#he was alone and looked unoccupied and so was i lol. i almost always say PASS to these kind of opportunities to start a conversation

[breakerofcurses]

this guy and i made eye contact and i broke it immediately as usual and just walked away. we are in the same year and case study group (11 students in total so we have plenty of time & opportunities to interact) yet i haven't said a word to him (nothing special abt the guy. it's just that i keep saying that i want to make friends yet keep avoiding interacting with new poeple.) this won't do. people might think i'm rude/awkward

[buckybabesonly]

P r e t t y B o y

Summary: I may seem nice, I may seem soft, but that's all a part of your imagination. Bucky fucks you in a public restroom like the dirty slut you are.

Pairing: Bucky x female!Reader

Genre: pwp, blowjobs, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, spanking, OOC!Steve, nothing too outrageous hehe

A/N: Please use your imagination that in this universe Steve and Bucky are not pals lol

Length: 3.2k

"Hey, you never told me you were such a lightweight," Steve teased as you slowly put down your cocktail glass. Your cheeks were glowing, eyes a little bleary as you turned your gaze onto America’s favorite super soldier. When did he grow two heads?

"I'm not drunk," you hiccuped, poking Steve in the chest but missing completely and prodding his shoulder instead. He laughed, capturing your wrist easily and letting his fingers linger on your smooth skin a little too long. His movement was playful, and the muscle in Bucky’s jaw twitched.

"You've had enough," Bucky said, his voice a little terse as he watched Steve’s eyes flickering up and down your frame almost imperceptibly. 

Being the innocent little ball of cute you were, you didn't realise how you were being eye-fucked by Steve right now. Bucky however, did, and it made him want to throw a punch in his face. A mouth full of metal - now what a satisfying sight that would be.

"Doll, you've had enough," Bucky repeated, making sure to pointedly move closer to his girlfriend. You were perched up on the bar stool by the counter whilst Bucky stood behind you, making you the perfect height for him to dip down slightly to brush his lips purposefully against the shell of your ear, voice husky and seductive. Bucky didn't miss the way you shuddered a little just by that action alone.

When you were sober, you were as pure as anything, blushing like crazy whenever Bucky so much as touched you a little more intimately than usual. Tipsy you was another matter. Your eyes slid sideways, staring at Bucky longingly.

Fuck you, Steve. See the way she's looking at me? Bucky thought triumphantly.

"I need to use the restroom," you said suddenly, smiling a little with embarrassment. "I'll be right back..." 

You slid off the stool a little too quickly, stumbling. Before Bucky could catch you to steady you, Steve’s hands had shot out, capturing your waist and pulling you closer. Your hands rested on his biceps and you made no move to withdraw, still a little startled.

"Oops," Steve laughed. "Do you want me to help you?" His tongue flicked over his bottom lip, eyes boring into yours hungrily.

Fuck no.

"I'll take care of it," Bucky said coldly, pulling you away from Steve a little too roughly, causing you to collapse against Bucky’s chest instead. "She's mine, Rogers." Bucky finally spoke the words which made Steve smirk. He wasn't tiptoeing around this bastard, and as far as Bucky was concerned, Steve had crossed a line.

The blonde raised his eyebrows, snickering quietly but saying nothing as Bucky yanked you towards the restrooms.

"Buck, slow down," you whined, sounding so adorable that Bucky almost forgot how fucking pissed off he was. You probably weren’t even aware of how vulnerable you were, like a soft little rabbit, always totally oblivious to the wolf that was just waiting to pounce on you. 

Bucky had a possessive streak, and you knew it. Right now however, in your slightly inebriated state, you had no clue that all Bucky wanted to do was bend you over and fuck you until all you knew was his name.

"I'm not going to be gentle with you now, baby," Bucky murmured.

"Huh?" you responded, confused as he slammed open the door to the mens' restroom. 

"You were flirting with Steve," he said simply, practically tossing you inside and shutting the door behind him. He kicked the doors of the only two stalls in there to make sure they were unoccupied. Good, Bucky smirked, sliding the lock over the restroom door for good measure. No one will hear you moaning like a slut for me.

"I - I wasn't!" you stuttered, and Bucky almost took pity on you. Almost.

"Fuck you, doll," Bucky grunted, his touch remaining gentle as always as he twirled you around to face the mirror above the sinks. "But also, fuck you," he added in a low voice, grabbing your hips and grinding his hard on against your ass.

"Oh," you gasped, staring at Bucky’s reflection in the mirror. "Oh," you repeated again in realisation at his meaning, eyes rolling back a little as Bucky thrust harder, grunting at the delicious friction. He could dry hump himself to completion if he wanted to, but today was not the day. He wanted you now, to be squeezed and massaged by your tight, wet heat.

Still, he couldn't resist the feeling of grinding his clothed appendage against your ass, knowing it was a very effective way of riling you up.

"Bad kitten,” Bucky growled, using his metal hand to deftly undo the first few buttons of your shirt. "Did you like the way Steve touched you, hmm?" He shoved a hand down your front, past your bra, cold fingers tweaking your nipples playfully and rendering them rock hard in an instant.

"N-no, Bucky," you mewled, cheeks red from the way you had to watch your own reflection as Bucky touched you. You looked so undone already, and he looked so fucking smug as you writhed helplessly, his one hand down your shirt and the other strong arm encircling your waist.

"Mmm, you certainly looked like you did," Bucky disagreed, nibbling your ear softly.

"Oh god, Bucky," you groaned, resting your head back on his shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open, met with the sight of his clear blue eyes. They looked like dark ink in the poor restroom lighting.

"Doll, we're only getting started," he said. The whispered promise made you shiver in anticipation.

You felt Bucky’s hands around your waist, and soon your skirt and panties were down around your ankles, exposing your ass to the cool air and revealing smooth thighs and wet pussy. 

"Look at you, all ready for me," Bucky practically cooed. “Look at the mirror,” he ordered, and you dutifully turned to face your reflections. He was staring at your eyes in the mirror, removing his hand from down your shirt and instead sliding his long, vibranium digits into your cunt. You gasped at the contrast of your warm core against the cool material, biting down on your lower lip.

“How does that feel, doll?” Bucky asked, slowly pumping his fingers in and out. He had slid three inside at once, stretching you open, but you craved for something thicker, something warm.

“Bu - Bucky,” you gasped, eyes closing at their own accord at the pleasure. “I need - need more."

Suddenly the coldness of Bucky’s hand was gone, and your eyes snapped open, looking like you were about to cry as you exclaimed, "Bucky, don't play games."

"Then keep your eyes open, slut," Bucky said bluntly, eyes narrowing. "Keep your eyes open and watch your reflection. Watch how you moan like a fucking whore for me. I want you to watch yourself cum, and then I might reward you with my cock."

Bucky’s words made you even wetter, if that was even possible. You nodded enthusiastically. If you were totally sober, you would've never let yourself do these sorts of things out in a public place, but right now all you wanted was Bucky. You wanted your lover in you, fucking you raw. You wanted his hands touching you, making you cum and beg for more.

Bucky resumed fingering your pussy with his other hand, sticking his metal ones now coated in your slick into your mouth, whispering dirty things into your ear all the while. 

"Baby, just look at yourself," he sighed in a contented voice as if he could not think of a better thing to be doing than finger-fucking his girlfriend in a dirty bar restroom. "God, you look so beautiful. Would you beg for Steve like this, huh?"

"N-no," you gasped, breath hitching as Bucky smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way that drove you crazy, dimples making you weak in the knees.

"I bet you would. You'd want anyone touching you, just as long as you can get off from it."

"I can only get off from your touch, Bucky," you said immediately, the words slipping out of your mouth easily, and he released a small groan at the statement. You rarely spoke like this, but when you did, he fucking loved it.

"And why's that?" he asked huskily. "Tell me, doll."

You were struggling with the urge to close your eyes, half from sheer pleasure and half at the embarrassment you felt from having to watch Bucky finger you to your climax. But you kept them wide open, focusing on Bucky’s beautiful, chiseled face instead, hearing yourself pant faster and faster as his digits continued to curl and plunge into your cunt. The heel of his palm applied delicious pressure to your clit, and the white heat of an impending orgasm was building rapidly.

"Because I'm yours, Bucky," you whispered, voice hoarse. "I can only cum from your touch, from your cock." 

"That's right," he agreed, hand increasing in tempo, the lewd sounds of squelching filling your ears. "You better remember that, dirty slut."

A few strokes later, and you were cumming. You shuddered, crying out loudly as you gave into the throes of your orgasm and all but disintegrated back into Bucky’s arms, his muscular frame propping you upright.

"We're not finished yet, baby," Bucky chuckled as you trembled like jelly in his hold. "I'm still hard. You're gonna get on your knees and suck my cock like the good girl you are, okay?"

You sucked in a deep breath, barely having time to compose yourself, but you knew Bucky was dying to feel your lips around him. You turned obediently and knelt down, the tiles cold and hard on your bare knees, but you didn't care. You quickly unfastened his belt, unzipping his jeans and tugging them down. He had gone commando, as he usually did, and it was your biggest turn on. His cock was an angry red, waiting to be fed into your waiting mouth.

"Look at you," Bucky murmured, looking down at you. You blinked up at him, plump lips looking so beautifully inviting. His thumb traced the edge of your jaw, to your chin, squeezing lightly. "You want this cock in your mouth, don't you?"

You nodded enthusiastically, and Bucky grabbed a hold of his cock and deliberately tapped the hot head against your smooth cheek, smearing it with pre-cum. You whined but let Bucky rub his cockhead against both your cheeks without moving away. He slapped the long, veiny length against your face, an arrogant smile plastered on his lips, before it dissolved into seriousness at the way you wantonly presented your mouth.

"Say, aaaah, sweetheart," Bucky said finally after a few moments, easing his cock past your red lips. 

His cock was thick, hot and heavy inside your warm mouth. You had had it so many times, but each time the weightiness and girth surprised you. He began thrusting instantly, his hand moving to your hair and pulling you down onto his dick as he grunted loudly. The wet heat was so delicious, so addictive to him. He loved the feeling of your tongue on the underside of his cock, the way your eyes watered as you struggled to take all of it in, the way you allowed him to fuck your face however way he wanted.

His baby doll, usually so prim and proper, presenting her holes for fucking.

"You gonna choke, doll?" Bucky asked. He cursed as you blinked up at him, watching as your hand groped your own tits, moving down to your cunt again to send your own fingers into your aching hole, trying to chase your second orgasm. “You dirty fucking girl. You like that? Suck harder, slut. Suck me like the good girl you are."

Bucky looked up at the mirror, looked at the back of your head as you knelt in front of him, watched his own expression of absolute ecstasy as he shoved his cock again and again into your willing hole. 

When he looked down again, spit was dripping from the corners of your mouth, but you loved it. You would never admit it, and you didn't have to - Bucky knew that your ultimate kink was being used like this. Your small hands snaked up Bucky’s strong, toned thighs to grasp his ass, pulling him deeper into your mouth as he simultaneously tugged you down onto his cock. Bucky moaned, feeling his climax approaching as you swallowed repeatedly around his dick.

Bucky pulled out quickly, forming a tight ring around the base of his cock to stop himself from ejaculating. As good as it would feel to shoot his load down your throat, or maybe paint your pretty, tear-streaked face, he wanted to be inside you. Now.

You got the silent message, standing up and allowing yourself to be bent over the ceramic sinks with excitement. You braced your hands against the mirror as Bucky spanked you unexpectedly, making you jump.

"Fuck," Bucky hissed, watching your ass jiggle from the impact. "You have such a perfect ass, baby. And it's all mine." 

“Buck,” you complained, wiggling your butt enticingly.

“Count to ten for me, doll,” Bucky instructed.

You were excruciatingly impatient as Bucky struck your ass again, waiting expectantly. 

“O - one,” you stumbled over the simple word.

His palm firmly met your ass again, his eyes fastened on yours in the mirror as he licked his lips.

“Two,” you said through gritted teeth. 

It was a long count to ten before Bucky finally let up, and you didn’t have to look to know that your ass was flaming red, but you relished the pain.

“Please fuck me,” you begged, and Bucky laughed in that gorgeous, husky voice of his.

"Patience is a virtue, doll," he said, lining up his cock with your entrance. 

You twisted your head to the side to meet your lips with Bucky’s. The kiss was dirty and open-mouthed, his tongue licking inside your mouth as the tip of his cock eased past your folds.

"Mmph!" you grunted, inadvertantly biting down on Bucky’s lip when he suddenly thrust the entire length of his cock into your cunt without warning. He scowled, pulling away momentarily before diving back in and sucking hard on your lower lip in retribution. You moaned out loud, embarrassed at the volume.

"Yeah, moan louder for me," Bucky challenged, murmuring against yours lips as he started to piston his hips in and out, his cock fucking you roughly as you struggled to stop yourself from crashing against the mirror.

"Take it, baby," he said roughly as you whined helplessly. "Fucking take it."

Bucky lowered his head to bite your shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood but hard enough that it would surely leave a mark. “So fucking needy.”

"I need you," you begged in affirmation, every pull of his cock inside your pussy reminding you exactly who you belonged to. 

"I'm here, baby," Bucky said with sudden tenderness, his voice almost a caress before he aimed a well-practiced thrust at your sweet spot.

You cried with pleasure as Bucky threw his head back, releasing a long, drawn out moan as your passage clenched and unclenched around his length. He fucked like a pornstar, every move precise and strong and unrelenting, knowing exactly what to do to illicit a reaction from your body.

"Fuck, are you doing that on purpose?" Bucky hissed, trying not to come just from the way your walls were now massaging him. He pulled out slowly then, suddenly switching the pace, watching how his cock emerged from your stretched entrance, stopping when only the very tip remained inside. "I'm gonna make everyone know that you're mine, doll," Bucky promised. "So scream."

He snapped his hips, letting his cock sink back into your hole, his balls slapping against your ass hard as he clenched his jaw. 

"Nnngh," you gasped. Your mind could barely form any coherent thoughts, but you managed to release a cry of, "Bucky, faster, please!" He felt so good, filling you up with every inch of his manhood, forcing you to take his dick even though you felt like you couldn't fit any more.

"You're not in a position to give orders," he said, punctuating the final word with another hard thrust. "Should I go slow? As slow as I can, and see how long it takes until you're a sobbing mess?"

"No," you said, your voice trembling with pleasure as Bucky drove his cock into you again. "Please, please, take me fast and hard."

"Hmm..." Bucky said, pretending to think before he suddenly increased his pace yet again. The change up from slow to fast was driving your patience to the edge. Suddenly he was fucking you so hard that he had to grip your waist to stop your from flying into the mirror, fingers digging into your soft flesh. 

"Oh god, yes, Bucky, yes!"

"Dirty, filthy slut," Bucky groaned, trying to control his breathing as his pulsating member slid back and forth out of your hungry hole. "You act so innocent all the time, and this is the side no one gets to see but me. The begging, panting, filthy side that's just for me, right?"

"Yes, yes," you chanted, and Bucky couldn't tell if you were agreeing with him or simply in the grips of pleasure. But it didn't matter. you were his, and they both knew it.

"Are you gonna cum again, baby?" Bucky asked breathlessly, feeling his own climax nearing. You babbled something incoherent in response, and Bucky smirked. "I'm going to fill you up, doll. Fill you with my thick, hot cum until it's dripping down your thighs. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Bucky, please, cum inside me," you said breathlessly. "I want to feel you explode inside me.”

“You want it that badly, huh? Tell me, doll, are you gonna pull up your panties after I’ve unloaded inside you, go back outside in that bar with your legs all sticky? You gonna go sit next to Steve with my seed still inside you?”

The words were causing you to get ever closer to your orgasm. You studied his reflection, amazed at how gorgeous he looked. Eyes dark, mouth open and panting and sweating as he fucked you into oblivion. You didn't look so collected yourself, practically in pieces as you felt Bucky reach that perfect spot with his cock again and again and again. Your hands reached up to grip his short brown hair, fingers lightly digging into his scalp.

"Bucky, I'm gonna - I'm gonna cum, oh god," you yelled.

"Then cum," he said gruffly, his hands tightening on your hips and pulling your down onto his cock one last time before you were convulsing violently, yet again. Bucky followed soon after with a loud curse, fulfilling his promise of emptying his load into you. You felt it leaking out of your hole as he carried on thrusting, riding the full length of his climax with loud moans, relishing in the squelch of his cock diving in and out of your pussy.

"Mmm, Bucky," you said breathlessly as Bucky finally stilled. He paused, breathlessly for a long moment before he pulled out, fully satisfied. He collapsed onto your back, mouth latching onto your neck and sucking, causing you to whimper.

"Mine," he said after a moment filled with nothing but the sounds of both of you trying to catch your breaths. "All mine."

[davnittbraes]

A Study in Feminism

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7190 (I’m sorry)

Warnings, tags etc: mention of addiction and recovery, very brief unwanted physical restraint, reader technically commits assault and runs from the cops, mentions of past relationships, arguing, angst (of course, because it’s me,) rage at the patriarchy, explicit smut, oral f!receiving (of course, because it’s Frankie,) unprotected p in the v action with previously given consent and present but not mentioned birth control, c-spot orgasm (DONE RIGHT, none of that blindly stabbing at things nonsense) and some fluffy silliness to top it off

Notes: this is my first true one-shot, as in I have no intention of developing this into a series. We’ll see how long that lasts lol. No mention of Frankie’s kid(s?) here, the word count is bad enough without diving into that

Objectively, it’s a shitty bar. 

But it’s the only one in the area that won’t be packed tonight - it’s lack of television screens eliminates the chance of rowdy, drunk crowds packing in to watch the big game, and really, the last thing you want is to be around a bunch of obnoxious people right now. 

Today was… A Day. 

Your morning sucked. Work sucked. Your commute sucked. Everything just. Sucked. 

The type of exhaustion born from dealing with too much bullshit is setting into your muscles and all you want to do is close this day out with an ending that isn’t as terrible as the rest of it. 

So. The bar is shitty, but it’s quiet, and it has food and alcohol. Three out of the four things you need right now. 

And the last thing just texted you to say he’s on his way. 

You smile as you type out a quick reply to Frankie. Funny, you’ve been doing that a lot lately. 

Smiling, about Frankie. 

It’s only been a few months, and you’ve both got enough relationship baggage that neither of you are rushing into anything. So it’s a little early for you to be confident in saying it’s going to be a long-term thing. 

But you’re still smiling when you lock your phone and the wallpaper photo lights up your screen - you and Frankie, kissing in the middle of a mutually enabled giggle fit. 

Not an unusual scene, in your relationship. 

He makes you laugh, often, those dry one-liners that come out of nowhere, spoken in that quiet, almost always gentle voice. A voice that belies his strength and determination, a focused drive that got him through his military career and earned him a place on elite task forces. 

The same focus that pulled him out of the pit of addiction and led him to be five years clean this year. 

Now, he’s the reason why your exhaustion is already starting to slough off your shoulders, just the anticipation of his presence enough to set your heart racing and turn your thoughts away from the events of the day. 

He’s the reason why you had the energy to shower after work, throw on a pretty sundress and some makeup instead of sulking alone at home on the sofa. 

He’s the reason why you wanted to end the day on a positive note, because since Frankie came along, you know what it’s like to be happy and you want to stay that way. 

Shifting on your bar stool, you set your phone down and reach for the glass in front of you, taking a sip. The unoccupied seat beside you suddenly fills, a guy wearing a bit too much cologne sliding into it.

Internal alarm bells go off immediately, skin on the back of your neck prickling in warning. There are plenty of empty seats that aren’t right next to you. But then again, this isn’t the first time some guy has invited himself into your evening unwanted. You can handle this. 

Glancing around, you pick out an empty table for two toward the back. You’ll just move over there -

“Hey.”

You look at the man who just sat next to you, silently praying to whatever the patron saint of women drinking in bars is. Please let him not be a creep. “Hey, I was just moving -“

“Come on, now, you’re the reason why I sat here in the first place.” He turns to face you, smile too forced, gaze drifting down your body. “I’ll buy you a drink, we’ll get to know each other.”

Nope. Not a chance. 

Keeping your tone neutral, you move to slide off the barstool. “I’m good, thanks.”

He stands up suddenly, stepping too close, expression shifting to something dark. 

You inhale sharply, startled, and his cologne catches in the back of your throat, stinging your eyes and almost making you cough and you blink rapidly to clear your vision. 

Gotta get away, where -

“Hey, dude. She said no.”

An unfamiliar voice drifts over your shoulder, a tall, broad man stepping up to your side, placing himself just a bit in front of you.

You can’t help but frown at him - who is this guy? - but the creep with the cologne scoffs, gives him a onceover, then slinks away. 

The guy turns to smile at you, and your frown fades. He’s instantly charming, warm and friendly. And he did just scare off what was going to be a problem for you.

Clearing your throat, you reach for your drink to get rid of the lingering scent of strong cologne. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs, settling into the now-empty stool. “I see a girl in trouble, I have to step in. It’s the right thing to do.”

Those internal alarm bells sound off again, quieter this time, unsure. He seems friendly, but he moved right into that stool the creep had just left far too easily for your comfort. 

Time to go. 

You grab your phone, slip it into your purse. “Well, I wasn’t really in trouble, but I appreciate that you want to help other people.”

“Guys like him are assholes. They should be put in their place more often.” He shakes his head, leaning an elbow against the bar, charming smile dimming as if he’s upset even talking about it. “Might not have seemed like it to you, but men like him can flip pretty quickly. He definitely would have taken advantage of you.”

A flash of surprise makes you freeze, staring at him. He assumes you were completely blind to how obviously dangerous that guy was? 

A hard note slips into your voice, despite your efforts to keep it light. “I was leaving when you showed up. I would have been fine.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze running down your frame in an echo of the other guy’s. “I’m sure you would have. But girls like you are always safer when you have a man to look after for you.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice rises, anger rushing through your veins. “I don’t need ‘a man to look after me.’ I can do that myself. Watch me.”

You shove off the barstool, spinning around to -

His hand grabs your arm, grips tight, pulls you back. 

Shock rips through anger and you yank hard to free your arm -

His fingers dig in, bruise -

It doesn’t budge he’s too strong -

You struggle to pull free, managing to glare at him, anger flaring bright at the smug look on his face. “Let me go.”

He grins, gaze dark with something that curls into your stomach and makes you sick. Makes your heartbeat waver and your lungs clench with panic. 

You hate this feeling. 

This feeling of helplessness.

It’s one you’ve felt too many times in situations too similar to this, when you’ve had to cautiously navigate a conversation with a strange man who was coming on to you, always aware of the fact that they were usually bigger and stronger than you, that many people would be on his side if it came to a fight. 

That society would have you “give him a chance,” no matter what you wanted. 

Frustration sweeps through shock and panic.

No. 

You’ve had enough of men making you feel this way. 

Like you’re powerless.

You shove him with your free hand, pushing all your body weight into the motion. 

He jerks backward, thrown off balance, letting go of your arm as he stands up. “Hey! Watch it -“

“What’s going on?”

The quiet, gentle words seep into the tension in the air, dull the harsh beat of your pulse in your ears. 

You look over your shoulder, voice rushed, high with too much emotion. “Frankie.”

He’s eyeing the stranger, jaw set in a tight line as he moves to stand by you, placing himself between you and the guy. 

A thrill of something primal squeezes the air from your lungs - the way Frankie moves, with the confident grace of someone who has fought similar fights countless times, and won. 

With the absolute certainty that he will do whatever is necessary in order to protect you.

Your heartbeat races for a different reason, another kind of heat flooding your system. 

Seeing Frankie stand up for you is… unfairly sexy. 

The stranger scoffs, looking at you over Frankie’s shoulder, sneer twisting his features. “For someone who doesn’t need a man, you sure are quick to hide behind one.”

You freeze. 

Shame pours ice-hot down your back. 

No. You will not let him make you feel like this. 

Powerless. 

Anger boils, irrational and unstoppable - 

You’re moving, slipping around Frankie and pushing out all your anger and frustration at this asshole and all the world’s assholes and -

Ow. 

The stranger is shouting, slumping, holding his hands to his nose. 

Why does your hand hurt?

You’re moving again, surging toward the stranger, but someone grabs you and -

Instinct shoves you back, a grunt as your elbow hits something soft -

Rage dims enough for a sliver of awareness to sink back in. 

Frankie wraps an arm around your waist again, pulling you back, his voice finally registering to your anger-haze mind. “Stop, come on, we have to get out of here -“

A patron sitting at the bar a few seats away is on his phone, talking frantically, you catch words drifting through the rush of blood in your ears -

Police -

Assault -

Broke his nose -

You push Frankie away and find your feet, grabbing your purse and moving quickly toward the back door.

The cool night air hits your skin and you gasp, the contrast to the heat boiling in your chest sharp and disorienting. 

Frankie’s right behind you, pulling the door shut and striding quickly toward the street. “Come on, I parked this way. We’ll go to my place, it’s closer.”

Instinct more than anything pushes you to follow him, your mind too chaotic with adrenaline and anger to think. The guy’s sneering smirk replays in your head over and over, that smug superiority of someone who thinks they hold power over another person. 

Your teeth hurt as you clench your jaw. 

Worse, that he did hold power over you. That he was stronger than you. 

That he proved his point. 

Because Frankie -

Was only trying to help you -

The rational thought burns to ash as soon as it crosses your mind, caught in a whirlwind of rage echoing with the words of the asshole back at the bar. 

Because Frankie shoved his way in. 

Frankie opens the passenger side door to his truck, gesturing for you to get in. The gesture reminds you of when he’d stepped between you and that asshole and shame ripples through you again. 

You liked it -

No, he interfered, he didn’t think you could hold your own -

You shake your head sharply, trying to knock the irrational, anger-fuelled thoughts back as you slide into the seat and he closes the door. 

Deep breath. Let it out. Try to calm down. 

The silence is heavy as he drives, vibrating with tension, hanging between you just waiting to crack and spill out all the words you’re trying so hard not to say, but that tiny sliver of rationality is growing harder and harder to hold on to, worn away by the memory of that smug smile and that slimy glance down your body and those words -

“Wanna tell me what happened?” 

Frankie’s quiet voice is jarring to the noise in your head, just enough for your tenuous hold on your temper to finally snap. 

You shift roughly in your seat, struck with the urge to move but annoyingly stuck where you are for now. “What ‘happened’ was you got in the way.”

He glances at you, a movement you see out of the corner of your eye. “How did I get in the way?”

Ignoring the heat of frustration in his voice, you power through, holding tight to your own anger. “You shoved yourself into a situation that I was handling just fine without you.”

“Really.” The sarcasm is a low blow, it stokes your anger perfectly. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to go to jail tonight. Sorry I stopped that from happening.”

You throw up your hands, let them fall to your lap with a loud slap to emphasize your frustration. “Don’t be dramatic. I would have been fine. I didn’t need you to get involved.”

A moment of silence, and you risk a glance in his direction - the green glow of a traffic light illuminates him as the truck passes underneath it, catching the faint movement of his index finger tapping slowly against the steering wheel. 

Great. He’s using that anger management technique he learned in therapy. 

Next he’ll be trying to walk you through it too, count steadily to ten, so you can both calm down and talk about this. 

Yet another thing you don’t need from him right now. 

Right now, you want to rage, at him, at the asshole in the bar, at the entire world, for making you feel like you aren’t enough. 

Frankie clears his throat. “Obviously not. That punch was perfect.”

The words throw you for a loop, not what you were expecting, but not enough to quench your anger. “Yeah, well, I’m no spec ops but I can throw a punch. Which is why I didn’t need you to step in.”

He looks at you again as he turns onto his street, but it’s too dark to see his expression. “Look, I saw you were in trouble -“

“I was handling it.” You cut him off quick but he keeps going. 

“- and I care about you, so yes, I stepped in -“

“- I didn’t ask you to -“

“You don’t have to, that’s just what you do for people you care about.”

An undefinable emotion flood your veins, hot and cold at the same time. “Oh, so that guy cares about me?”

A pause. “What?”

You scoff, fold your arms across your chest, suddenly hyperaware of your body and uncomfortable about it. “He stepped in when another creep was being too pushy, so he must care about me, too, right? I should have been grateful to him, let him buy me a drink?” Rage chokes your throat. “Should I have let him take me home and fuck me because he stood up for me?”

“You know that’s not what I’m saying -“

“Then what are you saying, Frankie?” You twist in your seat, look at him without even seeing him. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re no different than that guy.”

Frankie stills, turns off the ignition, sits back in his seat. 

You hadn’t even realized he’d parked in his driveway. 

Blinking, you finally look at him. 

The outside light is on, casting his features in a dull orange, deepening the shadows around his eyes from the bill of his baseball cap. You can’t see them, but it doesn’t matter - you can tell by the slump of his shoulders, the downturned corners of his mouth. 

Your words echo in your thoughts. 

Guilt spikes through your anger. 

You hadn’t -

You didn’t mean -

What you said last still hangs in the air, unable to be taken back. 

Frankie moves, breaking the stillness. Opens the truck door and steps out. Closes it behind him. 

You watch him walk up to the front door of his house, unlock it, disappear inside. 

The dull thud of the door closing behind him is like a final toll of a bell. 

Your voice cracks in the silence of the truck cab. “Fuck.”

The worn hinge of the truck door creaks as you scramble out, slam it behind you with a little more force than you meant to. The buzz of anger in your chest shifts, turns toward yourself too, and how you treated the one man who was kind to you tonight. 

You’re such an idiot, why would you say that -

He’s not -

A growl of frustration chokes in your throat as you push through the front door. 

The house is quiet, dark, only the entryway light left on. And empty, no sign of Frankie -

He comes out of the kitchen, a bag of frozen green peas in his hands. 

Your heart stutters hard enough to hurt, and you lean back against the door as if it could give you strength.

Frankie stops in front of you, gaze on the bag of peas as he holds it out to you. “To keep the swelling down.”

A huff gets stuck in your tight throat, comes out more like a cry, and you blink back the blur of tears, look up, around, anywhere but at him. “How dare you be so thoughtful and sweet after I said the worst things to you.”

He gently takes your hand and turns it over to rest your sore knuckles on the bag of peas. “Still care about you.”

You can’t even look at him, can’t see the hurt that you know is obvious in those warm, brown eyes. Instead, you focus on his hands, on the large palm cupping the pack of frozen peas to your scraped knuckles, the long fingers of his other hand loosely curling around your wrist. 

All the fire and heat and fury that burned in your chest moments ago suddenly sputters, flickers. Dies. 

A heavy sigh loosens the tightness in your lungs. “I’m not mad at you.”

His fingers flex on your wrist, his low hum of disbelief vibrating over your skin. 

Fuck, you really screwed this up, didn’t you. 

Letting your head fall back against the door, you force yourself to look at him. He needs to see it, that you’re telling the truth. “I mean it. I’m not.”

That warm gaze meets yours - yeah, just as you thought, it’s there, hurt tinged with anger and now doubt. 

That stings more than the hurt, actually. 

The knowledge that he’s doubting you, your honesty. Maybe even how you feel about him. 

Fuck your pride, girl. Just tell him. 

Shifting your wrist in his grip, you take his hand, squeeze it tight. “Look, I liked it, okay? And I’m angry with myself and I took it out on you and that’s not fair, and I’m so sorry, Frankie. I’m sorry.”

A frown forms between his brows, his gaze flickering over your features in confusion. “Liked what?”

Oh god, just say it, get it over with. “When you showed up and like immediately stepped in to defend me, physically put yourself between me and the threat with no hesitation, then stood there with your stupidly broad shoulders and strong arms and testosterone and this whole aura of “don’t fuck with my girl” and god, Frankie, it was so hot. “

His mouth twitches, lips curving at the corners and his frown melts away, hurt in his eyes replaced by fond amusement. “Oh yeah? You liked that?”

Your nose wrinkles as embarrassment tries to push you away from him. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wanna know what was really hot?” 

His voice dips low, rasping down your spine, pulling it into an arch that curves your hips toward him, a movement tracked by his gaze. 

He definitely catches the clench of your thighs, too. 

His thumb glides over your bruised knuckles. “What was really hot was watching you clock a guy with at least six inches and fifty pounds on you, staring him down like you were gonna castrate him right there in the bar.”

Biting back a grin, you twine your fingers in his, cocking your head to the side. “If only I had a knife.”

He chuckles - why is that so hot - and lets go of your hand, tugs you toward him, pushing into your space, his chest brushing your breasts through your dress. Anticipation catches in your throat, arousal you’ve been holding back for so long pulsing to life. 

Then his expression turns serious, thoughtful, his free hand slipping around your waist to rest on the small of your back with casual intimacy. “That’s what I was thinking, you know.”

Your thoughts are already sluggish with a pleasant haze, it takes a moment to figure out what he’s referring to. “That you wanted me to cut his balls off?”

“I was thinking don’t fuck with my girl, because she’ll make you wish you’d never laid a hand on her, and leaving with your balls still attached is the least of your worries.”

The absolute certainty, the pride in his voice - some emotion you’re not ready to name twists behind your ribs, trembles through your veins. 

God, what you wouldn’t do for this man. 

Lifting your free hand, you let it trail down his chest, the slight swell of his stomach, brush over the bulge of his jeans. His breath hitches as you press your palm there, lean in to murmur against his lips. 

“Don’t worry, your balls are safe with me.”

You catch the glint of his answering smile before he’s taking the sliver of distance between you and swallowing it in a searing kiss that pulls a moan from your throat. 

He echoes the sound back when you flex your hand, fingernails scratching lightly against denim, palm grinding over his cloth-covered cock. Arousal warms between your thighs as you feel him twitch, already starting to strain against the fabric.

Need swarms over your skin, your thoughts, dizzying. 

Fuck, everything about him feels so good, the way his body presses to yours, his hand glides up your back, his tongue swipes over your bottom lip, how his breath stutters against your cheek when your fingers curl over his length and squeeze -

Crash -

You startle, hands flying to grasp at Frankie’s shoulders as you whirl toward the source of the sound -

Tiny, cold balls ping off your legs -

What -

Frankie huffs, looking down at the floor by your feet, mouth twisting up in a sheepish smile. “Dropped the peas.”

You glance down at the bag, split open, a few random peas still rolling away, and a surprised laugh bursts from your chest. He looks at you, gaze sparking, and your laugh gets stuck in your throat, a wave of intense affection flooding warm through your veins. 

It amazes you, sometimes, how much you want him. 

He obviously sees it, expression shifting to something similar, darker and sweeter at the same time. 

Then he’s pulling you to him, hand curling around the back of your neck as he kisses you firmly, thumb pressing at the hinge of your jaw until you open for him.

Yes -

His tongue slips into your mouth to glide along yours and a rush of heat floods your core and you clutch at his shoulders, sweep his cap off those soft curls to sink your fingers into them, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

Something shifts, you can feel it under your palms, an energy that flares to life deep within him. 

Your own body responds, moulding to his, silently pleading for more. 

He gives it, kiss turning into something more desperate, all lips and tongue and panting breath and hands roaming your body, catching on the fabric of your dress, slipping underneath. 

The heat of his large hands on the swell of your ass makes you gasp, break the kiss, and he groans. 

“Need you -“

The pleading tone of his voice brings your lips right back to his, your hips arching into his grip, shivers of pleasure racing along your skin when his fingertips dig in just enough to sting. 

Then you’re moving, feet stumbling to follow him, senses too focused on how his lips move against yours and his hands sweep over your hips and his thumbs trace the waistband of your underwear -

Something soft but solid bumps against your thigh  and then he’s turning you, guiding you back to lean on it - the arm of the sofa, you’re in the living room now. 

He pulls away enough to look at you, dark gaze flitting over your features as if taking you in, every sign of your arousal that’s painted on your face. The corner of his mouth ticks up, as if he likes what he sees. 

There’s something almost cocky about his expression and it feeds the heat growing in your core, cunt throbbing for friction. Your hands fly to his belt, start to open the buckle but he takes your wrists, stills your motion. 

You hesitate, confused. “Frankie?”

“It’s okay.” He brings your hands to his lips, kisses them lightly before setting them palms down on either side of you, resting on the arm of the sofa. “I just wanna taste that perfect pussy of yours first.”

A moan falls from your lips, and his smile grows as he sinks to his knees. 

Holy shit -

Seeing him like this, knelt before you with that goddamn knowing smile, his hands smoothing up your thighs as he pulls the skirt of your dress to your waist. It’s exhilarating in some way, shoving your need for him even higher. 

But residual guilt suddenly tamps down on your arousal. “Frankie, I’m supposed to be making you feel good -“

“This does make me feel good.” He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down your legs, glancing up at you as he leans in. “Hold that pretty dress up for me, baby.”

You just manage to grab the skirt of your dress to keep it out of his way when he flicks his tongue out and swipes it over your clit. 

Oh fuck -

Pleasure sparks through your core, your thighs falling open, and he hums in approval as he shifts closer, large hands gliding up your legs, warm and steady, plush lips pressing a wet kiss to your clit before lifting his gaze to look up at you. 

A moment, and you’re pinned by that dark brown, those beautiful eyes that glow with some kind of warmth, some sort of emotion that’s stronger than any you’re ready to name yet.

You swallow against a suddenly dry throat, a mirroring emotion swelling in your chest, his name falling from your lips in a hushed whimper. “Frankie…”

He blinks once, a slow sweep of his lashes, the last moment he gives you to breathe. 

Then he truly begins.

Fuck it’s so good -

The flat of his tongue warm and slick against your folds -

Your fingers curl into the fabric of your dress, so tight it hurts. 

Scrape of his moustache over your clit sends shivers of pleasure through your body - 

Lungs ache for air, you struggle to breathe, swept up in a wave of hot-wet-heat that sears your skin. 

It’s intense and all-consuming, how he pulls pleasure from you body with his mouth, knowing exactly what makes you fall apart, a combination of experience and intuition you’ve never been the focus of before him. 

You can’t stop watching him, mesmerized by the sight of his tongue slipping through your folds, swirling around your clit, dipping down to lave over your entrance. Pleasure builds steadily, a throbbing pulse that radiates through your veins in time with your rapid heartbeat, and you finally break, gasp for breath, a sharp inhale that cracks with his name -

“Frankie oh god -“

He groans in response, dark gaze growing darker, hand gripping your thigh to haul it over his shoulder and -

Your head falls back, a cry cracking free from your aching chest. 

The angle brings him closer, lets your hips roll into the heat of his mouth, and you chase it, shudder as he follows the movement, flattens his tongue so you can grind your cunt along its length. 

Pleasure spirals through your veins, voice tight with it. “Yes oh god just like that -“

You try to find a rhythm but can’t, a steady tremble growing in your thighs as your pleasure swirls higher and you whine in frustration. 

He pulls back, words deep and rasping against your sensitive skin. “Come on, baby, ride my tongue until you come, I wanna taste it.”

His hand grabs your hip, guides your movements, pulls your folds along the slick of his tongue and catches your clit with a flick at the end and it’s perfect so perfect and -

Again and again -

Heat grows, swirls through your core, pushing higher and higher. 

Yes you can feel it right there right there -

He nudges deeper and his tongue grinds over your entrance on the next roll of your hips and you cry out, muscles tensing, so close -

Again -

A burst of wet heat -

Swell of pleasure and it bursts -

You sway with the force of it, scrambling for purchase, a hand diving into his hair to hold him there as your cunt pulses with each wave. 

Finally it breaks -

Air rushes into your lungs, blood pounds in your ears, your entire body shivers with the release. 

He groans long and low, tongue pressing to your entrance, long fingers gripping your hip so hard it stings. The wet sound of him swallowing your pleasure down pulls a trembling aftershock from your core. 

Fuck he’s so fucking sexy and incredible and perfect -

Need you need him now -

Thoughts still scattered, a tug on his curls is all you can manage. 

And he’s there, rising to kiss you, fill your mouth with the taste of your own pleasure. You melt into him, wanting more, slip a hand between your bodies to cup his cloth-covered cock.

He grunts, a sharp exhale that shoots straight to your core and sparks renewed arousal, and you squeeze as best you can through the denim of his jeans. 

You find your voice, murmur against his mouth. “Are you gonna let me apologize to you now?”

His hands curve around your waist. “Apology accepted.”

Suddenly he grips and flips you around -

A whirl of motion and -

His hands press firmly between your shoulderblades, pushing you down until you’re bent over the arm of the sofa. 

You moan into the sofa cushion as a shiver of primal need runs down your back - so fucking hot when he manhandles you like that - arches your hips up, seeking. 

He tosses the skirt of your dress up over your waist, the clink of metal telling you he’s unbuckling his belt. “You like that? When I move you around however I want?”

A frisson of embarrassment stills your movements, and you huff into the cushion. “Shut up.”

The sound of a zipper as his words drift down over you, gentling and teasing at the same time. “Come on, baby. Say it. For me, I wanna hear it.”

Leaning up enough to throw a mock-glare at him over your shoulder, you bite your lower lip to stop from moaning again - just the sight of him, all broad shoulders and mussed hair and dark eyes, towering over you, enough to send a rush of want through your body. 

And that playful, knowing look in those dark eyes tells you he’s not going to oblige you until you give him what he’s asking for. 

Sighing dramatically, you flop back down, burying your face in the sofa cushion to muffle your words. “Yes, I like it.”

“Like what?”

Damn him. Whining, you wiggle your hips to tempt him into moving on from this but hands on your hips still your movement. “Fine. I like it when you move me around like that. During sex.”

He chuckles, one hand leaving you while the other grips your hip tight. “Distinction noted.”

Then he’s sliding the head of his cock through your slick folds, notching into your entrance and -

Oh fuck this angle -

The stretch -

You gasp for breath, fingers curling into the sofa cushion -

Pleasure pulses bright through your core -

He groans as he works his cock in. “Fuck, this pussy, so fucking perfect  -“

The wet squelch of each slow, grinding thrust echoes in your ears, ripples through the rising heat spiralling out from where your body clenches around the thick of his cock. 

Spikes of white-hot pleasure shoot through your hips and legs, tremble in your lungs, and you can’t think, only want more -

A pause, he stills, hips pressed against your ass, head of his cock tight to a spot deep inside you that sends a jolt of pleasure through your entire body. 

“Gotta breathe for me, baby.”

His rasping words sink into the pleasure-haze, the ache in your lungs burning enough to finally get your attention, and you inhale sharp, voice cracking. “Oh my god, Frankie, feels so good -“

“I know, I know, just breathe.” A warm hand glides up your back and down again, in time with a gentle thrust of his hips that grinds his cock against your cervix. 

Oh fuck -

An intense burst of pleasure rips through your body, flashing white at the edges of your vision. 

Again -

It’s so much it’s overwhelming it’s incredible and you’re floating -

Over and over -

Your fingernails scrape at the sofa cushion, hands desperate to anchor yourself, spit out gasping words. “Right there just like that oh g-“

He grunts as your cunt pulses around him. “Holy shit, you’re gonna come already - fuck -“

The shudder runs through your entire body, clenches his cock tight, and you feel it, building so fast - too fast - it’s so much how -

A high-pitched whine of his name is all you can manage. “Frankie -“

“Come for me, come on -“

Again - 

Strong hands on your waist, holding you in place -

Again - 

Bright hot heat -

Bursts -

Every nerve ending in your body alight, blood rushing in your ears -

The drop and -

You gasp for air, like you haven’t taken a breath in centuries, throat aching with a sharp throb and you swallow against it - did you scream? Fuck. Probably. 

Strong hands caress your lower back. “That was a good one, huh?”

Senses scattered, you blink to try and clear your vision, your head, find your words. “Yeah.”

An amused chuckle, a gentle shift of his hips that drags his cock along your sensitive inner walls, sends a shiver up your spine. “Want me to give you another one?”

Your cunt clenches instinctively as he seats himself deep again, pleasure once again spiral outward through your limbs. “Yes, make me come again, please.”

“Yeah? I want to, baby. Love watching you fall apart on my cock.” Another slow thrust that curls your toes. “Wanna give you what you want, always.”

You moan into the sofa cushion, his words slipping beneath the haze on your thoughts to someplace deeper, something that tightens around your heart. 

Then strong arms are slipping underneath you, hauling you upright, hands are pressing you back against a broad chest and -

The sharp thrust of his cock rips through your body but his hands hold you firm, pin you in place as he starts up a rhythm that shoves pleasure through your veins. 

Your fingers curl around his forearms, nails digging, strangled moan falling from your lips. “Holy sh-shit-“

“Yeah, I know.” He groans into the crook of your neck, tongue flicking out to taste your heated skin. 

His hand slips down to where his cock pulls slick from your dripping cunt, calloused fingertips finding your aching clit instantly. 

Fuck -

Your legs waver and his free hand shifts, arm wrapping around your waist to keep you steady as his fingers match pace with the snap of his hips. 

Pleasure rises, hot, swirls out from your core and fills every corner of your being -

Frankie -

So perfect so good feels so good -

His free hand finds your breast, dives into the neckline of your dress to cup it firmly, grinds his palm over your peaked nipple and tiny sparks of pleasure join the flood, sweeping you away -

The first pulse of your orgasm looms, pulls a cry from your throat. 

He picks up his pace, voice rasping in your ear, words stifled by the rhythm of his thrusts. “Fuck I’m gonna come, come with me, baby, please come with me I need it -“

Yes yes yes -

Up higher and higher until it’s a tidal wave of bright heat -

Your slick spatters on your inner thighs, squelches around his cock -

There -

Your head falls back, body shudders against his. “Frankie -“

His pace stutters, once, a cracked groan rumbling in your ear -

Everything pulls tight then releases and -

A flood of wet heat against the pulse of his cock deep in your pussy -

He thrusts again, again, slows, again -

Pleasure finally dims, moves to overstimulation, his fingers leave your clit to help hold you steady, his cock slowly slipping free of the clutch of your cunt. 

You take a deep breath, try to find your body again. There’s a certain disorientation, soaked in spent pleasure, tilting your thoughts and skewing your senses, making everything seem so far away yet close at the same time. 

The urge to find an anchor, to root yourself, pulls to the forefront. 

Lifting a shaking hand, you sift your fingers through his hair. “Frankie?”

His sigh against your neck is full of contentment, lips pressing soft kisses to the space just below your jaw. “Yeah, baby?”

Somehow, that’s enough, and your own contented sigh shifts the air. “Frankie.”

“Is that the only word you know now?” 

His chest vibrates with laughter against your back, enough of a physical sensation to bring you down into your body even more, become aware of his teasing tone. 

You lightly tug on his curls. “Fuck you.”

“That’s three, at least.”

Huffing a laugh at his obvious display of male pride, you pull out of his embrace to lean over the couch and take more weight off your trembling legs. “What did you do to me? I can barely stand.”

“What did I do to you? What did you do to me, I thought I was gonna pass out, you were choking my cock so hard.”

“Well, that was your own fault.” You arch your back slightly, stretching sore muscles. 

His hands cups the curves of your ass, groaning when you instinctively spread your legs and bend lower. “You’re killing me, baby. Look at you, you’re a mess.”

You shiver as his thumbs spread your pussy open, glide through your combined pleasure. “Hmm, well, that’s also your fault.”

“I see how it is, everything’s my fault all of a sudden.” 

His playful, grumpy tone makes you grin, break character, straightening to turn around and kiss him firmly. He leans into it, arms coming around your back to hold you tight, his soft moan dusting over your cheek.

A few moments pass, moments that feel like forever and are gone too quickly at the same time, and when you pull away and meet his gaze, that beautiful, soft brown so warm with affection - for you - emotion stings the back of your throat.

Gently cupping his cheek, you stroke your thumb over one of those bare patches along his chin that his beard never grows into. “I mean it, Frankie. I’m sorry. I was angry at the world and I took it out on you, and that’s not fair.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to -“

“Please, listen.” You hate to interrupt him but you need to get this out. He pauses, nods once, and you take a breath before you continue. “You’re what I want at the end of a bad day. I’ve had more fun with you than anyone else in my entire life. And I know I can trust you to always have my back, even if I don’t think I need the support. I know you’ll be there for me.”

Swallowing back against a suddenly tight throat, you give voice to the emotions that were boiling under the surface of your anger earlier in the evening. “It’s frustrating, being a woman. Sometimes it feels like society expects this impossible balance, like we’re supposed to be ladylike, pretty and soft and gentle and also strong but not too strong, like we’re supposed suck it up but also withstand the pressure.” 

Sighing, you let your hands rest on his chest, drawing strength from the steady rise and fall beneath your palms. “I just… tonight I felt that, and I hate it so much. I don’t want to feel like that. I wanted to prove to those guys - to everyone - that I am strong enough. Even more. That I’m stronger than they want me to be.”

He looks at you, tiny crease forming between his brows. “I can’t say that I understand, not exactly. But I get that feeling of not being enough, of needing to prove yourself but hating that you feel like you need to at the same time.”

Right. Of course he does. 

Everything he’s been through in the last few years, he probably understands better than most. 

You lift a hand, press that crease between his brows flat with the pad of your thumb. “I know you do. But you don’t need to prove anything with me. You know that, right?”

His features soften, smile pulling at his lips. “I know. Do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Even if I forget it sometimes.” Biting your bottom lip, you weigh your words, settle on what you hope is enough. “You make me happy, Frankie. Really, actually happy.”

He smiles for real, gaze warm and bright. “You make me happy, too.”

You pull him in for another kiss, trying to push everything you’re feeling into how your lips move with his, your hands curl into his hair and over his shoulders and down his sides and around his back. 

It’s enough. Maybe more than. 

A stronger tremble shivers down your legs and your knees buckle, pulling you and Frankie apart. 

He deftly catches you around the waist, grinning. “I was that good, huh?”

Laughing, you shove his chest playfully and lean back against the arm of the sofa. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Never.” A brief kiss to your forehead, then he’s stepping back, straightening his clothes and turning to walk out of the room. “Stay here, I’ll grab something to clean you up.”

Wrinkling your nose, you try to stand, fail and settle back on the sofa. “I don’t need you to wait on me.”

“I know, and I support that.” He calls back over his shoulder as he disappears around the corner. “I’m a proud feminist, baby.”

You bite your bottom lip, giggling to yourself. 

“Shit!”

His startled shout instantly wipes the smile off your face. 

You pitch your voice so he can hear you. “What happened?”

A sigh that shakes with laughter. “Stepped on the peas.”

Your snorting laugh echoes as it drifts down the hallway, and you don’t really care how unladylike it sounds. 

[pleaseleavemetowrite]

Me and my husband | Bruce Wayne

I am once again here to give you something completely unrelated to the fics I need to finish. And it totally hasn't be done because I am obsessed with Batinson

Anyways lol, I don't really know what this is. It reads like the reader is Bruce Wayne's wife venting to be honest.

Warning(s): descriptions of war (it's a metaphor but I wanted to be sure, haha rhyme, anyways it not a description of violence but general war) also swearing near the end

Requested? yes/no

Requests are open!

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summary: Being Bruce Wayne's wife wasn't always easy.

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I couldn't necessarily remember when Bruce Wayne first became a part of my life. We were all the other had in a sense, both surrounded by people who cared but not people who understood.

Until we found each other, and stayed together. 

Despite how much it felt like we wouldn't at times. 

Bruce never provided the conventional love. He didn't feel like the first day of summer, he didn't make me feel like I was on cloud 9 and he most certainly didn't give me that fluffy feeling as my chest cavity remained hollow and heaving. He wasn't the type of man who would hold you through the night as his side of the bed remained unoccupied. He didn't do romantic gestures or the moments every girl dreams of in her youth. 

But he was the first breath of air on a crisp winter morning, he was the interlocking of freezing hands. He was the feeling of the familiar in a crowded room. He was the sensation of kissing in a downtown bar, whiskey lingering on your lips. He was the feeling of held stares and silent conversations. He was the deep understanding you can only ever have with that one person. 

We were far from conventional in almost every sense of the word, but it made sense to us. Neither of us could fathom it any other way, let alone long for something different. 

So while people liked to talk of how about how it seemed our marriage was built on an initial self-interest fuelled union that ended up right in the end, I can confidently say that it was built solely on the fact that we both knew that in this lifetime we would be sticking together. 

A particular group that liked to call our marriage into question were the high society of Gotham. Even if the mere idea felt ironic, the squalid and suffering remained the shadows while the cluster of inherited wealth and lucky ones place themselves above it all. Building looming skyscrapers, and demolishing anything that dared stand in the way. Even if it meant tearing down each other.

And while I want to be able to say I never partook in similar activities or behaviours, I would be lying. As Bruce Wayne's wife and the heiress to one of the oldest families in Gotham, I was branded with it the moment I left the womb and then celebrated it when the Wayne's and the (L/n)'s conjoined. Effectively fitting myself neatly into the idealistic and aspirational front of glamourous parties filled with famous friends and dazzling smiles. 

Yet as I stand in a room filled with people labelled the same as me, I remain alone, in the corner. Taking up the space and wasting the oxygen, another opinion that will fall upon deaf ears and solemn looks that only the blind will see. Not quite important enough to be listened to but held to a high enough regard to have my family name lingering on the tips of tongues that would drop it in a moment's notice if the occasion called for it. 

That all stopped when he walked in. Brows furrowed, piercing eyes cutting through the crowds, and as he strode over it seemed as a trance washed over people as suddenly I went from another nepotism baby who clung to the nearest man to the sophisticated and intelligent Mrs. Wayne. 

And people told me multiple times that I am the "lucky one", the woman who managed to tie down the playboy that Bruce had made of himself. And a small and ashamed part of me did agree, while being with Bruce always seemed to the crystal clear ending for me, it seemed like he didn't always feel the same.

We by no means split at any point but our relationship wasn't always what it was today, and not being with him could sometimes feel like fighting on the frontline of a loosing war, desperately fighting and pushing and aching for it to end. But never truly reaching that point, the only semblance being the cold isolation that was the stalemate. Not willing to loose yet, but also just not having the energy or means to carry on. 

But of course, I digress. As while the journalists and socialites clamoured to tell me I was lucky one, a wave of confusion would come close to drowning me because I never felt the way they described. I didn't feel beautiful, or gorgeous, or even pretty. I just felt used. 

They never cared for how I or even Bruce felt, they only truly cared about how our story could benefit them, quick to turn us from a fairy tale to a near horror story. Whether it was previous lover of Bruce's twisting a story or the ones we held closest at the time splashing our secrets to reach the front page of the papers. It seemed like we couldn't truly escape it. 

Well Bruce may have been able to, but I couldn't. 

Where he could flash a smile, ask for the press to not make up rumours, make a passive comment about privacy and say that he loved me dearly. I had to smile politely but not seem too happy about it all, debunk rumours with the truth but not sound calculated, beg for privacy while not seeming to desperate or else I must be hiding something and declare my deepest love and affections for Bruce while not seeming clingy and overbearing. 

It felt like they wanted my downfall, waiting for the opportunity to finally rip me and Bruce apart. Desperate to try and peel away at the foundations of our relationship, hands itching to tug at the threads that bound us together. Forgetting that I'm not just fucking an heir but also a fucking heiress.

[lavishedinjimin]

Crybaby (m)

— synopsis: he calls you crybaby, crybaby. but you don’t fucking care.

↳ Pairing: jungkook x reader ↳ genre: smut ↳ word count: 9.6k ↳ warnings: dom!jk, sub!oc, oc is small in height, rough unprotected sex, oc cries a fuck ton bc sex is too good and cock is too big for her, daddy!jk, little!oc, choking, spanking, intense dirty talk lol are we surprised, jk’s lowkey a sadist, SIZE KINK, big dick kook, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, face fucking, name-calling, degradation, taehyung makes an appearance because why not, this is just one big porn without plot thank you 

cute people: @seokjoontae​ @gwccivante​ @pompurii​

A/n: Before you start reading, the OC that I imagine in this oneshot is small in height, so if you read words like ‘little’, ‘small’, and ‘tiny’, please don’t get offended or feel hurt! It’s just the way I pictured this OC, but you can completely ignore that if you want and paint your own. Everyone’s beautiful in whatever shape or form! <3

It was a cold, rainy day and you were walking along the paved sidewalks. Holding onto your umbrella with both hands as you tried to prevent it from folding upwards from the harsh wind, the only thing that was keeping you going -- was café that you’d always go to before work.

It was called Jeon’s Kitchen. It was a café that was super underrated for its location was hidden from the busy streets, yet it served the best coffee and pastries that you’ve ever tasted in your whole years of living.

You push the door of the café and the bell rings, signaling your arrival. The fresh smell of baked bread and coffee instantly hits your nose, and you almost roll your eyes back from its heavenly scent. Folding your wet umbrella close, you greet the man from the other side of the glass counter. “Good morning Mr. Jeon!”

“Ah, Y/n, here you are,” he smiles back at you, his forehead wrinkling as he wipes his wet hands on his apron. “Good morning to you as well! You look very happy this morning. Why’s that?”

You approach the counter as your boots create wet marks on the wooden floor. Letting out a giggle, you replied, “Thank you, sir. But there’s no big reason, really.”

You ordered your usual brown coffee with banana bread and sat down on an unoccupied seat. “Your friend Jimin isn’t with you today?” Mr. Jeon asks and you shake your head.

You chewed on your food as fast as you can before answering his question, “Jimin got on sick leave, Mr. Jeon.  I’m all alone today!” You sing-songed your last words jokingly, making him laugh.

“Oh, you wouldn’t—”

“Hey, dad.”

Your whole body jumps in surprise as a man, dressed in all black with a leather jacket, bursts inside the café, all soaking wet.

You were so frightened from the sudden outburst that your heart was pumping rapidly in your chest.

“Jungkook? What are you doing here?” Mr. Jeon asks quizzically, “And why are you so wet?”

Mr. Jeon’s son, Jungkook – as you supposed – smirked for a quick second before pushing his damp hair away from his face. You gulp, cheeks blushing at the embarrassingly hot sight.

“Dad, stop talking like that before I –”

“You know what I mean!”

“Okay, okay! Well, my car broke down today so I got it towed then I had nothing to do so I decided to help you with work.”

“Oh, that’s great then!” Mr. Jeon scans the room and locks eyes with you for a long second, and you swiftly pry your eyes away. Mr. Jeon grins, “Keep that gorgeous young lady over there company before she goes to work.”

And before you even knew it, Jungkook was right in front of you with his hands on the table, leaning down as he stared at your stunned face with a smirk.

“Hello.” He speaks, his voice sounding like honey and charcoal mixed together.

You swallowed the nervous lump on your throat before replying, “Hi.”

“Is it okay if I sit here for a while, hm?”

You nod your head.

Jungkook chuckles and does what he says. He rests his arms on the table and intertwines his fingers together. His eyes burn deeply into your own and you couldn’t seem to look away. You felt your cheeks blush and turn into a deep shade of red, not used to a man this handsome so close to you.

Jungkook studies you for a moment, scanning you up and down before squinting his eyes. “Do you not talk?”

Ouch. You felt a sharp sting on your heart, immediately lowering your head down. “S-sorry,” you half-whispered, avoiding eye-contact. This man in front of you not only looks handsome and cute, but he’s got a sharp tongue.

“Ah, no, please. I apologize. I was just shocked, that’s all.”

You lift your head up, “Shocked? Why?” your shyness was slowly fading away and he observes this.

“I wasn’t expecting a girl like you to be so shy and quiet when I first laid my eyes on you.”

Oh? You didn’t know how to respond to that, but it made your heart flutter nonetheless. You smiled at him, and he smiles back.

“I haven’t gotten your name yet though, haven’t I?”

Your body hastily prompts up, “Oh, yeah. I’m Y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Y/n,” he licks his lips as he says your name slowly as if testing how it rolls off of his tongue. You bite your lip at that, making you squirm in your seat.

“I like it, you have a very pretty name. Just like you.”

Before you can react or even respond to that, he cuts you off. “I’m Jeon Jungkook, nice to meet you.”

“N-Nice to meet you too, Jungkook.”

Perhaps dating Jungkook was the best decision you’ve ever made.

Pinned against his bedroom walls, Jungkook leans down as he kisses you. His lips completely control yours, his dominant side showing and overpowering you. You keep moaning onto the kiss and that makes him groan. “Fuck, baby,” he sighs, scattering gentle pecks on the skin of your neck, “You like how I kiss you, hmm?” his big hands wander down to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze and causing you to moan.

“A-ah, Jungkook,” you whimper, his hands not leaving your butt. Jungkook smirks and pulls your body closer to him. You were so small that you literally had to tilt your head back to look up at him. He leans down to kiss your lips once more, but it was rougher. He wraps his whole left arm around your body, tugging you firmer, while his other hand cups your right cheek. He controls the kiss, your tongues fighting together and you couldn’t keep up with him.

You keep whining in the kiss, your hands gripping his shirt in a loose attempt of telling him to slow down. Your cheeks were flushed in red, blushing by how turned on you are for him.

Jungkook chuckles, stopping the kiss. “You keep moaning into the kiss baby girl, what are you, hmm? A little schoolgirl who got kissed for the first time?” he teased, your face redder than it already was. Jungkook suddenly growls darkly, the deep sound finding its way down your core. “Your little whimpers turn me on so fucking much.”

Your eyes widen from his crude words, feeling your panties soak. You rub your thighs together, and your boyfriend sees this. He smirks, lifting your small body with his strong arms and carrying you to his bed.

He sets you down gently with a grin, pushing the stray hairs away from your face. “You aren’t a virgin, aren’t you, baby?” he asks with a quirk of his brow.

You shake your head, “N-no… why?”

He chuckles, “Good. ‘Cause I don’t plan to fuck you like one.”

You almost moan with just that sentence, every little thing that he does turns you on. He suddenly grabs your legs and pushes them apart so that he can kneel in between them. Lifting up his black shirt, your mouth waters from the sight of his toned body. A quiet whimper escapes your lips as you bit on your index finger.

“Bet those little panties are soaking wet right now, huh?” he snickers, playing with the hem of your cotton shirt. “Let me take this off, okay?”

You whimpered, quickly placing your hand on top of his as you stopped him. You shake your head side to side, your eyes drooping.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Jungkook’s heart clenches at the sight of you and quickly leans down to caress your cheeks lovingly, “What’s the matter, my baby?”

“I-I,” you tried to start, “I’m not v-very pretty…” Your voice was shaking and you attempted to cover your face with your little hands, but Jungkook didn’t let you.

He firmly catches both of your wrists in his right hand. His eyes were burning holes in yours, “Don’t talk about yourself like that, Y/n.”

You gulp, noticing how he addressed you by your first name, and not the usual ‘baby’. His tone got more serious, his eyebrows creasing down.  

He slowly creeps a hand beneath your shirt, feeling the soft, delicate skin of your tummy. Jungkook sighs, caressing your lower stomach with his big hand, massaging it gently. “You are so beautiful, Y/n, and you should believe me when I say that.”

He leans down lower to kiss your delicate lips tenderly, full of love. “You know I don’t lie to you. You’re the most beautiful and perfect girl I’ve ever met, and I’m so fucking lucky to even have you. Your body’s a blessing, baby. Be proud of it, yeah? Will you let me see your gorgeous body?”

His words immediately made you feel better, and it was surprising how he can control the way you felt. You felt so loved whenever you’re with him, a feeling that you’ve never felt in a long time. You were definitely the luckiest girl in the world.

Nodding your head, you gave him permission to remove your shirt. He smiles and slowly lifts the clothing up and throws it down on the floor. He eyes your body up and down, noticing how his cheeks blush in the faintest of pinks. “Shit,” he breathes out, “you’re a fucking goddess.”

Jungkook wastes no time to spread wet and sloppy kisses down the valley of your exposed breasts and down to your stomach. “J-Jungkook,” you moan, and a loud gasp escape your lips when he wraps his mouth around your left nipple, sucking and flicking on the hard bud.

“O-oh, y-yeah, Jungkook, mhm …” you throw your head back when he starts playing with your other boob as he continued to flick and bite on the little bud. Gripping a bunch of his hair, Jungkook growls from the feeling. He pulls away with a loud ‘pop’ and moves to your other boob to give it the same attention.

Jungkook’s hips were involuntarily humping down on you, feeling his hard cock rubbing on your thighs. You whimper, bucking your hips up to him in an attempt to feel some friction. He chuckles, “Needy little girl.”

He moves away from your body and you whine from the loss of contact. Jungkook only smirks and starts to unbutton his jeans, pulling the clothing down and tossing it to the side. Your mouth waters from the sight of his clothed cock. His cock looked long and thick from the way it was outlined from his briefs.

“Jungkook,” you mewled, biting your lip as you pleaded at him with your eyes.

He brings his hand down to tease you, palming his clothed, hard dick as he keeps eye contact. He was smirking, loving the way your body squirms on the bed. He grips his cock and strokes it up and down slightly. The image of him throwing his head back, his neck slowly starting to bead with sweat, his large hand palming his dick was enough to make you cry out loud.

“You want it, baby?” he asks with a raspy voice, crawling back to you.

“Yes, p-please,” you begged, but Jungkook shakes his head.

“M’gonna eat you out first. Gonna need this pretty cunt soaking wet for me before I fuck your little hole.”

Jungkook wastes no time and rips your shorts away, and he sees the little wet patch on your cotton panties. “Fucking hell,” he groans, his eyes rolling back to his head as your smell hits his nose. He rubs your clothed folds with his thumb, the slightest action already making you moan. “Damn, baby. You’re so sensitive. When was the last time you got fucked, huh?”

“L-Long, long time ago—oh my god, Jungkook!”

Without a warning, he pulls your panties down and licks a harsh, bold stripe from your dripping wet hole and up to your clit. He does this a second, a third time before you’re already begging and gripping on his hair. He circles his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves, careful not to directly put his tongue on it.

“Please, w-wan’ more.” You mewled, eyes closed shut.

Jungkook suddenly prods the tip of his tongue on your entrance, collecting all of your gushes and wetness and letting himself taste you. He growls, his hand comes up to play with your clit using his thumb. He circles your bud gently as his mouth plays with yours slick. Your pussy throbs when he replaces his hand with his mouth, harshly sucking on your clit as his tongue flicks on it at the same time.

“Fuck! J-Jungkook,” you sobbed, bucking your hips up for more, “I want m-more, please, please, please!”

Jungkook gets turned on from your endless pleads, sucking on your clit harsher and flicking it faster. “Tell me how my tongue feels on your pussy, babe,” He groans animalistically, and the vibrations it caused made your whole body shake in pleasure.

“It f-feels so good, so good,” you sob, “I want more of it, please!”

You felt a finger prodding at your entrance, and your body writhes. “Shh, shh, baby, baby,” Jungkook coos, “Let me prep you up, baby girl.”

You hold onto his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as he slowly sinks his middle finger inside your tight pussy. You gush around his finger, more of your liquid starts to drip down as he slowly fills you up with a single digit. Your eyes roll back, mouth agape as you couldn’t seem to form any words.

“Thaaat’s right, that’s a good girl, hmm?” he smirks, watching how your hips buck up, “Gonna have to prepare you for this cock, right? Don’t want your little pussy splitting into two.”

Jungkook starts to thrusts his finger in and out of you at a normal pace, watching how your face contorts in pleasure. You were a whimpering mess, your forehead forming a layer of sweat, your pussy clenching tightly around his finger. Jungkook’s cock seems to twitch every time he hears your little whines and moans, your cute noises turning him on to the max. He feels precum dripping down from his tip, making him groan.

Without saying anything, Jungkook shoves a second finger in, stretching your walls out good for him. “Ah, ah, ah, there we go, there we go, baby,” he sighs, licking his lips.

“Jungkook, I-I’m so close,” you whimpered, eyes watery.

“You are?” he teases and fakes a disappointed tone, “My baby girl’s already close? Oh what a shame, I wanted you to cum on my cock, not on my fingers, baby.” Even though you know that he was playing a displeased expression, you still took it to heart. 

“B-But your fingers – aahh – your f-fingers will make me cum!” you cried, tears already dripping down your cheeks as you felt him fuck you faster, his thumb circling your clit at the same time. The nerves in your clit send electrical currents throughout your trembling body.

Jungkook growls as something snapped inside of him when he saw your tears. He wanted to see you sob.

“Yeah? They will?” he fusses, “Oh, I’ll be very disappointed if you cum right now, baby. You wanna make me mad?”

You quickly shake your head, sniffing, “N-no!”

“Then don’t fucking cum.” He growls. 

The combined feeling of your walls getting stroked by his fingers and the way he was playing with your clit made it super hard for you. More tears seem to escape your eyes when he suddenly hits your g-spot deliciously. “Oh, right there!” you cry out, breathing heavily.

“Right here, baby? Ohh, you like it right here?” he licks his lips, loving the way your body contorts from pleasure. His fingers rub and stroke the spongey feeling of your g-spot with wild ‘come here’ motions. He sees your tears dripping down your eyes as little strands of hair were sticking on the base of your neck from the sweat. Your pussy kept clenching around his digits so hard that made his cock throb painfully.

“Please please please, let me cum!” you begged in a little voice, not having the energy to yell as loud as you wanted to. You tried your best to hold back your orgasm, but the way he was fucking your pussy with only his two fingers was too much for you.

“Please, I-I can’t stand it…” More tears dripped down onto your cheek, your walls fluttering around his fingers as you were getting closer and closer to cumming.

Yet, Jungkook suddenly removes his fingers out, denying your orgasm.

“No, no!” your whole body shakes and trembles and Jungkook immediately hovers above your figure. His hands hold your wet cheeks and wipes away the fallen tears, his cock twitching.

“Shh, baby girl, baby girl. It’s okay, it’s okay.” Jungkook places soft pecks on your lips, trying his best to calm you down as you were still shaking.

You whimpered, literally sobbing as you tried to stop yourself from crying, but everything was just out of control. Your pussy kept clenching around nothing and your breathing was heavy. Jungkook places his head on the crook of your neck, rubbing your sides and he scatters kisses on your shoulder. He chuckles breathily, completely amused and turned on, “It’s okay, precious.” He lifts his head up to look at your face, all flushed and your eyes glossy, “I’m gonna make you cum so good and so hard. I’m gonna make it up to you, little baby.”

“Y-you better,” you sniff, making him chuckle.

He tugs his briefs down with one and the other wipes the remaining tears on your cheek. He hisses when his dick hits your inner thigh, stroking it a couple of times and spreading his precum.

“You like what you see, my baby?” he smirks, noticing how you couldn’t get your eyes off of his hard cock.

It was so big, you weren’t even sure if it’ll fit. Your past boyfriends couldn’t even compare to him. The tip of his cock was pouring precum and it was angry in red, the veins in his shaft prominent that made you mewl. Crossing your legs together in need, a whimper flows out of you as you felt your pussy drip. You wanted to feel it inside of you for the first time, you want him to break you.

“What are thinking, hmm? Baby?” he says, letting his thick shaft rub against your wet, soaked slit. You whimper, bucking your hips up but his hands push you back down with a growl.

“Y-You’re so big, Jungkook,” you blush, “It wouldn’t fit.”

“Oh, I fucking know, baby,” the tip of his dick slightly nudges your clit, making you mewl from the sensitivity. “I don’t even know if you can take it.”

He hears you whimper and he slaps your cunt a couple of times with his thick dick, “But you will.”

Jungkook pushes the tip slowly against your entrance, and you close your eyes immediately from the feeling. He was going so slow yet you can feel how your walls were stretching so much with just the tip.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” he curses, trying to fit this whole tip in without accidentally breaking you in half, “You’re so fucking tight, fuck, even with how wet you already are. Goodness, baby,” he chuckles, pulling his cock out as he tries to fit it in for a second time, “Pussy so fucking tiny, can’t even get the head to fit.”

He was able to push about half of his cock inside your cunt yet you already feel so full. You couldn’t stop the way your pussy was dripping more and more juices out, and Jungkook loved the way it felt. 

He notices how your eyes were getting watery once again, and this time he felt concerned.

“Does it hurt, baby? Please tell me to stop if it gets too much for you,”

“No, no, please. Please continue,” you say with a small voice, trying to control your breathing, “I-I just love the way it feels so much.”

Jungkook feels his cock pulse from your praise, and it definitely turned a switch inside of him, “Yeah, you do? Look at you, crying already. Crying ‘cause you love the feeling, huh? Love the feeling of my cock stretching your tiny, delicious cunt?”

You nod your head frantically, feeling how he pushes more and more of his cock into you. It felt like it doesn’t seem to end. “S-so…big…” you cry, sniffing. Jungkook lifts your legs up and hangs it on his shoulders, the new position caused him more room to push and his tip hits your g-spot without trouble.

“Oh!” you yell, “Jungkook!”

“Fuuuuuck!” he drags out, starting to pump slowly, “Feels so fucking good. Your little cunt feels so tight, shit, it keeps clenching, baby.” Jungkook throws his head back, biting his bottom lip.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whisper, “I’m gonna c-cum!”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to fuck you a bit faster, hitting your sweet spot without difficulty with his thick tip. “Cum, baby, I’m not gonna stop you.”

Your eyes roll back from the immense pleasure, the feeling of a large wave hitting your body as you went through your hard orgasm. You’ve never cummed so hard in your entire life. You started seeing stars as your pussy clenches tightly around Jungkook’s cock as you feel him fuck you harder and faster through your orgasm.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, “Jung���oh my god!”

Jungkook adjusts his position and starts to fuck you deeper, his arms keeping him up as he pounds down in your cunt. He watches your reaction, how you never stopped crying and how you kept moaning and whimpering for him. He watched how your tiny figure was curled up, your legs hanging on his shoulders as it provided him more space to fuck you. He smirks and chuckles, loving how submissive you are.

“You love how I fuck you, huh, you love my cock? You love how my big, long cock stretches your tiny little cunt out? Hmm?”

You don’t respond as you were too focused on the feeling of his big cock pounding your pussy, his balls hitting your butt. His shaft was rubbing against your walls so good that it was the only thing you can think of. When you don’t answer, Jungkook gives one particular, hard thrust, his tip harshly hitting your g-spot.

“O-oh! Jungkook…” you whined.

“Answer when someone asked you a question, you bad, little girl.”

“I-I…” you gulped, “I love it, Jungkook…”

He pushes another inch of his cock in, making you gasp loudly.

“Love what?”

“I l-love how your big cock stretches me out,” you mewled, biting your lip right after. Jungkook cock throbs when your eyes meet and they looked so big. Your eyes were watery as more tears kept escaping from them, and Jungkook wanted to wipe them off of your face, but the sight was too good.

The way you were looking up at him so innocently made him fuck you harder and deeper, getting even closer to his own orgasm.

“Why’re you such a fucking crybaby, huh?” he chuckles, “Crying all this time, hmm? Couldn’t take my fingers and my cock? You couldn’t take how I fuck you raw? Fuck, baby. Cry as much as you want, I’m not gonna fucking stop until you say so.”

Saying that Jungkook was turned on was an understatement. There were no words to describe how aroused he was in this situation. He was so fucking lucky to have you.

“Deeper, please,” you sobbed. Jungkook does just that. His thrusts turn even harsher as he basically pushes all of his cock in, not caring that it might sting. “Aahh! K-Kook!” you cry, but he doesn’t care at this point. He was too in his feelings.

“Yeah, look at my pretty little girl taking all of this cock in her little cunt. You filthy little thing, you like it when I fuck you balls deep?” he chuckles when you nod your head, sniffing.

“My crybaby. I love to see you cry. Love to feel how my dick stretches that little pussy. So fucking tight, fuck.”

Jungkook feels your pussy clenching sporadically around him once more, and he senses your second orgasm. “Cum, baby. Cum around my cock again. Please, fuck. Wanna feel your walls tighten around my raw dick. Wanna see you scream my name and sob for me. Wanna see this little pussy ruined.”

That was all that it took for you to cum. Your hands scratch down his back as your walls tighten around his thick girth. Your mouth was agape as you screamed his name like he wanted to. “Jungkook! Oh my god, oh my god…” Jungkook keeps fucking you through your orgasm again as he helped himself reach his own high. You came so hard, your mind going blank as you just focused on the delicious, addictive sensation.

“Fuuuuck, yeah, oh my fucking god.” He curses, and with a few hard thrusts, he pulls out and shoots his cum on your stomach. Strings of his seed cover your skin and you moan from the sight. He kept pumping his cock with his right hand, his biceps flexing and abs tightening as he milked his cock clean.

After he was finished he flops beside you with a loud sigh. “Oh my god. I came so fucking hard.”

You giggle at that as you watch him stand up immediately to grab a wet towel from the bathroom, and coming back to wipe your body with it. He then tends to your face, wiping your cheeks using the clean side of the cloth. “I’m sorry if it was too much for you, Y/n,” he breathes out, “Seeing someone cry like that during sex was a first time for me.”

“No, i-it’s okay. I loved it. I cried because it feels too good. I’ve never felt that type of way, I promise.”

His eyes light up, his lips curving into a smile, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I probably looked dumb crying, didn’t I?

“No, no, no! Absolutely not.” He quickly says, stroking your hair. He kisses your lips lovingly, and you can feel how much he loves and cares for you in that little kiss. “You didn’t look dumb, in fact...” Jungkook looks away, blushing a little bit as he wondered if he should say it or not.

‘Oh, whatever.’ “It turned me on.”

You lift your eyebrows up in shock, and now it was your turn to blush. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” he leans down close to your ear, and you can feel his hot breath hitting the skin, sending shivers down your back, “You looked so fucking cute like that, baby. So fucking hot, shit,” he chuckles, shaking his head, “I’ll stop talking before I fuck you again… just to see you cry.”

“Jungkook!” you playfully slapped his arm, your face completely red in embarrassment. “I’m too tired for another round.”

“I know, I know, baby. Let’s get some rest, little one.”

Having sex with Jungkook for the first time made you closer to him than ever. After that day, Jungkook seemed more protective of you. It wasn’t like he isn’t protective of you before having sex, but… things felt different.

He also acts more helpful? You weren’t sure if that was the right word to describe it, but he acted more caring than he already was.

He’d always cook for you whenever you visit him, he’d pick out clothes for you to wear and help you put them on, he’d grip your hand tighter whenever the two of you crossed the road, he’d order food for you in restaurants, and he would even massage your back whenever you came home from work. It was the simplest thing he does for you that amuses you. To be honest, it made you feel soft and fluffy on the inside. It made you feel a type of way, like you feel so protected and loved around him.

Knocking on his front door three times, you waited for Jungkook to appear as you held your hands behind your back.

“Oh, hi Y/n.” Your eyes widen when you saw Taehyung, his roommate, open the door instead of your boyfriend.

“T-Taehyung!” you stutter, completely surprised, “Hi… is Jungkook home?” you asked politely. You and Taehyung met a couple of times before, yet your conversations were always short and a bit awkward. Taehyung was a great guy, but he was always out and about so you didn’t have the opportunity to get to know him.

He was almost the same height as your boyfriend, and you still had to look up.

“He isn’t here yet, he’ll be back in a few minutes though.” He says in a monotone voice, towering over you. He looks at you so sharply that it made you feel intimidated. His eyes turned into little slits, eyeing your little figure up and down. You could’ve sworn he smirked for a quick second, but perhaps your mind was only playing with you.

If you knew that Jungkook’s roommate would be home, your outfit wouldn’t be a simple oversized t-shirt and short cotton shorts.

“Come in.” he states simply as he moves aside to give you some room. “Please act as if I’m not here.”

“O-oh,” you whisper, “okay…”

You watch Taehyung as he disappears into the hallway and goes inside his room, the door shutting with a loud bang. You frown. Maybe he had a bad day?

You still had so much time to kill left, so you had an idea. You walked up to Taehyung’s doorstep and gulped before knocking. “Taehyung? C-can I ask you something?” you say in a quiet, small voice.

“What?” he shouts.

You sigh, “I wanted to ask you about some—” You shrieked when the door suddenly flies open, revealing him wearing headsets and a PS4 controller on one hand.

“Oh s-sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, it’s okay,” he chuckles, “I’m having a bad day today, so I apologize if I seem like an ass.”

You giggle at that, nodding your head in acknowledgment. “I wanted to ask you if I can use some of your ingredients, I want to surprise him some food before he gets home.” You say giddily, not realizing that you’re standing up in your tippy toes.

Taehyung looks down and notices this, making him laugh and shake his head in amusement. “Yeah, of course, Y/n. You can use whatever you want.”

“Yay! Thank you!” You quickly ran back to the kitchen as Taehyung laughs at you, his mouth smiling wide as he shuts the door, resuming to his game.

Jungkook can feel the excitement bubbling in his stomach as he parks his car, knowing that he’ll be seeing you again today after such a long day. He bites his lip as he makes his way to the front door, the thought of hugging your body, of kissing your sweet lips and smelling your scent was driving him insane. He wants to feel you. To see you again.

You, on the other hand, don’t hear the keys jiggling as you kept humming to yourself as you made him his favorite snack. Jungkook opens the door and sees you facing away from him, chopping away on the counter. He creases his brows in confusion, smirking.

Jungkook crosses his arms together, biceps flexing as he quietly walks closer. He leans his arms on the marble island, watching you in amusement.

You kept humming your favorite song, not knowing that your boyfriend was right behind you. You tip-toed as you tried to open the cupboard right above you, but it was too high for your short height. Huffing a breath, you reached your right arm higher, stretching up as much as you could. Jungkook only watched with a cocky smirk, lifting a hand up as his thumb and index finger played with his bottom lip. He watches how your shirt hikes up, revealing more of your butt, how you struggled to keep yourself in your tippy toes.

Even though you’ve admitted many times before how much you hated your height, Jungkook loves it so fucking much. He didn’t understand it before, but he loves how he can easily hold your tiny little body by just wrapping his big, strong arms around you. He loves to see how you seem so small beside his tall and intimidating build. It gives him the feeling to take care of you, the strong desire of wanting to protect you as your lover. 

Besides all of that, though — the size difference turns him on.

His dominant side easily shows whenever you let him control your body with consent, letting him use your frail figure for both of your pleasure. 

A whimper escapes your lips, “Mmph!” You frustratingly yelled, fingers trying to reach for the handle.

Jungkook chews on his bottom lip, feeling his cock twitch slightly inside his tight pants. He licks his lips and chuckles darkly when you wailed.

His eyes widen, though, when you lift your knee up to rest on the counter, trying to hoist yourself up as your hands grab onto the cupboard.

He quickly strides over to you and places two hands on your waist, pressing his front on your backside. “Hey, hey, careful, careful, little one.”

Your whole body jumps in surprise, eyes expanding as you flip your head to him, “Jungkook! You scared me!”

“No, you scared me. Climbing up the counter isn’t safe at all.”

Jungkook grabs your hoisted leg and puts it back on the ground. He still kept his body pressed firmly onto yours, not giving you space. “I couldn’t reach the cupboard…” you faintly said, making Jungkook giggle.

“I know. I was watching you this whole time.”

You gasp, trying to turn your body around to face him but his strength didn’t let you. He grips your waist firmer, a soft raspy growl leaving his lips. A blush creeps up your cheeks from the sound.

“T-then why didn’t you help me?” you grin, throwing your head back so that you can look up at him. The top of your head was pressed against his upper stomach, giving you a full view of his jaw and his face looking down at you.

Jungkook sighs, wrapping his hand around your throat without pressing. He leans farther down and presses a kiss on your forehead. “Because I thought you look fucking adorable.”

“Jungkook!” you shout with an embarrassed laugh. “P-please let me finish this snack I’m making for you.” You whine, wriggling your body as you tried to find a way out of his strong grip. Jungkook further plays his game though, wrapping his big arms around your small figure, enclosing your body with his firm hold.

“Mmm, fuck, I love you, I love you.” He mutters, making your heart flutter with his words. “I-I love you too, Kook. B-but you’re squeezing me so h-hard.” Your small hands try to push his arms away, but of course, it was useless.

Jungkook gives you one final kiss on the top of your head before he finally releases you, causing you to puff out a large breath. “Oh! Thank you,” you giggle, “please, let me finish this, Kook.”

“Okay baby,” he smiles, wandering to the other side of the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water. “Thank you.”

You nod your head and bite your lip, looking at his eyes. “Y-you’re welcome. But can you…” you look up at the cupboard, then back to him, “Can you please grab me the salt up there?”

Laughing, Jungkook nods and comes up to your side and opens the cupboard with no problem. “Here, little girl.”

You blush at the nickname as you grab the bottle with a blush on your cheeks. “Thank you.”

With a final kiss on the cheek, Jungkook playfully squishes your cheeks with one hand, “No need for that, babe.”

Jungkook also finds many different ways to spice up your sex life. Every round drained your energy but he had such a huge and impressive stamina.

“Jungkook, p-please, careful, careful…” you whimpered, closing your eyes tight as his dick kept pounding into your little cunt. Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle as he lifts your legs up to wrap around his waist. This position gave him better access to your g-spot, hitting all the right nerves that made you moan louder and louder with each thrust.

“Careful?” he snickers, “You want me to go careful on this pretty little pussy?” He pounds harder and deeper, making you cry out. “How can I go fucking careful when this cunt drives me wild. Drives me insane, huh? How can I go careful when you cunt keeps clenching around my thick cock? Hmm, baby?”

“Jungkook, oh my god,” you start scratching down his back from the pleasure he brings you, his dirty, filthy words sending you into a frenzy.

“My god, baby girl. Keep clenching your walls around me like that and I swear I’m gonna fucking cum inside this cunt. Oh my fu – shit! You wanna be a bad girl and keep tightening around my cock?”

You tried your best to relax, yet his powerful thrusts were making it hard for you to do so. You keep whimpering and whining, hugging his sweaty body closer on yours so that you can feel his hot breath. Jungkook places wet and sloppy kisses on your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and biting on it. He scatters your neck with bites, nipping harshly, making you mewl.

“Daddy, t-that hurts.”

You didn’t even process what you just said not when Jungkook stops his tracks. You lock eyes with him and there were this different look and aura on his face, his irises blown even wider and turning darker.

His breathing was heavier, and he wants to fuck you like his little fucktoy so fucking bad, but he controls himself. “What did you…what did you just call me?”

You shake your flushed face side to side, “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t know why I said it and I’m sorry if you didn’t like it…”

Jungkook releases a deep growl, wrapping his right hand around your throat and squeezing, choking you. “I asked you a fucking question and I expect you to answer it, you fucking slut.”

You whimpered from his degradation, feeling his big hand wrapping around your throat made your pussy clench tighter around him even more. Your mind goes back to his previous question, “I c-called you my daddy…”

Jungkook closes his eyes shut for five seconds, inhaling a deep breath as he prods his tongue on the inside of his right cheek.

He leans down so close to your ear that you can feel his lips grazing on your earlobe, his hot breath hitting your skin, making you shiver. “Keep calling me that and I’ll fuck you like the good little bitch you are for me.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your pussy gush around his thick, long cock. He smirks at your reaction and starts thrusting in and out of you once again, slowly this time. “I love how your pretty mouth says that. It turns me on so fucking bad.”

You giggle, cheeks blushing, “Okay, daddy. B-but – oohhh – go faster.”

Jungkook wipes the smile away from your face when he suddenly flips your frail little body over, making you lay on your stomach, your face pressed against the sheets. You whimpered loudly when a harsh slap lands on your ass, his hand hitting the flesh so roughly that caused a stinging, loud spank.

Jungkook pulls his cock out of your dripping pussy, making you mewl from the loss.

“So now you’re begging for daddy to go faster without saying please, huh?”

Spank.

“Is this what you want, huh?”

Spank.

“Wanna be a bad girl? Talking to daddy like that?”

“Jungk—daddy!”

Spank.

“Fucking get your words right, baby girl, before I bruise this pretty little ass purple until you couldn’t sit down.”

Your pussy was gushing slick out to the sheets, your eyes were already blurry as you let your tears drip down onto your cheeks. Jungkook can hear your little sniffles and he roughly grabs a bunch of your hair and tugs harshly, forcing your head to tilt upwards.

A loud whine escapes your lips, the pain triggering more cries out of you. Jungkook tsk-ed, spanking your reddened ass once more. “Look at you, fucking pathetic.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, feeling his head prod against your entrance, but he doesn’t push all the way in.

“Crying like the little cockslut you are, begging for cock without saying please? Daddy needs to teach you a fucking lesson, you little slut.”

You felt your stomach coil up from his crude, degrading words but it turned you on even more. Jungkook finally releases the harsh grip on your hair, “Up on all fours, crybaby.”

You bite your lip from the way he addressed you, quickly doing what he told you so that you wouldn’t be in more trouble. You hang your head low, feeling your teardrops run down to your jaw and on to the bed.

“D-daddy,” you sniff, “I’m…I’m s-sorry.”

He hits another hard spank on your ass, making your whole body jolt forward from the sudden sting. “Mmphh, d-daddy…” you plead.

“I’m not taking any little sorry tonight, slut. Take what daddy gives you as an apology.”

Without any warning, he suddenly shoves his whole cock inside of you, balls deep, without giving you any time to adjust. Your eyes expand from the quick shot of pleasure, your mouth agape as you tightly gripped on the sheets below you. You felt so full, feeling his cock about to split you into two. “F-fuck! Daddy!” you cried, your pussy clenching around his girth tightly.

Jungkook tries his best to keep his composure, to prevent himself from fucking you as he keeps his dick inside your wet cunt. His hands grip your hips tightly, for sure leaving red handprints.

“Be a good girl and keep my cock warm,” he growls.

“D-daddy, no… p-please mo — oohh — move!”

“You really want to disobey daddy, huh?” Spank. “You like being a brat? You’re not my good little girl.” Spank.

With his words, somehow, made you cry even more. You bite your lip to stop yourself from sobbing out loud from the overwhelming pain and pleasure that he’s giving you. You can feel his cock throb inside of you, and his tight grip prevents you from moving.

“I-I’m your…your good little girl, daddy.” You whimper as you shut your eyes, shedding more tears.

Jungkook groans when he swivels his hips slightly, his tip hitting just the right nerves inside your clenching pussy. He wanted to fuck you just like you do, but you had to endure your punishment.

“Oh you are now, really?” he snickers, “Good little girls take their punishment properly.”

“I-I’ll take it properly, daddy! Puh-please, I’ll b-be good.”

Jungkook seemed satisfied with your pleading, and he takes his cock out of your pussy. You whined loudly, your whole body shaking. Jungkook moves so that he was now kneeling in front of you, his heart clenching when he finally sees your fucked-out face.

He leans down and takes your wet cheeks in his big hands, watching you sniff and tremble. “Baby girl,” he whispers, placing a kiss on your lips. “Are you okay? Still want to keep going?”

You nod your head, trying to form a smile above all of your weeping. Jungkook grins but soon replaces it with a devilish smirk. His big hand wraps around your jaw and adjusts himself so that his dick was right in front of your lips. He grips his shaft in his other hand and spreads his precum on your lips, watching you with dark, lustful eyes.

“Gonna fuck this bratty little mouth of yours ‘till you learn your lesson, got it?”

You look up at him with fuzzy eyes, nodding your head. He pushes his cock in and you instinctively open your mouth, inviting him in. Jungkook throws his head back and groans loudly when his cock comes in contact with your tongue. His dick wasn’t even halfway in and you were already gagging.

“Shit,” he chuckles, his left hand holding the back of your head. “You look so fucking hot like this,” you watch him brush his hair back with his unoccupied hand, seeing his biceps flex. You whimpered, the vibrations hitting his cock deliciously.

“Look at you, fucking crying as your little mouth tries to take my cock,” he smirks, pushing more and more of his length in, feeling your throat tighten around him. You quickly remembered to breathe through your nose, and you do just that.

“What? Can’t take my cock either?” he snarls, pulling all the way out before snapping his hips back in again, making you choke. “I think my cock’s too big for this tiny little girl I have right here.”

His words sent up a spike of pleasure to run throughout your whole body, and you were determined to take all of him in. You slack your jaw and open your mouth wider – besides the protest of your tears – and you take more of his dick.

He starts to thrust at a steady pace, hitting your gag reflex again and again but you try to push it away. Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, watching how your eyes struggle to keep open as they keep shedding more tears, your lips drooling in saliva as his dick fucked your throat. He thrusts faster and faster, now holding your head in both hands.

“B-baby,” he groans, “take my fucking cock. That’s right, choke around it… fuck!”

Jungkook decides to push another inch of his cock in, and your throat harshly gags around it. You felt your pussy clench tightly and his dick throbbed harshly from the tightness of your throat. He shuts his eyes and keeps his dick still inside your mouth, the tip of your nose almost touching his pubic bone. “Fuuuuuuck! Baby g-girl, so fucking t-tight.”

He reopens his eyes and finally pulls his cock out of your sore little mouth, watching as a string of saliva connects from your lips and on his tip. You exhale a large puff of air, breathing heavily.

“Ohh, my precious baby girl,” he coos as he leans down to grab your face, kissing your lips passionately. You whimpered into his mouth, feeling so fucked out and tired, your arms almost giving out. “I love you,” he says, biting on your bottom lip right after, “I love you.”

You look up at him, your eyes slightly red. You knew that he was only saying these crude, vulgar words just for the sake of sex. You knew that he didn’t mean it. “I love you too, a lot, lot more.”

“Impossible.” Your boyfriend chuckles and swiftly flips you over again with no trouble, lifting you up as if you weighed like a feather. He lays you on your back again as he hovered his body on top of you, his forearms on either side of your face.

“I’m gonna fuck you like you deserved to be fucked, baby.” Jungkook wastes no time to insert his cock back in your cunt, and this time, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you balls deep, feeling your walls stretch around his girth once more. He couldn’t get used to the feeling, he wanted to fuck you even rougher but he feels like he’s going to tear your pussy apart. “Fuck, baby, your cunt feels like it’s gonna break if I fuck you even harder.”

“Daddy, p-please… I want it.”

Jungkook quirks a brow up, “What did you say? Say it louder, baby girl.”

You gulp down the lump in your throat, “P-please fuck me rough. Please don’t hold back, daddy, I d-deserve it. Fuck my l-little pussy until I break, please please please, daddy.”

Jungkook turns animalistic, a deep growl erupting from his throat as he snaps his hips even harder and faster. His cock was hitting your sweet spot all this time, and you couldn’t even keep your eyes open from the overwhelming pleasure. He’s fucking you so roughly that he can’t think straight. He lifts your legs up to wrap around his waist so that he can fuck you deeper.

“Aaah! Right t-there!” you squeal, wiping your tears away from your face with your palm, “Daddy, it f-feels too good!”

“Yeah?” he groans, “My little crybaby, wanting her daddy to fuck her pussy like it’s her last dick she’s ever gonna get?” Jungkook wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing it just right. His dick throbs from the sight of you weeping, lips bruised from all of your constant lip bites. “This little body trying it’s best to take big dick, huh?”

Your cheeks blush, nodding your head, “Y-yes, daddy. I-I love it.”

“Oh I know you do. Pleasure too much for you to handle that you cry, hm? Bet no one fucked you this good. No dick has ever been good to you, huh? Is that it?”

Your eyes roll back, his hand squeezing your neck bit tighter as he feels your pussy clenching nonstop around his cock. “O-only you, daddy. Only your cock makes me feel this good.”

“Good thing you know, baby. Because you’re gonna feel daddy’s cock in you for the next couple of days. Daddy’s gonna make your small little body feel so sore tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that. Daddy’s gonna make sure that you couldn’t walk after this.”

With his head hitting your g-spot constantly, you felt the familiar coil in your stomach building up fast. “D-daddy! I’m gonna cum!” you whimper, chest heaving up and down, your forehead sticky with sweat.

“You are? Ohh, I know, baby,” he chuckles, “Your cunt keeps squeezing around my dick. Cum whenever you’re ready, little girl.”

After a couple more hard thrusts, the building knot in your tummy snaps. You finally cum around his cock, your walls clenching and pulsating tightly and sporadically on his length, your legs physically shaking. Jungkook groans, holding your trembling body in his strong arms, hugging you close. “Thaaaat’s it, that’s my good girl.” He purrs, watching your figure shake, your legs pulling his hips closer and firmer.

“Daddy,” you whispered, still cumming, “I-I…” your mouth was agape, not having the energy to form coherent words. Jungkook fucks you through your orgasm, trying his best not to cum immediately. His thrusts turn sloppy and he slows down, his own high coming closer.

“Shh, shh, daddy’s got you, I got you.” He bites his lip, feeling his balls get heavier.

“Daddy, p-please let me t-taste your cum.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Jungkook almost came then and there, quickly pulling out of your drenched pussy and kneeling between your head, stroking his rock-hard cock furiously, “Fuck, Y/n, shiiiiiit,” he moans, gripping your left cheek in one hand as he strokes the fallen tears away with his thumb. “My good, pretty crybaby, gonna cum, gonna fucking cum!”

Your legs cross together as Jungkook’s cum spurts out, thick strings of his seed covers your face as your mouth opens wide, trying to catch them. Jungkook breathes heavily as he tries to aim at your tongue, but slightly fails as his body shakes from the strong orgasm. “Holy fuck,” he growls from the sight beneath him, watching you gulp down his hot cum. “Good fucking girl, fuck.”

He keeps stroking his dick until he’s completely fucked out, throwing his head back with his eyes closed. You watch him with big eyes, seeing how his adam’s apple bob up and down, his neck covered in beads of sweat. Little droplets would run down from his thick chest and to his defined abs. You whimpered, making him turn his attention back to you.

“Oh my fucking god, baby girl.” He chuckles, reaching to the nightstand to get the wet wipes. “I need to clean you,” he smirks, “even though you look hot like that.”

“Mmm, daddy,” you giggle, biting on your index finger as he cleans your face.

“Yes, baby girl?” he says, voice sweet and gentle, completely different from the tone he’s been using on you this whole time.

“Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for, Y/n? I’m here supposed to say sorry to you, for pushing your precious, little body.” He fakes a frown, still wiping your sticky face.

“No, I-I loved it. I love playing with you like this daddy,” you giggle with a blush.

Jungkook hums, “Mhmm, I know baby girl. You like it when daddy plays with your body rough, huh? Like it when I make your body shake and tremble as you cry?”

You face turn redder, rolling your eyes playfully with a stupid grin.

“I take that as a yes.”

You groan and push his body away from you with as much strength as you can, but you clearly fail to do so. Jungkook giggles, feeling your small hands pressing firmly on his chest. He finds you so adorable. He flops on the space beside you as he quickly wraps an arm around your body, cuddling you. He tugs you closer to him, his chest resting on top of your head.

“Baby?” he questions.  

“Hmm?”

“I was really surprised when you called me daddy.” Your face instantly blushes red again, covering your face with your hands as a quiet groan leaves your lifts. Jungkook smirks, “I didn’t know you were into that.”

“A-as if it didn’t turn you on.” You snicker shyly, feeling the grip he has on your waist tighten.

“Oh it did. It fucking did.”

Without a warning, Jungkook wraps his arms around you and swiftly lifts your body above him, placing you on top of him. You squeal as he makes you straddle his blanket-covered waist. He tugs your upper body down until your faces were mere inches apart.

Jungkook’s chest tightens when he sees that your eyes were still red from crying so much. He chews on his bottom lip, lifting his hands up to caress your cheeks. Your head felt so small between his large hands, and it somehow gave you a comfortable feeling – as if you were so safe in his hold. You instinctively lean into his palm, eyes fluttering at him.

“Oh, princess,” he exhales, his eyes drooping slightly as he looks at you so lovingly. “You’re so good for daddy. You’re only mine, get that?”

Nodding your head, you smile as you feel your heart beat faster. “I’m yours, only yours, daddy.”

You didn’t expect the harsh, deep growl that left Jungkook’s lips. Your eyes widen when he pushes his thumb inside your mouth, getting them wet as you automatically suck. You whimper when his other hand crawls down from your spine and down to your ass, gripping your sore cheek.

“Mmmphh—da..ddy,” you mewl, gagging a little when he pushes his thumb inside further. Jungkook prods a tongue on the inside of his cheek as he looks at you so darkly. With a devilish smirk, he slaps your butt sharply, the loud sound resonating throughout the room as your body shivers.

“D-Daddy…it hurts,” you pleaded at him with your eyes, wiggling your ass.

“I know.” He says simply. It wasn’t the reply that you wanted, causing you to groan out in frustration. “Can you take it?” he asks seriously, lifting a single brow up.

You start to sniff, a lump forming in your throat as you look away. You shake your head side to side slowly, “N-no, daddy.”

Jungkook quickly removes his thumb out of your mouth and instead pulls your head closer until your lips touch his. He wraps his arms around you, pressing your body onto him until there was no space left. You mewl as you couldn’t keep up with his dominant pace, manipulating the kiss and showing who’s in control. Your hands find their place on his hair, playing with his gorgeous locks because you knew how much he liked it.

Your cheeks heat up when you feel Jungkook smirk into the kiss. He leaves deep little moans and groans, making your stomach turn.

Jungkook was the first one to pull away before it gets more heated. He watches your face, how you were slightly out of breath and your cheeks pink.

Jungkook was so thankful that you spoke your mind, saying the truth that you couldn’t handle another round at this time. He could definitely go on for hours and hours, but he was thinking about you. He had a huge amount of stamina, and you know that. With you saying no, he knew that you really trusted him.

Jungkook lovingly strokes your hair, pushing the stray strands away from your face. “How about we take a bath, baby?”

Your eyes instantly light up, nodding furiously.

“Good.” Jungkook taps your side a couple of times and you move away from him so he can stand. “You stay there and look pretty while I run the water, yeah?”

You giggle, “Okay, daddy.”

Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head, “Don’t say that as if you want to be fucked stupid again, crybaby.”

~

There’s a part two! 

Oh, and a part three? 

[bunny-hoodlum]

Asynchronous With You: Ch 4

Hinata had no idea what she was doing following this child around, being lead from booth to booth, watching her pick up snacks and play games as they went. She was asked if she wanted a taiyaki, but she hadn't the stomach for it. She was asked if she wanted to help win her a plushie, but she was too numb to respond.

Everyone was looking at them.

Her classmates made comments in passing.

"Hey, I didn't know you had a sister!"

"Whoa, shocker! You're not an only child?"

"Huh? Who's that?"

"Guess Hyuuga-san can't be mysterious and secretive forever."

And then there was Naruto's face angled above the river of bodies, wide, open eyes filled with confusion and concern.

She ducked her head down. At the same time, Hanabi tugged at her skirt and pointed at another booth ahead. Following her lead her closer to Naruto, who began to push his way through to reach her.

His prescence is always like the sun, at times warm and welcoming, other times overbearing. Suffocatingly hot, in fact. Like now. Like she's been abandoned without her shoes, wandering barefoot on an asphalt desert, and here he is bearing down on her, unrelenting.

Several takes are made between Hanabi and herself. He's assessing with his own eyes and verifying it against their history.

"How old is she?" He murmurs.

Hinata releases a shaky sigh. "Ten. Her birthday's in March."

And Kurenai had taken them in the summer before. Her parents must have gotten pregnant again shortly after.

They both watched as Hanabi grasped the baseball and threw her arm back. After a couple near misses, she finally got it through the 300pt hole. Hinata clapped, but it was hollow and robotic. This obvious show of pain only earned her more of his attention, and that pained her too.

Hanabi skipped over to them, another palm-sized plushie added to the others hooked inside her left arm. Her cunning upturned eyes widened upon seeing Naruto standing so closely to her Onee-san.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

Naruto froze up, a hand reached behind his head as he sputtered to explain without making things weird.

"He's someone that was nice to me in grade school," Hinata said coolly.

"Uh, yeah," The right half of Naruto's face pinched in mild disagreement, finding her answer a bit more impersonal than he was going for.

"What? That's all?" Hanabi's open-mouth frown made her look like the goldfish she tried to scoop earlier. She seemed visibly bored by this revelation.

Hinata also caught an indignant look from Naruto, whose eyes seemed to ask 'Yeah, that's all?'.

"Oh, I forgot," She met his stare, "You're trying to befriend the whole school by graduation." It wasn't code. He was almost obsessively expanding his contacts every day. He wanted to appear in every school photo for the yearbooks. He wanted the empty spaces so dense with inside jokes, fond wishes and signatures that no one could ever say he was unpopular and unloved.

"Hell yeah. And I'm halfway there, too."

It was Hanabi's turn to read the air between them as she glanced from person to person. A good-humored smirk curved her lips. "Looks like you have a long ways to go with Onee-san. Well, nice meeting you!" She grabbed Hinata's hand and began to drag her away, waving her flummoxed acquaintance goodbye. Hinata didn't even resist.

Naruto watched her disappear through the throng, as irritation and discomfort took seat inside his chest. She's walking around like a puppeted corpse and she gives him attitude?! His sigh transforms into a drawn out growl as he mentally works through the wrongness he feels. He comes out of it calmer, sympathy renewed.

She's simply not acting like herself. He has to forgive her for that.

As her brother, and the only one that's around, he has to fix this.

Otherwise, what is he good for?

______________________________

He had determined to find her again later in the day, when her sister surprise was no longer sucking the soul out of her.

And he does find her later, when the sky is a guava-mango sorbet dimming darker, and the school halls are shadowed in sleepy silence.

She's found a place to be alone, in a stairwell that hardly anybody uses.

Well, except himself. And a few others.

It's a great place for a post-lunchtime quickie.

It's not a hundred-percent guarantee to be unoccupied, but it's kind of a well-guarded school secret.

Now that he thinks about it, as she sits there much like his other catches have, and he's coming to meet her when everyone's gone, it leaves him feeling... exposed and shameful. Like they're both here for unsavory reasons.

A flash of a memory intrudes on him, of baby-soft, plump white skin that refused to be buttoned up in the shirt he shrank, bouncing with the force to cause an earthquake in his room, that tight-lined cleavage taunting him.

It took him weeks to look her in the face again, and he thinks about it now?!

He smacks his cheeks until he's regained stoic resolve. But then something else nags at him.

What if she was here, and she was waiting for someone else?

No one's invited her over here yet, he would know.

But they could. And when they did...

He shakes off these burdensome thoughts like a wet dog.

No one in this school has their eye on his sister. He would know that, too.

And he wouldn't allow it.

He can't think of a damn soul that's good enough for her.

So hardworking, so generous, so considerate and patient. Plus she was smart, she cooks better than Kurenai-obasan, and she's an amazing listener.

She's just so, so amazing.

And yet, stuff like this happens.

She's like the smallest thing to ever exist, that's what she looks like right now. As if he could scoop her up with both hands and still lose her between the cracks of his palms.

Just like when they first met.

Neji's voice rises up in the back of his mind. "You're the only one I can ask."

He's got a lot of experience cheering her up and making her feel safe, and this time will be no different.

Or so he thought.

When she looks up at him, he feels transparent. Her brow is furrowed like it doesn't make sense for him to be here.

"Can you take me to the train station?" She asks unblinkingly, thin tears escaping from the inner corners.

His mind goes a mile a minute with speculation, but he'd already been planning on saying 'yes' to her no matter what she had asked of him.

______________________________

They're taking the train to Neji's private high school. It's way pass curfew, so there's no visiting him at his dorm, but they're going to try.

Naruto can't talk to her because she's fully turned towards the window. Instead he takes this free time to picture himself in her situation. That he has family somewhere out there, and siblings he's never met. That they lived their lives without him. Maybe even erased his existence from their story. No photographs, no baby book.

Was Hinata even still on their family registry?!

He folded over and clutched his head, groaning. "This is so fucked. How could they do this to you?!"

For the past six hours, she's been asking herself the same thing.

She was also asking for Hanabi's sake, those fragile words ringing over and over in the back of her mind.

"Do you think I'm a redo?"

Hinata squeezed her eyes shut tight.

Because there are no redos without mistakes.

______________________________

AN: Sorry, this is only 800 words! D: I'll probably combine this with the previous chapter as well when I post it to AO3. Or maybe it's somehow fine as is? Like an Interlude? I also wanted to write that heartwrenching scene between Hanabi and Hinata and get some exposition out of the way, but today it felt tedious. :( I wish I had written it when I originally wanted to, lol.

That aside, I'm not totally happy with the flow of the middle scene, it just feels maybe... distracted? or disjointed? Hmm... tangential?

Plus I couldn't seem to dig very deep into Naruto's reactions and like, the logical progression of his emotions. I feel I just skimmed the surface. Oh wait, maybe it's because he ought to be belligerently outspoken about this stuff, right? （・□・；）

Sometimes I think I really miss the ball when writing Naruto cuz I subdue him to be more 'normal' and have enough situational awareness to get by on. (눈_눈)

[ymiwritesstuff]

Corrupted King

More Dimitri, more angst lol. Seriously I had this idea ever since I remembered that Dimitri took out Imperial army forces ALONE during the five years he was in exile. Anyway I hope you guys like this even tho this isn’t really romantic.

Fire Emblem Three Houses

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd x Fem!Reader

Summary: When you encounter the aftermath of a brutal battle you seek shelter at an abandoned barn, only to realize that you aren’t alone.

Notes: Angst, Small spoilers for Azure Moon route.

The past five years had been tough. The Holy Kingdom was almost fully invaded, its ruler was gone, and with only a small fraction of the Kingdom nobles trying to defy the Imperial influence and army. The Empire was making its presence known and spreading its forces throughout the continent, greedily attempting to overrun the weaker regions of Fódlan and bending them to its ruler’s will. The war was overwhelming and costly. People died and fled, homes were destroyed and the state of the Kingdom was enough to make anyone lose hope. However, with war, came rumors.

A mere commoner like you, who was challenged by the cruelty of reality almost every day, shouldn’t have believed such rumors. However, when the word about Imperial armies being brutally destroyed by an unknown force spread, it gave you hope. The conditions during the war had been awful, to say the least, so every time you heard of a yet another barbarous assault on the enemy by something capable of destroying an entire battalion, it ignited a flame of hope within you. The force behind the vicious attacks was unknown, but stories about a boar-like warrior carrying a mighty lance that pierced through the enemy forces with ease floated in the air, carried by the voices of the innocent civilians and brave soldiers alike. Nobody knew for sure, but the tales of this courageous warrior fighting for the Kingdom gave people hope, which was the one thing everyone needed.

The way back home was supposed to be safe. And it usually was, but the sight before you turned all feelings of safety and security into dust. The ruins of the village that was once flowing with life had been long destroyed and you usually passed them whenever you left home. They were always hauntingly empty, but it never bothered you. Until now. 

The once unoccupied ruins were now bloody, filled with corpses of Imperial soldiers and their steeds. Blood spilled from their wounds, their bodies twisted in what to you looked like pain and the grim wind of death seemed to travel around the debris. Whatever happened here, it happened recently. The sight was gruesome, unbearably so. You were sure that even the most experienced general would be feeling sick for days, the same way you did. Your stomach twisted, your knees trembled as your (E/C) eyes shining in fear examined the area and tried to look for a way forward amid the decaying corpses. Your eyes couldn’t bear the sight much longer.

Just as you were about to take a careful step forward, an arrow most likely aimed at you landed beside you, mere inches away from hitting its intended target. Your eyes widened, a gasp slipped your lips and the instinct to run and hide immediately kicked in as your legs seemed to be suddenly moving on their own, heading for a destination you didn’t know, but hoped would be safe. Fear consumed your entire being as you ran, almost tripping over the limp bodies that once housed the souls of soldiers. They may have been enemies, but they were still humans. Death had always uncomfortably sunken its teeth into you.

Your trembling legs and an undying will to live eventually led you inside a barn that was miraculously still standing upon the rubble. With a careful glance, you look outside from the small hole in the wooden door to see if whoever had shot at you had followed you all the way to your little hiding place and sigh in relief as you don’t see anyone outside the empty barn. “Thank goodness…” You allow yourself to catch your breath and figure out your next course of action. Then, something sharp is pressed against your back.

“Don’t move unless you want to die quickly.” The deep male voice behind you says, causing you to let out a gasp and instinctively raise your hands as your pulse quickens again. You do not dare to look back as the feeling of the weapon on your back is still very much present. “What are you doing here?” The person asks, voice filled with anger and malice, making your blood run cold as you try to answer his question.

“I… I was being shot at… S-so I came here. To hide.” Your voice is barely audible and is more of a whimper. You tried your best to stay calm. This person was clearly being hostile towards you, but since he hadn’t yet pierced you with whatever he was holding, you had some hope. But still, you couldn’t deny the feeling of terror you felt as the person behind you looked into your very soul. He scoffs.

“You’re another Imperial spy, aren’t you? How many of you rats must I kill to get rid of you?!” The sharp point of his weapon is pressed harder against your back, not enough to pierce through anything, but enough to make you wince and promptly start defending yourself. “N-no! I’m not a spy! Please!” The volume of your voice is louder than intended, and you quickly realize this and take a few seconds to calm down, despite your mind wanting to panic. “I… I was just on my way home and… Saw the corpses around the ruins. Then suddenly, someone began shooting at me. I only came here to hide, I swear! I won’t cause any trouble…” A few, highly grueling seconds pass before he mutters something under his breath and soon you can no longer feel the threat on your back.

With the weapon removed from your back, you briefly exhale and hear him sitting down on the floor, leaning against the fragile wooden wall. Curiosity gets the best of you and you turn around, despite your mind demanding you to leave, only to see a light-haired male, covered in dark armor, whose right eye was covered with an eyepatch, a defeated look in his left one and holding… A lance, covered in blood. Your eyes widen as you come to the realization. Before you, was the warrior in all of those stories who so brutally murdered Imperial forces throughout the years. However, the man before you was also someone thought to be dead. 

“P-Prince Dimitri?” He slightly flinches at your words and grips his lance tighter, avoiding your gaze. There was no doubt. This man was the Prince of the Holy Kingdom, thought to be dead, but there he was. Right in front of you, hiding in the shadows. “I am no Prince,” He spat, voice poisoned with everlasting hatred and fury. He looked drained, tired, utterly destroyed within. What on earth had happened to him?

You step closer, unsure if it’s the right action to take in this situation, considering just how hostile the once kindhearted Prince had acted mere moments ago. “Those corpses outside… You did it, right? Just like the rumors say,” You carefully say and notice him locking his remaining eye on you. His gaze holds no life in it which stabs your heart as the sight of him makes you feel sorry for the Prince. Whatever had happened, he was clearly affected by it.

“Your Highness… What happened to you?” The question leaves your mouth before you even realize, but in it is genuine worry and curiosity. The rumors depicted the one-man army as a proud warrior fighting for the Kingdom, but the man before you was lost in a deep sea of hatred and loss. But above all, he was supposed to be the leader of Faerghus and to see him like this… It was awful. To think the person responsible for the gruesome assaults on the Imperial army was the leader of the Kingdom himself.

“The only thing that matters is the death of that woman.” His voice still carried that strange feeling of acrimony you couldn’t quite comprehend. “The emperor? But Your Highness, what about the Kingdom?” You asked, determined to understand his questionable morals. The Prince had most likely unknowingly given his citizens hope from the shadows and now that he was confirmed to be alive, you couldn’t help but think what he had been doing during these years and why he had abandoned his people. He suddenly stood up, frustration twisting his features.

“Do not try to defy me!” You flinch at his words and instinctively take a few steps back. “Killing that witch is what I must do to avenge the dead!” He gripped his lance and suddenly pointed it at you, flames of aggression burning in his azure eye. “Anyone who stands in my way will be destroyed. No matter who it may be.” His voice quieted down, but held an unstable baneful tone that sent a cold shiver down your spine as he stared at you, his violent gaze digging into your soul. You look at the ground, feeling powerless against Dimitri, who begins to walk towards the entrance, heavy steps echoing around the barn.

“You gave us hope…” Your voice is once again trembling as he passes you, once again muttering something you can’t hear under his breath. All this time you thought someone was fighting for the Kingdom and its people, but it turns out, the ruler himself was only fighting for something you didn’t know or understand. You turn to him just as he is about to head out and speak once more, unwilling to let him so recklessly pursue his goal:

“Who are we going to rely on if not you?! Please Your Highness! We need you!” Dimitri stops, his eye locked on the floor beneath him. This gave you some hope that he was listening to you over whatever was troubling him eternally. “We need our King…” His head shot up at that, and the grip on his bloody lance tightened, the enemy army’s steps audible from behind the wooden door. He glances at you, his gaze entirely different from what it was before.

“No… A monster like me…” His gaze returned to the door and he opened it, allowing the sunlight to bleed into the dark barn. However, darkness still surrounded him as he stepped out, ready to take out yet another wave of enemies.

“...Could never hope to achieve anything other than death.”

[angstyaches]

Ok so I freaking love belly rubs and now that we’ve seen Shayne receive a belly rub I want to see it reversed 😂 Charlie has an upset stomach for some reason and realizes that he just really needs to burp but he can’t and all day long the feeling just gets worse until he’s finally home and can lay down but still nothing will come up and when Shayne shows up and he lets him through the window he immediately knows something is wrong (p 1 of 2)

(P 2 of 2) somehow Charlie convinced him to help him by rubbing his stomach which of course helps and he burps into his fist a couple of times but it’s not releasing the pressure at all, actually it’s making him feel nauseous and before he knows it he suddenly vomits all over him and Shayne ( I know this doesn’t really fit with the plot you’ve got since the ending of the last fic with Shayne but i didn’t know how to make it fit 😂 you can ignore this prompt if ya want lol)

Milo, thank you, thank you, thank you. I had so much fun writing this. Baby’s first prompt.

Sorry if this is obnoxiously long; I have no idea how to judge length yet.

CW: vomiting

In the pub

Charlie had zoned out hours ago, upon realising that the three-year age gap between him and his oldest cousins meant a lot more when he was eighteen and they were fifteen. Whatever pop culture they were chatting about held no interest for him, and whatever gossip his parents, aunts, and uncles were engaging him would likely be just as boring.

He wished he could have gone and talked to Jonathan. He hadn’t seen his half-brother in months, yet he’d barely wanted to speak two words with Charlie all day. He’d brought two friends along, which Aunt Pauline had been annoyed about at the start of the day. She had gotten over it; Charlie, however, had not. The three of them had been skulking outdoors in the smoking area for hours.

Although, if he’d been given first pick, Charlie would have been chatting to been the pretty bartender with the gold lip ring. The guy looked run off his feet, yet had a smile for every one of Charlie’s relatives who had an order to bark at him, be it a chocolate-stained little cousin or his cane-wielding grandmother. He was so cute, but Charlie was too nervous to even look him in the eye. He also felt slightly… guilty, though he could think of no rational reason why he should feel guilty. He wasn’t spoken for by anyone; not even close. And that just made him sink further into his loneliness.

So, with no conversational opportunity, Charlie had occupied himself with the bar food that came out in waves. He didn’t often eat greasy food at home, and he ate exactly like a kid let loose in a store full of chicken goujons and potato wedges. His stomach started to feel kind of sloshy at one point, but that might have been from copious amounts of fizzy orange. More food would surely soak it up and settle everything down.

After the cute waiter dropped off a tray of drinks at the “adult” table, Charlie’s dad stood up and took a glass over to where Charlie was sitting.

“There you are, designated driver,” Trevor said. His cheeks were flushed red from drinking for pretty much the whole day.

“Thanks, Dad,” Charlie said, fidgeting with the keys in his hoodie pocket. “Can we go soon? I’m getting tired.”

“Of course. Last drink and we’ll hit the road,” Trevor winked, giving Charlie’s shoulder a squeeze. “You really are a blessing, son.”

He couldn’t tell if the flutter in his chest was because of the waiter still, or because of what his dad had just said. It might also have been indigestion, though he wouldn’t think of that until a little later.

“Maybe go and say goodbye to Jonathan before we head off, yeah?”

“Alright, Dad.” A blessing, he thought as his father went back to the proper adult table and sat next to his wife. Their half-demon offspring is a blessing to them. Part of him wanted to burst out laughing, the other half wanted to weep. He hovered somewhere in between, smiling despite the tightness in his chest.

He guzzled a few mouthfuls of the fizzy drink, stealing his courage as he stood up and went to talk to Jonathan.

In the car

The drive home itself was exhausting. Charlie’s energy was already spent after a whole day of socialising. His stomach was making some awful sounds, though it felt lazy and sluggish inside him after being fed such little amounts so many times throughout the day. The flavour of the fizzy orange kept repeating on him too, and he vowed never to touch the stuff again. He glanced over to see that his dad had fallen asleep against the passenger door. In the rear-view mirror, he saw that his mum was snoring with her head thrown back.

Charlie swallowed harshly. It felt like some of the fizzy orange was sitting in his throat, blocking his airways a bit. Gripping the steering wheel tightly at ten and two, he tried to let some of the air up from his stomach, but the bubbles stayed exactly where they were, gurgling amongst the sickly combination of food in his belly.

He slid his right hand from two to twelve on the steering wheel, glancing once again to make sure his dad was still asleep; Trevor would definitely yell at him for having one hand off the wheel, but it was a straight, empty road, and Charlie was decidedly below the recommended speed.

Besides, he could probably pull up enough strength to telekinetically steer the car, if he had to. Having acceleratingly strong demonic powers had its unexpected quirks, after all.

Charlie rubbed a hand across his belly, realising that it was filling out his hoodie a lot more than it should have been. He stifled a whimper as he pushed on the swell, hoping to force up at least some of what was making his stomach feel so bad. It gurgled under his hand, the pain shifting slightly but not upwards. There was a slight rumble in his chest, a fizzing in the back of his throat, but nothing more.

He put his left hand back on the wheel and sighed, surviving on the fact that at least he’d be home and lying in bed without the hour.

Back home

“Night, Mum, night, Dad,” Charlie called dully down the hall, though they’d probably both passed out on their bed in the time it had taken him to brush his teeth. He’d hoped the minty flavour would have soothed the burning acidity, but it had just mixed sickly with the fizzy orange reflux. He could finally hunch over a bit and rub his belly with a little more force, now he was alone in his room.

He reached for his bedside lamp, when a tap on the window made him jump. He almost knocked his little brown stuffed bear from the nightstand, and he rushed to straighten him.

“Sorry, Vincent,” he whispered before approaching the window. Another tiny pebble hit the glass and Charlie groaned under his breath. Couldn’t that boy learn how to send a text?

Charlie cradled his belly as he spotted the dark-haired figure in the back yard. Usually, the sight of Shayne gave him a very light, pleasant feeling, but right now he felt the furthest from light he’d ever been. He sighed and directed his gaze towards the back door, focusing on undoing the lock before ducking back into the room.

He leaned against the windowsill, rubbing his belly desperately. It was definitely too much to ask, that all of the burps trapped inside him come up in the time it took Shayne to get inside, take off his ridiculous boots, and creep upstairs. All Charlie succeeded in bringing up were a couple of orangey splashes that burned his tongue.

“Whatever it is, I’m not in the mood,” he whispered as soon as Shayne let himself quietly into the room.

The dark-haired boy frowned as he closed the door. “Hmm?”

Charlie sighed and sat down on his bed. “I don’t care if it’s a voodoo doll or a silver stake or a monkey’s fucking paw. Can we do it another time?”

“Okay, first of all; hi,” Shayne muttered. “Second; how would any of those things be useful in exorcising or communicating with a demon? And third; where were you all?”

“My cousin’s christening,” Charlie said, slipping a hand into his hoodie pocket so he could keep some pressure on his stomach. “It went on kind of late.”

“You’re telling me?” Shayne began to pace evenly back and forth. “This place gives me shivers on a normal day. Ten times worse when it’s all dark and unoccupied.”

“Well, you could try not hanging around on other people’s property,” Charlie grumbled.

“I caught three demons in the back yard,” Shayne said. “Three demons that will never possess your parents, so you’re welcome.”

“So, you’ve got fucking warding jars on you?” Charlie whined. He knew he was feeling awful for a reason, but if those jars were close-by, they certainly wouldn’t be helping.

“’Course not, I left them at the far end of the garden,” Shayne hissed. “Okay, you’re sounding more like me than me tonight. What’s going on?”

Charlie swallowed and looked up at his friend. His belly was groaning, and he hoped he was the only one hearing it. He pulled his hand from his pocket and started holding it a bit more firmly, giving up the secrecy.

“I don’t feel so good,” he whined, sitting forward. “My tummy’s really sore.”

“Oh. Well, why haven’t you taken any of those tablets you always try to force on me?”

“Because I’ll be fine once I can burp, but so far, nothing wants to come up.” Charlie’s face burned at hearing himself give so much detail. He lowered his head as he leaned towards his knees, curling around the knot of pain.

He felt the mattress take Shayne’s weight, and then a hand prying his away from his stomach. He took a sharp breath and looked up.

“Are you going to rub my tummy?”

“You’ll never hear me say it in those words, but… yeah.” Shayne was still frowning, though Charlie recognised a slight blush in his cheeks. “Here, straighten up. Stop sitting like an idiot.”

“That’s mean,” Charlie whined, slowly released his vice-grip on his belly and straightening his back. “Why do I feel like you’re going to be really bad at – mmm.”

Shayne’s hand could almost have covered Charlie’s whole belly if it hadn’t been so bloated and tight. His stomach churned uneasily alongside the movement of Shayne’s fingers, until Charlie felt gas bubbles press up towards his chest. He felt himself groan without deciding he was going to.

Shayne held his breath, pausing the motion of his hand. “What? Am I doing it wrong?”

“No, no, don’t stop,” Charlie groaned. “Can you rub my back, too?”

As soon as Shayne pressed on Charlie’s stomach and ran a hand up his spine, Charlie felt the gas bubbles release, making a deep rumbling sound in his chest. He pressed a fist to his mouth and turned his head away from Shayne. The burp was so loud Charlie worried it would wake his parents, and lasted about four seconds.

“Holy shit,” Shayne whispered. “I think I felt the room shake.”

“Shut up,” Charlie groaned.

“Feel any better?”

“Not really.”

“I’m going to lift your jumper, okay?”

Charlie almost squeaked as Shayne slid his hand under his hoodie, rubbing at the straining skin of his belly. Charlie dug his nails into the duvet to keep himself from wriggling. His skin was starting to feel prickly and warm, but that could have just been because of what was happening. Shayne was here and touching him, and not just through his clothes. He had his hand on Charlie’s bare torso. He was in pain, but he should have been enjoying this at least a little.

A weak smile twitched across his mouth as he nudged his cheek experimentally against Shayne’s shoulder. When the dark-haired boy didn’t flinch in any major way, he let himself lean a little harder, hoping his heart wasn’t pounding as loudly as he thought it was.

“What did you do to it, anyway?” Shayne asked, and it took Charlie a second to realise he was talking about his stomach. His fingers kneaded gently across it

“I, um, just kept eating, I guess.” Charlie turned his head to let out another burp, though this one sounded like it was strangled on its way up from his stomach. “And my dad kept bringing me fizzy drinks. Designated driver, you know? Aw – fuck, Shayne.”

Charlie frowned and winced as his stomach suddenly lurched under the pressure of Shayne’s hand.

“Shit – what is it?”

“I don’t know,” Charlie murmured, his cheeks suddenly tingling. A certain kind of panic began to ring in his ears. “Oh, god, I think I’m going to –”

He retched before fully realising it was happening, before he could do any kind of aiming or get his hands in front of his mouth. His hands did fly out, one landing on Shayne’s back, the other on his own knee. The majority of the thick, orange vomit landed down the front of Shayne’s jacket and t-shirt, the rest of it flicked across Shayne’s jeans and the duvet cover.

“Oh, my god, Shayne,” Charlie gasped. His hand was shaking as he brought it up to cover his mouth. Almost immediately, his head pitched forward again, another long gush of sticky orange liquid and chunks of bar food spraying over the sleeve of his hoodie as he tried to block it, but a lot still landed in Shayne’s lap.

Shayne sighed, though he really hoped Charlie didn’t hear it. He’d definitely take it the wrong way, thinking Shayne was sighing out of frustration when really, it was the only way he could release the intense sympathy he felt as the blonde boy clung to him and vomited. Shayne continued to rub Charlie’s back, though he wasn’t sure if it was helping or making things worse.

Charlie hiccuped into his sleeve, clearly forgetting that he’d just gotten sick all over it.

“Shayne,” he croaked, slowly lifting his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

“Feeling any better?”

“Actually, yeah, I am.”

Shayne shrugged. “Then it’s fine. Jesus, if only exorcising you was so damn easy.”

[kunderdogs]

Making Out With VAV

Let me start off by saying I've been into VAV since June 2018 and they're coming to my city in a few months. I will fucking die when I see them okay. On an unrelated note the photos with them are like $40 each and if you want one with each member its $250 (which is more expensive than the vvip tickets!) Ugh should I get them all or do 1? I'd feel terrible if one member's line for pics was shorter than another ya know UGH I'M GOING THRU IT PLS HELP ME

I got carried away with some of the members but tried to keep it short so I'm sorry others are longer than some. ^^' I’m not even Baron biased but why does he hurt me so...I’m so sorry Lou.

Thank you to the anon who requested this. As you all can tell, I have a weakness for VAV so I love writing them. - Cookie

St. Van:

I've deadass dreamed about making out with St. Van (who hasn't? you're lying if you said you didn't). He's such a fucking tease LIKE WHY SIR? 

Anyway, I can imagine making out with him is ALWAYS hot and heavy, no matter where you are. 

He'd much rather make out in his room or your place, where no one can interrupt because 11/10 times it's going to escalate to new heights. 

Honestly, he has no preference when it comes to a "make out style". If you want it short and sweet, he's down. Rough with lots of tongue? Sign him up! 

Doesn't like much dialog when he's in the mood, he'll catch your face in his hands and open mouth kiss you so you didn't get any mixed signals. 

Likes to be dominate no matter what but he likes when you're sitting on his lap. 

His hands, without fail, will always be in your hair - stroking, pulling, pushing it from your face. 

If it's up, NOT FOR LONG 'cause he'll take it out the ponytail

That's on hair pulling kinks

Be prepared for lots of noise. 

He's a moaner and WILL moan in your mouth if you nibble his lip or try to take over the dominate role. 

He'll find it so so so hot when you're rough with him - his unoccupied hand will grip your thigh and force you to connect your bodies fully and he'll definitely grind up into you, pushing your hips down into him. 

There's absolutely nothing gentle about making out with St. Van. 

He won't bruise you but ALMOST.

He'll give you bedroom eyes when you pull away and smirk when he notice how turned on you are. 

Leaning back into the couch with his head tilted to the side and breathing just a bit hard, he'll lick his lips disrespectfully. "I like when you're on top, baby girl, but I think we should take this to the bed, hm?"

(FUCK I GTG HOW AM I GONNA LOOK THIS MAN IN THE EYES WHEN I MEET HIM? IDK LORD HELP ME)

Baron:

Ok my sweet baby Baron. 

I feel like he's a low key freak. 

BUT A GENTLEMAN. 

The first couple of make outs are sweet and precious. 

He's very loving and kind so he won't be rough with you, like never. 

Is so shy the first time, but will initiate it about maybe 3 weeks in the relationship - sooner if you're flirty. 

Doesn't know what the hell you're comfortable with in this new step of your relationship. Picture this:

It's been a few weeks since you two made it official, even though you went through a month of the talking phase. You were flirty, but Chungheop was still shy with you on certain things. Today, the two of you had a fun-filled day at the amusement park. He had been eyeing you with heart eyes all day and you to him as well. It was hard not to, especially when you have a boyfriend as cute as him! As you were driving back to Seoul, the rain came down in buckets but Baron didn't want to go back to the dorms just yet. With cute puppy-eyes he asked you if he could come over to hang out for a few hours. There was absolutely no way for you to resist that.

So here you were, walking back into the living room after changing out of those ridiculously tight skinny jeans and into your pajama shorts. You traded your cute blouse for one of Baron's large shirts. He was lounging on the couch, scrolling through Netflix for something to kill the time with. Nothing was particularly catching his eye though. He didn't have to wait long until you flopped directly next to him and snuggled into his side.

As he took in your attire, his heart was pounding a thousand times a minute. You were too cute! When you two mutually decided on a Rom-Com, he got bored pretty quickly and shyly kissed your cheek.

With a smile, you turned to see him gazing at you. He leaned closer to your lips and hesitated only for a second before closing the distance. Softly, slowly would mold his lips to yours. Chungheop tilted his head to the side, softly exhaling while the arm on the back of the couch comes to the back of your neck.

Won't introduce tongue but will groan when you do it first. 

Heavy breathing and a whole lot of gentle caressing. 

His fingers slide down your cheek to cup your jaw before trailing to your cleavage only to settle on your hip. 

He won't have a tight grip, it's always light but never in the same place for very long - boy has wondering hands. 

Typically they're gripping and stroking. 

Will quietly groan if you deepen the kiss or start touching his skin (neck, stomach). 

His lips aren't ever rough with you 

He'll like to take his time tasting you. 

He's a nibbler/biter so expect him to bite gently on your lips a few times. 

Also he'll pull some freaky moves out of nowhere like sucking on your tongue and smile cheekily when you moan into him. 

Likes to keep you on your toes so some times, just to hear you gasp in surprise, he'll throw you on the bed/couch with a playful smirk.

Overall, he’s very sweet to you. “You look so cute like that, baby.”

Ace:

A whole tease. That's it. That's the post.

Jk. But Wooyoung is a big fan of a foreplay, like this is where he thrives! 

He knows how to fuck with you too, so he'll initiate the kisses and will make them so fluttering and lingering that you'll be on the verge of trying to smash his lips to yours. 

He'll pull away and be like "Uh-uh don't be so impatient, baby. We got all night~" 

Might even laugh a little bit if you were getting frustrated with all his teasing. 

He's the type to dominate everything about making out but it's in a sensual way (?) 

like not rough or aggressive at all. 

Will sneak his tongue in to spice it up after a few minutes just to catch you off guard.

Tongue

LOTS AND LOTS OF IT

French kissing

With a lot of moans from him - he’s pretty vocal but he’s not nearly as loud as you

Likes to suck - on any part of skin on your body. He’s not picky

Sloppy kisses since he has less self control than you think he does

He'll pick up the pace only to slow it down again and smile when you make noises into his mouth. 

Lives for the moment that you finally break under all the teasing and yank his hair.

Ace likes to catch you off guard a lot so he'll sneak up on you when you're distracted and spin you around just to give you kisses. 

He's a romantic at heart so back hugs that turn into making out on the kitchen counter are very common for you two. 

Wooyoung wouldn't want to make-out in public spaces but a hello and goodbye peck when he's in disguise is alright. 

He'll be mortified if you were in the middle of a heated make out session, his hands slowly creeping up your shirt only for the members to burst in. 

He would be soooooo red in the face lol so yeah y'all would have to be ALONE ALONE to have any real freaky time.

Ayno:

(first off, how dare I use this gif)

Has zero self control when it comes to his s/o

As mentioned previously, Ayno is an ass man

So if you want him to jump your bones, just wear a flattering pair of skinny jeans or a tight skirt

He’ll literally follow you around like a puppy

Lots of gulping, narrowed eyes stuck to your hips and ass as you walked in front of him

When it comes to making out, he’s the same way

A kiss is never just one and done

NO MA’AM, he wants all the smoke

He knows you like how his lips are so he goes in for the kill immediately

No build up

He’ll catch your wrist and spin you to face him

As soon as you notice his body pressed into you, his lips are pushing and pulling you to fold into him

Who are you to deny him that?

Doesn’t waste any time with teasing - his tongue is already putting in work

Likes to cradle your head and tilt it up to him

Wants to hear you whimper and moan breathlessly into him

Always likes to break the kiss to stare at you with an intensity that has your blood boiling

But is soooo playful

Might smirk and leave you hanging

Some times he’ll purposefully attack your mouth when you two really shouldn’t be kissing like when you went to his parent’s house

Enjoys the thrill of getting touchy when you guys could be caught any moment

A little bit of an exhibitionist 

He’ll tickle you or nuzzle you to cut some of the sexual tension or say something to make you giggle as he’s pressing kisses on your cheeks

Looooves to handle you if you’d let him

REALLY loves when you handle him too!!!

That one time when you pushed him on the couch, straddled him and yanked his hair, he swore that he was in heaven.

He’ll easily submit to you if you want him too

But he’ll make you work for it

Licking your lips, neck

Yoonho will beg you to let him put hickeys on you and when you agree, he’ll jump on you that second

Jacob:

HOt, heavy, messy, passionate all the time with no build up or warning for you at all. 

Jacob likes to keep you guessing so he'll initiate a make-out just about damn near everywhere and at any given time. 

He honestly doesn't care whose in the room, unless it was like yours or his family. 

The members and other staff? 

Yeah, doesn't matter - if he wants to kiss you then he will. 

If they don't wanna see it, they better leave because he won't stop unless you want him to ;)

Making out isn’t just kissing for him - it’s a prelude to the nasty-ness that’s about to come

So if you try to break the kiss to go answer your phone, he’s thoroughly offended and will drag you back to his lips

The type to walk in, no words, and catch the back of your neck with his large hand

Likes to make out with you against surfaces with him standing up

He’ll tell you he thinks it’s really hot when you wrap your legs around his waist

A bit of a size kink because he loves to corner you and pin you to the wall/bed and hover over you

You...have absolutely no complaints so...

He’s the dominate role even in making out

But just so gentle and loving that it makes you swoon

Rarely makes a sound other than breathing heavily, humming or growling

Face grabbing!!!!!

100% of the time will grind into you

Since his body is always smashed against yours, he doesn’t need to move much for you two to feel the friction

Has a habit of biting his lip and looking to the sky to grab his composure 

Likes your attention on him so he’ll grab your jaw

Playful but not as Ayno

Chuckles when he accidentally tickles you but easily refocuses your attention to the matter at hand:

His tongue in your mouth

Lou:

Shy baby won’t initiate any make-outs until later in the relationship

Probably like 3-4 months into it

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like making out

Exactly the opposite actually

Hosung loves the intimacy of making out with his partner and finds it really romantic

Is very soft about the entire thing

Nearly melts into a puddle when you kiss him out of nowhere, literal hearts in his eyes 

Light pecks - just lips pressed against each other the first few seconds then he’ll slowly move and close his eyes

Hardly any freaky shit until he’s more comfortable with you

When he is comfortable, he’s still very sweet and loving but will be a bit of a tease

Likes to pull away from you and watch you chase his lips

Will play innocent when you get upset that he won’t move against you

Makes you work for it ‘cause he’s a bit of a brat

His hand kink will show during make outs

As soon as your hands touch him under his shirt, he’s a mess

Loud, deep groans and sucking his breath

Wants to watch you so he’ll love it when you’re in his lap

Lots of slow, teasing kisses until he can feel you grind into him

“Do that again.”

Knows how deep his voice can get so when he figures out it’s a turn on for you, he won’t shut up

“If you keep kissing me like that, I’ll have to take you in the room.”

“Unless you want me to strip you right here on the couch?”

“Princess, you’re eager hm? Mhm, I like that~”

You try your best to shut him up but the more you do, the more he’ll do also

He doesn’t prefer boobs over ass or vice versa but he tends to find his hands are constantly caressing your ass and waist a lot

Is hardly ever rough with you but will appreciate a few bites and sharp grips from your hands

Ziu:

Playful then turns hot and heavy. 

Heejun likes to goof off so making out will start off very innocent. 

You two could be just talking and laughing and he'll strike- tickling you and tackling you onto the couch. 

Eventually, it'll die down and as you were giggling and telling him he was crushing you under his weight, he'd be too busy staring at you to hear you. 

In a split second, he leaned down and gave you a soft kiss - something to convey what he was thinking at the moment. 

He had no intentions of going past that but when he felt your arms wrap around his shoulders, thin fingers stroking the back of his neck and down his back, it sends shivers down his spine. 

Ziu knows how big he is, and he is very cautious of you as well so he won't be rough with you unless there's a special reason. 

Usually, his hands stay on your body, running patterns down your sides but they'll always settle on the swell of your hips or your ass. 

He'll definitely man-handle you a bit - pulling you on to him, pushing you into the couch/bed. 

Some times he forgets how strong he is so his kisses suddenly turn very passionate, and in turn kind of sloppy. 

Open mouth kisses with lots of tongue clashing.

Likes a little bit of pain

Your nails scratching his back, yanking on his hair - as long as there’s no blood

He's pretty vocal, groaning and whispering sweet words in your ear. 

Dirty talk is only for rough sex so most times he'll be just a big ball of love and sensual, lingering kisses.

Then, when you want to deepen the kiss, he'll leave you hanging out of literally nowhere and look at you like you're crazy for trying to get freaky in the dorm living room when any of his members could walk in. 

"We're not doing any of what you're thinking on this couch, little lady." 

Finds it hilarious how sexually frustrated he can get you though, so he'll leave you hanging a lot more than you want lol.

Will probably laugh in your face when you pout and curse him for turning you on with no intention to finish

[m00nlitknight]

Hello. I really like your previous works. Can I make request, please? Reader's been in relationship with whole gang for a couple of months. Everything was ok but Henry got jealous and started to ruin her relationship with rest of the gang distancing her from them.

ofc!! ✨  i don’t know if im really happy where i left off with this, so if you’re interested i could potentially make a part two?  i’m pretty happy with some parts of it ngl, but that might be my 4am brain talking lol;;

warnings:  usages of slurs / degrading terms ( light, but still present ).  mentions of frick fracking.  possessive behavior.  none else to really talk about. pairing:  poly!bowers gang x reader / henry bowers x reader extra ( edit ):  feel free to look through my masterlist for other bower’s gang/reader works, and have a fantastic day!

vindictive.

The relationship with the infamous Bowers’ Gang began in what you could only describe as a fictional scenario.  You’d always been known as one of the kindest individuals in your classes, a large soul and absolutely heart-warming and dazzling smile.  The reputation, though humbling on the darkest of evenings, felt strenuous to keep up.  It was suffocating, sometimes, when you wanted nothing more than to fade in the scenery, or to say no to a request from someone.  Being the school doormat gave you an easy pass to adoration, but a hard road to doing whatever anyone wanted.

That’s what confused you about the sudden interest of the gang.  Sure, you had been paired up once or twice with them for class projects, shouldered the entirety of the workload; but everytime they hardly batted an eye your way.  Except for Vic, but he always seemed to be a bit more socially adept then the other three.  So it was only fitting that the initial interest came from him, one day after your shared class he approached you, and asked if you’d ever want to hang out.

Obviously, you said yes, and reaped the immediate consequences.  Practically the next day after his query, people began to look at and treat you differently.  No longer was there an affectionate warmth in their gaze, reserved exclusively for you, instead replaced with a brief flash of fear before morphing into a bout of confusion for how to tread the situation.  You didn’t mind it, or at least on the surface you didn’t.  The validation found in your peers suddenly being ripped from your grasp was a bit whiplash inducing, not that you could really do anything about it.

The initial hangout, which you look back at fondly as your first actual date, was a casually dressed affair.  He took you to get milkshakes, which you indulged in the city’s center and poked fun at the Paul Bunyan statue, then took you to go thrift shopping.  It was that day you’d found your new favorite sweater, called ‘hideous’ on many occasions by the likes of your mother and peers, and a cute denim skirt.

It didn’t take long for Henry himself to nearly shoehorn himself into your relationship with Vic, apparently prompting Belch to ambush the two of you on your second date.  The Trans-Am’s engine was unbearably loud, coming up behind the two of you holding hands as Henry hollered something you couldn’t quite make out.

Five months down the line, and half-way through Junior year, a heartfelt outpour from the entire gang; and suddenly you’d become the apple of all of their eyes, so to speak.  Most of the time, your interactions were soft with all the boys, cuddled up with them all -- your personal favorite being Belch, he knew just the position for you to be putty in your hands; Patrick on the other hand did everything in his power to make you squirm while in his grasp.  He’d simply cackle at your protests of his wandering hands, then proceed to mock the tone of your voice.

Though, from the sidelines, you were mostly able to ignore the fiery glares thrown by Henry.  No matter how much attention you gave him, how many times you’d let him leave unsolicited hickies on your neck in plain sight to be hidden from your mother, or held him after a rough night.

He’d never said thank you or praised you for anything, which left you devoid of where you stood with him.  If he hated you, would you even be around the other three?  Wouldn’t he have been completely blunt and outright with it?  The creeping worry manifesting itself in your gut grew with time, and with time you began to give him more of your attention to try and sedate it.

Inside the labyrinth of his mind, Henry’s opinion of you began as negative -- the ambushing of your and Vic’s date was a stunt to try and drive you away from the gang in entirety.  But you just came the fuck back.  Loyalty was written all over your features, as was inexperience.  With time, the faint flame of interest that licked the recesses of his mind fanned themselves into a stronger blaze, and suddenly the shared attention you had been giving the gang was like gasoline.

He played himself off as distant, instead replying to the work you put in with brief hand holds or an arm thrown around your shoulders to show possessiveness around school.  Being calculating obviously wasn’t his thing, nor was being patient.

He took your first kiss, and one of his first, one night while alone with you, the second month into the relationship.  Pussyfooting around the more carnal aspects of a relationship wasn’t something he typically found himself doing, but he knew that Vic or Belch would have his head if he rushed things too fast.  In the end, though, it drove him to wanting more.

Physical affection was kept behind closed doors, and he couldn’t be sure that your intimacy was only reserved for him, considering you never sported any other markings or called out the name of any of the other members while you were with him.  It inflated his ego to astronomical levels, and it killed him that he couldn’t flaunt it in his friend’s faces.

Regardless, he wanted you to himself and himself alone.

-----------

“Good morning!” your voice cut through the mid-morning drowsiness of the boys sitting in the parked Trans-Am on the curb in front of your home with steely sharpness, but a welcome smile finds its way onto Belch’s face.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he says from the driver’s seat.  “Hop in.”

“Can do!”  your morning pep leads to a foot on the tire and hauling yourself into the car by means of the roof, and plopping directly in Patrick’s lap - eliciting a hearty grunt and smirk from the boy.

“You’re awfully full of life this morning, feels shameful to waste this energy on something so innocent as breakfast,” he all but purrs as he tugs you further into his grasp while the car lurches forward and en route to the typical Saturday-morning hangout spot.

“Ew, Pat,” Vic cringes over to his friend and you, true malicious intent absent.  “It’s fucking brunch time, let ‘em wake up first, will you?”

His question is answered by a cheeky nip to your neck, causing you to squeal.

In the front seat, Henry broods silently.  On the radio plays one of Belch’s cassettes which goes unlistened, and a favorite of his; ...And Justice for All by Metallica.  The playful tone of your voice and Patrick’s advancements manage to leave a sour taste in his mouth, even though he made the extra effort to brush his teeth this morning.

The meal goes relatively uneventful, though your wandering eyes, half-lidded and vixen-esque, irritate him further.  Vic has an arm around your waist, and Belch holding an unoccupied hand under the table.  If he’d thought any better, Patrick was all but devouring you from across the table.  It was an affection-filled scene, which made the poor diner waitress visibly uncomfortable.

After breakfast, Belch drops both you and Henry off at your home, currently unoccupied by your mother who has work.  “Bye, we’ll be seeing you guys later!”

“Henry, be nice to ‘em, will ya?”  Belch booms from the window, around Patrick climbing into the front seat like an animal.

His request is met with a smirk from Henry, who pulls you into a passionate but short kiss in front of the trio.  “As nice as I can be.”

It leaves you immediately flustered and giggling as you’re pulled into your own home and leaving the other three in a vague state of confusion.  The engine faded away in the distance as you moved toward your house, a mess of giggles, flushed cheeks, and a downcasted gaze.  Henry’s smirk is short-lived as his expression shifts back to neutrality.  He watches you walk through the door and shift to the side to take off your shoes, opting to keep his own on.  The brief and blissful silence is broken by his voice, laced with the undeniable edge of his ire.  “Who’s your favorite?”

The question hangs in the air, souring the atmosphere directly as it leaves his mouth.  You freeze at the words, mid finangling your shoe off as you turn to look at him with a confused, and slightly hurt, expression.  “Huh?”

“Don’t play fuckin’ stupid.  Who’s your favorite?”  He takes a step towards you, which you subconsciously shrink back from.

“I-I don’t have one?”

“God, maybe y’are fuckin’ stupid.  There’s four of us and y’mean t’tell me not ‘a one of us sticks out more than the others?”

A blush spreads across your features, an involuntary testament to your unease and outright lie.  Your eyes dart to look anywhere but him as your body betrays you, petrified in intimidation.  “You,” murmur with a gentle voice and laced with a lack of thinking.

He leans down to your mouth, quickly overtaking your personal space and invading your nostrils with his scent -- cheap body spray and masculinity.  It’s nearly intoxicating.  “What was that?”

“You,” an utterance with little more force, the action of taking a lungful of air simply too strenuous.

“Mind tellin’ me why I feel the least love then?”

You almost want to deflate at it, even if the hands wrapping around your shoulder feel like nothing short of a tender moment.  All the time you’d spent with him, all that you’d given to him, and he still felt overshadowed?

“I…”

“Or, is it jus’ that you’re an attention-seeking slut?”  The words cut deeper then he’s capable of understanding, and the sick smile curling onto his lips and the whispered tone feel vastly different then what he’s actually saying.

You’re rendered speechless as he takes you closer to the couch, dragging you into a straddling position on him.  “Show me what I was missin’ at brunchfast then, huh?”

Wide-eyed and bashful you stare.  What are you even supposed to do?  He leans into you, peppering your throat with kisses while his hands wander up and down your sides.  Instinctively, your hands move to run through his hair and he nearly purrs at the contact and looks up at you with an intense, baby-blue gaze.

“Who’s your favorite?”

“You,” sighed out as he starts sucking on your neck and rubbing at your hips.

“Say it,”  a rough voice reverbs through him from his chest, and he relishes in the affection of your gentle hands.  You’re his.  His.

“You’re my favorite, Henry,” your voice tightens when he starts to suck on your collarbone.

---------

He’d managed to cut your afterglow short in the early evening, badgering you to call Belch and tell him not to drive you to school for the next week.  You did it, albeit with a bit of confusion, and feeling vague sadness when Belch’s tone took a nose-dive into disappointment when the subject of the call was revealed. For the next week, you couldn’t look any of the gang in the eye, instead taking to marinate in your own shame and blatantly avoid them.

[skiesofthesketchy]

Blurred Lines

Stiles Stilinski x reader

Word count: 3,247

Warnings: alcohol, language, mentions of sex, flirty flirtyyyyyy

Summary: The reader gets a little too drunk and can’t help herself  >:)

A.n.: Hey its me! I might have been a lil drunk while writing this lol. Yall still like teen wolf fanfic right? GOOD then you’re in the right place. Please lmk what you think I love feedback. enjoy! :)

This has been edited so that I like it better lol

The loud bass from the speakers in the colorful room sent vibrations through your body. Your vision was blurry due to your alcohol consumption that night, but you blamed it on the moving lights which were swirling around the room to the rhythm of the music, though they didn’t really help your drunken state either. Your eyes roamed the crowded room looking for one of your friends, perhaps one friend in particular that you could latch onto to steady your balance and ease your whirling thoughts. 

Deciding to sway over to the kitchen to look for your friends there, some guy slammed right into you, spilling his sticky alcoholic drink down the front of your shirt. You stood there stunned, feeling the cold drink sinking into your top and down your arms. The dude just shouted an, “Oh shit!” laughing with two of his friends that stood next to him, all of them obviously even more drunk than you. 

Groaning in annoyance, you started towards the stairs, hoping to find an unoccupied bathroom upstairs. Focusing on the taunting staircase ahead of you, you climbed the first few steps without a problem. The next one, however, had you stumbling backwards and reaching for the handrail before you could even register that you had misstepped. You yelped as you were fully expecting to tumble down the stairs unable to catch yourself, but a hard chest and strong arms caught you instead. 

“Woah there, Y/N. You okay?” your rescuer asked.

“Stiles!” you cheered happily after turning your face to see one of your closest friends. “Oh my god, you saved me!” you smiled. Your back was still up against him while his hands held your waist firmly. “I was just looking for you.”

“Well you found me,” he chuckled, spinning you around so you two were facing each other. With him standing on the step below you, you were almost as tall as him and could see clearly into his whiskey colored eyes, concern crossing them. “For real though, are you okay? How much have you had to drink?”

“Um. A bit,” you giggled. It might have just been the vodka from earlier but you were very happy to be with Stiles now. 

He helped you down the stairs, noticing how hard it was for you to actually hold yourself up, let alone walk down the steps. “From the looks of it, you’ve had more than a bit. And what happened to your shirt?” he asked with widening eyes, gesturing to the large splatters of amber on your white tank top. 

“Some drunk idiots happened,” you grumbled, looking down to realize that the liquid made your shirt a little see through and it stuck to your skin underneath. “Shit.” You looped your arm through his and rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for a brief moment, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “And yes, I’m drunk if that’s what you were getting at.”   

Stiles laughed lightly, “A little too drunk is more like it.” You just hummed in response. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.” 

“Huh? Are you taking me home?” 

“I’ll take you back to mine. Your parents will definitely kill you if you come home this drunk,” he laughed. Stiles grabbed your hand and led you around the party so you both could say goodbye to your friends. 

The farewells were brief and you were soon walking in the chilly October night, a drastic temperature drop from the heat of the party inside. With your hand still enclasped in Stiles’ larger one, he walked you over to his beloved Jeep. He came around the passenger side with you to help you in, which you were thankful for because even with his help, you were ungraceful in your endeavours to hoist yourself up into the vehicle. He shut the door but you could still hear him laugh as he walked around the car to the driver’s side. 

“Here, drink some water,” he offered you a water bottle after getting in and buckling your seat belt for you. You took it from him willingly and he turned the ignition.

“Are you sober?”

Stiles scoffed. “Of course. I had a feeling I’d need to take care of you tonight,” he teased. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the fluttering that started in your belly. Good ol’ Stiles, always there when you need him.  

You turned the volume dial up, engulfing the moving car in the music playing from one of Stiles’ playlists, and the two of you hummed along peacefully.

‘Shit’ you thought, feeling the wet material of your shirt still clinging to you. You swiftly pulled it over your head, thankful to be relieved of the sticky feeling, though your drunkenness had made you forget about it. You balled it up and used the dry parts of your shirt to dab your boobs that swelled above the lace of your bra. 

“Hey, hey! What are you doing!?” Stiles shouted over the music, eyes flickering down to your chest, an incredulous look on his adorable face. He acted like you were doing something wrong and you were confused. “I’m trying to drive here!”

You quirked up an eyebrow. “And? You’re doing a great job, buddy.”

“How can you expect me to drive safely while you’re over there doing... whatever you’re doing... that!” 

You giggled at the silly, panicked look on his handsome face. “What? Am I distracting you?” You leaned forward out of your seat and turned towards the boy to be more in his line of sight. You couldn’t help but smirk, loving how easy it was to tease him. You slowly continued to wipe the remainder of beer from your stomach and under the lining of your bra.

“Fuck, Y/N, are you trying to get us killed?” His fingers rubbed over his jaw before tightly gripping the steering wheel, his left leg bouncing as he stole another glance at you. 

“I just didn’t wanna be soaked in beer anymore,” you shrugged innocently, scooting back in your seat, and he released an audible breath. 

Teasing Stiles was always fun, but between platonic friends there’s always a line. As you and Stiles have grown closer, it’s gotten harder to distinguish where that line is exactly. Sometimes you even wished the line would blur or disappear completely, due to your stupid feelings for him. You usually ignored them, but with alcohol coursing through your system, your body buzzed with a desire for the attractive boy next to you. 

The jeep stopped in Stiles’ driveway and you managed to hop out yourself this time. You followed close behind Stiles as he unlocked the door to the house. “Are you hungry at all, or did you just wanna pass out?” he asked, flicking on the kitchen lights. 

“Hmm. I could eat.”

“Great--” Stiles swiveled around, eyebrows shooting up as his eyes landed on your still half naked figure, only clad in a bra and a short skirt. “But we should definitely get you a shirt first.” Was he blushing?

The gears in your brain started turning. “Nah, I’m okay. What’s on the menu, Chef?” You sat in one of the chairs by the counter, crossing your arms underneath your chest. 

He let out a breathy laugh. “Uhm. Absolutely nothing unless you cover up.” Stiles almost looked serious, but the amusement in his eyes and the curve of his lips told you otherwise. You, however, were in a playful mood thanks to the liquor. 

“Why are you being a baby? You’ve seen me in my bra before,” you casually inquired.

He huffed, all but glaring at you. It was either because of your little insult or because you were challenging him by not doing what he asked. 

“Fine. I’ll just get myself something to eat.” You stood and strutted past Stiles towards the pantry as he held his stiff position. The warm brush of your arms did not go unnoticed by either of you. 

Skipping back to the counter with a box of cereal, you stretched your arm up to get a bowl from the upper cabinet. Opting to lean on your toes, you almost fell back in surprise when Stiles’ strong hand caught your wrist. He held it there above you as you looked up at him, feeling his warm breath fan over your face. 

“Like I said, sweetheart.” You froze, reading his stern body language. He was trying to intimidate you, but all you could think about right now was closing the small gap between you and kissing him. Sure you were intoxicated, but his proximity made you even more so. Intoxicated by him, that is. “Not until you put a shirt on.”

His grasp was still on your arm, but it was lowered between you now. Your body burned, only partially fighting off the urge to jump him right then. “Stiles...” you focused on his hard stare, the freckles littering his cheeks, his dark pink lips. “You don’t really want that.” 

You heard him inhale a deep breath, “Y/N,” he warned. But you ignored him, finally diving forward, crashing your lips to his. Stiles froze, while you just wrapped your arms around his neck. It only took half a second for Stiles to kiss you back, growling into your lips. You pulled him close, pressing your body into his while his hands found the warm skin of your waist. Your entire form sizzled with the contact, loving the taste of him.

Only seconds had gone by before he firmly pushed you away by your hips. “Y/N. Y/N, stop.” You were confused, his quick rejection causing your chest to tighten. “We-- we can’t.” 

“What Stiles? You don’t want me?” you retorted in disbelief, completely flustered. 

“Babe, you’re drunk,” he tried to reason. You pushed away from his hold on your hips, a sour laugh escaping you. 

“Sorry, Stilinski. I didn’t realize you’d be totally repulsed by me,” you flared. Many emotions swelled within you, but drunken anger took over all of them. Here you were, fully throwing yourself at your crush and he didn’t even want to kiss you. 

“That’s not it,” the boy mumbled, sighing heavily. You just scoffed turning to get away from him. “God, I am not doing this again.”

You snapped your head back around at his comment. His palms rubbed over his jaw anxiously. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Let’s not get into in it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Spit it out, Stiles.”

“You don’t remember?” He seemed almost as upset as you were, the temperature of the room rising. “Jesus, you don’t even remember,” he shook his head, hands rubbing the back of his neck now after he noticed your bewildered features.

“Remember what?” You had no idea what the hell he was talking about. After a moment of strangled silence you growled, “For the love of god, just tell me!”

“This isn’t the first time this has happened, Y/N.” 

“Huh--”

“It was hard enough to push you away the first time. I don’t think I could control myself enough to keep you away.” His fingers tugged on his messy hair, frustrated.

“What?” You were dumbfounded, unable to recollect anything about the scenario he was referring to. “Are you saying we’ve... kissed?” 

He forced out a sharp laugh. “It was a little more than that.” Your face burned red. How could you not remember any of this?

You tried to organize your thoughts in your flustered state. “What- why didn’t you say anything?”

“You acted completely normal the next day. I thought you didn’t want to talk about it. I thought you regretted it...” he mumbled the last part. 

You shook your head. “I don’t even remember. Shit did we... did we fuck?” Your eyes grew wide. Of course you’d forget sleeping with the one person you’ve liked since forever. 

“No. No, of course not. You were drunk and I have way too much respect for you.” You calmed a little, but more questions popped into your mind. “Which is why I can’t kiss you right now even though it’s killing me not to,” he all but grumbled.

You blushed. The heat of the moment was still present but dispersing around you. His last phrase echoed through your mind. 

“Y/N?” he asked cautiously after you hadn’t said anything. 

“I...” you fumbled around in your brain trying to find something to say. “I’m sorry I’ve put you in this position. Twice now,” you forced a laugh, looking down at your exposed figure and picking nervously at the skin around your fingernails. 

Stiles scrunched up his face at your suddenly saddened demeanor. “Don’t apologize,” he spoke softly. “It’s okay.”

Silence took over the room. Neither of you could bring yourselves to speak up. 

“I like you, you know.” The words abruptly left your lips, shocking yourself even more than Stiles. “I know we’re friends. Really good friends. But I like you more than that.” You surprised yourself even more as you found your voice calm and confident. 

Your gaze finally met his honey eyes which were boring into you. “I guess I only have the guts to do something about it when I’m intoxicated.” Your shoulders lifted in a shrug as you laughed sheepishly, trying to relieve some of the tension. 

Stiles’ jaw hung open, but no words tumbled out. You were getting hot and uncomfortable again. You confessed your feelings and he still has nothing to say. “Stiles?”

“Are you sure that’s not just the alcohol talking?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure. I mean the alcohol definitely helped with the delivery, but my feelings are sober.” In fact, you were sobering up by the second.

You were annoyed now. The boy still stood there not saying anything. 

“Damn. I’ll take the hint, okay?” you spat, spinning around to go upstairs. You dragged yourself up the steps to Stiles’ room hoping that he wouldn’t follow you. It was much too late to go running home at this hour but you couldn’t stand to look at his stupid, pretty face. You were humiliated, angry, but most of all, hurt. 

Shutting the door behind you, you rummaged through the middle drawer of Stiles’ dresser, pulling out one of his t-shirts. Taking off your bra and pulling the black shirt over your head, you turned to face the mirror hanging on the wall. Oh god, you looked like a drunken disaster. 

Your hair was in tangles and your dark eye makeup smudged at the corners of your eyes. Your face was flushed with eyes burning red, but those were just the tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. You refused to let them, though.

You huffed, moving over to the bathroom attached to the room. You used water to wash your face of the messy makeup and put some toothpaste on your finger to wash out the horrible liquor and strange words you had said downstairs from your mouth. Your finger swiped over your bottom lip as you remembered how Stiles’ lips felt against them. 

You didn’t let yourself sink into those thoughts. You turned off the light as you left the bathroom, only to discover Stiles sitting on the end of his bed. You hadn’t heard him come in. 

His eyes raked over you slowly, and you could see his throat bob in a gulp. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” you offered, leaning on the doorframe of the bathroom. “I get it. We’re just friends. Sorry I’ve complicated everything...” You prepared to continue rambling, just wanting this night to be over already.

“You may have complicated things a little,” his lips quirked up, “but I haven’t thought about you as just a friend in a while.”  

Your eyes blazed in confusion and shock as you just stared at him. “What does that mean?” You craved more information to be sure you were understanding correctly. Your words were almost a whisper.

“It means I like you,” the boy chuckled at your expression. “A lot.” Your heart hammered in your chest. 

“But, downstairs...” you mumbled, not knowing how to finish.

He chuckled once more. “I’m sorry. What happened downstairs was a lot to take in.” You slowly started moving closer to your long time friend, hanging onto his every word. “I’m just... scared you won’t remember this in the morning,” he whispered. 

“Stiles,” his name drew from your lips. You were now positioned in front of him, his nose turned up to look at you. You let your fingers move through his soft, dark hair. “I don’t think I could forget this even if I wanted to,” you hummed happily. “And trust me, I don’t want to.” 

You put your knees up on the bed on either side of him, straddling him as your skirt rode up your thighs. Your hands were now placed on his jaw with his on your legs, your pretty eyes meeting his in an intense stare.

“You promise?” He looked worried but hopeful.

“I pinky promise.” You came closer, intending to lock lips with him for the second time that night, but his hands shot up to catch your wrists, pulling back slightly.

“Babe,” he grunted, unwillingly. “I don’t think we should. Not ‘til you’re sober.”

You pouted. After everything tonight has been, you at least wanted a fucking kiss. “Just one innocent kiss,” you pouted even more, hoping to convince him. His eyes darted down to your bottom lip sticking out, and he grunted again. 

“Just one,” he choked out, unable to hold himself back any longer. 

He pulled you in by the back of your neck and your needy lips finally connected in a hungry and passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck trying to pull him as close to you as possible. His rough fingertips moved up your legs and rested strongly on your hips. It was pure magic, unlike the kiss of drunken madness from earlier. You smiled into his lips despite not being able to breathe. Both of you were enjoying each other too much to break away for air. 

You pulled away first, resting your forehead against his. Your breaths seemed to match as you both calmed down from the heated moment. “We should get you into bed,” he spoke up first. “You better fucking remember all of this, Y/N.”

You laughed. “I pinky promised, didn’t I?” You watched as he stood and pulled back the covers of his bed for you to climb into it. You happily obliged before you noticed him start to walk away. 

“You’re not actually thinking of sleeping on the couch, are you?”

“Well I can’t sleep here,” Stiles laughed. “I don’t trust you to not jump my bones and take advantage of me.” If he was still standing near you, you would’ve hit him. 

“Just get into the bed, idiot,” you laughed. He removed his shoes before turning off the light. 

“Fine. But no funny business,” he chuckled, laying down in the sheets next to you. 

“Have it your way,” you mumbled, pressing a kiss to his cheek before rolling onto your side. You felt his strong arm wrap around your waist, spooning you. You laced your fingers through his and held them to your chest, perfectly content with your life right now. 

“I cannot fucking wait ‘til you’re sober, Y/N,” he breathed into your hair. “Then I’ll be the one taking advantage of you.”   

..................................................................................................

Masterlist

[toosicktoocare]

Prompt:  for your christmas prompt thing: someone is so wrapped up with christmas shopping, they don't even realize how sick they are (or that they're sick at all) and end up passing out in the store. may or may not end in meet cute where person b is the one who swooped in to see if they're ok

Since a few people have requested Kylux.

Obviously modern AU, and for once in my life, I’m going to target Kylo, lol

Kylo never meant to procrastinate. Finals came up, and as a junior in college with a full course load in a poor attempt to hopefully make his senior year go by in an easy breeze, he hasn’t had time to Christmas shop. To make matters worse, he hasn’t thought about it at all. He completely forgot it was even December until Rey texted him on the 23rd that she couldn’t wait for everyone to get together and exchange gifts.

Online shopping is out of the question, so Kylo drives himself to the mall. It’s cold outside, and it’s been snowing steadily for a few days now, but he can’t help but feel rather warm.

He leaves his coat in his car and tugs at his collar as he walks in the middle of a a mass of shoppers toward the entrance. Beads of sweat are clinging to his forehead, and he wipes them away with the back of his hand.

He’s immediately overwhelmed the second he walks into the mall, and as flurries of shoppers whip past him, he finds himself growing breathless. His chest is burning, and his throat feels uncomfortably dry. He’s never been much of a people person, so he’s not surprised his anxiety is spiking.

He sighs out a puff of hot hair and lightly massages his temples. His head is pounding, but it’s insanely loud in the mall. Loud and crowded, and he feels a little light-headed, but he powers forward, running through the mental check list in his head of what to get everyone.

He has everyone down except Finn-- he’s not even sure why he has to get a present for him. They aren’t friends necessarily, only really knowing each other through Rey, but Rey mentioned something about Finn getting him something, so now he’s tied down by obligation.

He walks into a record shop. He can knock out half his list in this one store thanks to family and friends with classic tastes. He maneuvers around people, constantly muttering “excuse me” or “I’m sorry” as he utilizes his height and long limbs to reach around shoppers for what he’s looking for.

It’s unbearably hot in the store. He can feel sweat sliding down his neck, and his head is swimming in a sea of pulsing pain. There’s pressure behind his eyes, and his throat feels weird. He keeps clearing it despite the pain it brings, but it’s only getting worse.

Definitely anxiety, he tells himself when what feels like the hundredth person bumps into him. He makes a beeline for the check-out line, swaying slightly on his feet. The cashier shoots him a curious frown, and he waves it off with a forced smile as he grabs his bags after a good twenty minutes of waiting in line.

He staggers out of the store. His heart is pounding in his chest. Blood is rushing loudly in his ears, and he takes a moment to lean against the wall outside of the store. He runs a trembling hand through his hair, grimacing at how damp it is.

There’s a small coffee vendor across from him, and seeing the drinks being passed to customers has him stepping forward. He’ll ask for a water-- he just needs to sit and cool down for a few minutes. It’s been a while since he’s been around so many people. His anxiety is just--

His thoughts come to an abrupt stop when his vision blacks out for a second. He sways, blinking away the darkness, but the heat is becoming suffocating, and he can’t manage to breathe through the grayness covering him. His hands are shaking as bad as his knees, and he’s faintly aware of a few people stopping to stare at him before his legs give out just as everything around him goes black.

*****

“Here’s your tea, ma’am. I apologize for the wait.” Hux frowns. The customer he’s speaking to is more focused on something behind her. “Ma’am?”

“I think that young man is about to faint.” She takes the drink from Hux, distracted, and Hux follows her eyes to see Kylo from his anatomy and physiology class swaying on his feet.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy you’ve been thirsting after since the start of the semester?”

Hux doesn’t hear Phasma come up to his side, but he does hear the loud gasps, his included, when Kylo hits the ground with a loud thump. Silence follows-- it’s almost eerie considering how loud everything’s been all day.

“Oh shit,” Phasma curses as Hux pushes away from the counter, shoving past bystanders with aggravated grunts until he makes it to Kylo’s side. Panic sets in when he realizes that Kylo’s still not awake, and he drops to his knees beside him, patting his cheek with a sharp frown. His skin is burning-- Hux isn’t a doctor quite yet, but by feel alone, he can safely say Kylo’s running a fever well over 102 degrees Fahrenheit.  

He shakes Kylo’s shoulder repeatedly until finally, Kylo slowly blinks open hazy eyes.

“Do you want me to call an ambulance?”

Phasma’s suddenly at his side with her phone out. She looks as worried as he feels, but he shakes his head. “Can you get everyone to leave?”

“On it,” Phasma says before spinning around and shouting at the gaping bystanders.

Hux tunes her out easily, pulling all of his focus toward Kylo. “Hey,” he says softly, and when Kylo tries to sit up with a sharp wince, Hux braces an arm around Kylo’s shoulders. “Easy. You fainted.”

Kylo’s disoriented-- he can’t wrap his mind around a single thought. He feels like he’s moving underwater, and it takes far too long to supply a name to the very familiar face before him.

“Hux,” he croaks out.

“Well, good news is you probably aren’t concussed,” Hux starts, chasing the small swell of relief when Kylo muttered his name. “However, you’re burning up. Can you stand?”

Kylo sucks in a few, measured breaths. When he’s able to make out his surroundings a little more, he nods slowly, and Hux carefully helps him to his feet.

He leads Kylo to an unoccupied table close to the coffee stand and eases him onto the chair. “How are you doing?” he asks, eyeing Kylo’s heaving chest with furrowed brows.

“Dizzy,” Kylo mutters, dropping his burning face into hand and massaging his temples.

“Just hang tight,” Hux says, spinning on his heel. He starts toward the coffee stand, prepared to grab his things and a water for Kylo, but Phasma meets him halfway with his keys, coat, and a size large ice water.

“How is he?”

“Not so great,” Hux admits, raking slender fingers through his hair with a sigh. “But I do know that he’s a fucking idiot for coming here while this sick.” He takes his things with a small shake of the head. “Can you cover me?”

“Of course.” Phasma winks, and he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be tempted to take advantage of him in this state.”

“Don’t be so inappropriate,” Hux fires back before spinning sharply on his heel.

Kylo’s still upright when he gets back to the table, and he seems a bit more lucid. He sits the cup of water in front of Kylo, nodding to it silently as he takes the seat across from Kylo.

For a few minutes, Kylo only sips slowly at the water. His mind is a little clearer, and he’s able to fully assess how fucked the entire situation is. And of course, Hux was the one to step up and help him-- Hux and his fucking lean stature and sharp angles, and narrow, studying eyes.

He sighs deeply. “I thought I was having an anxiety attack.”

“What?” Hux quirks his head to the side slightly, a frown playing at his lips, and Kylo won’t admit it out loud, but he can’t stand to see Hux upset.

“This,” he gestures weakly toward himself. “I felt kind of bad, but I thought it was just my anxiety acting up because of all the people and chaos.”

Hux’s briefly shoots him a borderline unreadable expression before he sighs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re easily sporting a fever over 102 degrees.”

“Yeah,” Kylo mumbles. “I can feel that now.” Pain is gnawing at his head, and he’s exhausted. His muscles are practically yearning to be in bed, and he still has a good twenty minute drive back to home.

“I appreciate your help,” he starts, wishing more than anything else to be out of this entire situation. “But, I should go.” He makes to get up, but gravity isn’t playing on his side because he’s toppling over before he can reach out to grab the table.

Instead of hitting the ground, he falls against Hux’s chest. “Fuck,” he mutters, face growing impossibly red. “I’m sorry--”

“--It’s fine,” Hux interrupts, and Kylo meets his sharp, worried eyes.

“I’ll drive you home. My car isn’t far, and we can cut through an employee entrance.”

“You don’t have to--”

“--you won’t make it back to your car in your current state. Just let me help you, Kylo.”

Kylo doesn’t argue-- Hux has always been one you can’t really argue with, but even if he was, Kylo wouldn’t know how to follow Hux calling him by his first name. They started calling each other by their last names when they first met in class because Kylo annoyed Hux and Hux found Kylo to be insufferable, and it just kind of stuck.

He can’t lie that the small sigh of his first name from Hux’s lips made his heart skip a beat, but he swallows back those feelings with a small nod. “Okay, thank you.”

“Lean on me, okay? You got lucky the first time, and I don’t want to ruin that track record by having you faint again and hit your head for real.”

The short walk to the employee entrance takes far longer than usual, but Hux doesn’t rush Kylo, and Kylo’s glad for it because is energy is waning. The second Hux opens the door and leads him outside, he sucks in a sharp shaking breath, pulling away from Hux to hug himself in a poor attempt to get warm.

Hux is halfway through pulling on his coat when he realizes Kylo’s shivering hard beside him in only a black, long-sleeve shirt.

“Where’s your coat?” Hux frowns. Kylo’s pallor has gone frighteningly pale, and he’s shaking hard from head to toe.

“My c-car,” Kylo chatters out, fingers digging into his arms. “F-fuck.”

Hux doesn’t hesitate to slip off his coat and drape it over Kylo’s shoulders, and like the dumb idiot Kylo is, he tries to protest.

“It’s f-fine. You’ll get cold--”

“--shut the fuck up, and put on the damn coat,” Hux spits out. The last thing he needs is Kylo passing out because his fever spiked while outside. “You need it more than me,” he adds, holding Kylo’s gaze with his own for an impossibly long minute.

By the time Kylo gives in and slips his arms through the coat sleeves, Hux is feeling chilled through, but he grits his teeth, grabs Kylo’s hand, and leads him the rest of the way to his car.

“Your freezing,” Kylo mutters as soon as Hux slips into the driver’s seat after helping Kylo into the passenger seat.

“I’m fine,” Hux spits out, pushing past his shaking voice as he starts the car and cranks up the heat. “I’m not the one running a nasty fever.” He pulls up the GPS on his phone. “Address?”

Kylo frowns at the small shiver that takes over Hux, but he rattles off his address around a few weak coughs. His throat is starting to burn, and he can’t stop shivering. He drops his head onto the window. The walk to Hux’s car really took everything out of him.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Hux cuts through Kylo’s haze with an uncharacteristically softer tone, and Kylo briefly lifts his head to meet Hux’s worried stare. “You’re going to be fine, so just try and stay awake until we can get you home.”

Easier said than done, Kylo thinks, but he nods, dropping his head back against the glass. “Thank you again,” he says, and Hux can here the sincerity cut through Kylo’s rough voice.

“You’re welcome,” he mutters, ignoring the flip of his heart as he pulls out of the parking lot.

[yeenybeanies]

g/t prompt list

4. movie

bruce wayne / batman & borrower!reader  ( 3rd person pov ) 

 1500 words

no language warning this time. this one is quite a bit shorter than the others lol & also from the big boi’s pov 

please keep comments to the tags!! thank you!! 

The screen flashes red, blood and gore spraying all over, even onto the camera lens, and a very generic scream assaults the ears. Bruce can only raise a brow, unimpressed by the display as he shoves a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. One piece falls into his lap, but it doesn’t come from his hand. He looks down, then glances at his shoulder as best he can, frowning. 

“ [ Y/N ]? ”  His voice is soft, inquisitive. Free fingers delicately pluck up the half-eaten kernel and bring it back up to his shoulder, where his little companion sits. Now that they have his attention, he can feel them shaking. To Bruce, the film’s graphics look very cheesy, outdated, more comical than actually scary. To a borrower like [ Y/N ], though, never having seen a movie at all, let alone a slasher flick, he imagines the copious amounts of fake blood and flying viscera look pretty . . . disturbing. Now he’s thinking they probably should have gone with another choice of film . . ..

“ Hey. Are you okay? We don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to. We can–––– ” 

“ I’m fine. ”  They answer quickly, cutting him off before he can finish. The little being snatches the bit of kernel from Bruce’s fingers and the adamant crunching of chewed popcorn reaches his ear. 

Needless to say, Bruce isn’t very convinced. He can hear the fear in their voice, masked under that faux confidence. He’d know it well; it’s the same tone they’d used when he first discovered them, caught them stealing (  “ borrowing ”  ) bits of wire from the bat computer. That was over a month ago. He’d heard it since then, too, any time the borrower faced anything new and intimidating. They didn’t like to show fear. 

“ You sure? ”  

“ Shh. I’m watching. ” 

From his peripherals, Bruce can see [ Y/N ] hiding a little bit behind their popcorn. They’re trying so hard to stifle their fear, but it’s not working very well. Bruce can’t help but give a soft chuckle. One-by-one, he pops his fingers into his mouth to lick off the butter. 

“ Come on. ”  After wiping his hands off on a napkin, Bruce raises one to the borrower and gently curls his fingers around their little form. They squeak in minor protest, but both of them are used to this motion by now. Bruce knows how to handle them, and they know how to handle him. He feels them adjust and settle in his palm as he carries them down to his chest. A quick flick of the remote pauses the movie, giving them a bit of silence to have a quick word. 

“ Hey! I’m––I was watching that––! ”  They glare up at Bruce indignantly. 

“ I know. We can keep watching it in a minute. I’m just checking to make sure you’re okay. You looked a little shaken. Maybe because you were shaking. ”  He rubs a thumb lightly up the borrower’s back, trying to ease them. 

“ I’m fine. I wasn’t shaking. ”  Ah, ever defensive. It’s admirable, how dedicated they are to this I’m tough! act. Not that they weren’t tough; Bruce could never think that. A borrower in a human’s world ( hell, even in their own world ) has to be tough to survive. He does find himself relating to them, though––at least in how they deal with fear. He’s really not one to lecture on this subject matter. 

“ Alright, alright, ”  he concedes,  “ must’ve been my imagination. Do you want back up on my shoulder, or are you okay there? ”  

They fall quiet. Bruce knows they’re considering their options. It’s a way, he’s found, to subtly offer help when he knows [ Y/N ] won’t ask for it. 

“ Here is fine, ”  they say eventually, as Bruce guessed they would.  “ It’s closer to the popcorn anyway. ”  Ah, of course, the justification. He doesn’t say anything to the contrary; no need to put the little one on the defensive any more. He makes no effort to stop his smile, though, as he watches them situate themselves in his hand. Those tiny arms wrapping around his thumb fills his heart with warmth. Once all is settled, Bruce plays the movie again, and the cheesy gorefest continues. 

Not much of the film gets a reaction out of him. Throughout its remaining duration, most of his attention is more on the little borrower. With them in his hand, their shaking is much more obvious, as is their ducking when they can’t bear to witness the brutality. His fingers curl slightly each time they do. It never lasts long; usually they’re popping up again after a few seconds, and his hold relaxes accordingly. 

It seems like the movie goes on forever before some sort of cheap, boring resolution flashes by and the credits roll. Bruce stifles a yawn with his free hand, then looks down to [ Y/N ]. 

“  I’ll pick something better for us to watch next time, ”  he says. He brings his hand to his shoulder, letting [ Y/N ] climb on, then grabs the emptied popcorn bowl and stands up. This is another thing the both of them have gotten good at: Bruce moving carefully with his passenger, and [ Y/N ] holding on like a champ. Humans aren’t the smoothest of rides, but the two of them make it work. He heads towards the kitchen to rinse the bowl out and deposit it into the dish washer, then makes way for the stairs. The house is quiet and dark, everyone else either out or sleeping. The latter sounded pretty appealing to bruce, who stifles another yawn. 

“ Whose room tonight? Damian’s? ”  Bruce notices that the borrower hasn’t said much since the movie ended. They aren’t shaking, but he can tell that something is off. They’re probably still spooked. 

“ Damian . . . is probably asleep by now . . . ”  they say softly. 

“ Probably. He has school in the morning. ”  He knows where this is going. They’re working up a justification that isn’t just them being scared from the movie. He waits patiently, letting them reason it out. 

“ So it’s probably better . . . I sleep in yours tonight. If that’s okay. ”  There it is. Bruce smiles. 

“ Of course. ”  He heads up the stairs, navigating the familiar corridors easily in the darkness. Each step is silent, as not to wake anyone else that may be asleep. A soft noise reaches his ear, what he assumes to be a tiny yawn to match the tiny being. Cute. 

Within every occupied bedroom, and in some unoccupied rooms, [ Y/N ] has a little space of their own to sleep and sit in safely. When they do choose to spend it with one of the Wayne Manor residents, they usually choose Damian’s room, but it isn’t unusual for Bruce to wake up to the borrower snoozing in their them-sized bed in his room. It’s a heartwarming sight, seeing a little puff of hair sticking out from under the bundle of blankets. 

After teeth are brushed, clothes are changed, and both parties are ready for bed, Bruce carries the borrower to their space and sets his hand down. He notices the hesitation in their movements before they climb off. 

“ Everything alright? ”  One brow lifts higher than the other. 

“ Everything––everything’s fine. ”  It’s another quick answer. [ Y/N ] scurries onto their bed, then looks up at Bruce with that brave face.  “ Thank you for the movie. And the popcorn. ”  

Lips curve in a soft smile. Bruce leans in and gently tugs the covers over the borrower’s little form.  “ No need to thank me. If you need anything, I’m right here, alright? Don’t worry about waking me up. Goodnight, [ Y/N ]. ”  He has the thought to ask if they’d like to sleep in his bed, but he knows they’d reject any offer anyways. He won’t push. With one final yawn, Bruce flicks the bedside lamp off and climbs into his own bed, getting himself settled comfortably under the covers, ready to face the night. 

He’s almost asleep when he feels the soft pressure––light footsteps, more like––padding up his arm, over the back of his hand, and onto his chest. There’s a hint of smugness in his thoughts, but he doesn’t move or say anything. ( He knew it. ) He waits until he feels the borrower lie down and make themselves comfortable, then he rests his hand lightly overtop them, giving them a little tent of warmth. This isn’t a problem; Bruce has long-since learned how to keep himself still in his sleep. [ Y/N ] will be safe here. They will always be safe with him. 

[doriansbutt]

its 2 fkin am and i wrote a thing????? way longer than i planned lol

m!ortega/m!sidestep, post-alley kiss in retribution.

It’s dark.  You know maybe it’s a little dangerous to be out here at night without your armor or the protection of a...friend.  But you don’t care.  You simply look like a pedestrian sitting on a bench, having a smoke.  No one can tell you’re still shaking.  No one can tell you’re still feeling the panic attack from earlier.  No….last night?  Time moves differently in a panic attack.

Reluctantly, you pull your phone out of your pocket, watching the screen light up.  3 missed calls.  You thought there’d be more, honestly.  It seems Ortega is trying to honor your wish for space…

You sigh heavily, burying your face in your hands.  You can still feel his fingers on your back, his hands on your bare skin.  Tear start to well, unbidden, and you stubbornly wipe them on your sleeve.  You’re not even sure why you’re crying right now.  You thought you’d gotten it out of your system earlier.  Emotions never did like to play by the rules.

Running a hand through your hair, you hold your cigarette in your mouth and take a deep breath...and dial Ortega’s number.

Sitting here, anxiously bouncing your leg and running your hand through your hair over and over, you know you must look a little crazy.  And maybe you are.  You’ve been so careful, but Ortega….something about him turns off all common sense.  You’re startled so bad when you hear his voice that you almost drop your phone.

“Teigue?”  He sounds...nervous.  Worried.  He always sounds worried.

You clear your throat, your voice catching when you try to speak.  “Uh...hi….uhm…” Shit, do you sound as breathless as you think?

“Are you okay?”  

You shake your head, even though you know he can’t see.  You leg is bouncing even more now, nerves alight as you gather courage to… Christ, it really has always been this hard to talk about your feelings, hasn’t it?  Your therapist appointment left you frayed and ragged, and Ortega’s kiss….his hands….it just sent you that little bit over the edge.  Feelings are...the worst.

“Teigue?  You still there?”  Ortega’s voice sounds more concerned now and you smack yourself. You didn’t want that.

“Yeah, I, uhm….I wanted to...uh…”  You pause to take a breath, to take a long, final drag from your cigarette before flicking into a puddle in the gutter.  “Sorry.”  The word sounds like a whisper.

Ortega takes a breath to reply, but you don’t let him.  You already know he’s going to tell you you don’t have to be sorry.

“I just….I wanted to talk about yesterday.”  The words are rushed and you’re not even sure you spoke them in English.  You bury your face in your free hand.  Why is talking so fucking hard?

“I’m listening,” is all Ortega says in reply, but it’s enough.  It’s what you needed to spur you on.

Taking a deep, steadying breath--as shaky as it is--and speak.  You force yourself to speak.  “It’s not your fault.  I just...wanted you to, uh...to know that first.”  He doesn’t fill the pause you leave him.  “I’m sorry, I just...I just freaked out.  I don’t...touching is….”  You sigh heavily.  Why did you think you could do this?  

“It’s okay.  I’m sorry, I crossed a line…”  You can tell he wants to say more, so you wait, but it seems he’s waiting for you to respond.  

It takes all your energy to muster a grunt.

“Are you okay?”

That’s a heavy question, now, isn’t it?  You don’t really know how to answer but something inside is yelling at you to just be honest.

“No…”  The sniffle you add isn’t fake.  Christ, of course you’re crying.  Your head hurts, you still feel like you have too much anxious energy, like your body is three sizes too big to fit in your skin…  You shake your head slowly, burying your face in the crook of your elbow, your sleeve catching your tears.  You hadn’t noticed you weren’t holding the phone to your ear anymore until Ortega’s voice is louder.  Startled, you bring it back, struggling to find your voice.

“Teigue?  Can you hear me?  Are you still there?  Please, talk to me, Teigue.  Please-”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m here, sorry…”

The sigh of relief he lets out is heavy.  “Where are you?  Are you home?”

Looking around, you suddenly realize you don’t really know where you are.  It’s not somewhere you usually go, not that you keep usual haunts these days.  But you haven’t been around here before.  “No, I uh...I don’t know where I am,” you admit slowly, trying to keep the anxiety still spiking through you from latching onto this thought.  

You try to pretend Ortega doesn’t sound even more concerned when he replies.

“Are you outside?  Can you find street names?  Buildings?  Anything notable?”  He’s jumped into crisis management mode--the next step is hero mode and you know he’d run across the whole city to keep you safe if he had to.  “I’ll come get you if you need it.”

You start walking, rubbing your eyes to clear the dryness, the itchiness your crying has left, and looking for an intersection.  As you round the corner of a larger skyscraper, you recognize the area.  “I’m uhm...I’m near Memorial Park, I think.  A few blocks away, maybe…”

“I’ll be there soon,” he promises.  

“‘Kay…” Is all you can muster before hanging up.  Despite your unease, you feel a little calmer knowing someone’s coming to your rescue.

When you finally arrive at the park, you find an unoccupied bend and nearly collapse into it.  Your body feels heavy, and you may as well have dragged yourself here.  Exhaustion sits in your very bones, and you pull up the collar of your drab olive military jacket.  You wish you’d worn a hoodie today, but you weren’t exactly in your right mind when you left your apartment.  Did you even make it back home yesterday?  You don’t really remember, and that’s disconcerting.  You’re no stranger to panic attacks.  You know how disorienting they can be.  But you can’t afford to get lost like this.  You can’t afford to lose yourself to your mind.  Not anymore.  You feel the pull of sleep dragging you into darkness when a hand rests on your shoulder.  You snap up, eyes wide with panic, arms raised in defense before Ortega’s voice fills your ears.  He brushes your hair from your eyes and you can see the worry clearly written on his face.

You can’t help it.  You practically throw yourself at him.  You’re tired and you don’t feel good and you’re still buzzing with residual anxiety and that’s what you’ve decided to blame your actions on.  

He catches you, because of course he does.  His arms are strong and tight and safe around you.  You feel safe.  You feel okay.  It’s….odd, that he has that effect on you.  

He pulls back for a moment, taking you in.  You must look worse than you thought, if the furrow in his brow is anything to go by.  “Let’s get you home, okay?”  He wraps a steady arm around you and you suddenly feel ashamed at needing help.  His help.

You shake your head, hair falling in your face.  “I don’t….I don’t wanna be alone…”  Your voice is practically a whimper.

He just holds you tighter.  “Okay, that’s all right.  We’ll go to my place, okay?  You’ve got clean clothes there still.”

A nod.  You think you nodded.  You can’t find your voice, so you hope you nodded.  Your lip is quivering and if you opened your mouth you know all that would come out is a strangled cry.  You don’t want to be alone.  But you’re not sure you want to be around someone else.  Does Ortega override that?  You’re not sure yet.  He overrides a lot of things…  All you can manage to do right now is hold onto him and let him help you.  You know you need it.

[doodlelolly0910]

Love Don’t Cost a Thing

Summary:  Emma thought she was living her happily ever after until she wasn't. Now Neal is living his with someone else and Emma has a plus one option to the wedding from hell but no one to fill the space. Enter Killian Jones, devastatingly handsome male escort and the answer to Emma's problems. She hires him for the wedding because he's the safe choice. The temporary choice. Falling in love wasn't on the invoice.

You can also find this on AO3 and FFN!

A/N: Hello! I come bearing new fic! So this was supposed to be a oneshot. I wrote it as a oneshot. The fic clearly had other ideas and it is now an MC lol. So here we are! Super huge ginormous thank you to @superchocovian​ who was just a the most fantastic beta and a wonderfully patient person. She thought she was signing up to beta a oneshot and she got me instead haha. And another super huge thank you to my wondertwin @artistic-writer​ who has made the most AMAZING picset for this fic that I could have ever wanted. It is seriously fantastic and I nearly squealed her ear off about it. I honestly love it so so so much. And she was an awesome second set of eyes on this project and frequent calmer of my anxieties and just an overall wonderful, lovely person. Thank you in advance for reading this fic! I hope you love it as much as I do. It's been my pet project for quite a while now and I'm so excited to share it with y'all. Watch for updates every Friday, and you can yell at me on here if you want. Away we go!

Chapter 1

Ten months.

Ten measly fucking months is all it took for Neal Cassidy to send out wedding invitations after he tossed Emma aside like yesterday's newspaper. Of course it wasn't too much of an asshole move to send an invitation to the mother of your child when you'd found a new love, especially if said child was going to be in the wedding. Was it? Her fury at the envelope grew as she decided yes it was an asshole move and she took another generous drink from the glass in front of her.

It still stung, even three months later, as she sat drowning herself in her sorrows at the bar on what would have been their ten year anniversary. To add insult to injury, the one he'd sent to her was addressed to Miss Emma Swan and Guest, written on the front in elegant gold script. She scoffed and tossed back her drink, fingering the edge of the envelope absent mindedly.

Miss Emma Swan and Guest.

Neal knew. He fucking knew she didn't have anybody. He knew how hard it was for her to let people in. He sent her the invitation just to rub it in her face. Just another message that she'd never find happiness. She conjured an image of his smug smile in her mind's eye and felt the sudden urge to find him and slap it off his face. She signalled to the bartender for another drink instead of doing something stupid, like driving to New York City from the Boston hotel bar she sat in and punching her ex. Repeatedly. She sipped slowly this time at the vodka cranberry in her hand, newly delivered by the petite blonde behind the counter. In reality, she wanted to be slamming back shots of whiskey, but self preservation told her that advertising her heartbreak in such a way would be ill advised. So she sipped and turned the envelope over in her unoccupied hand again and again, looking at its broken seal and debating whether or not to open it again for what felt like the millionth time since she'd gotten it those short few months ago. She couldn't believe this was happening. Couldn't believe he would have the solid fucking steel balls he must have upgraded to since he left her to send her this after all they'd been through. She had been with him for nine years, since she was seventeen and naïve, a runaway foster kid with no family, no friends, and no place to go, all the while planning their future together as she thought he had been. They'd met when she tried to steal a car that he'd already stolen, and they kept up the Bonnie and Clyde act to survive. It stung the first time she had asked why he hadn't proposed and he told her neither of them were ready for that. They'd only been together a year and they were still having fun. At least she wasn't alone. So Emma carried on, and didn't ask questions. They were happy. Not long after that, she'd gotten pregnant. Neal had wanted her to get an abortion, but Emma couldn't do it. She was eighteen, he was twenty four, and she followed his lead in most things, but she just couldn't bring herself to do that. They'd settled on adoption. They got real jobs, a real apartment, and everything was okay for awhile. But once Emma heard the strong cries as her son was freed from her womb and she laid eyes on him for the first time, she couldn't give him up either. She and Neal had fought about it. He'd even left for three whole weeks when she wouldn't relent. But he came back, saying he didn't want to be like his father and walk out on his son. Emma quashed the urge to remind him he'd already done that and welcomed him back with open arms. She knew what it was like to grow up without parents; she didn't want the same for her child. He still didn't want to marry her, citing the need to work on their relationship and being parents. She accepted that. At least she wasn't alone. The next few years seemed to fly by as Emma threw herself into her little family. Henry wanted for nothing, and Neal even ended up being a really good dad. But they fought a lot. Bills piled up and Emma worked two jobs while Neal struggled to hold down one most of the time. He would work whenever a job offer came to him, but he never really looked for one. And they never seemed to last long. Emma made enough as an office clerk for a private investigator by day and a waitress by night to keep them afloat. Around that time, Robert Gold, Neal’s estranged father, had come back into Neal's life and wanted a relationship with him and his grandson. Neal rejected his requests, and Emma always tried to support him, whichever way he wanted to go with it. Emma asked one night that had been mostly calm and normal if he wanted to get married. He dismissed the idea easily, telling her he wanted to be more stable in a career, that way they could afford the ring and wedding they deserved.  Emma told him it didn't matter to her, but dropped the subject. They could wait to get married. At least she wasn't alone. In the end, one of Neal's biggest complaints was that she never had time for him (or Henry, as he had callously tossed in her face a time or two during some of their more heated spats) and he needed more from a relationship. Ironically, he started seeing his father regularly and looking for work more frequently around this time as well, stretching his own time at home thin. Nonetheless, she tried harder, losing contact with her friends and even her foster brother David, that she'd reconnected with when Henry was born, in favor of making more time for her boyfriend and son. It never seemed to be enough. Tamara Herr had time for Neal though. The caramel skinned beauty lived right across the street from their apartment building and was decidedly everything Emma was not. So, when Emma caught them together in their bed after coming home early one day to celebrate her promotion, all she could do was laugh as her heart simultaneously closed up tight and shattered into a thousand pieces. And now they were getting married. Neal got the girl of his dreams that it was clear Emma wasn't and a relationship with his father that came with his very own trust fund. And she was alone. "Bad night?" Emma jumped at the sound of a British baritone voice coming suddenly from behind her. Her face pinched in a scowl and she turned to make sure whoever this interloper was knew she wasn't in the mood for company. She looked up as a tall, well built frame placed itself in the seat next to her. Emma was almost shocked off her stool when her gaze meet his. She wasn't expecting someone so... well, gorgeous, if she was being honest. Dark chocolate hair fell just over his forehead, dusting his quirked brows. Bright ocean blue eyes watched her with mild amusement, studying her as she was him. His pink, plush lips were framed by dark, neatly trimmed facial hair that was interspersed with auburn whiskers here and there that she almost would have missed if the light hadn't caught it just right. There was a single onyx stone in his right ear that matched his cufflinks on the lighter gray dress shirt that he wore under a steel grey suit. The shirt had several buttons undone, exposing his chest and the thick smattering of umber hair across it. Realizing she'd probably been staring too long, she reset her mouth into a hard line and tilted her head back away from him. "It has been a pretty shitty night. That's usually how one finds themselves drinking at a bar near eleven o'clock alone," she replied stiffly, hoping her tone and words would prevent him from pursuing whatever this interaction was between them. It seemed, though, that the man only took it as an invitation. "I could tell. If you stared at that envelope any harder, it may burst into flames, love," he said with a chuckle. Emma's scowl deepened. "Not your love," she huffed. "Not anyone's love," she added before she could stop herself. Her cheeks flushed at the admission and she hid her face in her drink, letting her golden hair fall in front of it as she dipped her head down.Maybe she’d had enough to drink. To her surprise, the man reached out and tucked a good portion of her tresses behind her ear so he could look at her face. He continued to amaze her when she saw no pity in his expression, just a glimmer of understanding. "I can't imagine anyone not wanting to love someone as beautiful as you," he murmured. Emma wrinkled her nose at the over the top declaration and he cracked a grin in response. "Too much?" "That was epically cheesy. Does that line really work on anyone?" She took another sip from her glass and felt her eyebrows climb her forehead. "It wasn't a line at all, love. But I have plenty of those as well, if you'd like to hear." He nodded towards her, almost begging her to pick up the gauntlet he'd thrown. She remained silent, not wanting to further encourage this conversation, but feeling strangely uplifted by his presence. So he continued on. "Here, how much would you say a polar bear weighs?" Emma gave him a funny look, contemplating where he might be going with this. "I'm not sure, like a thousand, two thousand pounds?" she guessed. He looked positively gleeful that she'd played along. "So you might say then... enough to break the ice? Killian Jones, at your service." He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. Emma rolled her eyes and groaned, drawing her hand back but still feeling the sear of his lips just below her knuckles. "I can't believe I just walked right into that one." She shook her head with a laugh.

“It's a gift of mine, leading women places they don't expect to go,” he said, his voice low and sultry, and oh, man, he was definitely flirting with her. “Would you like to go somewhere else unexpected?” He swiped his tongue over his lower lip, his darkened gaze holding hers.

"Sorry, pal. You just aren't my type," she lied, her breath catching in her chest as she flitted her eyes back to the bar and her drink. Truth was, she was far more attracted to him than she'd been to... well, anyone really. More attracted to him than she had been to Neal, that was for sure. "Darling, for the right price, I'm anyone's type," he replied, his words hanging heavily in the air between them. Emma's eyes widened at the implication, snapping back to his face, and Killian's own blue orbs smoldered into her gaze, waiting for her reaction. They stared at one another in silent challenge, willing the other to expand on the proverbial elephant that now sat quite noticeably in the room. Curiosity won out and Emma licked her lips before responding, flushing slightly when the handsome man tracked the movement with his eyes. "Are you telling me you're a hooker?" She hissed under her breath, darting her eyes around the room as if someone might be listening, and Killian grinned at her. "Please, love. 'Hooker' sounds so crass. Not to mention, illegal." His grin grew larger as she sighed in frustration. "Well isn't this just my damn luck. Sitting alone, wallowing over my ex-boyfriend's happiness wasn't enough, I suppose. Now the one guy who even talks to me is only here to make a quick buck." She scoffed and shoved the envelope violently into her clutch purse before digging out some cash to leave for her drinks. His careful eyes watched her flustered movements before he reached out to loosely grip her wrist. She froze, unsure of whether or not she should pull away. He stroked the pad of his thumb over the small flower tattoo nestled at the base of her palm, prompting her to look up at him again. She did, ignoring the electric sparks shooting up her arm at the contact. "For what it's worth, love, I would have approached you whether I was on the clock or not." He brought her hand up and placed a soft kiss to the place his thumb had just been smoothing, never breaking eye contact, causing her breath to hitch again involuntarily. She cursed herself mentally for acting like a hormonal mess. "How many girls has that bullshit worked on today? Bet your bank account is padded with the results of pick up lines like that," she spat, snatching her hand back from his gentle grip and standing abruptly. She was more embarrassed than she could recall feeling in recent memory and she hated it. Hated how he'd gotten under her skin so quickly. Killian seemed to accept her retreat gracefully and smiled softly at her. He stood as well and reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, pulling free a small black card. Boldly, he reached down and slipped it into the gap of her clutch, not even bothering to try to hand it to her, knowing she wouldn't take it. "Think what you'd like, Swan, but that was also not a line. That's the absolute truth. And should you change your mind about some company, well, you have my card." Emma stood in shock. She could feel her face reddening further. Then the bastard winked and smoothly turned, walking away to find his next companion. And that is when it hit her that he'd used her last name.

It had to be a coincidence, or she must have misheard him, because why the hell, how the hell, would he have known her name?

Emma's cheeks were still flaming as she stormed out to her car. She wasted little time in jamming her keys into the ignition, making the little yellow Volkswagen rumble to life and peel out of the parking lot in haste. How dare he. Men like Killian Jones were the absolute worst, preying on women who were vulnerable for their own gain. The thought that he'd recognized her as vulnerable made her stomach turn. She should have never let her guard down so low. She hadn't even been aware that she'd done it. How often did she have her weaknesses on display? she mused as she waited at a red stoplight. She slammed her open palm into the steering wheel. In the five minutes she spent in Jones's company, he'd managed to peel back her layers and reach her in a way that she hadn't been reached in years. If she didn't know any better, she may have even admitted that she felt a connection to Killian Jones. Damn him. It was all an act, she reminded herself. He was skilled in the art of flirtation, ready to seduce and take advantage of every sad sob story that would make him a few bucks. A loud honk from behind her jerked her from her thoughts and she realized the light was green. Putting her foot on the gas, all she was focused on was getting home. No more thoughts of handsome male hookers--or shitty exes, for that matter. Except that was all she could think about as she parked in her designated space and made her way into the apartment building. She kept a brisk pace as if she could physically outrun her train of thought. She was glad that Henry was staying with Neal this week, not expected back until the day after tomorrow. She loved her kid, but he was too damn smart for an eight year old. He would have picked up on her distressed state in no time. She didn't bother with picking up the house that night, only dropping her purse on the table in the entryway, stripping away her shoes and clothes as she made her way to the room and slipping into an oversized t-shirt and pajama pants for bed. As she slipped under the covers and settled on her pillow, the last thought that ran through her mind before sleep consumed her was of Killian Jones. The next morning was no better. She scowled at herself for waking up with Killian's blue eyes dancing through her head and decided she needed a distraction. Usually, she and Henry would spend their Saturdays in a park or a library, or the occasional museum, but he wasn't here and she didn't fancy doing any of that alone. She could call her sister-in-law, Mary Margaret, or her friends Elsa or Ruby, but all three of them knew her well enough to know when she was hiding something and she was still embarrassed just enough by her run in with a male escort and her subsequent escape to decide against putting herself through the ringer. Mary Margaret would be appalled and tell everyone (she was horrible at keeping secrets), Elsa would be sympathetic to the point of pity (which she was not ready for), and Ruby would either make fun of the whole situation or try to find him herself (based on how much of a description she could get out of Emma). No thank you to all of those scenarios. She padded barefoot into her kitchen, grabbing a mug and leaning against the counter to wait for her coffee pot to finish percolating, silently thanking the heavens that she remembered to set it before she went out last night. She looked around the apartment she shared with her son and sighed. It was a good sized apartment, much better than where she'd started with Henry. Her eventual licensing as a private investigator afforded her a much better lifestyle for her and her son. One that could have included Neal. She'd actually been on her way home to share her license confirmation when she'd caught him with her. And the rest was history. The coffee pot gurgled its last drops into the pot and Emma happily made herself a cup. Maybe she should've RSVP'd that she'd be coming alone. It would've been much easier, but she was so mad to see that plus one included on her card that she'd gotten out the Jack Daniels and the whiskey checked the box for her. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And it wasn't like she hadn't moved on from Neal; on the contrary, she had, she just hadn't moved on with someone else just yet. Sipping at her cup, her mind automatically went to her phone. She usually skimmed news headlines and went through her email with her morning coffee, but she didn't have it with her and she didn't remember seeing it on her nightstand. She let out a groan when she remembered that she'd left it in her purse. Grumbling, she pushed herself away from the counter and made her way to the entryway, picking up her purse with one hand and setting her mug down with the other. She shuffled through the contents and pulled her phone free, but as she did, a small, black square fluttered to the floor. She bent down to retrieve it, frowning and trying to remember where it came from or what it was. She flipped it over to read it and her face immediately flushed, though she wasn't sure if it was out of embarrassment or something else. KILLIAN JONES PERSONAL ENTERTAINMENT 617-555-9870 Emma snorted. 'Personal entertainment' indeed. She didn't even know why he slipped her his card. She'd never paid for sex and she wasn't about to start. She was lonely, not desperate. She tucked the card against her phone for the moment and went back to her clutch for her charger. Her fingers bumped against the thick envelope inside as she searched and she scowled at it. And then a lightbulb went off in her head. She thought of the little nest egg she'd put aside for a rainy day as her mind began to hatch a plan. Maybe she was a little desperate. "This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid..." she muttered, grabbing her phone and heading to the couch, flicking the edge of the business card with her finger. She plugged her phone in and sat down, letting a large sigh escape her, and punched in the numbers on the card. She fiddled with the ties on her sleep pants while the phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Just as she was about to hang up, a sultry English voice came on the line. "Hello?" Emma's throat closed up immediately and her mouth felt like she'd poured a shaker of salt into it. Her heart pounded in her chest and every word in the English language fled her frazzled mind. "Hello?" he said again and Emma jumped as she realized she should be saying something back. "Uh, hi." Smooth, Emma. "Hello, love. Can I help you?" He sounded amused and that incensed her. "Yes. No. Maybe. Dammit, this isn't how this was supposed to go," she rambled. "Look, you gave me your card last night, and I'm calling." "I gave quite a few women my card last night. Refresh my memory a bit, love." He didn't sound the least bit confused and Emma was positive he was messing with her now. She clenched her jaw. "Well, aren't you a regular Romeo." She was sure her scowl could be heard through the phone. He laughed out loud, warm and rich, the sound crackling through the phone and warming her to her toes. "Why don't we start with a name?" he prompted, mirth now flowing freely through his warm voice. She sighed. "It's Emma. Er, Swan. From the bar last night." She felt her grip tighten on her lap. He was silent for a beat and she began to rethink if he actually did know it was her before the reveal. "I was hoping it was you." His voice had dropped an octave and something twisted in her lower belly at the sound. "Yeah, well, it's me. It's kinda weird that you know my name, though. Or, y'know, that you remember me at all," she mumbled, tugging at her shirt nervously. "As if I could forget the most beautiful woman I've spoken to in recent memory," he purred and Emma wrinkled her nose at the flirtation, but he continued on. "And your name was easy enough to discern since you were waving it around on that envelope you had with you." "Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense," she said, embarrassed. An awkward silence fell over the line. "As much as I'm thrilled to hear your lovely voice, Swan, I'm assuming you didn't just call for a chat?" The amusement in his voice was back and Emma felt her blush deepen, thankful for the barrier the phone provided. "Uh, yeah. I was actually calling because, well, I'm looking to procure some of your, uh, services-" "Really, Swan?" The surprised delight in his tone made her frown. She wasn't a conquest. "Not like that. What I meant to say was I have sort of a proposition for you.” Her voice was all business and she found herself straightening her shoulders in resolve, though she knew he couldn't see her. "Color me intrigued, love. What sort of proposition?" he asked and Emma fidgeted nervously. "Can we meet to discuss it? Lunch, maybe? My treat of course, I know you're," she cleared her throat, "on the clock, or whatever." Killian chuckled low on the other end of the line. "Alright, darling, where and when?" he asked. "There's a diner near downtown, Granny's. Do you know it?" She grimaced at the thought of bringing him there. Ruby Lucas, her best friend, ran the place with her grandmother. She'd be ruthless with questions upon seeing her with a man, but she wanted to be somewhere that was familiar in case things went wrong. "I know it. Never been inside, but I've heard good things," he replied. "Can you meet me in an hour?" she asked, looking at the time. It was already approaching noon. "Aye, I'm free until this evening. I'll see you there, Swan," he confirmed and Emma hung up the phone as soon as he did, getting up and heading into her bedroom. What did one wear when they were potentially making the dumbest decision ever?

Tag list (if you would like to be added or removed from this list, please send me a message): @artistic-writer @snowbellewells @bmbbcs4evr @kmomof4 @xemmaloveskillianx @resident-of-storybrooke @hollyethecurious @courtorderedcake

[maxattack-powell]

Book Club

***This is a stand alone fic (1-10b) built to fall after Chapter 10: Sorority Ball (Part 2)***

Masterlist - go here for other chapters and related original fics

Disclaimer: The following are fics (adaptations from actual game chapters AND original works) to Choices: The Freshman and The Sophomore stories. It is a fictional adaptation. I (we) do not work for Pixelberry Studios, the game developer or own the rights to the characters Chris Powell, Nicole or any other IN GAME character. All of the ORIGINAL characters, storylines and events were developed for my adaptation of The Freshman story.

Comments: I enjoyed playing Choices The Freshman… and then I found this awesome group of people and their works - I’ve loved it all, very much so. Deciding that I wanted more interaction than the options allowed, I’ve gone through the first book, chapter by chapter (omg painfully slow) to follow the story (95-99% I’d say) and add to it as I felt would benefit.

Basically, I wanted to include certain things that weren’t really full fic size worthy, adding to the story. However, I did add some full size fic moments also… some are included in cannon chapters, some are their own full chapters in between. I wanted to see MC and Chris through their freshman year… with more angst, fluff, sweetness, real life and overall detail. So, if you like that pairing then you’ll be satisfied, otherwise sorry James & Kaitlyn fans lol. I even added some parts from Chris’s POV, so that we have a chance to see what he’s thinking, knowing what she experienced.

There will be ADULT and/or NSFW moments in certain chapters - this is a warning lol. I will try my best to make it obvious as it occurs…

Paring: MC x Chris

POV: ~MC~ or ~Chris~

 ~MC~

Ever since the Sorority Ball, MC keeps to herself a little more. Being less eager to hangout and socialize. She knows she needs something fun, so in between attending classes, doing homework, and taking runs, she spends her time reading for fun. She had begun to miss the quiet moments exploring different stories.

She spent many evenings in her room, door tightly shut, as she dove into alternate worlds and lifetimes. She always enjoys a good story, and memorable characters even more so. While she had read it before, something told her that Jane Eyre would really hit the spot right now. It doesn't take her long to get halfway through the book in a few hours. Without homework taking up part of her time it would have been a done deal.

It has been two days since the Sorority Ball. Two days filled with confusing feelings about Chris and Kaitlyn. Chris has done nothing but confuse her. One day he wants nothing to do with her, then the next time he sees her, it's the exact opposite, where he can't get enough of her. Then there is Kaitlyn, who either has a crush on Chris, or as Abbie suggested the night of the ball, MC.

Neither situation gives MC the ability to modify the outcome, unless she removes herself from the equation entirely. So that's what she has been doing. Not ignoring her friends, as they still study, eat and hang out together occasionally, but she's limiting it somewhat. Becoming more reflective and quiet, spending time alone. Doing what she was here to do; get her degree. She's been spending a lot of time in her room for the past two days. It’s only so big though, becoming suffocatingly small night after night.

Tonight she decides to leave it behind, grabbing her book and heading towards the living room. When she exits the hall into the shared space, she finds Zack and Tyler battling in a game as Abbie watches The Crown and The Flame repeats on her laptop nearby. Kaitlyn was in her late class again, that thought somewhat of a relief to MC. Knowing that she wouldn't have to pretend around Kaitlyn at the moment was a huge reprieve.

The others glance at her as she enters and waves, giving them all a warm smile, before heading to the roof. She hopes to find it unoccupied and her luck prevails as it is empty. She lets out a sigh of relief and puts in her earbuds, turning on some low music as a sound buffer while she reads.

MC flops down on the couch belly first, propped up on her elbows as she finds her bookmark. She lays like that for a while, then grabs a pillow and stuffs it under her chest to prop herself up as she reads a few more chapters.

~Chris~

With football practice taking up most of his time lately, Chris has been fairly busy. That or it was Becca, her constant texts asking him to come over, telling him she needs his help with… something. Anything. Doing whatever it takes to get him over to the Kappa House.

He admits to himself that he has intentionally ignored some of the requests, needing some space from her a little more now. She isn't his girlfriend, but she’s starting to act like it. Often trying to claim him somehow, and by default, all of his free time. He's not exactly sure how he feels about that. He believes she's not as bad as his suitemates seem to think, acting alright most of the time, but sometimes... sometimes he can't understand what he is doing hanging out with her. She usually talks him back to her side though, making him feel better about whatever issue he's dwelling on.

Even at the football games, she’s there cheering with Madison, trying to draw his attention to her when he should be focusing on the plays. He can't help but smile back at her though, as she is genuinely excited to be there cheering for him.

That doesn't stop him from occasionally searching the stands, looking for his suitemates. Hoping he might one day see them back on the bench they used to occupy in the beginning of the season. His mind flashes through memories of his first game, how they all showed up to cheer for him when he was warming the bench. How they actually painted their bodies with his name. That felt like so long ago...

He always laughs when he recalls that memory. Especially when he remembers how embarrassed Abbie and Tyler were, how exuberant Kaitlyn and Zack were, and how… happy… MC was as she held his gaze, yanking off her shirt to proudly wear her red ‘C’ across her stomach. His mind quickly takes a turn to that night. Where he analyzed that same letter up close, his hands running across her smooth skin as he assaulted her mouth on the side of the house, hidden in the dark.

It’s then that he usually shakes his head and tries to think of something else. Usually Becca is there, more than happy to give him something to think about. But tonight, he's home.

Whatever that means now though. ‘Home.’

Chris has spent so much time away over the last few weeks that he almost doesn't feel comfortable around the suite anymore. He tries to joke with his suitemates like they used to before, but it's strained. The interactions tend to be awkward and forced. He sighs as he thinks about it, missing his friends. He is currently hiding out in his room, trying to catch up on some homework that he's been putting off due to practices and social events.

Knowing he better get through most of it tonight, he finishes one subject and picks up a new book for a different class. For this one he has to read through a few chapters before class tomorrow. He sucks in a deep breath, ready to hunker down and knock it out. After a few minutes at his desk though, he's had enough. He looks around and feels like his room is shrinking. So he closes the book, taking it with him as he leaves his room in search of a different location.

As he enters the hall he immediately notices that the door across from him is closed. Something he’s become used to seeing a lot in the last week. Ever since the Sorority Ball actually. He frowns slightly as he turns and heads to the living room. When he enters, he can't help but grin at Zack and Tyler's video game squabbling. He notices Abbie on the side, trying to hide her amusement as she watches them from behind her laptop. Chris almost joins them but decides he should find a quieter spot to finish his chapters first, telling himself that he can join them after if he hurries.

He turns and decides to try the roof, taking the stairs slowly as he thinks about the closed door across from his room. He trudges all the way up and across the roof before he realizes he’s not alone. She has her back to him, her feet bent at the knees, kicked up in the air, swaying back and forth slowly.

“MC..?” He asks tentatively before he sees her earbuds in. He can tell she's deep into her book so he takes a seat in one of the chairs closer to the stairs, furthest from her location, trying to give her space.

When he sinks down into the chair he cracks open his textbook, finding the chapters he has to read before tomorrow. He glances up at her one more time, verifying she hadn't been disturbed, then looks down and works through the first assigned chapter.

They stay like this for a while. She on her stomach, flipping through pages every few seconds, and Chris doing the same, just with much less enjoyment.

He becomes so focused he doesn't realize that MC’s flips onto her back, her book then blocking her view of his location.

After a few minutes he hears her cry out. “Holy shit!”

His eyes go wide as he jerks them up from his book, startled from his deep reading. His gaze falls upon her, one hand covering her eyes as she clutches her book tightly in the other against her chest. He raises an eyebrow, confused at first, until he realizes that his presence must have been a surprise.

“Why do you do that…!” She gasps, still hiding under her hand. Her earbuds fall around her neck as she stands and heads towards the stairs, attempting to leave.

Chris quickly stands in front of her, holding his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry. I just needed to get out of there for a few minutes. Tyler and Zack were getting kinda loud…” He trails off as he looks down the stairs, their muffled shouts still making it through the door.

MC nods without making eye contact. “Ah, okay. Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” She starts towards the stairs, stepping around him.

Chris sighs and softly grabs her arm, stopping her movements all together. She still doesn't look towards him as he studies her face from the side.

“Look, you were here first. I’m not going to run you off…” He lets go of her arm and turns in front of her, quickly stepping down the stairs.

He doesn't see MC stand there, frozen in place, watching his back flex as he descends.

Just before he grabs the door handle, he stops and speaks softly. “I’m sorry for scaring you, MC.” And then he was gone.

Chris cuts across the living room with a few long strides, grabbing his shoes before heading out the door, ignoring the strange looks from his suitemates.

He quickly slides his shoes on and runs down the stairs. When he hits the ground he turns and starts down the path near their building. He slows and glances up towards the roof briefly and frowns. He shakes his head and turns away, trying to think of something other than the twisted feeling in his guts at the moment.

He finally stops and sits down under a tree nearby, still within viewing range of their building. Deciding there was enough light from the path, he opens his textbook and attempts to finish the last chapter. He struggles to focus at first, his mind trying to drift back to the empty expression on MC’s face when she realized he was on the roof with her. He stops reading for a moment, folding his book closed on his hand, staring blankly across the quad, his eyes unfocused as he loses himself in memories.

~MC~

After standing there for a moment, she hears what sounds like the suite door shutting, possibly signaling someone's departure. She doesn't really care at this point if she was honest with herself. Shaking it off she turns and walks towards the railing, leaning on it slightly and looking out across the sparkling campus for a moment.

She turns to look down when she sees movement below her. It was Chris. Her brow pinches for a moment before she slinks back a step when he appears to look up, right at her. It doesn't last though and he continues on, so she moves closer towards the edge again, curious where he was going. When he turns and ducks down under a tree she tilts her head to get a better look. She sees him sitting there, staring blankly across the quad.

For a moment she feels… sad. For him. For them. Then she blinks and shakes her head, her body becoming stiff. She clenches her jaw and turns away from the edge, taking her spot on the couch to continue her book. Every now and then her eyes flick towards the railing, her curiosity trying to get the best of her.