now soft cock out of Y/N. He takes the cum filled condom and sits it on the floor as Haechan gets up and grabs a t-shirt.

“Y/N, don’t move,” they both say at the same time. Mark leaves the room for a second, as Haechan gently begins to wipe his cum off her face.

“You know you’re very pretty,” Haechan says, staring at her. Although tired, the girl laughs, stating, I know, and thanking Haechan for cleaning her up. He nods as he watches as Mark comes back in with some clothes and some water bottles.He hands a bottle to Haechan before handing Y/N some of his own spare boxers and one of Haechan’s old t-shirts.

“I got them right out of the dryer; they’re super clean.” Y/N thanks the boy before changing in front of them.

 If they thought she was beautiful before, something about both of the boys seeing her in their clothes made her 100 times more beautiful.

 “So, are you just going to stare, or are we going to cuddle or something?” Y/N says, giggling

“I didn’t take you as a cuddler.” Haechan’s mutters

“Okay, and I didn’t expect to have a three-way with you losers; guess today is just full of surprises.” They all chuckle as they opt to all go into Mark’s room since Haechan’s sheets were soiled from their little activities.

Hand in hand, they walk the short stride to Mark’s room before they all settle under the covers. as Mark puts on some random tennis match.

“So, who’s a better kisser?” Y/N half jokingly teases, looking at Mark as he blushes.

“No comment,” he says, embarrassed, as Haechan laughs at the two.

“Sooo, can we get your number now? I mean, we literally just fucked.” Haechan says sneakily.

Y/N laughs before sinking under the covers.

“Nope, whoever wins the game tomorrow, remember, ahh, or should I say today?” Y/N evilly laughs, looking at the clock in Mark’s room, which reads 3:35 a.m..

“I would get some rest tonight, just saying.”

Both boys eyes widen in shock as their eyes land on the clock, groaning at the time.

 “Remember, boys, this is a game about winning the points that actually matter.” Y/N softly says before closing her eyes to go to bed.

Leaving both boys sitting up to rack through their brains. How the fuck are they going to beat one another?

•

•

HIIII my first full fic LOL!! i’m oddly so proud of it 😭😭😭 i loved challengers and immediately had to do a markhyuck version !!! if u haven’t seen this movie pls go see it LOL!!💞💞☺️

[skylarsblue]

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

you had me at 'hello'

the sequel to daddy all along

pairing: dbf! leon x f! reader

cw: alcoholism, p in v, masturbation, oral sex

word count: 10k

a/n: "when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible" <3 (quote from when harry met sally, title from jerry maguire)

thank you to @thevirgincherry for your feedback!

Leon remembers when you used to call him on the phone as a child. You’d interrupt his work, and Hunnigan would tell him to hang up, but he’d ignore her for a few minutes. You were too important. You’d pace around the living room, telling him about your day at school, what you did at recess with your friends and the art project you’re working on. He loved to hear about it. Most days, it was the only good news he’d get.

It pained him to hang up, but he promised you he’d call to say goodnight, and he did. Even when he drank, he stepped outside the bar and tried his best not to slur his words.

“Do you have a daughter?” A woman he’d go home with would ask.

“No,” he’d say, but it felt like it.

When FaceTime was invented, it became your favorite activity. Leon would pay extra for an international phone plan and for wifi in every hotel room, so he could talk to you. He kicked a woman out of bed once to speak to you. He never saw her again and hasn’t thought of her since.

“It’s an important thing for work,” he told the woman.

She knew he was lying when she heard a little girl’s voice on the other end while she was putting her clothes back on. He didn’t bat an eye at her expression - confusion, distaste, bitterness, who cares? Not Leon.

You’re his favorite girl, the only girl he’s ever cared about.

The morning after your 21st, Leon gently shrugged you off him. He washed his face in the mirror, hoping to wipe away the previous night’s mistakes, but he was still the same old Leon. A fuck-up, an idiot, a pervert who slept with a girl he’d known since she was a baby.

When you woke up, he was in the shower. You’d go on to ask him if he jerked off, and he’d say no, but he did. It wasn’t lust, it was procrastination - five more minutes before he’d have to face you. He tried to think about Ada with one hand on the wall and the other on his dick. Your name slipped out when he came, and it felt like another violation, in addition to lying and then cumming down the drain with your shampoo bottles - the ones containing the sweet scent of you - scrutinizing him.

A long time ago, Leon promised he’d never lie to you. It was the one promise he’d kept - until that morning when he told you ‘something important came up, and he had to leave ASAP’.

You could see it in his eyes, but you took out your anger on your father, who deserved it more after he came home that afternoon with an obvious hangover. You screamed at him until he told you to go upstairs. You were already on your way.

Leon only knew how to deal with his problems in three ways: call his therapist, drink, or fuck. That day it was either drink or fuck because there was no way he could tell his therapist that his mental crisis was caused by fucking his friend’s daughter, a girl who was decades younger than him. It wasn’t an illegal act, but he still felt like he deserved to have the cops called on him. I should get the death penalty, he thought. Unfortunately, capital punishment was not allowed in D.C., but Leon considered the fact that his actions may have been heinous enough for him to be granted an exception. 

He decided on alcohol. He went to the ABC store, bought a handle of whiskey, got home, and dumped it down the kitchen sink. Nope. He promised everyone he was done with that. His therapist, Hunnigan, Claire, Chris, himself, and most importantly, you. He promised you.

Sex it was, then. He never promised anyone he’d be celibate. Leon was well over 40, so he didn’t use Tinder - though he had heard of it. He looked through his contacts list like a little black book, and his thumb hovered over a few names. He debated and picked Claire. Another idiotic decision.

“Hello?” Her voice already sounded suspicious. He didn’t call Claire on the phone often. They usually stuck to emails and texts.  

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m okay, Leon. Why are you calling?”

“I just wanted to talk. Do I need another reason?”

“Are you drunk?”

“No.”

There was a long pause until she said,“If I promise not to bring it up again, will you admit that you’re trying to get me to hook up with you?”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Goodbye, Leon.” She hung up on him. He should’ve expected it. He texted her an apology later, which she accepted.

Soon after, before he could make another mistake, he received a text from a number he hadn't saved. “Are you in D.C.?” It read.

“Who is this?”

“A.W.” She wouldn’t even sign her full name - didn’t want a paper trail. Classic Ada.

“Yeah, I’m home right now.”

“I’ll be there in an hour or so. I have some things to finish up.”

“K” Leon texted and left the door unlocked.

He knew it was her by the click of her heels.

“In the bedroom,” he called.

“Perfect,” she said when she reached the threshold, “Nice of you to be ready for me.”

He shrugged and smiled because he was tired and had been in that position for hours, but he’d pretend like he’d done her a favor by getting down to a pair of sweatpants before she arrived.

She worked on getting out of her dress. “Not going to help?” she asked, annoyed.

“Thought you could do it yourself,” he said, teasing her.

“Thought you treated your guests nicely.”

“I’m about to.” And he did. At least, nice enough. They didn’t talk during sex because they never do. They’d worked out the logistics of their arrangement long ago. It was a pretty sweet deal, especially since there were never any condoms involved. Leon didn’t mind paying the 40 or so for Plan B in the morning. He couldn’t give less of a fuck what the cashier at the pharmacy thought of him. 

“Can I talk to you?” he asked after round two. He used to have more stamina. 

“About what?” She was slightly more interested and less suspicious than Claire was when he’d called her earlier that night.

“I need advice.”

“That’s new. I’m flattered.”

“You know that girl, my friend’s daughter?”

“The one you’re always gushing about? She’s practically your daughter.”

Yeah, you really were his little girl, considering even Ada had heard about you from Leon. 

“Don’t say that.” His defensiveness was a confession in and of itself.

“You slept with her,” she said, matter–of-factly.

“How’d you know that?”

“I can see the guilt in your eyes. She’s an adult, right?”

“Yeah, just turned 21.”

“Okay. Nothing illegal, then. Just… an interesting situation.”

“Yeah, I fucked things up pretty bad.”

She hummed in agreement. There was no pity, but no ridicule either. She cared enough not to laugh at his idiocy.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

“Either be with her or don’t. Don’t string her along.”

“You’re one to talk,” he mumbled. He wanted the remark to pass through the air as a bit of his dry wit and not his eternal bitterness.

“I’m not stringing you along. You know that this is all we’re ever going to be.”

“That’s what I told her.” 

“But she’s 21. You’re much older, and if you can’t wrap your pretty little head around this arrangement yet, then…” 

He was 21 when he met Ada. And she broke his heart without giving him any reason to think whatever they had was more than a kiss. Ironic. He wondered if she knew the way she was playing with his head at the time. He’d always liked to believe she had a good heart, it was just deep, deep, deep down under all the layers of mystique and her cold disposition.

He was supposed to be the good man, the hero, a beacon of morality, of all things just. But he was on Ada’s level now. Ada the heartbreaker.  

“Can you just tell me what to do?” He asked, pissed off at his own indecision. 

“Why? So you can blame me later when you don’t like the choice you make?”

She knew him well. He stayed silent. 

“I’m not going to be your scapegoat,” she said.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but thank you for your honesty.”

She laughed - almost, but it was genuine amusement because, despite it all, she did care. People never really stop caring do they? She left in the morning and didn’t need an excuse, not like Leon did with you.

You told yourself you wouldn’t call, but weeks went by, and you hadn’t heard anything. You were wondering if was alive at that point. And you missed him. So you called.

His phone vibrated on the bedside table; he picked it up, looked at the caller ID, and saw your name. A part of him still got that same warm, fuzzy feeling that he always felt when you called, and the other part was full of dread and guilt.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” you said.

There was a lull. Dead air, not peaceful silence. 

“How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

“Doin’ fine.” It was a lie. You missed him too much to be considered “fine.”

Your hands should not have been traveling downward, but they were. They had a mind of their own that lived between your thighs. You couldn’t help the fact that his groggy voice made you ache.

“What are you doing right now?” You suppressed the urge to ask him what he was wearing and where he was. You imagined him sprawled out in bed, naked and ready for you.

“Nothing. I was lying in bed, nodding off when you called.” He wasn’t nodding off, but he was in bed, mind filled with memories and stress per usual.

“Sorry to interrupt your relaxation, then.”

“It’s no big deal.”

He told himself that he’d keep one hand on the phone and the other fidgeting with whatever he could find so as not to reach any lower than his waistline. But there was something about your voice, the way you were talking - it was different than usual. He was probably just imagining things, but it sounded like you were touching yourself.

He was getting hard already, and it was distracting. He had to do something about it. It was either jerk off to the sound of your voice or think about something horrific and grotesque to make his dick go soft. He spent enough time thinking about dead bodies and parasites, so he indulged himself and decided to worry about the consequences later. It’s not like you’d know anyway. Leon could be stealthy.

“What are you up to?” he asked.

“Calling you.” Your little laugh was light and airy, and maybe he wasn’t just imagining things. It was the voice you used when you asked him, so coquettish, to kiss you.

You thought you heard him moving around, and then he dropped the phone. He was trying to hold the phone between his ear and his shoulder while taking his pants off.

“Sorry. Dropped you,” he said when he retrieved the phone.

“How’d you do that? It just slipped out of your hands?”

Fuck. She caught on quick. Too smart for her own good. 

“Guess so.” He didn’t have an excuse. All of the blood that was supposed to be in his brain was in his cock, which was now painfully hard.

“What have you been doing these past weeks?”

“Work mostly.” Thinking about you. I can’t get you off my mind, no matter how many other women I sleep with.

“Anything fun?” your question felt pointed even though it wasn’t.

“A little bit.”

“Like what?”

“Some things should stay a secret. I’ll tell you when you’re older.” He would never tell you about his escapades with Ada.

You thought you knew what he meant. You couldn’t decide whether to be jealous or not. You were too focused on remembering what he looked like during sex, and it was a glorious sight. Someone should paint him, sculpt him, anything to preserve his beauty, you thought. It was worthy of a new renaissance. 

“Have you been up to anything fun?” he asked, not sure whether he wanted to hear about any of your sexual escapades or not.

“No. Just lounging around the house mostly.”

“Hangin’ with your dad?”

“Can we not talk about dad right now?” Your dad really kills the mood.

“Are you guys not in a good place?”

“It’s not that, I just don’t wanna think about him right now. I’d rather think about you.”

The words came out more suggestive than you intended. You could hear his breath hitch, and it might have been arousal, or it might have been surprise, but he knows.

“Oh? You’re thinking about me?”

“What else would I be thinking about?”

“I don’t know.”

He coughed to hide a groan that wanted to leave his mouth while you were biting your lip to hold back any moans.

“Leon…” you said, and it was the same voice you used to call him daddy the night he found out what it felt like to be inside you. 

“Uh-huh?”

“How do you feel about me?”

I love you. “You know how I feel about you. I think you’re great. You’re a great girl.”

“A good girl?”

Fuck it. He’ll take the bait. “Yes, you’re a good girl.”

“Even now?” He could hear your pouty lips and dewy eyes. He could see the image of you coming undone beneath him. Angelic, soft, heavenly, ineffably so. 

“Why wouldn’t you be? Are you up to something… naughty?”

“Maybe. It depends. Are you?”

He didn’t answer because you both knew that you were in the same state - naked and needy.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“In bed.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Your shirt.”

The one he left there. It only aroused him more. It was a white t-shirt, and the fabric was thin enough that if Leon were there, he’d get a peek of your nipples hardening through the fabric. He could slip his hands under your shirt and play with your tits. He could, if only things were different.

“What else?”

“Nothing.”

Nothing. You are naughty.

“Nothing?”

“Are you wearing clothes?”

“Barely.”

“Why did you drop the phone before? Taking your dick out?” You were so flippant and crass that it should’ve sounded ridiculous, but Leon was too hard to care. 

“Might have been.”

“Did I catch you while you were already jerking off or…?” Or was it me?

“No, I wasn’t when I picked up.”

“But you are now.” It was not a question.

He took a deep breath. “I’ll admit it, as long as you admit you’re touching yourself too.”

“I am.”

“Is that why you called?”

“No, I wanted to check on you.” It was true. At least, in your conscious mind, but maybe your subconscious always knew that you wanted to do this.

“And what? You like my voice that much?”

“Yeah.”

Leon closed his eyes and allowed it to happen, giving himself this one little sin because he’d been good for so long, more than good - heroic.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“You, Daddy. I told you.”

Daddy? Jesus Christ. Leon was sure he was pushing his luck with God. He was getting more than he deserved in this bargain. Honestly, he never deserved anything you gave him. You were so perfect and he felt like he was ruining you. 

“Be specific, princess.”

“I wish you were touching me.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“I want your fingers inside me.”

“My fingers, huh?”

“No, more than that. I want your mouth, too. I want all of you.”

Your voice faltered mid-sentence like you were getting closer to your peak, but by the end of your statement, your confidence overrode anything else. You didn’t just want his fingers, his mouth, his dick; you wanted all of him. You wanted his fucking heart and soul.

“You have me.”

“I want you here, inside me.”

He needed to be inside you. Fuck his dignity, fuck his sensibility, fuck his morality. He needed to feel your warmth around him again.

“I want that too.”

“Did it feel good for you? Did you like the way it felt with me?”

You were begging for a yes, and it was easy for him to give it to you. The truth is easy.

“The best. You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“You’re lying.”

“I wish I was lying, princess.”

“Leon,” you whined, and it didn’t matter that you weren’t physically there; the sound reverberated through his dick, and he was dangerously close.

“I know,” he said, “Me too.”

“Can I? Please?” You didn’t have to ask, but it was hot when you did.

Leon wanted to make you beg, but he needed you to come first, and if he heard you say please again, he’d risk coming before you - no, he would come before you. He was already teetering on the edge.

“Come for me,” he said.

And you did. You were muffling your moans with your hand over your mouth, but you were close enough to the phone that Leon could hear it. He was lucky he was alone because he didn’t hold back when he moaned out your name. He shouldn’t have done that at all, though. Just another tally to add to the endless list of sins.

“Thank you,” you said.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, meaning it two-fold. Please do not mention this.

“Am I going to see you again?”

“Yes, you’ll see me again.”

I’m never going to leave you, and you know it.

The next time you two saw each other, Leon picked you up from the hospital. You were not the patient, thank God. It was your dad. Drunk driving accident. Leon was more pissed than anything else.

The nurse asked if they should call your mom, and you laughed. Dare you to try, you wanted to say. They understood.

“Is there someone you can call?” They could see the loneliness behind your stoic facade.

“I can try.”

You called Leon.

“Hey,” he answered, not knowing his nonchalance was inappropriate for the circumstances.

You didn’t cry when you drove to the hospital. You’ve been your father’s emergency contact since you turned 18. Your heart was beating out of your chest, but no tears fell. You didn’t break until you heard Leon’s voice.

“I need you,” you cried into the phone.

If it weren’t for your tone, he��d think you meant, “I need you in my bed,” maybe even, “I need you inside me.”

But you were crying. He could hear the tears before they’d fallen.

“Where are you?” He masked his panic with sternness.

“Hospital,” you managed to say through your sniffles.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Leon was already grabbing his keys and jacket, imagining the worst.

“It’s not me, it’s dad.”

Leon was only slightly relieved. He doesn’t want your father dead, but you’re his girl; you can’t die on him.

“I’ll be right there.”

Leon didn’t drive fast, he drove safely. 

“Name?” The woman working at the front desk asked.

“Leon Kennedy.”

“Relationship to the patient.”

“A friend. His daughter called me. I’m here to come get her.” He knew they’d want more of an answer than ‘friend’, and he was more than just a friend. He spoke with such conviction as if it were his right to be there as if they had to let him see you.

You didn’t talk on the way home - not to your house, but to Leon’s apartment. You insisted. You couldn’t be in that house, and Leon knew precisely why. 

It was over a decade ago. You were at least 6 or 7, but no more than 10. It was one of those things that Leon tried to forget.

You called him on the landline and gripped the phone with both hands, slippery with sweat.

“Leon, I need you.” He swore he could hear a whispered ‘help’ at the end of your sentence, or maybe it was just his instinct.

Thank God you called his cell. He talked to you while he drove.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?”

“Dad. I don’t know what happened.”

“Is he okay?”

“No. He’s in the kitchen. On the floor. He’s not moving.”

“Is he breathing?”

“I think so.”

“Did you call 911?”

“No, I called you.”

I can be your father figure, your guardian, or the one who tucks you in at night, but I am not a paramedic.

“You need to call 911. Tell them what you told me.”

And you did. Leon got there after the ambulance arrived.

“Sir,” they stopped him before he could enter the front door, “we’re dealing with an emergency. We need you to wait out here.”

“I can’t.” He brushed them off and called your name. You came flying out the front door.

“Who are you?” One of them asked.

“Leon,” he said because that was the only answer.

He slept on your bedroom floor that night.

No, he didn’t sleep. He watched you sleep, constantly checking to see if you were breathing.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Leon offered.

“No,” you said.

“No? I don’t have a guest room.”

“I wanna sleep in your bed with you.”

Do you want to sleep with me? Absolutely not.

He raised an eyebrow, not daring to say the words aloud lest he put them into your mind.

They were already there, and you both knew it.

“Not like that. I just don’t wanna be alone. And I don’t think you wanna sleep on the floor.”

“No funny business.” He held out his pinky finger for you to take.

“No funny business. Serious business only.” You took his pinky and cracked a smile that mimicked the one he was holding back. You shouldn’t be laughing at a time like this, but you have to if you want to avoid crying.

Leon let you wear his clothes to sleep because you didn’t bring a change of clothes. You didn’t stop at home. It wasn’t the same as last time.

He was about to turn off the lamp on his bedside table when you said, “Leon?”

He turned to see you lying on your side, facing him.

“Yeah?”

“One kiss?”

“I thought I said no funny business.”

“I’m not trying to be funny at all.”

“I know,” he breathed the words into your mouth as he accepted his fate.

You gripped his shirt for dear life and wrapped one leg around his hip. He expected your tongue to be in his mouth and your hands in his pants soon. But he was wrong. It didn’t go any further than that. Your lips left his, but you never entirely pulled away. You clung to him.

“I just want to feel loved,” you whispered, answering questions he didn’t have the words to ask.

“You are,” he said confidently.

You fell asleep on his chest. This time, he did sleep because he could feel your steady breathing. 

You found him in the kitchen, making breakfast in the morning.

“I have good news,” he said.

“Pancakes?”

“No. I mean - yes, if you want, but that’s not what I meant. Your dad’s awake.”

“Really?”

“Really. You wanna stop by your house on our way over to the hospital? For a change of clothes.”

“I can’t wear this?”

“I don’t think the hospital staff would appreciate you not wearing pants.”

“Why not? They make everyone wear those little hospital gowns anyway.”

“You’re not the patient. Plus, I think your dad would prefer you in pants, too.”

His expression told more than he was willing to say. He’ll think we had sex. We didn’t. But we did.

“I was kidding.”

“I know you were.”

“I’d like to see you in one of those hospital gowns.”

“I hope you never have to.”

“We could play doctor and patient.”

He turned to face you, mouth agape in surprise but holding back his laughter.

“If we did - which we won’t,” he held out a finger as he spoke, “you would be the patient.” Joking is a slippery slope.

Your dad went to rehab. Finally, it was a win in everyone’s book. Leon moved into your guest room during the months that your dad was away. It wouldn’t be fair to leave you alone when your life had been shaken up like that. Leon made it clear from the beginning that you would be sleeping in separate beds. He loved you, but not like that.

“You don’t wanna do it again?” You asked one night.

“Do what again?” Leon was tired from work. You were used to seeing the good version of him. He can’t hide behind the facade of the happy-go-lucky, charming guy 24/7.

“Have sex,” you said, making sure to enunciate, “with me.”

“No. We’re not doing it again.”

“Why? You said it was the best ever.”

“Why? Because this,” Leon gestured between the two of you, “cannot get more complicated than it is. I cannot take care of you and fuck you at the same time.”

You’d never seen him get so serious. Even on your 21st, when you were flirting with him, and he tried to brush you off, he was still being playful, still willing to let you try to win him over.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You stood still until Leon grabbed the remote control and un-paused the TV. Then, you turned on your heels and walked upstairs. You put yourself to bed that night.

You hadn’t realized the possibility that you were anything but an angel in Leon’s eyes. You were a burden to your father, a bigger burden to your mother - enough that she packed her bags and left, but being a burden to Leon - you’d never imagined it. Maybe he was just strong enough to carry the weight of you. Maybe your problems were too heavy for him now.

You didn’t cry. The wells had dried up. You cried them out over your parents. There weren’t any left for Leon. You fell asleep to the sound of the fan overhead.

You and Leon didn’t speak about it. He wanted to say, “I’m sorry for talking to you that way,” but he didn’t want to open the door for you to proposition him again. Maybe you’d just forget, he hoped.

Leon continued to be distant, and you had no one else you could talk to the way you did with him. You had no one but a few friends from high school who were home from college. You loved them, but you couldn’t relate to them a lot of the time. You knew they would accept you if you talked to them about your dad and his situation, but it always felt like there was some sort of wall between you and the rest of the world. One that was never there between you and Leon. Sometimes your dad managed to break through it, too. Sometimes.

As your father progressed in his recovery, you allowed yourself to let optimism back into your life. You went to visit him one weekend and ate lunch out in the yard.

“How’s Leon?”

“He’s fine, I think.”

Your father could see your attempt to evade further discussion.

“Is that it? You used to talk about Leon all the time when you were a kid,” your dad smiled as he spoke, “I’d come home, and you were always blabbing on about ‘Leon, Leon, Leon’.”

“Not much to blab about. He’s just Leon.”

Your dad accepted whatever you were willing to say and whatever you weren’t. He asked you about your friends, too. You’d spoken to him over the phone, and for the first time in a long time, he’d remembered what you spoke about. You didn’t have to retell the same stories because he was sober now. Your dad was drunk so often you thought you hated him, but sitting next to him on that sunny afternoon, you remembered why you loved your dad. He didn’t mention the tear that slipped down your cheek when he pulled back from his goodbye hug. He just gave you an extra “Love you, Kiddo” with a smile before sending you off.

Leon lived in your guest room, but emotionally, he was miles away. He had always been a workaholic, but it felt like he managed to spend even more time at the office than usual. One afternoon, when Leon was at work and you were sulking in your room, you got a call. 

Leon used to schedule his lunch breaks around you. When you were in middle school, struggling to make friends, you sat at a picnic table out in the courtyard on the phone with Leon. You cried on your first day. Your voice shook with every word, “I can’t do this.”

“You can do this.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because you’re you. You’re my girl.”

You told the mean girls who bullied you that you were talking to your boyfriend who went to a different school and they were stupid enough to buy it. Leon made you promise to stop, threatening to spill your little secret. 

One time, you went to the nurse after having a shitty third period, and subsequently getting cornered by the worst of the bully clique. They told you that you had to call your parents if needed to go home or you had to go back to class. You called Leon and lied, saying you felt too sick. He knew you were lying and he didn’t have to call you out on it for you to see that you’d been caught. You climbed into the passenger seat and he flashed you a look.

“So, what’s really going on?”

You dished out the gossip over milkshakes. You sang Sheryl Crow on the drive from the Burger King drive thru to the pond just far enough away from the school.

“This is a one time deal,” he said, “or Hunnigan will take the stick out of her ass and make me into a kebab with it.”

You laughed so hard that vanilla milkshake came out of your nose. At your expense, Leon laughed so hard he had tears in his eyes.

“You better not tell your dad about this either,” he said.

You pinky promised on it.

Middle school was long gone, but the days of you needing him were not. He was the one to break first. He needed you, too, it seemed. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, princess. I have an important question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“There’s a thing I have to go to for work… that I completely forgot about until Hunnigan reminded me… it’s an event with a bunch of diplomats and shit - point is, they’re sending me as the rep for the DSO and I need a date.”

“What’s your question?”

“Will you be my date?”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow? How formal is it?”

“Black tie-ish, maybe, I guess. I don’t know that much about dress codes. Hunnigan usually helps me with this.”

“I don’t have anything that formal.”

“That’s why I’m giving you advanced notice. So you can get something.”

Fuck it. “Okay,” you said. 

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll be home early tonight and we can figure out the plan for tomorrow.”

You were not Leon’s girlfriend, not his wife, not his daughter, but you were his date for the night. 

This wasn’t the first time you and Leon had danced together. He’d gone to a father-daughter dance with you when you were in kindergarten. Back then, you wore a little pink dress, cheap tulle fabric, and a tiara atop your head. Tonight, your gold dress was form-fitting around the hips with a tailored hem so you could dance without tripping over your feet. It didn’t quite brush the floor, the fabric stayed clean. The slit halfway up your thigh could only be seen when you moved. The classiest tease.

“Dance with me?” you asked with your hand out as an invitation, already inching towards the dance floor.

He thought about it for a good moment, and with an eye roll, he took your hand.

“For you,” he said.

It felt like prom night, in the awkward ‘where are we supposed to put our hands’ way. There was a novelty about it. Your arms around his neck and his carefully placed at your waist, no lower. You swayed back and forth, and Leon felt at peace for the first time in a long time. There was no pressure to be the father you never had and no expectation of the two of you sleeping together. It was just you, beautiful as ever, smiling as you swayed back and forth in time like you’d practiced.

“Did you take dance classes?” you asked him.

“No, why?” he asked.

“You dance effortlessly.”

“It’s not hard. You’re doing it too.”

“But you’re leading.”

“It’s simple,” he says, counting each step 1-2-3-4, slowly leading you through a box step.

Your smile made Leon smile. You made him giddy like no one else.

“Can you twirl me?” you asked because you knew he could unless he’d somehow forgotten how to in the years since he’d done it when you were a little girl.

“Of course,” he said with an unwavering grin as he spun you around, and to your surprise - and delight - he dipped you, too. He even dared to press a kiss to your cheek when he pulled you back up.

I love you. It was on the tip of your tongue, but you kept your mouth closed. Your smile said enough.

You and Leon made the mistake of getting tipsy on champagne, but the open bar was too tempting for either of you to refuse.

“I usually leave these things early,” Leon said to you around midnight. 

“You usually don’t invite me.”

“I should more often because you are a great dance partner.” It became effortless once you got the hang of it, so you both danced until your feet hurt, and then you danced a little more. 

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my dancing because I’ll probably never walk again after tonight,” you said, leaning onto him for support, “I need to get these shoes off.”

Wait until we get home, he tried to say, but what came out was, “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”

Leon had complimented you a thousand times. This should not have felt so novel. You were always his pretty princess, right? But his smile was not light and playful like it usually was with you. The look on his face was so sincere. The redness rising in his cheeks was the confession. It was real. 

“Should we go home?” You asked, secretly hoping you could get him to crawl in bed with you when you got there. 

“We have to wait until one of us sobers up enough to drive unless you want to get a cab…” he said, “or, we could get a room.”

Leon’s face lit up, almost like he was proud of himself for coming up with the idea - a little giddy about it, too. 

You had an even better idea to accompany his genius plan. “Can you hold the glasses while I get us a bottle?” You whispered. 

“What?” He whispered back. 

“Here.” You thrust your champagne flute at him after you down what was in it. “I’m going to go grab us something.”

“Wait,” Leon said, stopping you. 

“It’s not like they’re going to miss it.”

“I didn’t say ‘no’, I said, ‘wait’. Let me book us a room first. Then, we'll come back to conduct your little ‘operation’.”

Leon made mistakes, but he wasn’t completely careless. He flashed you two room keys a few moments later. 

“Take this,” he said, handing you one, “and go up to the fourth floor, room 405, take the glasses. I’ll get the bottle.”

You nodded and snuck out. You were lucky that no one was in the elevator to catch you with stolen goods since you didn’t have a jacket or a big enough purse to hide them in. You opened the door to find a lovely room with only one bed for the both of you to share. 

“Perfect,” you said to yourself. You stepped out of your shoes and slipped off your dress. You were down to only a thong, no bra. Seducing Leon was a secondary motive. You really just wanted to get out of your clothes. 

You covered yourself with the sheets before Leon walked in. You wanted it to be a surprise, and you were freezing your ass off. He swallowed hard when he saw your dress pooled on the floor. 

“So?” He asked, holding up the bottle. “Want me to do the honors?”

“Yes, please.”

He poured one glass for each of you and said, “A toast?”

You nodded and held up your glass, giving him the go ahead. 

He hesitated. “A toast to you,” he said, “for being the prettiest girl in every room.”

You clinked glasses with him and tried not to look too emotional. 

“Like Celine and Jesse, right?”

“Hm?”

“Stealing the champagne. In Before Sunrise they steal a bottle of wine and wine glasses.”

“Yeah, I forgot about that. I think I’m Celine and you’re Jesse, though.”

“You do? Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling I have.”

You put your glass on the bedside table while Leon took off his shoes and his jacket. He left his glass sitting on the dresser next to the TV. Every rational part of his mind would be telling him not to do this, but they had all been lulled to sleep by the alcohol. 

He didn’t climb into bed next to you. He leaned over and kissed you. It was better than you remembered. You reached out and pulled him in again when he pulled away to take a breath. This time he didn’t argue, he leaned into the kiss. It was more passionate than the last time you’d done this. 

Leon murmured something about taking his pants off and you made no effort to stop him. The room was quiet minus the clinking sound of his belt buckle and then the pop of a button and the pulling of a zipper. You’d seen Leon’s dick before. You were eager to see it again, and yet, waited patiently while you watched him undress. His calloused hands ran down his torso, taking his shirt off button by button. He hung up his clothes in the closet, though he’d send them to the dry cleaners regardless. He wasn’t sexy, hot, DILF-ish. He was beautiful. You pretended you were watching your husband take off his suit after a long day at work. A familiar man, one you’d chosen to lie down next to every night. You longed for that choice. 

He returned to you in nothing but his underwear, matching you in his state of undress. 

“Wanna let me in?” He asked. 

You lifted the covers. When he got under the sheets, he lay down on his side facing you. Your bodies drifted closer to each other until your skin was touching his. His lips were on yours again. You weren’t sure whether or not to ask. You didn’t want to shatter the delicate moment. 

His hands roamed your body, ending up on your waist. 

“Can I touch you?” you asked. 

“Mhm,” he said. Not a reluctant yes, but a guilty one. If he didn’t say it, maybe it wasn’t so bad. 

He watched as you palmed him through the fabric of his underwear. His breath hitched, and you asked, “Can I go down on you?”

He didn’t respond at first. “Please?” You asked. 

“Yeah,” he said. His gaze was hazy and warm despite his icy blue eyes. He changed his position so that you could be on top of him. You kissed down his stomach, making your way down to the v-line of his hips. He pulled the covers down before you could dip your head below them. You thought it was a courtesy. So you could breathe. 

He said, “I wanna see you.”

You were slightly nervous for your performance, but he looked pleased with the show by the time you’d gotten his dick out of his pants. You licked a stripe up the side while you looked into his eyes. He rubbed your cheek and smiled. 

You took him into your mouth, slowly easing yourself down so as not to gag. You couldn’t go all the way down, but he didn’t mind at all. He was focused on trying to keep his eyes from closing and his head from lolling back. 

His breath was ragged and his hands ran through your hair. He didn’t dare move his hips. 

“Fuck,” he said, “C’mere.”

It was clear he was getting close. He pulled you up so that you were on top of him, your noses touching. He asked in a whisper, “Do you wanna do this?”

He was nervous. You could hear it in his voice. You’d had sex before. It wasn’t your first time doing this with each other. But, it was your first time making love. Something Leon hadn’t done in so many years it felt brand new to him, too. 

You nodded and he swiftly flipped you over, so he was on top. He was going to take care of you. He always took care of you. That was the one thing that never changed between the two of you.

He kissed you with such a passion that every other kiss you’d shared before that was put to shame. Every time he touched you, he did so with reverence. The last time you were naked and entangled, it was morally dubious at best, a cardinal sin at worst. This was something holy.

He slipped your thong down your thighs and you kicked it off, letting it disappear somewhere in the sheets. He’d peeled back the final layer that stood between your skin and his. Leon paused. Everything paused. All that was left was your heavy breathing, matching his, and the thrum of your heartbeat, hard, but steady in your chest. Sure of its own existence more than ever at that moment. Leon ran his hands over your entire body, making sure to learn the way every atom made up your physical form. He understood you more than ever when his hands grazed your inner thighs. Your breath hitched when he brushed his fingertips over your clit. 

Then, he began to finger you, getting you ready for him - which didn’t take very long. 

You felt the head of his cock prodding at your entrance, and he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

It took you a moment, but you realized what he meant: I don’t have a condom. 

“Yeah,” you said, confidently as the thought of feeling him inside you without any barrier made you more aroused. 

He began with slow thrusts. He kept his body close to yours. He didn’t increase his speed, but you could feel him deeper inside you. When he was finally fully encased by your warmth, he groaned. You could feel his cock pulsate and it made you moan. He never pulled all the way out, he stayed deep inside you for as long as he could, rocking his hips slowly. You wished for your bodies to melt into one. This was the closest you’d ever get. 

It didn’t make you scream or cry or swear, but your breath quickened and your legs trembled. You got close to the edge faster than the last time. It took all of Leon’s willpower not to come when you did. You didn’t warn him, though he saw it coming. You arched your back and dragged your nails down his back. You could apologize later if you even remembered. He pulled out just in time to paint your thighs with thick white ropes.

There was the briefest moment of clarity. The duality of ‘this was a mistake’ and ‘I love you’ was at the forefront of both your minds. 

“Don’t think about it,” your eyes said when he returned with a wet washcloth to wipe you down. 

He got into bed beside you and pulled you close. 

You didn’t talk about that night, but things got marginally better. In some ways, it was like the sex had smoothed things over. You noticed the creases forming next to Leon’s eyes when he smiled at you - it wasn’t forced anymore. But that was all it was. When you brushed up against him in the kitchen, he walked past you, not thinking anything about it. You wanted his arms encircling your waist, his face in your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. Since that night, your thoughts were filled with wedding bands, baby clothes, watching Leon get dressed every morning from your shared bed. You wondered sometimes how well he remembered that night in the hotel. His credit card sure did. 

You started spending time with friends. You needed to get out of the house before you made yourself crazy. When you did go out, you stayed out late, and Leon gave you the typical “if you’re going to drink, don’t drive,” which was all too pertinent given your dad’s situation.

You didn’t drink that night, so you did drive home. Your friend had a family obligation the next day - oh, what it would be like to have one of those, you thought. 

You got home around midnight after having been out since the afternoon. You walked inside, took off your shoes, and planned to go to your room until you heard rustling coming from the living room. You walked into the living room, your living room, your father’s living room, to see Leon balls-deep in some woman you’d never seen before.

With messy hair falling upon his forehead and sweat beading on his brow, Leon locked eyes with you. The mystery woman was facing away. You could only see her brown hair on the throw pillow and her legs wrapped around Leon’s hips. You bolted upstairs, worried you’d be physically ill if you stayed in that room for one second longer.

This time, you did cry - after screaming into your pillow. This was worse than leaving you. There was no contract between the two of you about being with other people; rather, he’d specifically told you to find someone else the first time you’d had sex. It was a one time thing. But it was a one time thing that happened twice, more than twice if you count the time over the phone. Every act of love you shared, no matter how right it felt, was still a broken promise, still a foolish decision, just kicking more dents into your fragile relationship.

This was the greatest violation in all of human history. You wanted to tattle to your father, but what would that do? Yeah, fucking on his couch would get Leon a read of the riot act, but to truly explain the severity, the double backstabbing that he’d done, you’d have to tell your father that you’d slept with Leon. And you sure as hell weren’t going to tell him about that.

There was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Go away,” you yelled.

“Open up,” Leon called back.

“Go tell that to the stupid whore downstairs! I don’t want you anymore!”

She can have my sloppy seconds, you thought. But, in reality, weren’t you having someone’s sloppy seconds the whole time? Leon was your first, your only, but you were a notch in his bedpost.

Leon could scold you about calling the woman a whore, but he didn’t. “She’s gone. I kicked her out.”

“Pumped and dumped her, too?” Just like you did with me, Leon. Only you can’t leave physically.

“Excuse me?”

“Come and go, blow your load, and hit the road; how else would you like me to say it?”

“Open the door,” he said again, but you could hear the smile forming on his face. At least you were funny, even if you couldn’t be good enough for the true once-in-a-lifetime love you wanted from him. 

You opened the door, dressed in your PJs, which consisted of a tank top and a pair of panties. He didn’t deserve to look at you like that. You covered yourself with the door.

“What do you want, Leon?”

“To apologize.”

“For what?”

“For having sex in the living room.”

“Why?”

“You know why. All of the reasons why.”

He knew you about as well as you knew yourself. He knew all the ‘whys’ even if he couldn’t verbalize them.

You remember when you were little and got in trouble for a stupid thing you did as a child. You disobeyed Leon in some way - secretly ate a cookie while he wasn’t looking, snuck out of your room to watch TV, messed with his paperwork, etc. You drew him an ‘I’m sorry’ card in crayon.

He wasn’t going to pull out the crayons.

“What can I do to apologize to you?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing. It’s all wrong. It’s all gone. Everything.” Everything we were, everything we could’ve been.

When you were a little girl, you thought you were going to marry Leon. He and your dad both thought it was funny, so you had a fake wedding ceremony. It was innocent at the time. You had ring pops instead of wedding bands, and he kissed you on the cheek, not the lips.

You were going to be ‘Mrs. Kennedy’. Your brain persisted, and Leon only solidified the idea in your mind when he took your virginity. It was the last piece of you that you held from him. He had your soul but never your body. Now, he had that, too. You had an old t-shirt of his and tainted memories. Nothing more.

“What do you mean?” He asked. There was a partial understanding. Everything between the two of you was always going to be different. He’d warned you before you had sex with him. But there was more to it than that.

“I just saw you with that woman. I can never unsee that.”

“You’ve seen me naked before, and you know I’ve had sex with other women.”

And I promised you nothing.

“But, it’s like, you’re totally different now.” You gestured vaguely at his body, something that now held more meaning, a complex layer of disgust covering him.

“How?” I’m the same man I’ve always been.

“Not to me.”

He sighed and held the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“I think you see me as someone I’m not, someone I’ve never been.”

“That’s not true. You’ve always been good to me.”

“But you only know what I show you.”

“So you’re a dick to everyone else? You’re a fucking asshole every moment I’m not in the room with you?”

“I don’t think I’m that bad, but I’m not anyone’s knight in shining armor.”

“You were mine.”

“No, I wasn’t. You thought I was. I didn’t want you to see the bad parts of me. I still don’t. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“Goodnight,” you said and closed the door in his face.

There was nothing you could do to forget. You felt something you’d never felt before. You wanted your mom - a woman you had no memory of, someone you’d never known. She left when you were a baby, but your dad never talked badly about her. His words were rare but had a nostalgic sweetness. You’d heard Leon say a few nice things about her over the years, too. You had a picture of her in a drawer in your bedroom. You pulled it out and looked at a face almost identical to yours. You wished, in some way, that both your father and Leon had left with her. Surely she wasn’t perfect - in fact, you should resent her for leaving, but you’d never heard anything to taint your image of her. She was just a woman who made a bad choice once, but you weren’t attached enough to be angry, and no one had cracked the facade you put up around her image. If you had her phone number, you’d call.

Leon was in the next room over, and somehow, he was further away than her and more absorbed in mystery. 

Your dad came home. He came home sober with suitcases in hand, holding his arms out for you. You ran into them. You sobbed harder than you ever had. Happy tears flowed easier than sad tears. There wasn’t anything holding you back from crying.

Your dad’s hand held the back of your head while you buried your head in his chest. You ate dinner at the kitchen table together. You felt lost without Leon. He left your house, you stayed, and yet it felt like you’d woken up in a completely different place than the one you’d fallen asleep in. It wasn’t bad, just different. You wished there was a way to put all of the parts of your life together. You’d have to put super glue on mismatched puzzle pieces. It would always be a futile effort. You had Leon, you have dad, you’ll probably never have mom. 

“What are you thinking about?” Your dad’s voice called you back to the present. 

“Nothing,” you said, faking a smile. 

“What are you really thinking about?”

“Mom,” you said. You were, you always got stuck when you thought about her because you were trying to imagine a woman who was a stranger to you. 

“Mom? Why?” You expected him to be somber, maybe bitter even, but he was intrigued, it seemed. 

“She’s been on my mind recently. I’ve been thinking about you, my dad, my parent, and- and I don’t want to sound greedy because I’m lucky to have you here, but I wish there was more than just us.”

“You’ve got Leon,” he offered. 

You scoffed, waving it away with your hand. “Don’t bring up Leon right now.”

“Is there drama between the two of you?”

“No, I wouldn’t call it ‘drama’.” 

It’s way, way worse than that, you thought.

“You’ll get over it, he’ll get over it. It always works itself out.”

“Who are you and what did you do with my dad? What’s with all this optimism?” You playfully nudged his shoulder. 

“What can I say? This whole therapy thing has given me a new outlook on life.”

He paused before taking on a more serious tone. “And, a near-death experience gave me a new appreciation for life. I didn’t care much about my own life. I could take it or leave it.”

“Dad…” You couldn’t find the right words. 

“No, no, let me finish: you are important to me.” He put his hand on your shoulder and locked eyes with you. “I remember going in and out of consciousness the day of the accident, and seeing your face. I hate to see you cry like that. I didn’t realize how much the things I do affect you.”

You raised an eyebrow. I’m your child, you thought, how would it not affect me?

“I’m serious. It sounds stupid. I was being selfish, and I always knew that, but I didn’t realize how much you needed me. You had Leon, and you always liked him better anyway. I figured you didn’t mind being left alone with him sometimes.”

“I don’t mind seeing Leon, but I still need my dad.”

“I know. I was making excuses for my own behavior. I know it’s a little late to say it, but I want to be a good father.”

“Better late than never. Better than mom…”

“No,” he said, “you don’t know your mother’s reasons for leaving. It wasn’t you. She loved you.”

“She left because of you.” You were blunt with him. You usually were. 

“She couldn’t take the drinking problem, my constant working. If she could’ve taken you with her, I think she would have.”

“If she wanted to, she would have.”

“No, babies are expensive, and I was always the breadwinner. I think she hoped it would be a wake-up call and I would get better. She thought it was the right choice for you.”

You sighed and tried not to roll your eyes. You wished he’d get angry at her for leaving. Shouldn’t that be easy? Shouldn’t that be right? Whatever, you thought, maybe he’s like you - good at making peace with people leaving. 

“I know it wasn’t due to my parenting, but you turned out pretty darn great.”

“I’m kind of a disaster, actually.”

“Blame the ‘disaster’ parts of yourself on me. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re smart-”

“I’m not that smart, trust me.”

I’m such an idiot. You have no idea. 

“I’m not going to ask because somehow I feel like whatever you’re up to, it’s something I don’t want to hear about. Just promise me you’ll be safe, okay?”

“I promise. As long as you promise, too.” You held out your pinky. 

“Promise,” he said, interlocking his pinky finger with yours. 

You let yourself believe him. You decided to take a dose of his optimism, irrational as it seemed. At least let yourself fantasize, right? You’ve got something. Maybe not everything, but something. Maybe not Leon, but you’ve got dad, and isn’t that what you wanted the whole time? 

That same night, Leon went out with a woman he’d been casually talking to - it was time to move on from you, at least in the romantic way. 

You’d always have some sort of bond.

Leon sat through dinner, dissecting his steak out of boredom. It wasn’t worth the price. He could cook a better one himself. The woman sitting across from him was talking about something, but he wasn’t quite sure what due to the fact that he wasn’t listening. 

“Leon?” She said, irritated. 

“Yeah?” He said with the least fake-looking smile he could muster. 

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah, why? What did I miss?”

“I asked you-”

“-have you seen the movie ‘Before Sunrise’?”

“Yeah? I never really understood the hype.”

“What? It’s a great movie. The sequel is great, too.”

“I didn’t see it.”

“You should. Maybe it’s unrealistic to think about that once in a lifetime love, but don’t you think we should try to find that? No matter how irrational it seems?”

“You do realize you’re on a date right now, and you’re talking about love and romance like it’s this lofty, unattainable concept.”

“I see your point.”

The waiter comes by with the check and Leon thanks him, and thanks God silently, too. 

“I don’t think you’re ever going to find it if you can’t even pay attention to a woman. I like you, Leon, and I’d ask you to come home with me, but-”

Leon knew he shouldn’t see you again, but when he got his credit card out of his wallet to pay for dinner, he saw your picture. He’d always kept it there. He’d change the photo about once a year and keep the others in his bedside drawer. It’s a picture of you in your cap and gown. He was so proud of you; he is so proud of you. He loved you then; he loves you now. The problem is that he’s falling in love with you now. It’s not just familial; it’s not lust, either.

He thought about When Harry Met Sally, which is your third favorite movie after Jerry Maguire and Before Sunrise. The woman asked him if he wanted to take this back to her place, and he was barely paying attention when he said ‘no.’ He gave her a half-assed excuse and dumped tic-tacs in his mouth so he didn’t have wine on his breath because he knew you hate the taste of red wine. He wasn’t drunk, though. If he were, he wouldn’t drive. Leon’s an idiot, Leon’s a fuck-up, but Leon knows he’s a shitty driver. He won’t risk his life on his way to you. This isn’t a tragedy, he hoped.

He forgot your dad was probably home, but fuck it. If he’s really in love, he’ll confess it in public.

“I’m in love with you,” he said when you opened the door. It wasn’t ‘Hello’. You couldn’t say, ‘You had me at hello’ because he began with, ‘I’m in love with you.’

You stared at him long enough that he started fumbling through apologies and excuses. You didn’t say anything. You pulled him into a kiss, which was to say what he should’ve known all along.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

[soapier]

play stupid games, win stupid prizes, pt. 1

jschlatt x y/n

drunk girls night leads to more when you’re forced to carry out a dare.

you were at a girls night, nothing fancy, just some drinks and games to unwind after a long week.

music played softly from a speaker somewhere, and the room was filled with warmth from laughter and one-too-many drinks. what had started as an innocent game of blackjack had turned into some messed up version of truth or dare wherein every time someone surpasses 21 (or “busts”, as niki insists you call it), they have to answer a question or do something embarrassing.

you had thrown caution to the wind hours ago, after, say, the fifth glass of wine. or maybe it was the sixth? you couldn’t remember. these girls were your friends, and you in your drunken confidence had no qualms about answering any of their questions.

hell, last round you’d even admitted to having a thing for schlatt.

it’s not that you’re ashamed of it, no, but he had just been such a good friend for so long that it felt weird to admit. you felt a little weird about keeping it a secret for so long, having to hide blushes and act like certain things he did didn’t drive you absolutely crazy.

“y/n!” one of your friends called, “it’s your turn!”

you peeked again at your cards, a seven and an eight, fifteen. pausing for a moment, you weighed the options and called, “hit” for another card.

what you weren’t expecting, though, was to get a nine.

“ugh, bust!” you called, the second out for this round. your friends giggled and asked you to choose truth or dare.

“truth!” you replied, like you had each time you’d gotten out earlier.

“come on, y/n! live a little, choose dare!” niki goaded you.

with a sigh, you switched your choice and your friends huddled up to figure out what to make you do. in the meantime, you reached for the bottle and filled your glass once more, taking a long swig for good measure.

“so,” she started, a shit-eating grin on her face, “i dare you to text schlatt…” your heart dropped, are they being for real right now?

“what?!” you replied, suddenly very alert.

niki smiled and continued, “i dare you to text schlatt i want you so bad right now.” she put air quotes around the proposed text.

you shook your head violently, heart pounding in your chest, “no fucking way.”

“you’re so boring! worst case, tell him it was part of the game, i’ll back you up.” your friends looked at you with small grins and expectant eyes.

your heart was racing, thoughts zipping by even faster. you should’ve never told them about him, this was such a mistake, what if he never talks to you again?

but, you took a moment to calm yourself. she’s right, it is technically just part of a game, right? god, you are such a stick in the mud sometimes, maybe they’re right. it’ll be fun! silly, even. he’ll probably laugh about it tomorrow. schlatt might even be asleep by now, it’s 2:30 in the morning, after all.

with one last deep breath, you agreed. “fine. does anyone know where i left my phone?”

with squeals of excitement, your phone was passed over to you and you typed out the message, leaving your phone on the floor and demanding that someone, anyone else pressed send for you as you looked away, tense.

you:

i want u so bad rn

you exhaled in relief when you didn’t immediately see bubbles indicating that he was typing. just as you let your guard down, however, you heard the phone buzz, and your friends shrieking in excitement.

schlatt:

send me your location.

cradling your phone in your hands, you deliberated what to do… do you tell him? why does he want to know? what if he’s mad? but… what if he’s not mad?

with a sigh, you texted back, telling him that you were at niki’s, and asking why he wanted to know.

schlatt:

the uber’s on it’s way.

———

part 2?

[darsynia]

Adversarial 1/? (Bucky/Mechanic!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | RO ROLL MASTERLIST | gif by @dailybuckybarnes

Summary: The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm

Word Count/Warnings: 4,000 | explicit sex

As 2/7 of my birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, adVERsarial is a Soulmate AU 'enemies to lovers' with a brash, outspoken f!reader. Stay tuned for more, and feel free to drop a comment if you'd like to be on the tag list!

Excerpt:

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Adversarial

Your soulmate can go straight to hell.

First of all, your Words are written on your fucking hand, and it almost takes up the whole thing! Who the fuck thought that was okay?

Schools don’t let you cover your hands, did your jerkface soulmate ever think of that? No? Classic.

Oh, and then there are the bullies. So. Many. Bullies. Telling the new kids to come up and say the words to greet you was predictable, but exploiting teachers’ inherent laziness-- ‘but Mrs. DoNothing, I was just reading the words off her hand!’ --was icing on the shit sundae.

You graduated from that hellhole, moved as far away as possible, and got a job that would cover you in gunk so you wouldn’t have to think about your Words every single day.

Now it’s seven years later and your boss asks you to come along on his fancy-ass job at the Avenger Hideout in upstate New York. You’re sure you’ll be kicked to the curb when you meet Stark himself, though. The man is snark incarnate, and you can rarely pass up an opportunity to mouth off.

“‘Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive,’” he quotes, right after the handshake. The smug look on his face is warranted, because working with the Avengers is one of the few times your soulmate words apply to regular life.

“Yeah I’ll stay standing if it’s all the same to you,” you smile, with too many teeth and everything. You usually choose something more spicy, but you really want this job. Besides, Stark’s soulmark words are well known, so you don’t have to speak to history here.

“As long as you keep your death wish to yourself like everyone else in the asylum, we’re cool. Welcome aboard.”

The Avengers Compound is pretty sweet, actually, and your coworkers don’t seem like the typical stooges. It takes almost a month to persuade them that you really do enjoy the dirtiest, toughest jobs, and after that everything is smooth, filthy sailing. It’s always a good day if you end it needing a long, hot shower and half a bottle of degreasing soap.

There’s an iPad mounted within floor-view for people to text you if they need something. It doubles as your personal DJ, so when the sound cuts out, you slide your ass out from underneath the Quinjet you were servicing to find a pair of boots standing next to it. As you rise gracefully (read: clamber) to your feet, their owner speaks.

“Are you the lead mechanic? Stark said I could find them here.”

“I am, and I’ll be honest, I’m more than a little bummed out that those aren’t the words written all over my mitt, here,” you tell Captain America, holding up your (grime-covered, unreadable) left hand.

A ripple of… something tugs his eyebrow upward for a few seconds, and he smiles politely. “I get that a lot.”

You feel the burn of triumph in your chest and move in for the killing blow. “Oh really? I wish you’d kept a list, Rogers, because I’d love to meet more female mechanics.”

Until this point, he’d been holding himself like the soldier that he is, with the same stiff courtesy you’d seen from his rare television appearances. That all falls away, now. Rogers clears his throat, hitting his fisted hand on his chest as though knocking loose his initial impression of you, then extends that hand out for you to shake.

Your eyebrows skyrocket at just how much grease he’ll end up with if he goes through it, but Captain America’s outstretched hand doesn’t waver.

It’s time for you to knock loose your first impression. You give him a respectful nod and grasp his hand firmly. The grip slips as you shake, but you don’t offer any apology, and Rogers doesn’t seem to need one, not even when there’s a squishing sound as you both disengage. You take pity on the man and snag him a blue towel from your workbench.

“So, what do you need that Stark couldn’t Lord it down here and ask for himself?”

The towel is doing nothing. “We’ve got a mission coming up that will involve some repair work mid-way. Refugee camp in the middle of a regional conflict, with aggressors who like to send self-destructive drones to ruin our day. Army thinks it’s cheaper if it’s us, and not them.” He gestures towards your large tool bag. “We’d like to get in, get fixed back up, and get out in a hurry, and Stark says you’re the…” he pauses.

“Say it.”

“‘Gremlin’ for the job,” he says, apologetically offering back the newly-soiled towel with his still-soiled hand.

“Sounds about right. Have his Jeeves give me the details, yeah?” You start whistling as you scooch back down to finish up the job you’d been working on when Rogers had come in. It takes a not-inconsiderable amount of time for him to walk back out, and you count that as a win.

They were… not kidding about the danger of the mission.

The trip out had been unpleasant as hell, gaining you some unwanted on-the-job experience with what it’s like being motion-sick under fire. As expected, the vehicle is hit by two diligent little destructo-bots, but you take care of the first one handily. Getting the second off and its damage mitigated is made more difficult by the urgency in the comms.

The team is on the way with the refugees in tow, and they want to take off as soon as they get back. Doing that with unknown damage is a terrible idea.

“All right, you heat-seeking little bot-barnacle, you ARE coming off, even if I have to pry off a panel of the ship to do it!” you snap, five minutes later. You're bluffing, since can’t even tell if the damned thing’s done any damage or if the sum total of its effect is ‘skewering the hull and sitting there smug as hell about it.’ The team is getting closer and closer, and the pounding of your heart is so loud you can hear it like a drumbeat in your ears.

They turn out to be footfalls, not your heartbeat.

A metal hand appears out of utterly nowhere and grabs the attack drone, ripping it out of the hull and throwing it with enough force to send it a half mile away. You’re left with your mouth hanging open as the owner of the hand (the arm. It’s an arm, and it’s the most gorgeous piece of machinery you’ve ever, ever seen) turns to face you. He’s wearing tactical gear and a sour expression, and every one of your blood vessels have converted themselves to gasoline at the very sight of him.

“That’s quite an arm you’ve got, soldier,” you quip.

His face twists into fierce fury as he points to the ramp leading into the Quinjet. “Sit down and shut up if you want to stay alive.”

For once in your life, you do what you’re told without complaint or combativeness. The phrase ‘internal combustion’ has never been so apt. The textbooks all say that finding your soulmate feels like figuring out your place in the world, something you’ve always thought was utter bullshit, but--

…but your soulmate has a mechanical arm.

The rest of the team shows up mere seconds later, and from there you’re caught up in the whirlwind of weight balancing, choosing what to ditch to fit every last person in the vehicle. For a few crazy minutes, it seems your grouchy soulmate might be left behind to fend for himself (you have no idea who he is, but you’re completely certain this man could wipe out the entire platoon that Rogers says is heading their way), but you and Stark figure out an overspeed hack that can work for just long enough to get somewhere safe.

You’re too busy keeping your ride in the air to think about anything else, and once you’re all back on solid ground, disembarking is a madhouse. You and Stark are the last two off the thing. He flips up his helmet and gives you one of his thousand-watt smiles.

“Great job today. Forgot to tell you Barnes was with us for this one.”

“Barnes?” you ask, distractedly running your calloused fingers over the rift where the perfect man had pulled out the drone. It looks like a patch might work, rather than having to get a piece machined. 

“James 'Bucky' Barnes. The Vodka Popsicle?” Stark comes over and makes a show of frowning at the way you’re just shrugging. “See, if you were fun, you’d be pretending you have no idea so you can milk me of all the good nicknames.”

The soulmate thing is burning a fuse in the back of your mind, and you don’t have enough left in your tank to banter. “I really don’t know, Motor Mouth. I just kept my head down and did my job.”

You smack the hull of the Quinjet and start toward the elevator bank, secretly pleased with your own stupid nickname. ‘Barnes’ sounds familiar, but you can’t place the name.

“Come on, CS, you had to have seen his arm!”

This stops you in your tracks so quickly you can almost hear the record scratch sound. Right at that moment, you realize where you heard the name Bucky Barnes: in your high school history class! This has to be fake, some stupid Superhero hazing or something.

You spin on your heel, about to accuse Stark of only remembering the name because he had a hot teacher that day, but at the very last minute you remember his father was a WWII war hero. Fine, you can go with 'snark overload' instead. “Friend of your dad’s, then? What happened? Time machine?”

“Fascist Russian trauma, actually,” he says, herding you into the elevator. “JARVIS, can you take over? I need to fly home to the Missus.”

“Wait, Stark--” He’s in the air before you can finish objecting.

One enlightening elevator ride later, you make your way to your workshop in a trance. This whole thing is a coincidence. It has to be. The man has gone through hell, vanquished hell, joined its army only to claw his way out... and his reward is what?

You?

“Took you long enough,” a voice says from the darkest corner of the space. You don’t have to guess who it is. There’s only one person it could be.

“That’s funny as hell in context, you know that?” Shit. Even to your own ears, you sound defensive. “Look,” you rush to add. “I picked this job to keep my Words to myself as much as possible, and I’ll keep doing that. I don’t want anything from you.”

You’re lying. You want a look at his arm like you want coffee in the morning, like you want air in your lungs after a brutal run. If he were anyone else you’d be planning a charm offensive, and you’re not what most people would describe as charming.

“One problem,” Barnes says, stepping out of the shadows with his flesh hand outstretched toward you. It’s so cinematic you forget he’s basically danger incarnate-- and then he makes contact.

Pleasure sizzles up from his grip on your wrist, skin to skin, soul to soul. It’s mind-numbing in the same way as the aftermath of an orgasm, so similar that you stumble a little bit when he lets go only seconds later. You’ve only read about Sensitivity or seen it depicted in movies, and neither did the full glory of it justice.

“Holy fuck,” you whisper. 

He doesn’t look affected at all. “Yeah. One hell of a weakness.” 

You go from shaken to pissed faster than the Quinjet hits cruise speed. “Get the fuck out, then! My workshop is invite only.”

“Is that right?” Barnes asks, insultingly unphased. Your arms are crossed, and he just glares right into your eyes and taps one perfectly articulated metal finger on the newly silver Words on your hand. “Stark’s AI updated our medical files. If you’re unconscious, this gets me into your hospital room. That’s invitation enough.”

Fucking great. “Well, either knock me out or fuck off, then, Barnes. I have work left to do.” Your gut is twisted metal right now, jagged and raw from disappointment and desperation. This man is a legend, a warrior with a marvel of machinery for an arm and a past that would make the devil blush. He doesn't want you, and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t. With misery staining your heart black as old oil, you stalk over to the nearest workbench before he can tell how upset you are. 

“It’s not personal,” he says flatly.

Soulmate words are as personal as it gets, which means he’s saying it to fire you up. You won’t rise to the bait. Most people are uncomfortable with silence, but you use it as a weapon. The minutes tick by as you clean off the work table, with no other sound than the clink of metal on metal and the slide of heavy tools on the hard, solid surface. 

Soon, all that’s left is a bucket half full of sand. At least this is simple and easy to understand; a cheap, abundant material used for friction, stability, and sometimes even a mold to pour hot metal into. As you burn away your fury with your impossible soulmate staring silent holes into your back, you wonder whether you’re half as valuable to him as this.

“Look. I don’t want or need--”

You shove the bucket off the side of the work table and spin around, your next words practically exploding out of your chest. “You think I don’t know that? I get it. I’m nobody. Neither of us want--” He’s advancing on you and you hop up onto the surface of the workbench, primed to kick, scratch, and scream if he tries to melt your brain again with your goddamned soulmate connection. 

“Jesus. Just-- stay inside, will you?”

With those cryptic words, Bucky Barnes walks out.

You’re speechless, and the worst part is how much your body is craving the glorious, drugging feeling of his touch on your skin.

JARVIS calls out your name just as you force yourself to assess the sand mess you’ve tantrumed everywhere. Your ‘what?’ is as short and annoyed as you can make it.

I thought you ought to know that Sergeant Barnes spent his time after leaving the Quinjet checking on your safety. He requested I adjust the camera angle to more fully catch the doorway to your room, requested the visitor logs--

“Which you denied, yes? Yes?” you snap, gripping the broom handle like it’s your soulmate’s neck.

Of course. Despite his assertion, mutual consent is required for such things, barring a formal, legal relationship.

“For the record, it’s bullshit that it took until 1973 for that.”

I heartily agree. As I was saying, Sgt. Barnes took it upon himself to--

“Blah blah safety, you win the award for meddling, JARVIS, but what I really need from you is a magical ability to clean up this mess.”

Deepest apologies, but there is a purpose to this endeavor. The door to your suite did not meet Sgt. Barnes expectations, regarding your safety on-site.

“What the hell are you-- Wait.” You drop the broom and head out, speaking angrily up at the ceiling as you stalk down the hallway. “Tell me there’s still a door there, JARVIS.”

I’m afraid I cannot.

“Yeah, you should be afraid!” you hiss. “Tell me where he is or I’ll take a blowtorch to the wiring in the server room.”

Stark’s damned AI doesn’t even have the grace to sound concerned. 

I see why some say you have a fiery temper. Sgt. Barnes is in one of the basement sparring rooms. Shall I arrange for an elevator?

“I’ll walk, thanks.”

The bank of exercise rooms is open to everyone on campus, and the doors only close when there’s someone in there. That makes it easy to figure out where to knock.

The door swings open, and your mouth runs dry.

Barnes is sweaty, wearing only a black tank and tight pants, and the harsh hallway light glistens on the metal of his arm. You’re completely certain that touching it will feel just as good as the skin-to-skin contact earlier. You drift forward, captivated, and the door shuts behind you. The clicking sound brings you back to furious reality.

Through gritted teeth, you say, “You. Owe. Me. A. Door.”

He scoffs silently, looking you up and down as if gauging how little effort he’d have to expend against you in a fight. “Stark owes you a door. I just proved that.”

“What the fuck gives you the right--”

Barnes interrupts not with words, but with quick, jerky movements at his waist, unbuckling, unzipping, and shoving. He slaps the flat of his palm against the Words on his bare thigh and says, “This. Every single woman I came in contact with was in danger. You’re not secure here.” He strips the pants off completely and throws them into the corner of the room before advancing on you, somehow just as menacing in briefs and a tank. “Not until we get this out of our systems.”

He’s lithe as a cat, and you’re only able to stumble back a few inches and scrunch your eyes shut before he encircles your wrist with one hand. 

The cool metal is soothing despite being inexorable. You suck in a surprised breath and open your eyes just in time to watch the clever shit that is your soulmate dip his head to kiss you.

The pleasure is sudden and devastating. Your heart seizes up, stutters, and starts sending napalm through your veins as he walks you back against the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours. If each touch is a contact high, these kisses are full-throttle erotic warfare, with your brain offline and your hindbrain keening. You 'fight back' with everything you have, fingernails scratching at the back of his neck, teeth grazing his inner lip, all with your Words pulsing encouragement on the back of your hand.

If you’re not careful, this soulmate bond will acid-etch the narcotic joy of this moment right into your heart.

As if he can hear your thoughts, Barnes lets out a deep groan and pulls back to look you directly in the eyes. “This is a strategy, not a relationship.”

You’re touch-drunk, but you’re not in love. “Look, Deathsquad, I only want you for your arm.”

Barnes’ smile is like the sun coming up, damn him. “Fuck me enough to get past Sensitivity and I’ll let you have a whole afternoon with it.” As if to emphasize how much you’d both enjoy that plan, he slides his flesh hand past your waistband and grabs your ass, holding you steady for the twist of his hips.

Your smarts are offline, your lungs are at half capacity, your cunt is criminally empty, and you fully understand how people end up falling for stranger soulmates, if this is what Sensitivity does to a person. 

“Fine,” you snap, hoping to hell you sound less needy than you feel.

The two of you glare at each other for a charged second, and then there’s a race to strip the rest of your clothes off. Not even sixty whole seconds later you’re kneeling on a thick floor mat, more nervous and excited than you’ve ever been in your life, damn him. Barnes comes up behind to set a warm, drugging hand on your hip, and then it’s bliss, sexual rapture from the very first thrust.

“Fuck, that’s insane,” he rasps into your ear, his right hand coming down hard on the mat beside you as he curls over and into you. “Perfect,” Barnes breathes, the word almost a whine, like he’d tried to hold it back and couldn’t. 

You’re almost at white-out, already seconds away from the kind of orgasm that rearranges a girl’s blood chemistry, but you can’t let this one go. Arching your back and leaning to the side, you rock your hips in a cadence that unbalances the two of you just enough to force him to brace with his left, instead. You’re moaning insult-adjacent nonsense syllables now, but you gather enough willpower to clutch his metal hand with your marked one.

“Now it’s perfect,” you grit out.

Barnes’ sexy chuckle in your ear sends you into a black-out orgasm for the ages.

You wake up alone, which feels like a statement, but you notice when you roll over that you’re not sticky. The clothes you’d torn off and thrown in wild abandon are folded next to you, too. You scramble to put them on, stepping curiously into the shared adjoining bathroom to find a wet washcloth draped over the towel rack and a sticky note marked with a large B on the mirror.

“Don’t get sentimental on me, asshole,” you mutter as you snatch it off.

Crankshaft:  Don’t get sentimental on me.  Wednesday at 4? B

The words are printed, even the B, meaning that while you laid there naked and insensate, he’d gone and printed something out instead of just waking you up. On top of that outrage, someone’s told him your nickname, which for some stupid reason feels more intimate than anything that just happened. It’s something that’s just yours, not influenced by stupid-ass destiny genetics, and if he tries to use it verbally, you’ll… you’ll… You sigh. There’s not one thing you can do to influence this guy, except possibly make him angry that you exist at all.

One big Sensitivity-struck security risk, that’s what you are.

You’re about to crumple up the note when you see it’s got something else hand drawn on the back, a sequence of numbers and letters in a jagged sort of rectangle. The shape looks familiar, but you’re sated and stupid after however long without caffeine. You gather up your things and make the walk of shame back to your apartment, realizing when you’re almost there that the fucking door is probably still missing.

It’s not. There’s already a brand-new door there, and on it is another sticky note. This one’s just the hand drawn shape and accompanying symbols. You snatch it up and go inside, vindictively locking the door with both locks until you remember Barnes’ whole thing about safety.

With a sour feeling in your stomach from doing exactly what he’d want you to, you lay both notes down to examine the shapes, finally sketching them out on a third piece of paper.

The numbers and letters work out to be a room and floor number, probably for his rooms here at the compound

Combined, the shapes look just like the plating for his metal arm

You refuse to be taken in by this, even if it is right up your alley.

“JARVIS?”

At your service, Miss.

“Will you locate a small, neutral space for a… meeting between myself and Sgt. Barnes tomorrow at four, and let both of us know the location once you’re finished?” There’s no way in hell you’re doing anything that even hints at girlfriend behavior with this guy, so no bedrooms. What’s between you is literally just biology, nothing more.

If you insist.

“I do. And don’t use my nickname with him. He doesn’t deserve it.”

The singing in your veins makes a good opposing argument, but that’s just biology again, and you won’t be swayed by it. The only thing you’ll be swayed by is his marvel of arm engineering. Everything else is just window dressing to help get you through the absurd pleasure-bond shit that comes with soulmate biology.

You skip dinner and go to bed early, dreaming all night of the purr of Barnes’ muscles over and against you, the gravel-drag of his stubble on your skin, and the hum of an engine starting to rev.

to be continued...

[cillivnz]

THE OTHER WOMAN [anakin skywalker]

pairing. ANAKIN SKYWALKER x JEDI!READER

trope. unrequited love, ‘the other woman’.

word count. 1.6k

warnings. 18+. f!reader, cursing, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, heavy angst, rough sex, no aftercare, degradation, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, size kink, tummy bulge, creampies, crying, unrequited pining, clit-play, sadism & masochism, emotionally vulnerable reader and unavailable anakin.

a/n. personal experiences inspired this. could possibly be the prologue to a series, depends on reception. single quotes ‘’ indicate telepathic communication. descriptions are not intended to offend, just to depict a state of vulnerability.

“HIT ME!” MOANED THE MASOCHIST, “NO,” SNEERED THE SADIST.

Love’s a silly little thing that’s made Saints do questionable things, so how were you expected to be any different as a Jedi with tainted ethics? Except, the sole purpose of being one— a Jedi, is to be damn near a Saint. Well, you’re near one, now.

With your face buried in his sheets, and his cock buried inside you.

“Ani— fuck,” you sighed in fulfilment.

this was home, homely; beneath him every night after a long day of you awaiting the sight of him in the Temple, and for him, distracting himself by killing all evil and bottling up all thoughts of his lost love.

“How many fucking times have I told you not to call me that?” You flinched at the smack landing on your ass cheek. The hopes of him rubbing the supple flesh to soothe the pain went in vain.

The sole reason for the success of your “relationship” or even why Anakin agreed to your pathetic advances in the first place was because you were symbiotic, yin and yang of a very wicked balance.

HE LIKED INFLICTING PAIN, YOU LIKED BEING INFLICTED UPON.

When Padmé Amidala left the Coruscant for Naboo, abandoning her Ani with a broken heart, you volunteered to pick the pieces.

“ANAKIN, TALK TO ME,” you urged, clutching onto his onyx Jedi robes. His jaw clenched, an eyebrow irking at your audacious hand placement.

“Leave me alone,” he pushed himself away from you, but you were adamant as ever.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Your gut churned out a warning, intituition telling you you’re digging a hole that’s bound to be deeper than the bond you’ve formed with Anakin Skywalker over the decade of knowing him— from Slave to Saviour of the galaxies.

His head whipped towards you, his broad back tensing as he turned threateningly slowly towards you.

“I can,” you were unsure of what you were going to propose— hell, you were unsure of what you were even going to say.

‘I can make you forget her.’

He sneered, you squirmed.

“I’d love to see you try, sweetheart.”

First pet name Anakin Skywalker learned to use, coincidentally, too, for you. He had heard a sleazy man on Tattooine say it to his mother. For the longest time, he had thought of it to be vulgarity, until little Skywalker used it for you in front of Obi-wan and was quick to learn that it expresses endearment, not disdain.

After ten years he calls you ‘sweetheart’, and you knew better than to blush over it, but you were flushed, anyway.

You strip yourself bare; physically and egotistically. You lay yourself bare for your first love to unravel, even if there wasn’t much to remove physically; you were laying your soul bare to him, for him.

Mere virgin, inexperienced and shielded. Jaded just from communicating with two-timers, but so, so willing to bend over backwards and break your back for Anakin Skywalker’s mercurial self and pretty face.

While he sees your naked flesh on display for him, you see the first emotion on Anakin’s face that was not indignation towards you. Desire. He desired you, but the speed at which he masked his emotions proved to you that it wasn’t half of what he felt for her.

“You have no idea what you’re setting yourself up for.” He grabbed your chin with his metallic arm, one you’ve admired for the valour that gave it to him and one you’ve shamelessly fantasised about.

One snap was all it would’ve taken for him to break you in half with that faux robotic limb, but Anakin wouldn’t do that. Not just yet.

“What makes you think you can compare to her?”

“She is the kindest, strongest, most generous and most beautiful woman in the galaxy. What makes you think you can compare?”

What really makes you think you can compare?

You’ve been selfish, cursing the entirety of their relationship, which was as one-sided as your love for him.

You’ve been impatient, reckless and impulsive, and it’s evident in your performance as a Jedi.

You can’t even fulfil your sole purpose because, by Maker, he’s clouded your mind with himself and left little room for rationality.

‘I can try,’ you think, and of course he’d read it. ‘To fill the void.’

‘Let me in, please.’

‘Please let me try.’

“Bend over, ass up, face down.”

That’s how you two started, and how you persist.

He insists on fucking you in the same position, same force and speed of his thrusts, every night.

You know better than to ask for more. Maker’s giving you more than you deserve, isn’t it? Gratitude has been a virtue of yours, so you stick to it.

Even if there are days when he doesn’t show up to your room, knock curtly thrice before barging in to find you stripped and on your knees for him, you still love him.

He’s forgiven, he’ll always be.

You take those days to forget him, to jump down the Tower instead of climbing further up the spiralling stairs of a love doomed before it blossomed.

Anakin Skywalker only brings despair with him, a fact even the Order knows now.

“An-ah!—Anakin, slow down!” You squealed, his thrusts never faltering.

He was taking out his frustration for the Maces of the Order onto you.

“Shut up and take it,” he grunted, going faster.

You were crying, a mere mess in his bed.

The tip of his cock was assaulting your g-spot, and it felt like a punch to the gut.

You felt him there, too, snaking a hand down to your tummy to feel the bulge of him going in and out of your tight channel.

He rubbed your clit vigorously; the swollen bundle of nerves had been begging for his attention, which, his balls slapping against it was sufficing, but the extra heed paid had you writhing in overstimulation.

You were sobbing, softly, but loud enough for him to hear over the sound of skin-on-skin slapping and his own haggard breath.

He pulled out, making you clench around just his tip. It was like your body was trying to keep him in.

“Can’t have me stay and can’t have me go,” he said under his breath. He spread your cunt with his hands, watching your abused hole leak your juices.

He eyed you for several moments, making you self-conscious as jolt away from him. He only spreads you further apart to spit into your hole.

Your body jerked away from him, but his metallic fingers were faster in being shoved inside of you.

The cold metal felt like ice to your hot insides, the juxtaposition of a sensation sending a shiver down your arched spine.

“Oh, you like this?” His human hand cupped your mound. “Is cock too much for your little pussy to handle?” He mocked, but you sensed a tinge of amusement underlying his tone.

“You have one purpose, and you fail to meet it.” He pulled out his fingers, causing your head to snap back to look at him.

You see him seated on the bed, leisurely stroking his cock as if he has all the time in the world, no necessity for release while you ached to come undone.

‘I’ve given you more than she has.’

Anakin’s cock may be the biggest in this galaxy, but your pride’s bigger in every other.

His jaw clenched, but his cock twitched.

With one swift leap, he was on top of you— the predator atop his prey— pounced and ready to penetrate— eat you alive.

“Not a word out of you, y’hear?”

“Not. One. Word.”

He aligned the tip of his member with your tight entrance and forced his way in, fucking you dumb with merciless thrusts, just the way you wanted.

You were drooling, panting, screaming, moaning, crying, all while Anakin drove his hips into yours wordlessly.

The silence was eerie and scary, not even a grunt was sounded, and how you yearned to hear his groans of pleasure, knowing they were for you.

He then moaned, once again reading your mind with that impeccable bond of Force that Maker’s aligned your souls with, but your heart nearly dropped to your cunt when he said,

“Padmé, fuck.”

You clenched out of instinct, spinal cord taking over all senses while your brain was too weak, too fucked to react.

A normal person with self-respect would ask him to get the fuck out and never, ever come see you again, but you had ego, not the former, and the difference between the two is what’s allowing you to let him finish and go, like every other night, like a part of you would normalise this foreplay as long as you feel his touch— feel wanted by him.

When his seed tainted your walls once more, you sighed in relief. You couldn’t bear to look at him with tearful eyes.

You hear him shuffle into his robes, then silence, yet his presence was still felt.

You hear the doorknob twist, so you turn around to lie on your back, not expecting a lurking Anakin lingering by the doorframe. You peer at him through wet lashes, doe-eyes reduced to slits while you reciprocated the venom exuding out of Anakin for the first time towards him, clenching your jaw. Your chest huffed with forced respiration, drawing Anakin’s attention to your breasts.

It was then he used the force not to hear the string of curses flowing through your mind for him, but to talk to you, for the first time.

And for the first time he ever said,

‘If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t come to you.’

“Like” isn’t “love”,

But it is something—

‘—But you mean nothing to me, so your love is useless.’

‘And I won’t always be around as the other woman,’ you were going to go berserk.

But which one of you was lying, sneering sadist or moaning masochist?

main masterlist. more of Anakin. blog directory.

[wroteclassicaly]

Warnings: Language, menstrual cycle, mentions anxiety, emotions, blood, cramps, hurt/comfort, Nancy makes an adorable appearance, and lots of fluff!

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

He isn’t sure how much time has passed, because everything seems so chaotically still. But your trembling, sobbing presence declares otherwise. It started earlier, with a clasped hand to your stomach, pushing your favorite pizza away in disgust. That space between your eyebrows screwed up in pain, and you’d left the table without another word. You should’ve planned on bringing things with you, I mean, hell, you always write your cycles down on Eddie’s Bible quote calendar anyways.

Neither of you were prepared for it to happen today, during the late evening hours, despite its looming date getting closer on Eddie’s wall display. You beelined it for your pad stash that the Munson’s so graciously permitted you your own drawer for in their small bathroom, only to find you had one singular sanitary pad, and a whole lotta mess on your hands. It was unexpectedly heavy, and it really fucking hurt, which didn’t usually occur until the next day. You called for your boyfriend and he immediately found you, head in your hands, on his toilet, thighs streaked in bright crimson, switching from holding your temples to angrily scrubbing at your eyes. Things with your cycle were never awkward with Eddie, not after getting used to it.

He simply knelt down, chain slapping against his pants, house slippers on his feet, taking your hands in his as he asked one question. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

~*~

Eddie rocks you back and forth, rubbing down your spine as you cry. As dusk turned into nightfall, summer storms beginning, battering the trailer with their high winds, your pain increased to the point where he’d considered calling for help. Midol worked for one hour and barely took the edge off, his hand couldn’t do the trick, you felt too bad to attempt an orgasm, and you are shaking with pleading sobs. He does all that he knows to calm you down, a slow ticking beneath his vocal cords, his throat warming as he begins to softly sing to you, cross-legged, you in his lap, arms tucked beneath his pits and draped around his lower back, his own continuously stroking you, not ceasing his back and forth movements. He ignores the tears in his own eyes as you cry out and squirm.

And that’s what you do. You cry yourself into a numbing sleep. That’s when Eddie lays you down and immediately dials up Wheeler, having to answer questions about what milligrams your pain meds are and if you are out of pads and tampons. Despite the rain, she is there with several bags not even twenty minutes later. She puts the chocolate and various salty snacks away with his assistance, hands him a new bottle of Midol, also laying out a new box of tampons and a smaller package of sanitary pads, before she is explaining how your medicine has a higher dosage, and ultimately helps him figure out the hot water bottle.

How Eddie Munson, of all people (she knows better after all these years than to judge a book by its cover) takes care of her best-friend, it makes her giddy, relieved.

“Each girl varies, but this stuff should help. I know her periods get a little rough sometimes. If she needs anything, have her call me or you can call me back, okay?”

“I definitely owe you one, Nance.” As he switches off from the usage of Wheeler, she’s folding the paper sack, grinning widely.

Definitely a teddy bear.

Once she’s safely in her station wagon and leaving his drive, Eddie automatically prepares your hot water bottle, grabs fresh ice water, your new pills bottle, and a few snacks, tucking the bottle beneath his armpit. He settles everything in a neat place on his nightstand, thankful you’re still asleep, but seeing your face still scrunched in agony. He gently lays the bottle beneath your navel, pulling his blanket over your form, leaving you only to wet a washcloth and wipe away the sweat that’s built on your forehead. He does that for a little while, changes your bottle in and out, right up until he sees that frown vanish and you curl into his side. He’s working a poem he plans on turning into lyrics when you stir.

It’s still raining steadily, scattering a beat that he can sample upon the tin roof. You stretch out like a cat, yawning, eyes blinking slowly as you take the room and your boyfriend into focus. You mumble about the time, grasping at the bottle on your belly. When Eddie comes into full view, he’s got one leg propped, the other flat, his notebook balanced on his raised knee, his shirt off, rings gone, with just his pick and boxers remaining. He looks relieved at your lazy grin.

Still, though, he has to check in. “Do I need to go reheat it, baby? I’ve been doing it off and on since Nance dropped it off.”

Nancy was here? He called her Nance? And your cramps are gone. There’s so much to smile about that you become overwhelmed, especially with your ability to focus again beyond mind numbing anxiety, and anguish. Your sclera is flooded with tears and Eddie instinctively freaks out, sliding from the bed. “I’ve got new Midol here, there’s pads and tampons, some snacks, still leftover pizza, and I can fix you right up, sweet—“

You’re kissing the remaining letters of the nickname right off of his mouth. Your hands press into his curls, dragging them through your fingers, enjoying how their soft-silky texture tickles your knuckles. He wraps his arms around your back, letting a palm dig into your tailbone. You mewl appreciatively. Eddie uses a calloused thumb to swipe away your tears on the wet break away, on the verge of losing it at the relief of your relaxed state - himself.

And you, you’re looking at him as if he’s hung the moon for you. No one has to say anything, you both already know.

However, Mother Nature captivates your tongue and takes a hold of your desires. You let one hand drift and gently play with his chain, and he’s unable to deny how he’s practically purring in your grasp. “Eddie?”

“Yeah….?” He’s dazed and grinning like a goofy idiot.

“I’m hungry. Oh, and I love you!”

[demiesworld]

How They React When You Fight (Tokyo Revengers)

pairings: mikey, draken, baji, chifuyu, mitsuya, kazutora x fem!reader synopsis: reader gets into fights with people warnings: fighting, violence, and swearing

SANO MANJIRO | MIKEY

He doesn’t remember how the beef between you and this girl started, and he doesn’t really care about it. So when you tell him one night that when you see her in person you were gonna quote unquote “whoop her ass” he didn’t take you seriously. Mikey just nodded his head as he mindlessly scrolled through his social media then went off to sleep that night.

It’s not until you and him were walking out of a restaurant after having lunch together that Mikey should have believed in your words. You spotted the girl from the internet walking with a friend of hers. The two were both giggling with each other over something, but you didn’t give two shits. All you saw was red when you saw her. She didn’t notice you charging towards her, and neither did Mikey notice you leaving his side, until you shouted, “RIKA!” and then slugged her. Your closed tight fist landed a strike on her left cheek.

“Y/N!” Mikey shouts, but it’s too late. You were already punching the girl in her face again with a left hook and kicking her in the stomach. Mikey was stunned to say the least as he stood there watching you climb on top of the girl, straddling her then wailing your closed fists on her.

Mikey took a step forward when her friend tried to pull you off of her, but to his surprise again you took her on too. “You want some of this too bitch?!” you yell at her and shove her away from the unmoving body of her friend. The friend was going to say something back to you, but Mikey snuck up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you away from the scene. You were flailing your arms, yelling at him to let you go.

“If I let you go, you’re gonna have a murder case on your hands babe, not happening.”

KEN RYUGUJI | DRAKEN

Draken should have seen this coming from the moment he stepped into the club with you. He remembers you telling him that you were a hot-head, and had little patience for bullshit. Draken took steps into not pissing you off or making you angry in your two’s relationship. A few arguments did happen between you two here and there, but never did they result in any physical violence.

However, nothing could prepare him for when some drunk woman spills her bottle of liquor over your new dress. The liquid stuck to your skin like glue, and the drunk woman had the nerve to laugh at you. You weren’t having that. “Excuse me, but you just spilled your drink on me.”

“Yeah, I did, and?”

“You got three seconds to apologize to me, bitch.”

“Bitch, get the fuck-”

She didn’t finish her sentence because you had secretly grabbed an empty bottle of beer that was sitting on an end table near the corner of the club and whacked it on the side of her head. Glass shattering when it made contact with the woman’s head. She screamed and you began to slug your fist at her face. She backed up, falling to her feet when she slipped on the broken shards of glass on the floor.

Draken saw all of this happening from the booth he was in and he immediately got to his feet. He pushed through the crowd of dancing drunkards to get to you. “Babe, it’s not worth it, it’s time to go.” He yells into your ear, and grabs your upper arm, tugging you away from the incapacitated woman. “You’re lucky my man is here or you would be dead.”

“That’s the last time I’m letting you out of my sight again, Y/N. Damn!”

BAJI KEISUKE

Baji knew that when it came to an argument with you, he knew just to let you have the last word and think that you’ve won. When he first got into an argument with you, Baji ended up talking out of his ass and that got him three things: 1. slept at his momma’s house for a week, 2. no pussy for a week, and 3. a knot on his forehead. His mom asked him what happened for him to get the knot, and he was truthful with her, to which his mother told him never to argue with you again. And he didn’t.

So, in conclusion, Baji learned just to let you have the last word and the impression that you’ve won an argument with him. Now that didn’t necessarily mean that his friends knew. No, they sadly didn’t. It happened at a house party at the Haitani Brother’s house. You were in the kitchen grabbing a beer for you and Baji to drink on.

That’s when Rindou entered the kitchen and was talking to you about your attitude. “…I mean like you’re in my house and you didn’t even say ‘hey’ to me when you walked in. You just gave me a disgusted look like you don’t even fuck with me. What’s up with that?”

“Rindou, shut up and get out of my face, now. I greeted both you and Ran, now leave me the fuck alone.” You sneered, gripping the can of beer in your right hand tighter.

He ignores your warning and presses on, “Put my beer back in my refrigerator then woman, and then I’ll get out of your face.”

As Baji was about to tell Draken and Mitsuya a story from their childhood, he heard the sound of loud pop and all of a sudden the living room got quiet. Followed by a sound of a man screaming and a woman hollering.

“Shit, Y/N!” Baji hisses as he rushes out of his seat to race into the kitchen. Behind him were Draken and Mitsuya, both men curious to see what was going on. The three of them saw Rindou with a bleeding head, clutching it in his hands and kneeling on the floor. Towering above him was you, holding a damaged beer can in your hand. “Y/N what the fuck did you do?!” Baji says.

You turn your body to face your boyfriend, “I told you I didn’t wanna come to this shitshow of a party. Let’s get the fuck out of here Baji, we’re going home!” You throw the can of beer into the sink ignoring Baji’s shouts for you to come back.

TAKASHI MITSUYA

He likes spending time with you and especially when you come around to hang out with him and his two little sisters. They couldn’t get enough of you. So when Mitsuya invited you to the playground to help him babysit, you couldn’t refuse. You and him were on the bench, seated and your eyes were glued to the screen of his phone as he showed you sketches of clothes he had made. The two of you were laughing and smiling when you heard the heartbreaking cry of a little girl and shuffling of feet.

Mana came over crying with her Luna holding onto her as she sobbed. You and Mitsuya were worried as the two sisters walked together and you asked what happened. Luna explained that a boy on the playground pushed Mana off of the swing and took it from her. “Mana, it’s okay big brother is here.” Just then you stood up and walked away from the three siblings. Mitsuya notices and he blinks, “Y/N where are you going?”

You ignored Mitsuya. You went up to the little boy and crossed your arms at him. “Hey little boy, who are you with?” He looked up at you, stopped swinging his legs, and pointed over to a woman. “I’m with my sister,” You tell him that you wanted to talk to her and he calls her over. You tell the sister that he had pushed your boyfriend’s sister off of the swings. You were being polite and explained to her that he should give the swing back to her. “I don’t see a problem here, this is just kids being kids, so if you don’t mind just leaving us alone.”

“You don’t see a problem? Your spoiled little brother just pushed off my boyfriend’s sister from the swing! She could have gotten hurt!”

“Well she’s not hurt is she? No, they’re kids.”

You had enough of reasoning with the woman, so instead you shoved her to the ground. “You know what you’re right. They’re kids, and that makes us adults. So let’s settle this like adults then.” She looked up at you in horror, “Get up, we’re gonna settle this.”

Mitsuya shook his head as he sat on the bench and watched you shove the woman to the ground. “Luna and Mana, you two stay right here okay?” He tells the two girls before rushing over to your side. You had your arm cocked back ready to punch the girl, but your boyfriend stopped you before you could touch her. “Y/N, this isn’t the time or place to do this right now. Let’s go get the girls some ice cream.”

Reluctantly you lower your arm and jerk your body towards the woman. It scares her causing her to grab her little brother by his arm and pull him away from the swings and out of the playground area. “Pussy,” you mutter under your breath and Mitsuya shakes his head.

“What am I going to do with you?”

HANEMIYA KAZUTORA

“Yeah there’s been some girl harassing Kazutora for his phone number at work.” Chifuyu blurts out in the living room of you and Kazutora’s apartment. Your eyes widened and you don’t remember your boyfriend telling you that a girl was bothering him. “Who’s harassing Kazutora?” you asked Chifuyu. That’s when he knew he fucked up. He stammered on his words, trying to explain that the girl was just a customer at the pet store and she wasn’t anything to worry about. “No to me it sounds like there is something to worry about.”

Kazutora enters the living room after exiting the bathroom and overheard part of the conversation. “What are we worrying about?” He questions, his eyes drift from Chifuyu to you and you immediately ask him. “Who’s the girl that’s bothering you Kazutora and why haven’t you told me this?”

Kazutora wants to kill Chifuyu right now, so he glares at the man before returning his attention to you. “She’s a customer that shows up on the weekends, begging me for my phone number and socials. Don’t worry about her though, baby, I’m not entertaining her.” You grunt, “I still don’t like this, so I will be showing up at your job to make sure she doesn’t try anything.” Kazutora goes to interject, but you shoot him a stern glare. “I mean it Kazutora.”

And that is how he finds himself working the front counter at the pet store on a Saturday afternoon. You were in the office of the store watching the cameras waiting for that girl to show up so you could surprise her. She did. You took note of her outfit, seeing that she was a college student. She smiles sweetly at Kazutora and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Hey there Kazu’baby. How are you doing today?” He clears his throat and ignores her. He waves his hand dismissively at her, trying to get her to leave, but she reaches over the counter and pulls him down by the collar of his shirt.

Oh hell no. You sprung up from your seat so fast, the Flash would be impressed. You stormed out of the office and hollered, “Hands off of him!” before you pushed the girl away from Kazutora. “W-Who are you?” She shouts, looking at you and Kazutora. “I’m his girlfriend you little slut! Now hands off of my man, before you end up in a cage like these animals!”

Your boyfriend sighs, running a hand down his face, “I told you that I had a girlfriend, and I told you that she’s crazy.”

CHIFUYU MATSUNO

You were at home just doing some house cleaning when your phone went off with notifications. You stopped sweeping and wiped your hands on your apron as you entered the living room to grab your phone. You were getting messages from Baji, Kazutora, and Draken asking where you were. You were confused until a message from Baji said that Chifuyu was getting into a fight with some girls on the way to your place.

You knew that none of the guys would ever fight a girl. None of them were raised to hit a female. A sigh left your lips as you took off your apron and high tailed it out of your apartment to go find your boyfriend and his friends. As you turned a corner you saw Chifuyu getting smacked by a girl and off to the side stood the other three men just watching the situation happen.

“You fucking idiots you aren’t gonna stop her? What kind of friends are you?” You yell at him as you near the scene. Kazutora replied, “She said if we jumped in we were gonna get it too.” You rolled your eyes at the three of them and snatched the girl by the collar of her shirt.

“Listen here bitch,” you hissed and before she could utter a word you slammed your fist against her face. “Don’t, fucking, touch, my, boyfriend!” Each pause you punched her in her nose. The nasty sound of bones cracking and a loud screech came from the girl. By the time you were done with her she was laid out on the alleyway crying and holding onto her broken bleeding nose. “You try to pull some shit like that again, and you won’t be leaving with just a broken nose.”

As you were walking back to your place with the boys you asked them why she randomly fought with Chifuyu. Your boyfriend answered, “At first she told us she wanted to rob us for our money, but then she said I looked like one of her friend’s exes and she just started fighting me. I didn’t wanna fight her because you know, we don’t hit girls.” You hit Chifuyu in his arm, “Next time don’t just get your ass beat, stupid, at least block her hits or something!” Then you looked at the guys, “And you three, should be ashamed of yourselves, if this happens again pull the chick away from ‘em don’t just stand there!”

The trio chorused, “Yes ma’am!”

a/n: i think im going to make a part two with other tokyo revengers characters. coming soon!