#it’s where he puts his bedazzlements

[nat1volition]

emo dad

[frehyun]

Makeup

idol!hyunjin x gn!reader

warnings: none!

genre: fluff

word count: 868

author's note: just a little silly something I wrote on my way to uni, very much inspired by Hyunjin's make up in this tiktok! hope you enjoy 💗

(not edited </3)

masterlist

divider by @strangergraphics

“What brought this on?” – Hyunjin giggled as you strode back into his bedroom, closing the door behind you so Changbin didn’t have a chance to peek inside.

“I wanna do your makeup!” – you emphasised your words by waving a palette and brushes around dramatically, making your way to the bed where he was situated on.

“Am I not pretty enough?” – he batted his eyelashes up at you.

Menace.

You waved away his teasing words with a pout, pushing him back into the pillows and climbing onto the bed to straddle his hips, your palette and brushes safely put away onto the bedside table.

“You know you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, so don’t even start with that. Now, tell me, what color? Glitter? Ohh, I think glitter would make you look so good!” – you excitedly patted his chest, urging him to voice his own wishes. You were going to give him at least some choice in the matter. Only a little, though.

Hyunjin layed one of his long, manicured fingers against his chin and tapped it, letting out a loud hum, overdramatically indicating that he was thinking about what was going to be his hardest choice of the day aside from what to order for dinner tonight.

You sighed, moving to lay your head on his chest while he got his theatrics out.

“Wake me when you’ve decided.”

“Hey, I don’t take that long to decide these things!”

“I’ll just choose for you, you big baby.” – you smiled teasingly and reached over to get the palette and brushes off the table and sitting right back up.

“Oh my God, you don’t love me, I’ve always known” – he makes a dramatic gesture, covering his eyes with his arm and playfully frowning to really sell the act.

While Hyunjin was busy getting a standing ovation for his main role as the Drama Queen in his own stageplay, you opened the eyeshadow palette and took a look at what colors were still left. There was still quite a bit of the glittery grey and black left, playing right into your plans of bedazzling your boyfriend.

“Are you gonna move your arm or do I have to resort to tickling? You know I will.” – you asked him with a raised eyebrow, threateningly placing your free hand on the sliver of skin that was revealed by his shirt riding up his stomach. That earned you a squeak alongside him wanting to fold together beneath you, grabbing your hands into both of his larger ones.

“I give up, you win”, he giggled and sunk back into the pillows behind him, “just make sure that it’s so good, that at least Han or Felix get jealous, I feel like bragging.”

“Always the best for my princess. It’s gonna be black and grey, by the way.”

He just gave a lazy hum in response and with that you leaned your body over his and started applying the eyeshadow to his eyelids. His hands eventually comfortably rested on the side of your thighs, squeezing every now and then, as he dutifully stood still for you to do your thing. The whole process was weirdly therapeutic for both of you.

For you, because simply being this close to him was already a comfort, the motions of your brush calming as it glided over his soft skin but also because making your boyfriend look pretty was kind of one of your favorite things to do. You already looked forward to him admiring himself in one of the mirrors, smiling softly to himself and that alone made the whole thing worth it.

For him, because he also revelled in the fact that you were so close that he could idly play with the fabric of your clothes but also because Hyunjin simply liked feeling taken care of. You going through the effort of applying make up to him just because you wanted to made him feel just that, an ease settling in his heart.

Time flew by and soon you moved back from his face, letting out a small groan accompanied by ‘my back hurts’. Despite Hyunjin’s protests and whines, you got up to get a small hand mirror to show him the results.

As soon as his eyes fell upon the glittery eyeshadow decorating his eyelids, he let out a little ‘ooh’ before grabbing the mirror from you to see your work closer. The smile that found its way onto his lips made your heart jump in your chest in happiness.

“Maybe you should become one of my stylists. You get to do my make up all the time and I get to annoy you every single day” – he mused, turning his head from left to right to get different angles of his makeup.

“You know what, maybe I should. Then I get to see Felix every day” – you sighed and hugged him from the side, nuzzling your face into his shirt.

“Yah, you’re supposed to be there for me!”

While giggling and playfighting, the two of you eventually sent a few pictures of your artistry into the groupchat, letting Hyunjin brag like he wanted to.

Felix, Han and even Chan did end up demanding that you do theirs next.

[sweetteainthesummerx]

begin again!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

series masterlist!

pairings: popstar!reader x quinn hughes

warnings: mutual pining, fluff, slight angst, toxic past relationships

summary: you find love, for real this time.

word count: 1.2 k

notes: new writing! ty for all of ur patience

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you're in the club, eyes red-rimmed and feet sore.

four months since you've broken up with your boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend.

the song lyrics and scribbled pen-inked paper around your piano in your apartment shows for it.

even now, as a remix of one of your songs plays loudly (the over zealous dj definitely saw you and probably hopes he gets signed or something), you chest twists.

the things he's done, it makes you question if love is real. your friends insist that it does, and you humour them with a complacent, teeth-bared smile.

your mind is in overdrive; this is good for your career, terrible for your gear-shifting mind.

and because you're a woman in a man's field, you thank the universe for leaking his texts with his co-star during your tour: you've been going viral and garnering an insane amount of attention.

although people are sympathizing with you, you just want to be loved. loved without hesitations and loved with careful hands and words.

you've been working your butt of to take your mind off of your quarter life crisis, but between the european leg of the tour and the north american one, you take a break when your family begs you to.

so now, you're out with your girls, wishing you were on your couch with a glass of expensive red, maybe with your guitar.

anywhere but here, where the booming music and smell of tequila reminds you so much of him. you sigh self-deprecatingly, that should've been your first red flag.

rainie, your best friend, notices your stiffness, and the blankness your eyes are covered by.

she hates your ex. he took a lovely, soft and kind soul and absolutely pushed you over the edge with all of his lying, cheating and manipulating. she is never letting you date an actor ever again.

she swears she's going to make sure that you're happy: even if it doesn't involve love, she just wants you to be you again.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

"hey, hun. i know you're tired," your manager says, and grimaces when you throw her a dirty glare, "but some of the canucks team is here, and they have a jersey for you. before you say anything-" you groan, "just like, two pictures!"

you know it'll be at least thirty minutes, but you agree, because your dad would be upset (ever since you were little a game was always on at your house) and you are from vancouver, so this is good for press.

you walk out, the mini skirt and bedazzled tank combo along with cute platform boots cutting into your sore body.

because you are kind (your manager is clasping her hands in thanks) and very well pr trained, you smile, shake hands, take pictures for daughters and nieces.

lastly, a gravelly voice says your name.

you turn, and you see an attractive, tall man. he's dark-haired, with big, sad puppy eyes and pale skin. he looks nothing like your ex, but you can't help stare at his pretty features.

"hi...?" you offer him a smile, and his ears turn as red as the bow in your hair.

"oh-sorry. i'm quinn. quinn hughes." he scratches his neck, hastily giving you his hand to shake.

cute, you think, as his much larger hand completely envelopes yours.

"he's our captain," the team manager beams, handing you a blue and green jersey.

he bashfully shrugs, and you can feel yourself melt. he's so endearing, with his calm demeanor and pink cheeks.

the photographer instructs him to put his arm around you as you hold up the jersey.

and this man, oh my, he asks for your permission.

you probably most definitely know way too many douchebags, because you can't remember the last time a man has done this.

when you nod shyly, he huffs out a breath and slides a hand respectfully to the middle of your back. he helps you adjust your hair so his hand doesn't catch onto it, and the two of you smile together.

the photo receives an alarming amount of likes, and you're pleasantly surprised when he texts you later that night.

quinn

hi, your manager gave me your number when you had to leave early. i hope that's okay :)

you silently thank your manager and her meddling.

you

ofc! sorry i had to rush off

quinn

no worries

i just wanted to ask if you wanted to get coffee sometime

you

oh!

yeah okay that sounds good

might have to wait for another month though

i have to finish tour first :(

quinn

i'll wait however long i have to

sorry, i have to go i have a game tmrw

goodnight, sleep well :)

you shut your phone off, realizing with a start you've got a wide smile plastered on your face. suddenly, you're wary about him: what if he's like your ex? what if he breaks your carefully stitched up heart?

then something tells you that this boy is special, so you breathe deep and take a leap of faith.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

quinn finds you in the crowd of people at the bar, slipping an arm around your shoulders and giving you a kiss on the cheek in greeting.

after the two of you had met, you had texted for weeks before actually meeting up in person at a cafe near your apartment.

quinn listens to your stories about tour, tells his own about his brothers and the shenanigans they get up to.

he's funny, you realize, in a subtle, deadpan way that intelligent people are. he looks at you with his pretty eyes and insists on paying for your drink despite your protests.

soon enough, you find yourself at his apartment after his games, cooking dinner together and watching stupid movies. he reads the book on his coffee table to you, and lets you tuck your cold feet under his thigh.

you learn things about each other: he memorizes your scent, vanilla and ball point pen ink, you curiously graze his book shelf, his taller figure hovering behind you.

your mutual friends meet at the bar you now all frequent, and you watch with a smile as rainie argues with a hoard of massive hockey players.

"hi," you coo at him, two drinks in, and he grins, smoothing his thumb over your going out top. he asks about the song production meeting you had, and listens intently has you drunkenly ramble.

you'd started to wonder why he hasn't made a move on you yet.

you'd asked him that one night, and he had looked at you with so much candy-melded affection; silently, he ran a rough hand gently up your calf. he told you that he cares about you: he wants to get everything right, because that's what you deserve.

so now, you find yourselves in a standstill, knowing you definitely like each other, but learning to be together as friends first.

however, the way he glares at any guy that comes within three feet of you tonight doesn't feel very friendly.

that night, he drives you home. you try to press - a friendly - kiss to his cheek, but you wobble on your heels and it lands more on the corner of his lips.

his eyes darken, like the way they do when you lick you fingers while cooking, or when you wear particularly short shorts.

you steady yourself on his biceps, giggling as he unlocks your door and practically carries you inside. as you scratch at the base of his neck, he gently pushes you against the wall of the entrance way.

he crowds around you, nosing at your neck. you welcome his scent, masculine and warm, and your hands find their way to his face, cupping his jaw.

your lips meet, and something clicks into place.

you sigh happily, his mouth nudging and exploring against yours. you've never felt so desired, so safe, and you murmur that against his lips.

quinn nips at the softness of your earlobe and almost shudders all over.

"i'm going to keep you," he tells you.

you laugh, and bring him closer to you.

you plan on keeping him too.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

[briefalpacashark]

~Drunk Boys~

The boys from 141 get drunk and you have to pick them up.

Warning: Drunk, violence.

Parts inspired from New Girl. If you know you know.

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One lovely evening you sat in your little office space. The boys had headed off quite some time ago for a few drinks. Your usual Friday night outing didn't include you that time because of a few reports you had put off. It was pulling onto 1am when your phone started to ring. It was a new number you had never seen before.

“Hello, this is Y/N speaking,” you said.

“Hey uh doc?” It was Gaz voice that came through the call. 

“Gaz?” you asked.

“Who you talking to?” you could hear Jonny ask in the background.

“I'm talking to doc,” Gaz stated.

“Oh, why?” Jonny whispered.

“I don't know,” Gaz murmured back. It didn't take a detective to establish by their slurred tones that they were drunk.

“Gaz, why are you calling me from a random number?” you asked.

“I don't know. Our phones got wet,” he explained.

“Our?” you asked.

“Yeah Me, Soap, Ghost and Price,” he stated with a sassy tone, as if it was your fault for not knowing. 

“So you fucked you phones?” you asked.

“Yeah,” Gaz nodded.

“And you called me, why?” you asked. There was silence for a bit.

“Captain, why am I calling Doc again?” Gaz asked.

“Because we lost the fucking car and we need a lift back to base,” Price snapped in the distance.

“Because we lost the fucking car and we need a lift back to base,” Gaz tone was much calmer and sweeter than Prices. A small smile worked its way onto your face.

“Alright, ill be there soon. Where are you?” you asked, making your way to the door.

“Not at the base,” Gaz said.

“I know that Gaz. Where are you now?” It was like talking to a toddler.

“Oh, We're at McDonalds,” he said before the line went dead. There were three McDonalds in the town. You thought they would be at the one closest to the bar. You were right. You were about to pull into the car park when you paused. Alittle down the street, right under the McDonalds sign sat four blobs. Driving up to it, you slammed on the brakes at what you saw. 

Price was sitting with his arms crossed. His hat looked to have been ripped in half and then shakily put back together with some staples, a tuft of his hair sticking out the top. Next to him Ghost with a traffic cone on his head and one tucked in his lap as he sat cross-legged. He was hugging it, and the one in his lap had been drawn on, and made up to look like a person, with a hat and a bikini loosely tied around it. One of his jacket sleeves was missing as if it had been torn clean off. Jonny sat next to him shirtless, with a patch of hair missing from his chest. Over it a pink glittery 21st birthday sash. His mohawk sprinkled with glitter and a kilt. Gaz had left in a pair of jeans, he was now in a pair of pink booty shorts that you would place money on that had some word like bitch or booty on the back of bedazzled gems. A crown of beer cans ducked taped around his head compelled the fit. All about them, strewn across the floor was a variety of McDonald's food, ranging from ice-creams to nuggets. They were all happily munching away. And they were all missing their left shoe?

You got out of the car phone at the ready.

“Say cheese boys,” you called. Drunkenly, they all looked up in your general direction, taking a photo. You chuckled, pocketing your phone and hands as you looked over them all. Wondering what the hell happened to them. 

“Ah, it's doc. What are you doing here, lovey?” Jonny asked in excitement, throwing his hands to the air.

“I'm here to pick you boys up,” you said.

“Pah, no we're alright. We've still got to go to another bar. Ain't that right LT?” Jonny asked, waving you away.

“Aye. I want another lager,” Ghost stated defiantly.

“I think you boys have had enough. Just look at the state of ya,” you gestured to them. 

“Wow, body shaming. Shame on you Y/N,” Gaz slurred, shaking his head disappointingly.

“Your all wet. Each of you has a piece of clothing damaged and all of you haven't even made eye contact with me yet,” you explained. Instantly, they all turned to stare into your eyes.

“Bull shit,” Jonny hiccuped before taking a bite of his burger. 

“Sargent, Report,” Price spoke up. You paused, considering his words as he stared down at the road in front of him.

“Report sir?” you asked. He nodded, tipping forward ever so slightly. Your eyes widened. He was absolutely plastered. They all were. 

“Your all drunk as fuck,” you said simply, your sentence finishing in a bewilder chuckle. The boys could hold their liquer, hell you have ever seen Gaz and Jonny drunk. 

“Am not,” Jonnys offended tone had you laughing again.

“Of sorry. My mistake, your only eating ice cream burger because you want to,” you jabbed you fingers at the burger in his hands. The ice cream was dripping down his arms and it looked like he had stacked nuggets, chips and a shit ton of cheese into the mix.

“As a matter of fact I did want to,” he said moving his hand about, the contents of the burger slopping onto the ground.

“Awww,” Jonny whined.

“Five second rule bruv,” Gaz said reaching bow to pick up a handful of the mess reconstructing the burger and handing it back to Jonny.

“Thanks Gaz,” Jonny seemed genuinely thankful. You held back a gag as he moved it to his mouth.

“Don't eat that,” you warned. You sure as hell didn't want him getting sick of all the gems that were now thrown into the burger mix. 

“I'll do what I want to do, because I can do whatever I want to do because I can do it,” he slurred.

“Jonny you eat that burger and I'll never speak to you again,” you proposed the ultimatum. He paused, pondering for a moment.

“What if I drink it?” he asked.

“Your gonna drink a burger?” you asked raising an eyebrow.

“Aye,” he nodded confidently.

“I bet you a tenner you can't,” Price spoke up. The poor man looked to be dozing in and out of sleep.

“I'll take that bet,” Jonny said.

“Jonny that was on the road,” you pleaded.

“And?” he asked.

“Put it down,” you ordered sternly. With a grumble, he chucked the burger down like a toddler throwing a tantrum. The boys held back their giggles. You heard that right giggle. And it was stared by none other than the man himself. Price. He was giggling. The high-pitched noise sounded off coming from him.

“Ohhhhhhhh mums mad at you,” Gaz joked, nudging his side.

“Sod off,” Jonny grumbled.

“Alright where’s the phone you called me from?” you asked.

“Why?” Gaz questioned.

“Because you called me from a random number, which means you had someone else’s phone. By the state of you lot I wouldn't be surprised if you stole it,” you explained.

“Right, it's over there,” Gaz grabbed his thumb to the phone booth. You first thought they had called you from it, but when you noticed the little pink box, you walked up to it to get a closer look. It was an iPhone. In a pink case, it was cracked to kingdom come and they had somehow lodged it in the credit card reader. You tried tugging it out to no avail. What you did find was Gaz’s phone propped up on the little stand with his contacts open with your name and number on it. Deciding not to question the backwards thinking that led them there you pocketed Gaz’s phone, walking back to the boys.

“Alright, I want the truth ok. What happened?” you asked a little concerned.

“Meet up with some airforce boys. They tried to act all high and mighty,” Price shrugged.

“Said they could drink more than us,” Ghost added.

“We had to prove them wrong,” Jonny explained.

“And we did. But then they brought out, Um what was it called?” Gaz clicked his fingers. 

“Abstanance,” Jonny proclaimed proudly. 

“Absinthe?” you asked in shock.

“Hell yeah, drunk those fuckers under the table.” Ghost nodded.

“Dunk yourselves under the table by the looks of it. Why are you wet? And what the fuck happened to ya shoes?” you asked.

“The ducks were drowning,” Gaz stated simply.

“And there was a bar that takes your shoe when you start a tab. It's to prevent running out without payed your tab,” Jonny added.

“So you all rescued ducks and ran out on a tab?” you asked. The boys pondered for a moment realized how bad it sounded. 

“Yes,” Ghost nodded.

“No,” the rest of them said. 

“And only Ghost rescued the ducks, I fell in, Gaz tried to rescue me but couldn't and Price saved us both,” Jonny explained as if it fixed it all.

“You shouldn't have been hanging around ponds this drunk. It's dangerous,” you murmured.

“For your information, it wasn't a pond,” Gaz stated defensively.

“Oh yeah, what was it?” you cooed back.

“It was the fountain,” he pointed across the way into the park where a fountain was lit up. A knee deep fountain. 

“Right, get in the car. Come on,” the boys groaned.

“We can't,” Gaz said.

“And why not?” you asked.

“Cause,” he trailed off. “Legs an’t working,” he finished. The boys all gave him approving nodds thinking his excuse was to tire brilliance.

“Well, I guess I'll just help you. Come on,” you helped Gaz up first, sliding him into the back of the car. 

“I don't wanna go,” Jonny whined.

“I know big guy,” you cooed. Sliding him in next to Gaz, you shook your head when they started giggling. 

“Your turn,” you gestured Ghost up. 

“Am I under arrest?” he asked.

“What? No,” you shook your head.

“Oh really. Seemed like it.” his hint of sass had you pointing to the car. With a grumble he got up and walked to the car, slipping into the middle seat. You frowned, ducking your head to see the other door open, Jonny now sitting at the far side and Gaz nowhere to be seen. Looking back to the makeshift picnic, you saw him back at the phone booth.

“For fuck’s sake, Stay,” you order the two in the car. Walking up to him, you frowned as he held the phone up to his ear.

“What you doing Gaz?” you asked.

“Ringling Doc. She needs to come pick us up,” he said whole heartedly forgetting that you were there already. With a huffed you took him by the arms, pulling him back. You sighed when you saw Ghost and Jonny sitting back on the curb happily munching away. You sat Gaz in the back of the car, deciding to lock the back door this time. You then filed in Jonny than Ghost. Closing the door behind them, you made your way back to Price.

“Come on sir,” you called softly. He looked up to you and with the biggest beaming brightest smile, and he giggled. God you had never seen anything more pure.

“Your sweet Doc,” he said. 

“Thank You sir. Now can you get in the car please,” you begged. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he nodded, suddenly shooting to his feet. And with that, he toppled back like a domino landing in the bush.

“Christ,” You scrambled to get him out, practically carrying him to the car. Putting him in the driver's seat you buckled him in. When your head rose to make sure the boys were all in you were met by empty back seats. 

“Doc, we can't leave the boys,” Price stated pointing out the window. Where the three men were gathered around a tree relieving themselves. Only Gaz seemed to just be standing there and Jonny appeared to be pissing on Ghost's boot.

“Get in the car!” You called out the window. Begrudgingly, they all piled back in. 

“Hang on, I need a piss,” Price spoke up just as they all buckled in. With a tired sigh you patiently waited. Then when he returned you drove off. 

“Wait, a minute, this ain't the way home,” Gaz suddenly pointed out.

“Yes I know. I think I know the bar you're talking about. We're going to go back there and pay your tab and get your shoes back. The higher ups would have a field day if you guys got in trouble,” you explained. Pulling up to the bar, you parked the car.

“Wait this is a police station,” Jonny pointed out. Yes, on the other side of the street, there was a police station. 

“We should go fight that police officer,” Ghost suggested.

“What? What police officer?” you asked.

“The one we stole this from,” Gaz said, pulling a taser gun that had been tucked in the back of his pants.

“You stole from a police officer!” you exclaimed.

“First of all he was an absolute piss head. A real fucker,” Price spoke up in a logical tone.

“Yeah, he tried to arrest Gaz,” Ghost added.

“Prick,” Gaz grumbled.

“Let's do this Lads,” Price grinned at the rest of them. Like a toddler hyped up on sugar.

“Actually, I think that might be a bad idea,” Gaz spoke up.

“Gaz,” Price called and Gaz hummed in response.

“I got two of these and you got two of those. And we got whatever da fuck Ghost is, lets go,” he held up two fists before stepping out of the car.

“No NO nonononono,” you reached over trying to grab at Price, but he was already gone.

“I swear to god if any of you move I'll give you tetanus shots in the morning,” you threw the threat back at the remaining men in the car. The tetanus shot was one of the worst shots you could get, and they all had bad memories of it. So at the threat, they quickly did their seat belts back up. 

“Christ,” you hissed, quickly hopping out of the car when you saw Price walk up to an officer hanging around outside.

While you were trying to deescalate the situation and explain to the cop why there was a drunk man trying to pick a fight, the boys were watching from the car. 

“She's scary,” Gaz whispered.

“What a fucking woman,” Ghost grumbled.

“I think I'm gonna ask her out,” Jonny declared. Ghost head snapped around faster than light.

“Fuck off,” he grumbled.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Jonny rumbled back.

“I bagsed her. You can't do shit,” Ghost said.

“Fucking when?” Jonny asked.

“Just then,” Ghost stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“You can't bags a woman,” Gaz interjected.

“I know, women are strong beautiful beings to be respected and we are to respect their choices,” Ghost said, all the boys agreeing.

“But I still bags her,” he added at the end. 

“Fuck you Brit. If you like her, do something bout it!” Jonny snapped his blink slightly delayed. 

“Suck a cock scotsman,” Ghost snapped back.

“Do-Do you think you can beat me in a physical altercation of feisty cuffs?” Jonny fumbled with his words, raising his fists slightly. His aim was to star threateningly at his face but he missed the mark slightly staring at his knee. “I will beat you in a way you have NEver Beeenn beaten before,” Ghost stared at Jonny’s unfocused gaze. Before casually reaching over and giving him a gentle backhanded tap on his face. 

“OHHHHHH,” Gaz called from his middle seat.

“DAMMIT!” Jonny explained as if he had just received a full on punch but didn't move in the slightest.

“You just got hit in the face lad,” Gaz giggle.

“Hit me again!” Jonny dared. So Ghost did, repeating the same action. Only it didn't seem to compute in Jonny mind the second time. “I dare you, you put your hands on me one more time, Cause I swear, it will be an, I will-” Ghost reached over his wrist wrapping around the back of Jonny neck.

“Come closer so I can put you in a choke hold,” Ghost asked politely.

“No!” Jonny declared going to hit back only for his hand to completely miss and fall to the side harmlessly. The two fumbled in the back of the car not really accomplishing anything.

“Guys, look he's gettin the cop!” Gaz announced. They all looked out the car window to see the cop walk off.

You had tried and failed to calm them down. Price had demanded to see the cop that tried to arrest Gaz. The boys all piled out of the car, some more graceful than others, before rushing up to you.

“Oh god no, get back in the car please!” you begged.

“Gotta get loose,” Jonny stated, starting to do jumping jacks.

“Guys Doc is right. We should go,” Gaz stated.

“Pussy,” that one word from Ghost was all it took for Gaz to shrug his jacket off and start stretching.

“You guys are really gonna fight a cop!?” you asked, bewildered by it all. 

“Yes we are!” Jonny yelled confidently.

“No you're not!” You yelled. You couldn't believe it. It was like all common sense had been turned off in their heads.

“Ohhh Jonny’s in trouble,” Gaz grinned.

“Fuck you,” Jonny called reaching out to try and give Gaz a slight tap on the nuts.

“Dont touch my balls!” Gaz cried. 

“Yeah Jonny,” Ghost chuckled, amused by it all only for Jonny to try and hit his. Bewildered, you were utterly bewildered as you saw the group of highly trained soldiers all become involved in what you assumed was a game of hit the dick. They were all relatively bent over trying to protect their jewels while simultaneously trying to hit each other. Even price had been pulled into it.

“Guys come on,” you begged. 

“He touched my penis!” Jonny cried in a high-pitched voice.

“Don't touch my penis!” Gaz screamed right back. 

“Can I help you boys?” A cop walked out of the station.

“Officer. Hi. I am so sorry about them there just a little drunk, I'll get them home safely,” you quickly interjected yourself between them.

“It's the cop!” Jonny declared pointing at him. The cop was beyond confused. Because for one, he had never seen the boys before in his life. 

The truth of the story was that it was a comply different cop that had tried to arrest Gaz. They looked similar, and that was about it. And the only reason why he was trying to arrest Gaz was because he had stolen his taser gun.

But the boys could hardly see straight, so when they heard the cop was there, they trusted his words comply. 

“Come on, let's go!” Jonny declared as they all crowded around the poor man. Well, you tried to keep them back trying to speak over their taunts for a fight. The cop spoke into his radio, requesting backup.

“Please, this is all a big misunderstanding. They're actually really nice blokes,” your words fell on deaf ears.

“Pig!” Ghost said.

“Oh look, the little boy needs back up. We can take em,” Gaz said.

“If Laswell finds out about this, she’ll have your heads!” Your yell instantly had the boys silent.

“FUCKEN RUN!” Price ordered the fear filling them. Instantly they took off down the street.

“Serpentine!” Gaz yelled had them all running in a squiggly line. Which had Jonny and Gaz running into each other. Ghost even knocked his head on a low post not even flinching as he kept on running. That left you standing there out the front of the police station with a group of police officers. And you all watched as the boys disappeared down the street. 

“So um that,” you trailed off, pointing to them. “I uh,”

“I have no explanation for that,” you whispered in defeat. 

When you found Gaz he was still running down the street.

“GAZ GET IN THE CAR!” you yelled out the window.

“FUCK THE POLICE! FUCK POLICE WOMEN!” he yelled.

“WHAT!?” you yelled. He instantly stopped running up to the car window.

“I have nothing against women, officers. I understand how my words were terrible. I just heard you were a woman and everyone calls you all policemen so I wanted to be inclusive but I realize I was just singling you out,” he explained drunkenly.

“Gaz I'm not a police woman. Get in the fucken car,” you ordered.

“You can't fool me. FUCK POLICE WOMEN!” he yelled, taking off sprinting again. 

“Fuck this,” you grunted slamming on the breaks and jumping out he car. Gaz wasn't really sure what happened but one moment he was running down the street and the next he was in the back of the car the seat belt cut and tied around his hands and feet.

The others were a bit harder to find. Price was up a fucking willow tree. Getting him out of the tree was a fucking mission. You ended up just throwing random stuff at him until he eventually fell out. You used branches to tie him up and put him in the car as well. Finding Soap was a lucky find. You saw him stumbling down the street and when you called out to him he rushed into a club. As you walked in you realized quickly that you wouldn't have much luck finding him. It was packed to the brim and you couldn't see over anyone's heads. So you make your way up to the DJ booth.

“Hi, I'm trying to find a drunk scotsman. He's a vet. Do you mind?” you asked, gesturing to the microphone.

“Anything for our boys,” he said, handing it over.

“If you're a Scot and wearing a kilt, come up on stage for your prize!” Everyone cheered as you tucked yourself behind the DJ stand. Jonny walked up on stage basking in the cheers, raising his hands high in the air. 

And then you crash tackled him to the floor, tying him up with some power cords.

“Fucks sake Jonny,” you grunted after you had lugged his body out of the club and into the car. 

“Wow, they caught you before me, Captain. I'm surprised,” Jonny grinned smugly. You spent the next hour searching for Simon. You were about to give up when you decided to ring his phone. If Gaz’s still worked there was a chance his did too. Hearing the ringing you frowned. It wasn't just coming from your phone. Looking back to the boys, you could hear the muffled sound.

“Hello?” Ghost asked through the phone. His actual voice sounded once again from the back. Getting out of the car, you rounded it before pulling the boot open. There Ghost lay, his large body comedically tucked into the back, the Traffic cone still in his arms.

“How long have you been in there?” you asked.

“Since you caught Gaz,” he stated simply. With a deep sigh you gestured him out of the back. You knew you didn't need to tie him up and helped him to the front seat. Locking the doors, you started to drive everyone back to base.

“Boys, we've been kidnapped,” Price stated slowly. 

“Like hell we have,” Jonny whispered back.

“What are you boys whispering about back there?” You asked. With your eyes on the busy road, you failed to see them untie themselves and jimmy the lock.

“RONDEVU AT THE PUB BOYS!” Price ordered. Instantly, they all threw themselves out of the car and legged it in opposite directions. You had slammed on the brakes once they had done it. You watched them run, letting your tired head fall to the steering wheel.

“Give me strength,” you pleaded. This time you weren't so lucky in finding them. 

What happened was your phone rang again. From a new number.

“Hello?” you already knew who it was.

“Hey doc. Can you come pick us up? We lost the car,” Gaz's voice wafted through.

“Sure where are you? You asked.

“The police station,” he whispered bashfully.

So there you were back at the police station. You smiled bashfully at the officers the boys had tried to fight. Luckily for them you were a sweet talker. And the fact that they were military helped as well. They would have been charged with theft of a police officer and walking out on a tab. But you returned the taser gun, which hadn't been discharged. And you paid the tab with a generous tip getting their boots back in the process. The boys embarrassingly walked out of the station looking like puppies that had just been kicked. 

“Are you mad at us?” Jonny asked.

“Not mad, Just disappointed,” you shook your head. For the four drunk men the sentence was devastating, making them drop their head in guilt. A tiny smile pulled at your lips.

“Come on, let's get you home,” you ruffled Jonny's hair gently pulling them all out of the police station.

“Can we get McDonalds on the way home?” Gaz asked.

“I want an ice cream,” Price spoke up.

“Sure, why not?”

This time, the drive was much more peaceful. When you got back, you made sure they were all changed, well hydrated and tucked into bed. Which was incredibly hard because they had hit the pass out drunk stage. Ghost was the hardest. You managed to get him on the bed and his shirt and jacket off relatively easily. You paused momentarily as you saw his bare upper body. God damn the greek sculptures could take pointers from him. Your gaze softened as you saw all the scars and bullet holes that lined the ripples of his muscle. He's been through a lot. You felt slightly perverted as you undid his pants. Only they were wet and long, so you stood there yanking at them pulling them off inch by inch. Now you were using your whole body to get those bad boys off, so it didn't surprise you when you flew halfway across the room when you finally got them off. Breathing heavily, you gently lifted his legs back onto the bed. Grabbing the blanket, you tucked it up to his chin, your hand brushing against the wet mask. While the room was heated, it was still cold. Plus, you couldn't tell if it was water or blood from the hit that was on the top. 

“Alright Simon, I'm gonna take off your mask. But I'm gonna close my eyes so don't worry. I just don't want you waterboarding yourself in your sleep,” you whispered. He gave no response. With a deep breath, you reached up and closed your eyes. Your hands gathered the material at the bottom of the fabric and started rolling it up. In your focus you hadn't noticed Simon's eyes snap open at the movement. His hand had almost snapped around your wrist, only stopping when he saw your eyes closed. Slowly, he let his hand fall as you pulled the mask fully off. 

“Alright, now let's see if you did any damage to that head of yours?” you asked. Your hands brushed away his hair from his face, humming at the loose curls. His heart stirred as he stared at you, loving the blissful feeling your hands gave him as they moved across his face. When you were happy that it was only a lump he had sustained a small giggle left on your lips.

“That's gonna be a shiner mate,” you whispered.

He watched as your smile dropped slightly when her thumb brushed over a scar. You got a weird sense of DeJa'Vu as you thumb gently traced the scar. So many scars. Life certainly hadn't been kind to him.

"What am I gonna do with you huh?" you asked softly. Brushing his hair back once again, you stood.

“Night Simon,” you whispered before blindly making your way out the room. Simon watched the door close before looking up at the ceiling. His hand clasped over his rapidly beating heart as he came to the sudden realization. 

He was absolutely smitten for the Doc.

“Fuck,” he grunted.

================================================

=COD Master List Here=

================================================

[inkdrinkerworld]

dick literally spends every single penny on you it's CONCERNING, like every date he's dropping 2k in dinner, and you're like huh??? when he gets you gifts for no reason, would be VERY suspicious to me, cus i would instantly think that he's done something wrong and be all dramatic like "did someone die?? did you cheat on me?" and he literally just saw your favourite chocolate and flowers at the store and wanted to get you them..

“Gorgeous, where are you?” You’re in the bedroom, hair dripping as you step out of the shower- you shout back such to your boyfriend.

“I got you something nice.” Dick sing songs as he watches you reach for your blow dryer.

“Dick,” you say as you put it down and stare at him. Your boyfriend has a little problem- he has a shopping addiction but never for things for himself.

Sure he buys himself nice things but it seems like his brain derives the most pleasure and dopamine from getting things for you.

The first time he’d come home with something for you, you panicked. You remember asking him if someone died and he’d laughed so hard he’d started crying.

“No baby, that’s depressing by the way. I got you this just because.” He’d said as he pushed a box in your hands and you opened it to find a pretty bracelet with little bells on it.

Now, almost weekly- it would be daily if Dick had his way- he brings something for you.

“Before you get worried. No one died, I didn’t break your favourite mug or eat your chocolates this time.”

You gasp, “This time?”

Dick’s eyes widen, “Let’s not focus on that, here you go, baby.”

The bag crinkles in your hand as you take it, your eyes on Dick the entire time. “It’s not a bomb, open it.”

When you do you smile. Sitting in the bag is a pair of pyjamas that you’d been eyeing for a little bit- a blue and white striped set.

“Dick that’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugs, all smiles. “That’s why they call me honey, honey.”

You blow a raspberry at the joke. “Grayson,” you mumble as you pull out the pyjamas and find two bars of your favourite chocolates and a little box. “I should’ve known it wasn’t just one thing.” He sits on the bed, leaning back on his palm.

He nods, “You really should, I just like getting you things, gorgeous.”

When you open the box you find silver, wing shaped, bedazzled hair clips.

“I don’t know where you get half these things from.” Dick smiles as you walk over to him. The tips of your hair drip onto his shoulder as you kiss him.

“Oh you know, people just like doing things for about five hundred bucks a piece.”

You pull away from him and frown. “You didn’t spend one thousand dollars on hair clips Dick.”

His cheeks go a little pink, “What? No. I said about, gorgeous.” He kisses you again and then pulls away.

“We’ve got a brunch reservation for tomorrow too, at that place you liked last time. Let me do your hair and you can put on your new pyjamas yeah?” He strokes the apples of your cheeks and under your jaw to the point where you’re a little hypnotized.

“Put the honey hair oil in before your flat iron it okay?” Dick nods.

“I know how to do it right, sweetheart. I am a professional.”

“Professional what, Grayson? Money spender?”

He tuts, a smile playing on his lips. “Ha ha, no I’m a professional at taking care of you. Now sit your cute butt down so I can start.”

[vampcubus]

Not me thinking about Muzan and the Upper Moons being put in collars and leashes, nope. Nooooo, siree, nope. Definitely not. I'm a very bad liar-

LATE ANSWER BUT I AM FINALLY READY TO DIVE INTO THIS. just short headcanons for now cus i'm not tryna get too carried away jbdajhsd.

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 : muzan, akaza, kokushibo, douma, and gyokko.

𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐀𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐉𝐈

— Muzan thinks the collar is degrading so naturally, he is not too thrilled or receptive to your begging at first. But he's a slave to his own curiosity, so after giving it some thought, he'll let you collar him.

— It is as immensely humiliating as he suspected, hearing the dangly loop where the lead would attach to jingle as he moved. You don't use a leash yet, wanting him to get comfortable with his collar first. He doesn't understand the appeal until you start tugging him around by it, hooking your finger through it to drag him where you want him, whether that be between your legs or otherwise, he's suddenly very pliant.

— You finally take that leap and attach a lead to his sleek black collar, bedazzled with red crystals to match his eyes- the same eyes that bore into you so intensely as you wrap the lead around your wrist several times, drawing him close.

"Such a pretty pet you make," you purr, and something in him purrs back, dark lashes fluttering.

— It's definitely a bedroom-only thing for him though. He has a reputation to uphold afterall. That also means he's getting hard the moment you go to fasten it around his neck ❤︎

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐀

— Akaza takes to his collar so easily, smitten with how it feels around his pretty neck the moment you clip it on. He finds it comforting and likes to wear it as often as possible, as a reminder that he is irrevocably yours even when you're apart.

— He'd probably get so attached to it that he'd get anxious if you tried to remove it, instantly rushing to apologize, thinking he's done something wrong and you're punishing him. He gets a little sick to his stomach at the thought of being a bad pet, or bad in general.

— And he'd love to be leashed! it puts less pressure on him not to suddenly jerk away or disobey you on accident, because the lead is there to stop him from going too far.

— Just imagine being on your back with him rutting into you desperately, and then using the leash to pull him down to your lips, smothering his moans against your lips. Purrr.

𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐌𝐀

—Douma will try just about anything, and won't bat an eye if you confess you want to put a collar on him. He is a bit picky though, so make sure it's a nice one, perhaps with pretty dangly things or gems to compliment his eyes.

— I have this vivid image in my mind of him lifting his hair out of the way as you attach the collar around his neck, those rainbow-colored eyes fixated on your facial expressions, searching for your approval. And when he finds it, he's already purring. He'll gladly show it off too, posing and admiring himself in the mirror.

— He likes it even more when you tug him around by it, whether that be by a lead or just hooking your finger through it and yanking him forward. He's a brat sometimes so at times you'll have to be rough with him, and he likes it, so don't worry about hurting him (that turns him on anyway ❤︎)

𝐊𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐁𝐎

— NOW HEAR ME OUT HEAR ME OUT PLS!! Kokushibo likes to be collared but won't admit it. In fact, he'll pretend he's completely indifferent to it. Beneath the surface though, it feels more right than he ever imagined, to be marked as yours in such a way.

— He's another one I could see having a hard time parting with his collar, which is the biggest clue you'll get from him that he likes it. Just imagining reaching for the clasp when he's being particularly stubborn and his hand slaps over it, all six pairs of eyes wide with panic.

"Don't take it off, please..." he'd mumble, the slightest of blushes gracing his usually stoic face.

— As for leashes... he might be a little offended that you think he'd need one, he has impeccible control of his body and only moves it when you say afterall.

— He will, however, entertain it. Though you hardly need to yank him around at all, it's still very hot to see it moving along with him, especially if you get a chain, cus you hear it jingle with every thrust.

𝐆𝐘𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎

— Gyokko will let you put a collar on him, but he's very picky about the appearance of it. Seriously you'll have to take him with you when you get one so he can pick one out, or let him ramble on about what he wants and get it custom made.

— I think he'd like to have multiple ones, so he can switch them out as he pleases. As for fucking him with it on, he's more easily-flustered than usual, getting red in the face when you boss him around and tug on it.

— Insists on getting matching leashes for each of his collars because he's painfully particular about the small details, but at least he's letting you leash him in the first place right?

[mothmanssweetsucculentass]

ZZZ Headcanons

Help this game has taken over my free time I love these characters sm <3 Billy Soukaku and Ellen my beloved

Nicole: has a not so secret hobby of bedazzling anything and everything. It’s a real problem in the Cunning Hares apartment, nothing is safe from pink rhinestones and stickers

Anby: cracked at rhythm games to an alarming degree. Can do a 2 person extremely hard DDR song all by herself

Billy: I don’t know how they did it but they programmed an android with autism. Has his own version of a skincare routine which is basically just maintenance on all of his tiny mechanical parts. Can also gain power multiple ways, including solar power. The apartment complex where the Cunning Hares live had a blackout once and everyone used Billy as a personal charging port. Nicole promised to pay him in Starlight Knight merch.

Nekomata: cuts her own hair and offers to do it for other people. DO NOT trust her when she says she’s good at it

Grace: did gymnastics as a kid which is why she’s able to pull off a ton of backflips and flexible maneuvers in battle

Anton: uses actual cement to keep his hair spikes in shape. Koleda caught him in the act once and instead of chewing him out, she decided to apply some to her own hair and now they’re cement combover gang

Ben: is completely vegan and loves chilling at hot springs a lot. Still sleeps with stuffed animals btw

Koleda: I’m making it canon right now Koleda is trans and you can’t do shit about it. Also has welding as a hobby and made most of her accessories from scratch

Corin: when not in Victoria Housekeeping Co uniform, is a Jfashion junkie. I’m talking super dedicated Lolita fits, menhera inspired clothing, the whole shebang. She ofc designs a lot of her own stuff like her bear backpack and is also responsible for a lot of the accessories Victoria Housekeeping Co wears (Rina’s bows, Ellen’s shark jaw head and neckpieces, Lycaon’s eyepatch and tail straps). She also has a massive crush on Ellen and is too scared to admit it

Rina: has a fur allergy and can’t keep animals around. Which also means she’s allergic to Lycaon. She has to take so much Zyrtec before clocking in but has such a good poker face that Lycaon has no idea. Ellen knows tho

Lycaon: specifically wears the heeled boots and has his odd posture because he’s self conscious about his digitigrade legs, he thinks they’re unsightly for a butler of his standing to have. He also tries to encourage Ellen to wear a long maid dress like Rina does to hide her tail.

Ellen: coincidentally falls into a lot of shark stereotypes. She loves seafood, has to constantly be fidgeting or she feels like she’ll go mad, and the kicker, she gets frenzied around blood, or if the thing she’s fighting puts up a struggle. Corin accidentally cut her hand while repairing her saw blade once and both Lycaon and Rina could barely hold Ellen back once Corin began bleeding. Ellen feels awful for scaring the already timid girl. Corin secretly thought it was hot and would die on the spot if anyone knew that

Soukaku: despite being a huge foodie this girl cannot cook for shit. Is also physically cold to the touch and during the summer her coworkers will ask her to hold their drinks because they’ll stay cold. Soukaku always secretly sneaks sips every time they do this to her.

Miyabi: has the worst sleep schedule known to man. Sometimes you’ll find her awake at 3AM and conked out by 4PM, other times she goes to bed at 8PM and wakes up at 4AM. It’s inconsistent and irregular and a gamble trying to contact her outside of work because she might not even be awake

Harumasa: GAY GAY HOMOSEXUAL GAY. Also pretty cracked at chess and other strategy games. Is also a major old fashioned guy and doesn’t own a lot of modern technology. He’s not into retro or old stuff, he just doesn’t like new stuff

Yanagi: her glasses are fake. When she was younger she needed them, but her vision had naturally gotten better over the years, so she now wears contacts, but for some reason still insists on wearing her glasses. Loses them constantly during battle.

Lucy: even though she was forced to play piano as a kid, she really wanted to be a sporty girl and play stuff like soccer and baseball. Now she has the freedom to take part in the sports she likes and watch them surrounded by the people she likes

Piper: insanely picky eater to the point it drives Lucy up a wall. Is also picky about a lot of other things, like how different fabrics feel, different comfort levels of chairs and beds, girl is a complainer and will always find something to complain about

Lighter: has a side gig as a tattoo artist, has really stable hands too

Soldier 11: has 5 younger brothers, a younger sister, and 2 older siblings who she doesn’t see super often. Has divorced parents who also liked to adopt, which is why she has such a huge family. Her younger brothers love it when she comes home and plays secret agent military with them

Seth: can’t drive. That’s it send tweet.

Qingyi: is outwardly dismissive of meditation tricks and hacks and tips but utilizes that shit in private ALL the time.

Zhu Yuan: shares the vegetables she grows in her garden with all her neighbors. Is also a REALLY good cook to the point people have encouraged her to potentially consider a different career path

Jane Doe: the rat girl has pet rats go figure. But in all seriousness she’d die for her little guys. She has a white one named Cocaine and a brown one named Tobacco and a gray one named Crystal Meth. She thinks the names are hilarious and every time she introduces the rats to other people their facial expressions are priceless

[shebreathedherlast]

Daughter of the Sea

Part II

Masterlist

Rhinestones

Luke Castellan x f!reader

Summary: The aftermath of beating Luke comes with consequences.

Work Count: 1.8k

TW: Violence, blood, weapons, mean Luke, broken bones

. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・.

“WHO IN OLYMPUS PUT PINK RHINESTONES ON MY DAGGERS?” You yell in anger.

After your victory in Capture the Flag, everyone in camp had a newfound sense of respect for you and your abilities. And to your delight, they contented your skill with that of the infamous Luke Castellan. Unsurprisingly, the one and only Golden Boy wasn’t too happy about this and had been on a mission to make your life a living hell since that day.

But this was too far.

The knives, your prized possessions were covered in pastel pink shimmery rhinestones, and it was most likely Luke's fault.

. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・.

You marched up to Chris taking a fistful of this orange camp shirt, “Where. is. Castellan.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

You felt Chris’ body tense, he was all too familiar with your aggressive tendencies.

“I-…I don’t know.” He replied eyes fleeting away from your gaze.

You didn’t buy his answer for a minute.

Shoving him a little more this time, you spoke, “Don’t lie to me Chris. I know you know where he is.”

He was trembling my now, that much was evident. You supposed that after throwing a knife near his head in Capture the Flag, Chris was most likely terrified of you.

You don’t know what you would’ve done to Chris if he didn’t tell you. Probably nothing pretty. So for the fearful boy in your grasp, it was lucky that you caught a glimpse of dark curls rounding the corner.

. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・・゜゜・．. ･ﾟﾟ･｡. .・゜゜・.

“Castellan!” You yelled from across the dining area. Luke’s eyes found yours and based on the smirk adorning his features you confirmed the culprit.

Now it was time to apprehend him.

You took off sprinting in his direction, rhinestone knife raised in your right hand.

“You’re gonna suffer for this!” You scream, chest heaving from running.

You saw alarm pass over Luke’s eyes. Good. He should be afraid.

As you began to close in on him, he took off running in the opposite direction. What a cowered. You refused to back down, forcing your legs forward as you tried to regulate your breathing.

By now you had arrived at the woods, but it appeared that Luke had no intention of stopping anytime soon. So you chased after him.

The trees made it difficult to keep up with the Hermes boy, but you pushed on despite this. After running for what felt like hours you finally spotted Luke sitting on a large rock, one leg bent as he rested his elbow on his knee.

“You made it, Chaos. Thought I might have lost you back there.” He said.

You rolled your eyes, desiring nothing more than to rip his head from his body.

“You are so dead, Castellan.” You seethed.

He nodded, patronizing you as a smug expression clung to his features. “I see you found my present.”

“Present?” You spat, “You vandalized my daggers!”

Luke leaned back from his perched position. He was calm and collected and this made you all the more frustrated.

“Did I? Or did I just bedazzle them for you?”

You chuckled angrily, “Bedazzle? Castellan you covered my knives in pink rhinestones and the only excesses you have for you actions is that you “bedazzled” them.” You look to the sky as you throw up your hands. “Unbelievable.”

“Oh come on, Chaos, loosen up. You must have known that I had a motive.” He spoke, eyes darkening ever so slightly.

“I don’t know why I’m even hearing you out right now when I should be inflicting you with a painful death.”

Luke chuckled, clearly humoured, “Like you could, even if you tried.”

“Don’t underestimate me, Castellan. You do remember what happened last time, don’t you?” You spoke, every word coated in venom, “Or do I need to jog your memory?”

Luke raised his hands in front of him with faux surrender.

You scoffed.

“Now is there a reason you brought me here or should I resume what I had planned for you?” You said.

Luke quirked a brow, “I didn’t force you to follow me, Chaos. That’s on you.”

You didn’t reply. Opting to glare at him with hatred.

Luke appeared amused at your anger. He pushed his body off the rock and stalked up to you. His dark eyes captured your gaze as he stood before you. The Hermes boy towered over you, and you had to tilt your head up to see his face.

You didn’t realize how hard you were clenching your fists until you felt the familiar trickle of crimson blood staining your palms. Four crescent wounds adored your palms on each hand.

Luke noticed the small amount of blood seeping from your clenched fists. “You must really hate me.” He said, a smirk remaining on his face, “The feeling is mutual.”

You turn from him to take a deep breath, “I didn’t come here to discuss the obvious, Castellan.” You state. “In fact, I didn’t come here to talk at all.”

That moment you broke. Your walls of restraint crumbled, unleashing all your anger.

You punched Luke. You punched him hard, and you liked it. You were a volcano, rage erupting and flames lapping up anything in its path.

Luke stumbled back at the impact. He recovered quickly, standing tall as he spat blood from his mouth onto the ground. He loved this. Luke loved your rage, and he had no clue why. There was just something about the way your eyes darkened and the way you carried yourself that had Luke drinking in your anger. So instead of recoiling from your touch, he edged you on even more. “Come on, Chaos. That’s all you got? You're Pathetic.”

He obtained the reaction he was looking for. You lunged at him, and the force of your clenched fist came with you. You swung at his face again, but this time he caught your hand.

“Nuh uh, Chaos. Don’t ruin this pretty little face of mine, how else am I supposed to look at you?”

A growl of frustration rose from the back of your throat. Was this idiot seriously flirting with you right now? It seemed like with every passing second you had a stronger desire to permanently remove that perfect smirk adorning his lips. Hands finding his chest you pushed him down with all your power, tackling him to the ground.

Luke groaned as you set yourself over him, mimicking the same position from Capture the Flag. You reached for his arms to restrain him, but he constantly evaded your reach. You continued to go for his arms the height of his limbs forcing you to surge forward. When you finally reached his arms you relaxed, shifting back. Why wasn’t he fighting back?

Luke’s eyes captured yours as something new passed through them.

“If you wanted me on top of you, you should’ve just asked.” You prodded, but he seemed to snap at your words.

Luke pushed you down, snagging his limbs out of your grasp. He gripped your wrist and pulled you to the side, but it was to no avail. Your thighs were gripping his body, fighting to remain. You climbed over his chest, pushing your elbow down to his throat.

“Have I joged your memory yet, Castellan?”

He only groans in response as you move back.

Luke’s eyes are screwed shut, an unreadable expression falling over his face. “Stop moving.” He spoke breathlessly.

Your eyes widen

“What?”

He inhales sharply, “You heard me, Chaos. Stop moving.”

You freeze in place as Luke shoves you off of himself.

Your shock only increases as he stands, pulling you into his grip.

His eyes sweep over you, hair in disarray, shirt stained with dirt from the ground.

“Finally,” He breathes, “You listened.”

His words snap you out of your shock, as you go in for another blow. Luke anticipated this though. He caught your fist and twisted your arm around your back. A whine escaped your lips at the sudden pain.

“You’re always so dam (pun intended) stubborn. Always so hot-headed, it’s incredibly frustrating.” He spoke, pulling on your arm with more force.

“Luke,” You cry out. Silently begging for him to release you, even though you both knew you’d never voice your true meaning. Begging him to let you go would be admitting defeat, and you would never allow that.

“You want me to let go huh? Well, we both know the last time we fought you dislocated my shoulder. I couldn’t use it for days, probably drank more ambrosia than is even possible.”

Your body desperately fights against his, in an aim to free your arm. You try to escape his grasp, but his arms are wrapped securely around you. You involuntarily cry out again as Luke tugs your arm harder.

“Luke,” You whine more desperately this time.

He only allowed another one of his signature smirks to dress his face.

“Stop fighting me Chaos. I am the only victor of this camp. There’s no room for the both of us.” He said, voice hard and cold.

Luke shoved you to the ground pushing you down, but you do your best to resist, fighting against his grip.

“Do you want me to break this little arm of yours?” He asks, anger coating his tone.

You shake your head. The pain made your eyes water, as you spent all your energy holding them in. You didn’t understand why people liked the boy in front of you. He was a monster. Sure he was nice to the newbies, and he adored Annabeth, but to you, he was worse than the Typhon, who rendered all the gods almost entirely powerless. Maybe Luke had a nice side, but you were much more accustomed with the one before you.

“You’re quiet now, aren’t you? Never thought I’d see the day when Chaos, herself has nothing to say.”

You have always hated Luke Castellan. But in this moment you despise him with your entire being. He was humiliating you. He was taking away your glory. Piece by piece Luke was tearing it from you, and you were doing all you could to hold on to it.

During your fight with Luke, you had approached a riverbank. Your father could help you thought. Dad, I need you. You called for your father god of the seas, yet as Luke forced you to the ground you knew that no help would come from Poseidon. Either he didn’t hear or he didn’t care, either way, you are solely left to defend yourself. And as glory fades, embedding itself into Luke, you are desperate to take action.

As Luke pushed your body down harder you reasoned that you needed to act immediately. So without another thought you rolled to your side, slamming your body weight down on your arm in Luke’s hold. An intense crack was heard and instantly Luke tore his hands from you. You screamed in anguish as you fought the water forming in your eyes.

A long pause of silence filled the air between you and the Hermes boy.

“Chaos…” He spoke quietly. Something that almost sounded like worry filled his voice.

You didn’t care what Luke had to say. All that you could think of was peeling every ounce of his glory and bestowing it upon yourself. You wanted respect. You demanded it. You took a deep breath, standing upright. A dark chuckle fell from your lips, “You were right about one thing, Castellan. There’s no room for the both of us.”

Luke doesn’t make an effort to speak. He just stood there in shock. You were glad, though as you studied him, it appeared that hundreds of emotions passed his eyes, anger, confusion, hatred, but most of all concern.

You took another deep breath to hold in your suffering, but the sheer intensity of the pain was too much. As you opened your mouth, desperate for air to fill your lungs, you were met with nothing. You couldn’t feel anything besides the riveting pain travelling down your entire body. Your mind became fuzzy and your body was dizzy. Before you could even react, you were falling. Down, down, down. Your body went numb, and you were sure that you would’ve hit the ground with a concussion, if Luke hadn’t lunged forward, slipping his arms around you, and catching your fall.

----

A/n I had this all ready to publish, and then half of it like deleted itself...so if the second half of this part sucks, its cause I had to rewrite it in my anger.

Tag list: @motorsp0rt @astronomical-admonition @edenssworld @sillychloe @viennasaysstuff @esposadomd @bogbutteronmycroissant

[heywardsdoll]

pope hates bringing you with him on a pogue mission. but usually you cry your way into it, fat tears welling in your eyes as you tugged on his shirt. and all he needs to cave in is seeing your pretty pout, and the way your eyes shine with sadness.

"i don't want to be left out. i really don't pope," you whisper, folding your arms as you hope he understands. pope raises his eyebrows before you tug on his t-shirt again.

it's here that he looks away from you, "shit, you can't do that to me. seriously, you can't just do that!" then you sniffle, a sorry sound and he seems to sigh, shoulders caving in as he tries to look anywhere but you. "fine, fine. grab your coat on the way out, it's kinda chilly outside."

that's pope. no matter what, even if he was mad at you, he was taking care of you. he's glare, even scowl as he saw you get what you want—but then soon after he'd be tucking your shirt in, or getting you some water because hydration is important, it's even worse with the pogues because you look like a baby. it makes it seem like you couldn't take care of yourself, but you couldn't help but flush every single time he holds you in your arms, or places a careful kiss on your forehead.

he's thoughtful, and it's horrible when he corners you to secretly kiss you when you're on the way to find the cross. theres something so intimate about him whispering about purpose, and how he's finally got what his ancestors wanted him. it's that feverish emotion that makes you want to be there for him.

but there are too many close calls, from the time pope got stung by bees, to rafe following you a few too many times.

sometimes you work at the grocery store, checking in people's stuff, telling the old lady where she can find cornstarch, and then helping the little boy who cried about his red lolly getting lost under the shelves, (his brother had kicked it under there.) pope would always come to find you, all sweaty and tired before you hung your hands over his head and then kissed him softly.

but one time he came a bit too late, and rafe had been your last customer. there was a shit-eating smile on his face, as he smirked before placing a pack of mint gum on the counter.

"is that all?" you muttered, trying not to look him in the eye. pope had told you about the type of person rafe cameron was, and for all you knew he could do what he wanted to do, and could get away with it, a hundred times. no one in the store except him, and it was almost six o'clock.

"yeah, uh," he drawled pulling out his couple of bucks, "keep the change."

you nodded putting the money into the cash register, the small ding of the register calming as you touched your necklace protectively. it's stupid, you know, but the pink taser gun that pope had jokingly bedazzled sticks to your side as a reminder as you could feel his eyes on you. rafe dark eyes followed you as you shut the cash register, giving him a cold smile. your hands are sticky with sweat.

suddenly he's almost out of the door, and you let out a sigh of relief before you here his almost-bored voice drone out. theres snark in his comment.

"tell your boy we're watching him. shit, uh–and," rafe laughed, a boisterous sound before winking, "tell him to stay on the low. it's dangerous out here and you don't wanna get caught with anything, you know?" then he grins, before popping a piece of gum in his mouth, teeth shining bright and you couldn't help but shiver.

later that night, you were hyperventilating so hard, pope had to put his arms over you and kiss you repeatedly, soft and soothing. you have to keep reaching for him to tell yourself pope was fine, and that rafe was just threatening for no reason, and that you were being overbearing.

"he's sick, and he's twisted pope! i want to keep you safe. please, please stay safe," you choked out, your hands to your side as you walked in circles. you kept taking sharp breaths as pope tried to calm you down.

pope had sighed, "doll, i will stay safe, but i don't like that he's talking about this stuff to you. i want to keep you away from it, i mean when i met your mom—" then he cocks an eyebrow in your direction, but then stops right there. it's almost condescending, knowing where this is going to go. he's telling you not to come, but you have to go with him because you have to keep him safe. you can't lose him, you just can't.

"are you saying i shouldn't come with you guys anymore?" you whisper out, a sharp warning in your voice as you bit your lip. he had looked away from you, and then raised his hands in defeat and the conversation was over.

but here you were, laying in his lap in the twinkie. you were completely wiped out as pope ran a hand over your face. you murmur something under your breath before snuggling closer to him. jj lets out a low whistle, wiggling his eyebrows, only to get a disapproving look from pope.

"she got you under her paws, doesn't she?" jj crowed, and you stir as pope rolls his eyes, looking at john b for support. john b just smiles, giving pope a pointed look. it was true, pope would do practically anything for you.

then comes the serious sigh. pope's eyebrows are creased, as he absentmindedly rubs circles on your shoulder. you smile softly in your sleep, warm as ever.

quickly enough jj snaps his fingers in pope's face, "hey man, what the hell was that sigh about? all wistful and shit." jj muttered, a confused look on his face before shaking pope.

"i-," pope started, before shaking his head, "nah, it's stupid." he's still got his hands on you, playing with the string bracelet that you gave him. it was a old thing, practically falling apart, and jj made fun of it.

now it's jj's turn to snort, shoving pope with an indignant expression "you stupid? c'mon what's got your pretty head in a ditzy?"

"i don't know. john b back me up on this but, i don't like seeing my girl around this stuff. it kills me, to see her racing after the same danger as us," pope muttered, groaning as he looked away from your face, "and the other day rafe cornered her and she was scared shitless."

then he shakes his head, "and you know what, i should be protecting her from that sort of stuff, but no, no!" he grins but it's full of resentment, "no, i'm introducing her to it."

now this has the boys attention. jj gave pope a sympathetic look, patting him on the back as john b nodded. the playful demeanour of the conversation stirred into something else.

"i get it, man. we all want to keep her safe," john b said, his voice calm and reassuring. "but she's tough. she's stronger than you think."

"yeah, but it's not just about being tough," pope replied, face screwed up with frustration, toying with a lock of your hair. "i know she's tough! tougher than me sometimes. but it's about not wanting her to be exposed to this shit at all. she deserves better."

quickly john b sighed, hand on the wheel and it was almost as if his dark circles were more evident than ever.

"you think i don't worry about sarah?" john b countered, his tone soft but firm. "i worry about her all the time, but she made her choice to be with us, to face whatever comes our way. it's the same with your girl. she chose to be with you, to stand by your side, no matter the danger."

pope sighed again, his hand still gently caressing your shoulder. "i know, i just... i don't want to be the reason something happens to her."

"then keep doing what you're doing," jj interjected, his voice surprisingly gentle. "protect her, look out for her. but don't push her away. she's here because she loves you, man. she wants to be with you, even if it means facing danger."

pope nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at your peaceful face. "yeah, i know. it's just hard sometimes."

"it's hard because you care," john b said, offering a reassuring smile. "and that's a good thing. just don't forget to trust her, too. she can handle more than you think."

the conversation lulled as the twinkie rolled on through the night, the familiar hum of the engine a comforting background noise. pope could hear the birds chirp, and he settled his head on the window before getting up with a confused expression.

"shit, when did you guys get so smart?" pope groaned, "it was easier when i was surrounded by idiots,"

jj laughed, resting a hand on pope's shoulder. "took a page out of your book, maybe it's time you take a page out ours," he winked, nudging pope gently.

pope finally looked down at you, a soft sigh leaving his mouth as you stirred slightly, mumbling something in your sleep. and for what it was worth—pope smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently.

[tempobaekh]

Short N’ Sweet

pairings: frank castle x fem!reader

warnings: fluff, suggestive, allusions to sex at the end and a tiny mention of sexual acts?? readers physical appearance is not mentioned

a/n: i am going absolutely feral for this man, like foaming at the mouth feral, gnawing at the bars of my enclosure kind of feral. and i also love sabrina and because of Halloween i got this idea, this might be a little late since yknow Halloween is over but i just got this idea so we can ignore that:) also i wanna thank my biggest fav frank writer @agirlcandream84 for inspiring me to write this. i absolutely love her work and the way she writes frank please go read some of her work. okay enough yapping from me

Halloween night was finally here, and you could barely contain your excitement. The costume you’d been planning had been kept under wraps—literally—and you’d teased Frank endlessly about it, keeping him guessing for weeks, knowing full well the look on his face would be priceless.

Ever since you’d seen Sabrina Carpenter's iconic outfits from her Short N’ Sweet tour, the idea had taken root. Glitz, glam, a bit of sparkle, and a lot of confidence—that was going to be your vibe tonight. And you knew it would knock Frank’s socks off.

Or maybe more like knock his pants off.

Frank, being Frank, wasn’t exactly putting in the same level of effort. He’d gone with his usual all-black getup: a black shirt that fit him just right, dark pants, combat boots, and his well-worn jacket. Not much of a costume, but with his gruff demeanor and dark eyes, he still looked intense and dangerously handsome.

You’d teased him about needing a 'proper' Halloween costume, but he’d only smirked, knowing you’d be the one to steal the show. Still, he was eager to see you; he’d been waiting all week, and you could feel the thrill of his anticipation even through the closed door.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” he called out.

With one last deep breath, you slipped on a towel and cinched it tight around your chest, and stepped out of the bathroom, strutting a little as your heels clicked on the hardwood as you made your way toward him

He looked up when he heard you approaching, his gaze immediately sharpening with curiosity. You watched as his eyes narrowed slightly, scanning you up and down in curiosity. "You gonna tell me what the costume is, sweetheart?” he asked, a little smirk creeping onto his lips.

A mischievous smile played on your lips as you took a step closer, letting him get a little look at your carefully styled hair and the faint sparkle of the makeup you’d applied.

“Mm, you could say that,” you teased, giving him a wink. “But the real costume’s under here. Want to see?”

“Hell yes, I do,” he murmured, his gaze darkening, lips twitching in that half-smile of his that always drove you wild. “C’mon, darlin’—let me see it.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You took a step back, giving him a grin, and with a flourish, you unwrapped the towel and tossed it aside, holding out your arms as you posed.

Frank’s reaction was immediate. His jaw went slack, his dark eyes going wide as he took you in. His gaze roamed up and down, lingering on every detail—from your heels up your bare legs, taking in the glittering, skin-colored tights that shimmered like liquid gold. He lingered on the lacy, sparkling red bodysuit that hugged every curve perfectly, bedazzled in red crystals that caught the light with each tiny shift and gave you an ethereal, almost unreal glow. The garters—lacy, sparkling, and just suggestive enough to make his jaw clench—added an extra edge to the look.

When he finally found his voice, he only managed a rough, “Damn, sweetheart.”

Laughing, you spun around, tossing the towel aside and letting him see the details you’d added just for him. He took in the bedazzled kiss mark on the top of your right inner thigh, positioned right where he always planted kisses with his face and tongue buried between your legs as you writhe and moan with pleasure under him. And when you turned around, you knew he’d see the second kiss mark on your left shoulder blade—another favorite spot of his when he has you on your hands and knees and thrusting into you from behind.

You felt the air between you shift, and a shiver ran down your spine at the brief image in your head.

“You like it?” you asked, turning around and looking at him, enjoying the way his eyes roamed over you, taking in every last detail.

Frank’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the distance between you, his large hands resting on your hips before he traced one finger down to that kiss mark on your thigh.

"Sweetheart…" he murmured, sounding almost reverent. “You look…”

"Too much?" You asked, feigning a worried tone, but you couldn’t hide your smile.

"Too much? No… no, darlin’, it's perfect," he said, reaching out to gently run a hand along your arm, his fingers grazing the crystals. His voice was low, roughened with restrained desire as he brushed his thumb over the spot. “Did you put this here just for me?”

You smiled, heart racing. “Maybe. Figured it might be a nice little reminder for you.”

His fingers skimmed up to your waist, tugging you closer, his hands warm and possessive. “Can’t lie… I’m definitely thinkin’ about ditchin’ Josie’s altogether tonight.”

“But it’s Halloween,” you teased, giving him a look that only seemed to make him hungrier. “We can’t just skip it, Frankie. Besides, I want to show off a little.”

“You’re killin’ me here,” he muttered, his voice dropping as he leaned down, brushing his lips against your neck. His fingers flexed against your waist. “Whole place is gonna be starin’ at you. Don’t think I’m gonna be able to keep my hands off you, darlin’.”

You laughed softly. "Guess you'll have to try, Castle."

He let out a low groan, and you felt his hands slide lower to your behind. "Yeah, easy for you to say when you’re wearin’… this." His eyes dipped down to the kiss mark on your thigh, a possessive gleam in his gaze as pulle away and traced the outline with his thumb again. "This here… You’re just tryin’ to drive me insane, aren’t ya?"

You shrugged, an innocent smile on your face. "Maybe. Or maybe I’m just giving you something to look forward to, and besides, you're the only one who gets to take it off me.”

That got his attention. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, his voice a low murmur in your ear. “You keep talkin’ like that, and we’re not makin’ it to Josie’s tonight, baby. But we’re not stayin’ long. Got… plans for when we get back.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the grin across your face. "Come on, big guy. Try to survive the night without dragging me home too early."

When you arrived at Josie’s to meet up with Karen and her friends from her law firm, you caught more than a few looks. Heads turned, eyes lingered, and you could feel Frank tense beside you, his arm protectively draped around your waist as he pulled you in close.

Every now and then, he’d lean down to murmur, “You know, you’re lucky I’m keepin’ it together.”

“Oh, I know,” you replied each time with a wink, enjoying every bit of his attention.

As the night went on, Frank’s hands couldn’t seem to leave you alone, not that you minded. They’d drift to the small of your back, settle on your hip, or tug you closer to him. It wasn’t possessive so much as it was protective—he just wanted you to himself and wasn’t shy about it.

The night was fun, filled with drinks, laughs, and compliments from Karen and Marci who appreciated the sheer effort you’d put into your costume. But the real thrill was feeling Frank’s hand skimming along your waist, his fingers brushing the bare skin where your tights met your bodysuit. Every time he leaned down to murmur something downright filthy in your ear, you could feel the low, restrained fire in his voice that would make your thighs clench.

Finally, as midnight approached, Frank leaned in close, voice low and warm against your ear. "Alright, darlin’. I think we’ve done our part here. Time to go home."

You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced up at him. "Couldn’t wait to get me alone, huh?"

"Not one bit," he admitted, his fingers lacing through yours as he led you out of Josie’s and into the cool night air.

The drive back home felt like a blur, and as soon as you got home, his hands were on you the second you closed the door. He pulled you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

Frank’s lips moved against yours with a fervor that made your knees weak, his hands roaming your back with an almost desperate energy. His touch was firm but reverent, like he was savoring every inch of you. The smooth leather of his jacket pressed cool against your bare arms as he pulled you flush against him, his strength and warmth radiating through the layers between you.

“You’re killin’ me, sweetheart,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and thick with want. His hand drifted to your thigh, his fingers brushing over the kiss mark there, and he let out a soft, possessive growl. “This right here? This ain’t fair.”

You smiled against his mouth, your breath hitching as his fingers teased along the edge of your garter. "I thought you liked it," you teased, your voice a little breathless.

"Like it?" He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes blazing as they swept over you. "I can’t think straight, darlin’. All night, all I’ve been thinkin’ about is gettin’ you alone."

His hands slipped to your hips, gripping just firmly enough to remind you of his strength as he guided you back toward the couch. You let out a soft laugh, but it caught in your throat when he leaned down, trailing kisses along your jaw, then down your neck. He paused just at the hollow of your throat, his stubble grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

“Frankie…” you whimpered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips continued their path, brushing over the crystals adorning your shoulder blade.

He hummed against your skin, his breath warm and tantalizing. “You knew exactly what you were doin’, wearin’ this,” he said, his tone somewhere between a grumble and a purr. His fingers toyed with the edge of the bodysuit, skimming over the the crystals adorning the fabric. “You’re lucky I got any patience left.”

"Maybe I don’t want you to be patient," you replied, your voice soft but laced with mischief as you tugged him back to meet your lips.

Frank chuckled darkly, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. "Careful what you ask for, sweetheart," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. The way he said it, low and promising, sent a thrill straight through you.

And with that, he captured your lips again, deeper this time, his movements slow and deliberate, like he was setting the stage for something as bold and electric as the confidence you wore tonight.

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

[chaotic-mystery]

Code Red | Chapter Seven: I Love Older Men

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader (no outbreak)

summary: Your big date with Joel is finally here and you end the night on a good note, or a good feeling perhaps.

content warnings: SMUT, 18+ only blog MDNI. Enemies to lovers, dads best friend Joel, age gap (readers in her twenties and Joel is in his 40s), slow burn, first date jitters, reader has hair Joel can brush from her face, no other descriptors, Joel puts reader on the dining table, finally getting some smut, eh? oral sex (f receiving bc he's a ladies man), orgasm denial until you agree with him, power imbalance, dirty talk, thigh smacking, biting, a few sips of beer but no one is buzzed, horny overload, cum eating if you use a monocle, pulling Joel's hair and riding his face/nose, slight PDA, a tiny easter egg if you find it, and one (1) sleepover. NO use of Y/N! Let me know if I've missed something!

authors note: Hi, I love you first off for keeping up with this and my life when it gets crazy and I dip for a little. Thank you for all the support on Code Red, it means the world to me. This can be read as a stand alone if you're unfamiliar with the series but it'll make more sense reading it in order || wc: 4K || notif blog so you don't miss a thing ||

“Why do you have to wear that shirt?” Joel asks as your front door swings open, his hand pushed against the door jam to prop him up. 

You giggle and look down at the bedazzled shirt that was tight enough to push your tits together nicely. It came as no surprise to you that Joel didn’t like the words printed on it and covered in rhinestones. ‘I Love Older Men’ twinkles in the sunlight as Joel swings open your front door, already taking your house key to lock the door behind you. 

“It’s not funny, you’re gonna draw attention to us.” He gripes, putting a hand on your hip behind you as you sit down. His attitude was already starting to get on your nerves but you refuse to let him ruin this, especially over a shirt. 

“Hey! Enough, it’s just a shirt. Is it really such a bad thing if people look at us?” You ask, dipping your head down to look at him. 

Joel meets your eyes and licks his lips while thinking about what to say. You cup his cheek and raise your eyebrows at him playfully. 

“No, I just-” He starts and you cover his mouth quickly to cut him off. Joel gets the hint and rolls his eyes at you before closing the door shut and getting in on his side of the truck. He starts the engine and puts his hand on the back of your headrest to back out of his driveway, open palm against the steering wheel turning it quickly. 

His cologne smells warm and spicy, with a tad of amber mixed in there which surprises you for someone like him, not seeming like he’d be into expensive cologne.  Absolutely captivating, the way he does everything so effortlessly and somehow makes you want to bury your face in his chest while he talks for hours and hours. Joel turns forward and starts the long drive ahead of you two. You were unsure where your date actually was, Joel wanted to keep it a surprise from the last time you spoke about it, which you didn’t mind in the slightest. 

Joel looks over a couple of times and leans his arm against the door while he steers the wheel. 

“You gonna stay over there the whole time or you wanna sit in the middle?” He asks, almost waiting for you to laugh and tell him no. You fight back a smirk and sigh dramatically before sliding over into the middle seat right next to him. 

“Better?”

“For now.” Joel responds and his tongue lingers over his bottom lip for a split second before disappearing into his mouth again. 

“Where are we going? Please don’t tell me you’re taking me to Home Depot…Joel are you taking us to Home Depot?” You half whine and look up at him with your hand resting on his knee. 

“Now why on earth would you think I'd take you there for our date? Give me a little more credit, would ya? Just sit back and enjoy the ride please?” His arm tightens around your shoulders and pulls you into him more. You giggle at his growing annoyance and put your sunglasses on as you rest your head back, looking out the window watching the telephone poles whiz by. 

One of the few times you ever felt this calm and relaxed was with Joel or when you’re alone. He makes it so easy to forget all of the stress and the issues constantly circling your brain about your dad, the future of not knowing, everything that bothers you. None of it ever seems that important when you’re with Joel. 

You two hum to the radio and talk here and there, mainly enjoying the comfortable silence you shared. He turns right and the sign for the aquarium starts to get closer. 

“You remembered the aquarium? Oh my god, Joel!” You exclaim and sit straight up to see the view better. Your excitement was too much for you to notice Joel taking glances at you with the biggest smile on your face. It was apparent to him you thought he forgot about the aquarium comment you made months ago. Little did you know he bought tickets as soon as you mentioned it that day. Even if you went just as the weird friend dynamic you briefly were, Joel still would’ve loved it no matter how much he would’ve pretended not to, no matter how much he wants to deny it.

He pulls into the parking lot and finds a parking spot a little far away from the doors but neither one of you mind. With your purse on your arm, you climb out of his truck and stand in front of it while you wait impatiently for him to get out. 

“You ready?” He asks, coming up right next to you. His finger hooks under your chin and brushes his thumb down softly as he gives you a smile. 

“Absolutely.” You respond back.

You two start towards the door, his arm brushing against you every time he gets close. Every time you feel his pinky touch your hand, you want to just reach out and hold his hand. Joel being the brooding older man, he’s not too big on PDA. You were the exact opposite. You wanted the whole entire town to know you were dating Joel Miller, you wanted to hold his hand while you wore your silly little shirt and have everyone stare at you both, like they could even begin to know the situation. 

When you get inside and turn in your tickets, Joel watches the glimmer in your eyes sparkle as you take in everything around you. The tanks full to the brim with fish and coral, touch tanks tucked back behind the glass and metal staircase leading upstairs, the glowing hallway leading to so much more, the gift shop you were definitely going to stop in before leaving. In awe at the artwork covering almost every inch of wallspace, you were mesmerized. Two children run in front of you and scream wildly as they chase each other, causing Joel to grab your hand instinctively and pull you out of the way before someone gets stepped on. 

You look down and his fingers interlock with yours and neither of you say a word or pull away. 

“Where to first, baby?”

-

Hours pass and your feet are starting to hurt but you’re having too much of a good time to admit to Joel he was right about your shoe choice being awful. It was absolutely worth the pain though, walking the entire aquarium to get the full experience. Joel didn’t complain once no matter how many times you got weird looks for your shirt. He’d walk up to the dolphin tank and put his on the glass, the same glimmer in your eye from when you arrived was the same one he had.  You two end up in front of the jellyfish tank  that went up to the ceiling with glass, blobs of pink and orange jellyfish floating up and down all over the tank. Joel takes a seat on the bench in front and leans his arms against his thighs as he watches closely. 

You sit next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, admiring the pink jellyfish at the very top that keeps sinking to the bottom just to go straight back up. 

“Did you have a fun time?” Joel asks.

You don’t answer right away to not seem eager. “Yeah, this was a lot of fun. Never a dull moment with you though.” You giggle quietly as you remember earlier when he made someone’s child cry because Joel apparently “took the stingray” the child was touching and it decided to swim to Joel’s hand you forced into the touch tank. You’ve never seen him move so fast until that moment.

Joel chuckles with you as he knows exactly what you’re thinking about. 

“I told you not to make me do it and you see what you did? You made someone's child cry, they’re never gonna come back here now.” Joel can’t finish his sentence because you both are laughing so hard and he leans his head on yours. 

There wasn’t that need to fill the silence with Joel. You could sit there with him for hours and not share a word and still be comfortable, that’s not something you come by everyday. 

“Well, you wanna stop in the gift shop before we go?” Joel questions as he picks his head up off yours. 

“Yeah! I wanna see what stupid thing I can convince you to buy me.” You jump up and step towards the tank a few times, turning around to look at Joel. 

He rises to his feet and walks towards you slowly, head cocked back slightly. The look he’s giving you makes your heart start to race and you can feel your cheeks getting warm with every step closer he gets to you. Somehow you managed to be the only two people in the jellyfish exhibit and you were thanking your lucky stars for this. 

“Convince me, huh? Convince me how, baby?” His mocking tone sets your body on fire and you suddenly can’t speak. 

Joel gets right in front of you and tucks his hand against your cheek, his long fingers brushing softly on the skin right below your ear. 

“You don’t have to convince me to do anything, sweetheart. I’d do anything you want.”  He kisses your lips gently.

“I’d buy you anything you want.” He kisses your jaw.

“I’d build you anything you want.” He kisses your neck softly. 

You would’ve fallen to your knees had he not pulled away and chuckled at you, seeing how pathetic he made you for him so fast. 

“Fuck off, Joel.” You try to play it off like you weren’t going to risk it all had he kept going. 

He takes your hand once more and walks with you to the gift shop, his hand hardly leaving your waist as you meander around the store.

Torn between the pack of pens with different aquatic animals on the top and a turtle shaped beanie, you asked Joel which one you should get. 

Joel turns around from the little container of pins he was looking at and takes a good glance at the options. 

“What about this?” He holds up the metal pin that has a starfish printed on the center, with big ugly yellow letters that say, ‘I’m a star!’. 

You blink once at him and turn back around to hide your laugh. 

“That’s so goddamn stupid, Joel. I’d hate to be called a starfish.” You put the hat back and just as you look up, you see it. The stupid thing you want Joel to get you. 

Yanking the clownfish plush off the shelf, you grin widely and turn back around to him and shake it in his face.

“This, this is it. Isn’t it the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” You look back down at the stuffed animal, admiring all the details on it. Without missing a beat, Joel doesn’t look away from you and nods. “Yeah, it is.” 

-

On the drive home you stopped for food and ate in the parking lot while Joel gave you his typical old man history recap of all things Austin, Texas while you nodded like you were following the entire time. You caught most of it, but some stuff you were lost about and you didn’t have the heart to make him explain. Nodding and smiling usually did the trick.

Joel pulls into his driveway and stops right next to the little light pole on your side so you can see where you’re walking. Joel gets out after turning it off  and walks around the front of the truck to meet you halfway. With an arm stretched out towards you, he grabs it and holds it there for a moment. 

“Do you wanna maybe, um…see the new curtains I put up the other day?”

Your brows furrow and you can feel a laugh building up inside. 

“W-what? Are you inviting me in to look at your curtains?” You have to make sure you heard him correctly. This seems like Joel’s way of getting you inside but he won’t explicitly say it. He needs an innocent excuse to get you inside before he makes his move. 

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly and turns away causing his bicep to come into the light and grab your eyes. 

“Yeah, I am.” He refuses to elaborate or change his question to the truth, curtains is what he’s sticking with. 

“Well let’s go, Mr. Miller.” you reach up and pat his chest before heading towards his front door. 

“C’mon, you know I hate when you call me that.”

“I know, that’s why I love it.” 

He stands close enough behind you that you can feel his chest on your back while he unlocks the front door.

“Such a brat.”

The door swings wide open and you’re hit with the familiar smell that is Joel. The cologne with the faint scent of laundry detergent and somewhere a reed diffuser sitting neatly on a table. You take in all of the photos on the walls of him and Sarah, the home looking lived in and not empty. This is what you’ve been waiting on ever since you moved in. You wanted to see inside this house so badly. To see the room you’d constantly look down to when you couldn’t sleep and needed someone but he wasn’t awake. To see the room where you could hear every argument he had with Michelle over you. 

“Everything you thought it’d be in here?” Joel questions and walks from behind you to the stainless steel fridge in the next room over as you stand in the doorway of the living room. 

“It’s so cozy in here, I didn’t think it would be. Figured you’d have a lawn chair in here with a fold up table or something.” You joke and turn around with your arms crossed over your chest. 

Joel looks at you with a fake disappointed face and closes the fridge before grabbing the two beers off the counter he got out. 

“Don’t be a smartass, or I’ll have to fix that for you.” Joel states firmly, standing right next to you.”

With your breath caught in your throat, you take the beer from his hand hesitantly and think about whether or not you should say what you’re thinking. Fuck it though, right?

“Fix it how, Mr. Miller?” The playful tone in your voice makes Joel turn slowly towards you and sucks his teeth quickly before setting his beer down on the coffee table to the left of him. 

“What’d I say about calling me that. You just love to push my buttons don’t you? Gets you off knowing you’ve annoyed me for the day, huh?” 

You take another sip of your beer and smirk against the bottle. 

“Yeah, I do.” You answer confidently.

Joel’s strong arms wrap around you and tug you close against him which causes you both to grunt and he holds you there, his face inches away from yours. 

“And what if I told you every time you do that you make me wanna bend you over and have my way with you until you say you’re sorry?” 

There it is. 

You shutter a breath and meet his eyes which don’t seem so brown anymore. They’re dark with lust and it’s the one thing you’ve been wanting to see from him. 

“Doubt it, I don’t think you can break me.” 

Your lips ghost over his before they crash together and he groans in your mouth instantly as he picks you up for just a moment and walks you over to the dining room, setting you at the end of the table. You swing your legs as he steps back and admires how you look with the dim lighting around you. 

“You would want that, of course. Should’ve known you’re a dirty girl. Tell me how you want me, baby.” He leans in and holds the back of your neck as he trails kisses along your jaw and throat, trying to make you respond. 

The harsh but passionate kisses cloud your mind and you can’t answer fast enough. 

“Tell me pretty girl, tell me how I can make you feel so good and have you right where I want you.” 

God, you need him so badly. 

“I-I like it rough. Manhandle me but still make me feel wanted, like you can’t get enough of me.” 

Your answer coaxes out a groan from Joel and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Oh is that so? You want me to toss you around, maybe pin you down right here and give you that attitude adjustment I’ve been wanting to give you since I saw you on your dads porch?” Joel did one thing well, and it’s being condescending. 

He lays you down on the wooden table and pulls his hand out from the back of your neck and down the middle of your breasts slowly, all the way to the top of your pants. A scoff comes from his mouth and he tugs on the belt loop near your button. 

“‘I love older men’...so fuckin’ naughty. Have you ever been with one or are you just talkin’ a big game?” 

Joel undoes the button on your pants and wiggles his thick pointer finger inside the waistband of your panties, smoothing over your skin teasingly.

“N-no, I haven’t been with one yet.”

“Perfect. Now, take these off.” He yanks on your pants and stands still between your legs while you lift your hips up to shimmy them off. Halfway down your legs he grows impatient and shucks them off you, tossing them onto the floor. Joel kneels down and his face is dangerously close to your aching cunt. 

“Joel, please- I need you…I need you so damn bad.” You whine, grabbing at his hand that’s holding your waist. 

“You need me to what, baby? Use your words, I know you can do it.” He mocks. 

Colored embarrassed that he was wanting you to explicitly say you want him to eat your pussy was an understatement. You didn’t mind a challenge. 

“I want you to lick my pussy, Joel. I wanna feel your tongue on me and make me scream because you do it so well.” As soon as the words leave your lips, his tongue is licking at your wet panties. Tasting every bit of excitement he got from you until you whimper for him to do more. 

“You want me to show you what I can do, pretty girl?” 

Joel doesn’t wait for your answer and he grabs your hand, hooking your panties on your fingers to have you hold them to the side.

“Be a good girl and hold these for me, yeah?” 

You nod in response and close your eyes just in time for his warm tongue to flatten against your clit. His moans muffle against your folds as his hands grip your hips harder, pulling you close to his face as he laps at your soaking pussy. Quick and rough flicks from his tongue go against your clit and you can already feel your legs shake. Your back arches off the table and instantly your hand goes in his hair, gripping the salt and pepper little curls tightly. 

“Ohhh my-fucking god, Joellll!” You cry out and his right hand leaves your hip to the middle of your torso to pin you back down. 

“Stay still.” He commands and buries his face between your thighs, his beautiful nose bumping your 

clit. Your eyes begin to roll back into your skull and he groans louder the harder he licks at you, tasting every inch of skin he can get his mouth on. Joel rubs his thumb over your clit as he bites your thighs and follows with a soft slap to see how far he can push you. 

“Y-yes oh keep doing that, baby.” You whine and buck your hips to get more friction against his thumb. 

“So eager for me to make you come, darlin. God you’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.” Joel growls out and takes his thumb off you for a moment and your eyes shoot open to see where the release you were needing, had gone. He admires the glistening slick coating his skin and licks it clean before connecting his tongue with your clit once more. 

“Say yes and I’ll let you come, okay?” Joel groans between licks and looks you in the eyes. 

You sit up more to look at him with a confused look on your face. 

“Say yes to w-what?” 

“Come work for me at my shop. Be my receptionist so I can see you all the time. I can’t fucking be apart from you all day anymore.” His licks get more passionate and fast, consistent against your overworked clit and you feel the pressure starting to build in the pit of your stomach. 

“What? Y-you want me-fuccck-to work with you?” you barely whimper out as you begin to pant and grind against his face.

Why did he want to bring this up right now? Was he afraid you’d say no so he waited until he had you in the palm of his hand to ask? Jokes on him, you wouldn’t have turned that down at all, anything to see him more than you were now, and you’d be getting paid to fuck off all day with him?

“Say yes.” He grunts and keeps going, pushing you to the edge of your orgasm. 

Your eyes close and your head falls back, moaning with every lick and every move of your hips you make against him. 

“Yes yes yes yes yes okay I will.” You squeak out and you come on his face, riding his tongue as you end up spacing out from the euphoric high. Never has a man ever made your ears ring from coming, until tonight. 

Joel gives your pussy sensual kisses before he trails them up your stomach until he gets to your lips. You kiss him eagerly and taste yourself on his tongue, already wanting more. 

“So I’ll see you there, Monday morning at 10 a.m..” He chuckles and kisses you a few more times before standing straight up and admiring the work he did on you. 

All spread out on the dining room table wasn’t how you saw tonight ending, but you got so much from today. A great date and a job, and head? You were a winner today. 

He grabs your hand and helps you up slowly, adjusting your panties the way he found them. You smile at him and look around for your jeans, groaning at the thought of putting them back on. 

“Hold on, stay there.” Joel says and he disappears around the corner to another room. He comes back with a pair of basketball shorts and hands them to you. 

“Here, put these on, baby.”  

Fresh warm shorts from the dryer. What a fucking gentleman. You put them on and get a chill immediately from how warm they are. 

“Can we watch a movie before I go home maybe?” You ask, not ready to leave his house quite yet. Joel nods and sits on the couch and you follow suit, cuddling yourself into his side. He finds something to watch on a streaming service and kisses your forehead. 

“Don’t fall asleep now, I can’t carry you to your house.” He jokes and you elbow his side playfully. 

Soon the TV sound was getting quieter and quieter as your eyes got heavy, until you were completely passed out in Joel’s arms, with him dozing off himself. Trying to fight his sleep to stay awake, he only lasts about ten more minutes before he grabs a blanket from the chair, covering you both up to sleep. 

[jjungkookislife]

Envolver Ch. 3

ღ pairing: vmin x reader

ღ genre: poly am!au, fwb, f2l, smut 18+

ღ summary: Halloween is a busy night at the bar. However, you still find time to sneak away for a private night with Jimin and Taehyung.

ღ wc: 3.2k

ღ warnings: alcohol use/mention, oral sex, making out, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, degradation, praise, threesome in a workplace, cum swallowing, creampie, interrupted aftercare :(

ღ date: October 31, 2024

Music pounded in your ears as you swirled your drink with your straw just to hear the soft clink of the ice against the glass. Your efforts for the evening had been rewarded as the patrons around you gushed about the Halloween decor. 

Your almost boyfriends were busy behind the bar as they served drinks and sent flirty smiles to their customers to earn tips. 

Psy was at another table, laughing at something his companion said. He wore a bright pink western outfit, just as extravagant as the sets he wore for Western Night. 

“Hey!” Psy grins when he spots you, eagerly waving you over to his table. You hug him tightly, giggling when he squeezes you before he releases you. “I’m so glad you’re here! This place looks fantastic.”

“And I didn’t go over budget,” you grin. Psy laughs and hugs you again, kissing your temple.

“And that’s why I love you! She’s great,” Psy says to his companion. “The best!”

You smile bashfully, accepting his praise before he waves over a server to get you a drink. He pats the chair beside him, and you take the seat.

Spiderwebs hang overhead, and a flash of light turns the ceiling purple, green, and dark blue. Spiders linger overhead, skeletons set on corners enjoy their fake drinks, and the bar has fake blood dripping off the sides.

Namjoon is the first to spot you as he climbs onto the bar. His long black cape is tied around his neck, the collar pulled up high. His fangs glint when the spotlight hits him. Hoseok joins him in his Fae costume, his purple hair makes your heart flip. They both look so good.

Your thoughts wander to the last time it was just the three of you in the bar. How easily they bent you over it, taking turns fucking you until you left with shaking legs.

Hoseok looks at the crowd as he rips his blazer open, buttons flying into the crowd as his sculpted torso appears, shimmering under the spotlight. The crowd’s cheers are raucous. You plug your ears until it dies down, but you cheer along with them.

Hoseok turns around, his blazer sliding off his broad shoulders. He moves his hips seductively. Namjoon moves forward, grips the back of Hoseok’s neck, and brings him in. He makes a show of showing his fangs to the crowd before he sinks into Hoseok’s neck, earning cheers that rattle the building. Tips go flying in the air as Namjoon brings Hoseok’s thigh between his, moving back and forth until they separate, going to opposite ends of the stage.

Seokjin joins them in the middle. His Sea Captain uniform makes you drool, and you hope he’ll keep it intact until you can rip it off him with your teeth later on. You press your thighs together as Seokjin motions for Namjoon and Hoseok to join him in the middle.

“Welcome to tonight’s Halloween Extravaganza! Our Poison Apple drink is to die for!” Seokjin laughs as the crowd cheers. “We have a lot in store for you tonight! Games, cash prizes, a costume contest, and a dance on the bar where the winner gets a partner for the rest of the night!” Seokjin pauses for the crowd to cheer.

Namjoon and Hoseok clap on the bar, while the rest of your friends, boyfriends? Clap behind them.

Jungkook has taken his Scream mask off, which he will do in between intervals to rack up some tips, though they have been stacking when he puts the mask on. His plastic knife is bedazzled and is strapped to his arm for photo ops. Tonight’s event is ticketholder only, with a few lucky regulars in the crowd.

The tables are filled with patrons, some lingering near the bar, and some on the makeshift dancefloor. You sip your drink as the music starts up again as Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok step off the bar.

“Glad you could make it, baby,” Yoongi startled you as he appeared beside you. He chuckles at your reaction. You cup his face, your fingers lightly tracing the fake scar over his eye. It had come out a lot better than you thought. You had erased and redrawn that bitch so many times, almost rubbing his poor face raw.

“Hey, my little mobster,” you tease, giggling when he rolls his eyes dramatically.

“Admit it, I look hot,” he grips the lapels of his suit, and you nod mindlessly. If you had him at home, you would have dropped to your knees in front of him, begging him to fuck your pretty face until you cried. That is why they had left home early to get ready at the bar.

“You a'ight,” you shrug as you down your drink.

Yoongi cackles as he drapes his arm over your shoulders. “So easy to fluster.”

“Shut up!” you whine as you wave down a server. Yoongi pauses his teasing long enough to order you a drink before he rests his head on your shoulder.

“You look amazing,” he compliments you. “The Queen of Hearts suits you.”

You know he means no ill intent but your heart still cracks. You know you’ve been stalling on defining the relationship but it’s only because you’re afraid of how things will change between you.

“Where’s your weapon?” you ask, changing the subject.

“In my pants,” Yoongi wiggles his brows, and you playfully smack his chest.

Yoongi throws his head back as he laughs. He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a pair of chopsticks.

“That’s it?”

“You haven’t seen what I can do with them yet,” Yoongi shrugs as he tucks them back in his pants pocket. “But I can show you.”

You gulp as you stare at him. Your drink arrives, and the server sets it in front of you. Yoongi reaches for it, downing half before gripping your chin and opening your mouth. You welcome the drink, swallowing it down before Yoongi sets the glass on the table.

“Show me,” you respond after you swallow.

“So eager,” he smirks as he kisses you, passing you the ice cube in his mouth. The coolness surprises you as you crunch down on the cube. “But there’s no time.”

Yoongi leaves you panting, thighs pressed together and cunt clenching around nothing. He easily walks to the bar, taking his spot beside Seokjin as the night's first game begins. You wave down a server, ordering a cup of ice to cool yourself.

~

Bobbing for dildoes instead of apples wasn’t on your list of games for tonight, but catching Yoongi’s reaction to catching the biggest one may have been worth it. 

“You just have to rile me up,” Yoongi sighs as he presses your back to the wall of the locker room. You grunt, moaning when his lips meet yours before you can answer him.

Yoongi lifts your leg to his waist, his lips pressed to yours. He grinds against you, moaning your name as you rub against him. He desperately wishes to bury himself inside you

 and make you cream his cock but it’s only a few minutes before Jimin is calling his name to get on stage.

“To be continued?” Yoongi asks with one last kiss.

You nod. “To be continued.”

Yoongi kisses your cheek before he leaves you in the locker room to catch your breath. Your cheeks flush with heat as you slip back into the crowd. You join Psy at his table, grateful he’s saved your seat as you watch Yoongi and Jungkook climb onto the bar.

You fan yourself with your hand as you watch them dance.

Bills get thrown at the two of them as you sit back and watch. The music pounds against the walls, as you leave your seat long enough to join the crowd, huddled at the bar. Yoongi spots you immediately and smiles. He shakes his butt harder, his smile glowing brighter.

Yoongi and Jungkook finish their dance, Jungkook stripping down to nearly his boxers. You shake your head, you’ll have the elder men wrangle him back in.

 You sip on your drink as Jimin and Taehyung are introduced to the crowd. You clap loudly beside Psy. He chuckles at your enthusiasm.

“Jimin! Tae!” you scream as loud as you can.

Both men turn to you, hearing you above the crowd. 

Taehyung is clad in his red outfit and mask. An outfit worn on a popular show. Jimin dazzles in his leather outfit. His mask rests behind the bar as he dances to his heart’s content.

Jimin waits for the song's apex before he drops to his knees in front of Taehyung. 

The younger man smirks as he unzips his suit, just low enough to tease the patrons and Jimin.

The crowd goes wild as Taehyung grabs a handful of Jimin’s black hair, tugging his head back before he kisses him. Bills fly toward them, the thundering crowd growing insane as the kiss ends.

You fanned yourself as you tried to cool yourself down.

The song ends too soon before they both step off the bar.

Seokjin takes over as MC. He leads the crowd to the next game, laughing as the patrons stumble over themselves to get in a line.

You excuse yourself, heading to the locker room as quickly as possible. You type the code in quickly, shutting the door after you before you head to the familiar couch. You fix your makeup in a mirror, knowing your lipstick will smear before you head back to your table.

Minutes later the door opens. Taehyung and Jimin walk through, both laughing at something before they spot you on the couch.

“Well, if it isn’t our favorite girl,” Taehyung smirks.

“You look great, babe,” Jimin states as he sits on your left side.

“That you do, boo,” Taehyung smirks as he sits on your right.

“Queen of Hearts? More like Queen of my heart, am I right?” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows.

“Do you have an off button?” you ask him feigning annoyance.

“Only when I cum,” Jimin cackles when you shove him.

“You’re insufferable,” you complain as Tae pulls you onto his lap, straddling him.

“I’m not,” Tae smirks, his hand tangled in your hair. He pulls you toward him, his lips meeting yours. A moan escapes you, heart flipping in your chest.

Taehyung holds your hips, his lips melding with yours perfectly. Your hands rest on his shoulders for a moment. They soon move down to his zipper, pulling it down until it bunches at his waist.

“Don’t ignore me,” Jimin huffs with a petulant frown. He inches closer in his leather pants. His rabbit mask sits off to the side. He pats his lap, and you crawl toward him. He moves you so your back is pressed to his chest.

Your legs splay open on his lap as Taehyung moves off the couch to the floor. He drops to his knees, licking his lips when he spots your panties. You moan as you kiss Jimin, melting into him as Taehyung spreads your legs further apart.

Jimin tugs your dress down to expose your breasts. His hands cup each tit, his fingers rub your hard nipples. You sigh, moaning his name as you try to close your legs to press them together but Tae stops you as he helps you out of your wet panties, tossing them over his shoulder.

Jimin kisses your neck as he rubs your clit in tight circles, moaning your name into the column of your throat.

“That’s it, princess. Moan for me,” Jimin encourages you as he continues his ministrations. “That’s it, baby. What a good fucking girl.”

Jimin’s fingers slip inside you easily. You welcome them by spreading your legs on his taut thighs. You’d love to ride his thigh any day of the week but you’re distracted by his fingers fucking you open for his thick cock. You moan, falling apart as he lifts you just enough to have your cunt swallow his cock whole.

You dig your nails into his forearm, moaning at the delectable stretch. 

“Fuck, Jimin,” you curse, nearly drooling over yourself. He chuckles, fucking up into you. 

“You like that, baby? Like getting passed around like the fucking whore you are?” he asks with a toothy grin. Your eyes roll back as you nod in answer. He chuckles darkly, sliding his arms under the back of your knees to spread you further.

“Show Taehyungie how much you like it, slut. Let him see how you cream my fucking cock,” Jimin smirks at Taehyung as you whine. You rest your head on Jimin’s shoulder, whining as his fingers rub your clit until your thighs tremble, orgasm building deep inside you until it bursts.

“Jimin!” you cry out, swearing at him until you calm down.

“Fuck, yes!” Taehyung exclaims as he watches you soak Jimin’s lap. “What a cockhungry, whore for Jiminie.”

“Tae!” you whine, covering your face in embarrassment. Jimin laughs as he pulls your hands off your face. “No hiding for us, princess. You might be the queen of our hearts, but that doesn’t mean we don’t own yours.”

Jimin continues to fuck your creamy, warm cunt. He curses as you tighten around him as Taehyung places his hands on Jimin’s knees, and his tongue meets your clit. Jimin groans when he feels Tae’s fiery tongue on his balls when he licks you.

“That’s it, love. Keep licking her cunt just like that,” Jimin encourages his twin flame. Tae does as he’s told. His tongue fucked the both of you, making your body tingle. Jimin’s strokes are long and slow, his cock filling the deepest parts of you.

Taehyung is jealous, he’s eager for his turn, eager for a taste of your tight cunt wrapped around his fat fucking cock.

“Wanna feel?” Jimin asks Taehyung.

“Please,” The younger man pleads. “Fuck, please.”

Jimin helps you to your hands and knees. You nearly swallow his cock when you get settled. He grabs a handful of your hair, gently thrusting it into your mouth while Tae gets behind you. He fingers you, curling his fingers to make you cum. You cry out around Jimin’s cock, begging for Tae’s cock.

The stretch is delectable. He fills you whole. His large hands grip your hips, his thrusts deep and hard as you choke on Jimin’s cock. You gag, tears rolling down your cheeks as you take both of them with a hearty grin.

“That’s it, baby. What a good slut for us,” Taehyung praises you. You moan in response as you’re fucked within an inch of your life by both men.

Jimin hits the back of your throat, groaning as you swallow around him. Taehyung feels you clench around his length, his nails dig into your hips as he fucks you onto his dick. Both of them moan, looking at each other for a moment before they’re both cumming inside you.

You swallow as much as you can, while Taehyung fills your cunt with him. He makes you cum soon after, thighs shaking as you feel Jimin pull his cock out of your mouth.

Jimin grins. “Well, that was hot as fuck.”

Taehyung agrees as he fucks his cum back into you with his fingers, drawing a second orgasm from you.

“Should we get Yoongi to clean you up?” Taehyung smirks, noting how you tighten around his fingers.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Taehyung giggles as he gets dressed. Jimin sucks his fingers clean before he kisses you. They spend a few minutes at your side, holding you close and kissing your body. They wish they could draw a bath for you, but it’s not long before they’re being called back on stage.

“We’ll send someone in,” Taehyung assures you, frowning as he goes with Jimin on his heels. “We’ll take care of you tonight, love.”

You lay on the couch, fucked out of your mind, expecting Yoongi to join you soon, but instead, Jungkook pops his head into the room.

“Hey,” he greets you with a shy wave.

“Hi!” you chirp as you wave him over. “How are things on stage?”

“They’re going,” he informs you as he sits beside you. “Yoongi and Seokjin are doing body shots for tips.”

You laugh as you relax on the couch. Jungkook sits by your feet but you sit up to let him get closer.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Jungkook asks with a raised brow.

“Wouldn’t you rather be out there doing body shots?” You ask him directly.

“No,” he answers honestly. “I’d rather be here with you.”

“Jungkook,” you start but he presses his finger to your lips.

“Don’t. I know what you’re going to say and I don’t want to hear it. Let’s just enjoy this brief time we have together. Just you and I, all alone. That’s a hard thing to come by in our situation.”

“Kook,” you breathe but he hushes you with his lips instead.

“Let us have this moment,” Jungkook whispers before he kisses you again. You thread your fingers in his long hair, moaning when he sucks on your neck.

“There’s not much time,” he whispers as he kisses his way down your body.

“We have all the time we need,” you respond as he grabs your hips to tug you closer to his face. He chuckles, “Nope. Gotta get on stage. Gotta make rent.”

“I’ll keep you home right here,” you’re not sure what you’re babbling about at this point as he kisses up one thigh and then the other.

“Mhhm,” he hums as he licks a stripe up your cunt, teasing your clit for a moment before he moves lower.

“Fuck, I can still taste him. So warm,” Jungkook moans as he drinks you in, his tongue makes you lose yourself shortly after. He wishes he could cum with you, but he simply licks his lips and helps you get dressed.

“We need to go back out there,” he says as he leads you out of the locker room on shaky legs. Instead of depositing you with Psy, he takes you to Namjoon and Hoseok.

“Poor baby,” They coo at you. Namjoon drapes himself around you protectively. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“Wanna cuddle,” you pout as he holds you closer. 

“I know, love. We will. The night is ending,” he states as he holds you while Hoseok rests his head on your shoulder.

Music still fills the bar as Jungkook does his dance, shaking his ass for the crowd. He goes to one end of the bar before he runs forward and drops to his knees to slide the rest of the way. He rips his costume at his chest, showing off his impressive abs to the crowd.

Cheers deafen you as you watch the money flow and the liquor run down his abs from a bottle Jimin has handed Jungkook.

Yoongi spots you from behind the bar. He mouths something to Namjoon, but you’re too tired to respond.

An hour later, the night comes to an end.

You’re left with Yoongi, who is closing up with Hoseok and Seokjin. They busy themselves, eager to head home but you’re sat on the bar with Yoongi between your thighs.

“How are you feeling?” He asks as he places his hands on your thigh.

“Exhausted,” you answer him.

Yoongi hums as he helps you off the bar.

“Let’s get you home, Queen of Our Hearts.”

<< previous

[dietcokegirly12]

“Wanna Go for a Ride?”

featuring satoru gojo ‧₊˚ 𓏲 ˚ʚ ₊✧ ﾟ

‧₊˚ ┈\ō͡≡o˞̶┈‧₊˚ ┈\ō͡≡o˞̶┈‧₊˚ ┈\ō͡≡o˞̶┈‧₊˚ ┈\ō͡≡o˞̶

art credit: @aransmind

‧₊˚ ┈\ō͡≡o˞̶┈‧₊˚ ┈\ō͡≡o˞̶┈‧₊˚ ┈\ō͡≡o˞̶┈‧₊˚ ┈\ō͡≡o˞̶

OMG THANK YOU GUYS FOR 200 FOLLOWERS THOS IS CRAZYY (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)ilyyyy

tags: street racer gojo, oral (fem), unprotected sex, unsafe sex, dirty talk, petnames, swearing, slight exhibitionism if you squint, riding, you get eaten out his windoww, etc etc

word count: roughly 3k

also guys if u wanna request jjk, id be happy to! catching up on reqs rn, so just bear w me if they're late TᴗT

.˚₊‧˗ˏˋ ─── 🏎️༄ ׂ 𓈒 🏁⋆ ۪ ─── ˎˊ˗‧₊˚. ─── 🏎️

you had attended many races over the course of a successful flag girl career, so of course you had heard of the infamous satoru gojo.

you just never had the pleasure of flagging at one of his races.

until today.

it had started like any other day, you dressed in a skimpy checkered-flag two piece, leaving practically nothing to the imagination as you prepared to start off the race, holding up a black and white racing flag, the metal rod cool in your palms.

steadily, all the thrumming engines lined up next to you, cars of all kinds purring in unison.

by now you were used to the deafening noise, so you didn't pay too much mind when the particular roar of an engine sounded above the rest.

it was only until you looked over your shoulder to check for the signal, that you saw it.

the notorious baby-blue mclaren 720s gt3 that had every girl in the world swooning. and behind it, the cocky white-haired man at the wheel, manspreading across the leather seats, an overconfident grin on his face, with his matching blue helmet slightly tilted up.

his gloved fingers grip tightly around his of course bedazzled wheel, and you see his eyes flick to you, smirk spreading wider.

flushing slightly, you turn back, beginning to sway the flag around, signifying that the race was about to start.

thick smoke plumes out of various flashy tailpipes, and surrounds you in its fumes, as everyone revs their engines, loud roars and vibrations thrumming through your chest.

finally, you raise your arm in a final up-down motion, your full breasts bouncing, and the cars take off.

the moment however, seems to slow, becoming more intimate as gojo's car accelerates past you, your heart thumping as it nearly brushes you, the caress of the smoke following behind him on your body almost sensual. his head turns back to wink at you, and then he's gone, fumes kicking up behind him.

you stare after him as all the cars quickly whiz ahead, the thousands of fans in the crowd cheering loudly and waving signs for countless racers, but you knew, almost without a doubt, that gojo was going to win.

you knew it by the way he had this self-assured, confident air about him, like he had never lost a race in his life, which he probably hadn't. you knew it by the way he looked almost bored waiting for the race to start, only entertained by the sight of you before him. you knew it by the way he only had one lazy hand on the wheel, like this was tedious for him.

and as you wait for the cars to come back, so you can wave the flag at the winner, you find your thoughts wandering to what you had heard about the racer called satoru.

just who exactly was he, anyway?

your other flag girlfriends had always giggled about his looks and charm, claiming he had hooked up with them on various occasions where they had been flagging a race, and now that you had seen how flirtatious he was, you didn't think they were making it up.

satoru was, to put in short, a notorious playboy, known for his attractiveness and ability to go through women as fast as he finishes races, which was fast.

the cheering of the crowd increasing breaks you out of your thoughts, glancing up to see a familiar blue car in the distance, seconds away from crossing the finish line.

of course.

as his car whizzes past you at breakneck speeds, you wave the flag, signifying the end of the race, and the crowd goes wild.

screaming and shouts of praises ensue as he skids to a stop, the other cars far behind. it wasn't even close.

you stretch slightly, dropping your flag back to your side as the crowd slowly begins to disperse among themselves, the race officially over. and it's then that you hear a certain voice behind you, along with the tell-tale humming vibration of a car.

"hey, ya wanna go for a ride, pretty thing?"

you turn, to see none other than satoru gojo in all his glory, helmet cracked open to reveal glossy blue puppy eyes, and slightly mussed-up white hair.

you fold your arms slightly, flag draping down beside you. "you really do think you can get any girl you want, huh?"

he chuckles, the sound low and seductive. "oh sweetheart. i don't think. i know."

you roll your eyes, coming up to lean by his rolled-down window, face inches from his. "you're just so sure of yourself, aren't ya?"

he tilts his head mockingly. "so what if I am?"

you sigh, deciding no matter how attractive he was, this insufferable man isn’t worth it, and turn back around to leave, making it about two steps before his car pulls up in front of you again, effectively blocking you.

"c'monnn, jus' one ride? pretty please?"

you look him over with resignation, knowing he wasn't going to leave until you relented. "fine. one. only because you won."

he grins triumphantly, leaning over to open the door for you, immediately being greeted by the scent of his rich, masculine cologne overpowering your senses as you seat yourself on his over-the-top, plushy leather seats that still had a brand-new sheen to them.

the radio blares loudly some trashy bubblegum pop song that had been trending while he shifts his gear stick back, putting an arm around your headrest as he reverses.

slick.

you can't help but admire the interior of his car though, marveling at how tricked out he had made it with almost every empty square inch bedazzled in glimmering rhinestones. he even has a mini nascar racing flag hanging by the rearview window, the luxury of it all causing you to stare around, taking it all in.

he smirks, not taking his eyes off the road as he maneuvers you two to the racing highway, the low hum of his engine reverberating through you. "like what you see?"

you swallow, admittedly not completely unfazed by the presence of one of the most famous street racers in the world next to you as you nervously place your hands over your lap.

he speeds up, legs spreading wider as he glances over at you playfully. “i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

“i-it’s nice.. you've got a nice ride..” you admit, shifting in your seat as you watch the speedometer continue to climb.

“gonna show ya how nice it really is, hm?” he grins, and you feel your pulse increasing with how fast he’s going now, well over a hundred miles per hour, and how you don’t think you’re talking about his car anymore.

no. not with the way he was man spreading so wide, to the point where it’d be impossible not to notice the huge bulge straining against his racing pants.

he was hard.

impossibly so, so much that it looked like it hurt.

in fact, if you looked hard enough, you could see the clear outline of his bulbous tip and veins running along his girth. jesus. did he always drive around this obscenely bricked?

you don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring, practically mapping out his cock in your head, until he speaks, jolting you out of your lewd fantasies.

“naughty girl. s’ this the ride you were talking 'bout?”

your cheeks faintly tinge pink at being caught as you immediately look away, out the window, just to see that the car had gained even more speed in the time you were distracted. "n-no.."

before you realize, one of satoru's warm palms is gliding up your thigh, long fingers spreading to grip onto you tightly.

"no..?"

you gasp softly as his fingers rise higher, to ghost over your inner thighs lightly, so close to the place you needed him most.

and oh you can't help the pathetic whimper that escapes as his fingers trail up and down across your barely clothed slit, through your tiny checkered shorts, a faint wet patch rapidly spreading from your slick.

he lets out a knowing chuckle at the feeling of how wet you were, a confirmation to his earlier question. "it's not polite to lie, baby.."

"well, it's not polite to drive around hard as a fucking rock." you huff back, his mouth instantly curving up in amusement.

"gonna do something 'bout it, flag girl?"

and oh do you, as in one fluid motion, you swing yourself over to face him, beginning to grind down across his lap as your hands come to lift his helmet off, immediately tangling your fingers into his snowy locks.

he moans in response, hips lifting to meet you as your pussy throbs desperately atop him, practically its own heartbeat at this point.

you quickly tug down his pants enough to reveal his leaking cock in all its splendor, thick but most impressively long, reaching almost midway up his stomach. gently, you run your hand along his velvety shaft, feeling veins throb under your touch as he comes to a perfect cupid's arrow at the top.

he groans at your touch, becoming more frantic by the minute as his deft fingers come to your shorts.

"toru.. they're n-not.. you can't.." you can't help a small huff of laughter as he struggles to get them off you.

they were meant to be tight-fitting spandex, and in themselves, were hard enough to wrestle off, even without the black fishnet tights you were wearing underneath.

but he's too frenzied by this point to stop and try and figure out a logical way to get them off. no, instead he practically drags the spandex off you, before ripping apart the tights until they're nothing but tattered strings on the floor.

"toru!" but before you can protest, he's pressing you firmly against his body, jostling you slightly as he continues steering, his foot pressing harder on the gas.

"jus'.. hah.. hafta have you right now.. hold on, sweetheart, s' gonna be a bumpy ride.." and with that, he impressively lifts all of you up with one hand to line up his cock before letting go, allowing you to sink down on all his inches with a small cry.

it's almost painful how big he is. stretching you out so deliciously, as you mewl and cling onto him tightly, pressing your face into his neck to breathe out soft moans of "toru.. toru.. mmnph toru!"

he groans at your cries of his name, and you're not even sure if he's aware of how hard he's pressing the foot pedal now, car revving so loudly.

as you begin to bounce atop him, your cunt squelching noisily with every thrust, more and more slick pools out of you, leaving the seat under you to glimmer with moisture. when he sees this, he lightly swats your ass, making your moans only grow pitchier.

"nasty girl. getting m' seats all messy."

"nghh 'toru!" you whine, barely able to speak as you feel him all the way in your stomach, bulge disappearing with every thrust, your breathing ragged.

meanwhile, gojo's gripping you tightly, head lolling back against the headrest as you ruthlessly grind your hips down onto him over and over, the wet plap! plap! plap! sounds filling the car.

looking over, you see the speedometer hit one sixty, though it doesn't even feel like it.

gojo reaches one hand down to messily thumb over your exposed clit, causing you to squeal and try to clamp your legs shut, but no match for gojo's strength as he easily spreads your legs wider than before, only increasing the rough pace he had set on your ravaged pussy.

"keep 'em open, pretty." he rasps, and looking over you see how dangerous this is, car speeding down the highway while he fucked you into oblivion.

the sound of skin against skin filled the air as your ass smacked loudly against his lap, shamelessly going faster as you felt yourself get closer.

"mm, shit baby. you ride me so.. hah.. good. might jus' put me outta a job."

your thighs convulse, shuddering as you try to keep up the pace, his curved inches proving to be too much for you to handle.

gojo noticing instantly, begins to lift you up and down with one hand, guiding you as he positions you at an even better angle.

"fuck... 'toru m'close!.. hah.. s-slower.."

he pouts at you mockingly. "slower..? i thought you could take it?"

you're struggling not to cum right there and then, but desperate to prove a point, you nod, half-delirious. "mhm! mhm! can.. hah.. t-take.."

it's when gojo thrusts your hips faster, moving you up and down him like a toy as he uses you, finger pressing harshly on your clit, that you can't hold back anymore.

you feel weighty pressure against your tummy steadily building and building, your jaw dropping open as you lose yourself in it, cunt clenching and rippling tightly around him.

and then white-hot overwhelms you, a slutty moan ripping out of your throat as your back arches, and tears begin sliding down your cheeks from sheer pleasure.

it takes you a moment to realize you're cumming, and even longer that you were squirting.

gushing a glistening stream all over his pretty car and even spraying over his lower abdominals.

he groans softly. "fuuuckk baby, did you jus'.."

he can't even finish his sentence as with a shudder, he's cumming too, dumping load after load into you raw, creamy white ribbons filling your insides up and dribbling down past your thighs.

slowly, as you come down from your high, you feel the car beginning to swerve as gojo loses himself in pleasure.

his foot presses harder against the pedal as his whole body jerks upward, and you squeal clutching tight to him as the car speeds down the highway.

"toru! toru you're going too fast!"

he lazily blinks open hazy, blue eyes to steady the wheel again with one hand, the other resting against your thigh. "oh c'monnn. you haven't even seen the top speed of this baby."

with that, he presses on the gas all the way.

immediately, you're plastered to him, as the car gets dangerously faster with every breath you take.

a hundred seventy.

a hundred eighty.

a hundred ninety.

two hundred.

you can barely breathe with how rapidly his car is swallowing the road, can't move, can't even think.

"stick your head out the window real quick?"

you stare at him.

no.

he couldn't mean...

but oh yes he did, with that insufferable little grin of his, eyes glinting mischievously, just daring you to.

and you were not one to back down from a challenge.

huffing, you stick your face out, only to be shoved practically halfway out by gojo, who immediately presses his face between your plush thighs, tongue flicking out to taste you.

"such a.. fuck.. mess, hafta clean you up,"

you gasp, the rushing of air from outside only heightening the sensations coursing through you.

"g-gojo who's.. ah.. driving?"

he chuckles into your cunt, sending vibrations into you as you mewl, trying to press yourself harder against him.

"s' okay, got one hand on the wheel.."

before you can find it in you to protest however, he drags his tongue languidly all across your still dripping cunt, cleaning you up as he drinks up every last drop of your honeyed slick.

shaking his head side to side, he eats you like a man starved, hot, wet muscle dipping in and out of your entrance and tracing over you gently.

"mmph.. t-toru.. g-gonna make me..." you throw your head back in ecstasy, back arching upward as you hang halfway out of his window, still racing down an incredibly busy highway, hands coming to grip tightly on either side of his tinted glass tightly.

"taste so sweet.." he mumbles, and you feel the car swerve sharply as he presses his face deeper into you, eager tongue lapping gently.

your hips buck up slightly as you drag your messy cunt all along his face, grinding in slow strokes until his nose bumps your clit with every upward motion.

your stomach coils with heat tightly, winding up further and further with every breath until the pressure is weighing on your chest.

when he takes your puffy bud into his mouth, throbbing with sensitivity and sucks, however, it's over as your thighs quiver around him and you cry out his name, coating his chin in your syrupy slick.

he hums in approval, lapping up every drop, his snowy hair brushing your inner thighs as he moves his head.

gojo finally draws back, satisfied as you practically pull him apart from your sensitive, throbbing cunt, strings of drool and your arousal webbing him to you still as he smiles drunkenly off your pussy, still watching you arched out the window.

"hey, should i compete the next race with you, the pretty flag girl, hanging out my window?"

[pedge-page]

I can imagine Joel walking in on reader and Sarah playing dress up in their walk in closet where Sarah is in readers heels and lipstick everywhere and reader is hyping her up and everything

Joel Dealing With Wife: Fashion Show!

- - - -

He'd be enjoying some peace and quiet in the living room by himself when he realizes it's too eerily quiet and vacant of all the ladies in the house. He looks behind him, as if some miracle you're all just taking a nap like a peaceful, pleasant family together, but he's met with nothing.

It's... too quiet for his taste.

He debates whether he should attempt to distrust his peace or let his family stay suspiciously missing for another half hour to enjoy himself.

But the ridiculous thought of the two of you stuck in an air vent hanging upside down but not shouting for help out of stubborn pride has him  already on his feet, grunting and stretching his back to get ready for a hunt.

Kitchen? No. Hall? No. Dining? Nope. Stairs? Nada. Sarah's room? Hell no.

He finally makes it to his bedroom, sure that he'll find you two curled up on the bed, but it's still perfectly made and unoccupied. Though, he can hear SOMETHING coming from the walk in closet...

He walks in just in time to see his baby, who JUST recently started walking on her own with those chubby fat thighs, strutting in a pair of your high heels. She can barely pick her feet up, yet still confidently shuffling to keep them on her toes, with bigger than life sun glasses constantly falling down the bridge of her nose, complete with a cheap feathered purple scarf around her neck and hip . Youre sitting pretzel on the floor in the corner, beat boxing with your lips and waving your hand in the air as if it's a concert / fashion show / club hyping the little one and her new fashion up.

You both pause at the male intruder in the room, staring up at him  as if you'd been caught. He then notices Spoon also lying down next to you, and she raises her great head up expectedly, almost pleadingly. The poor dog is similarly dressed up with one of Sarah's tutus around her hip, a little tiara perched on her head, some bedazzled stick-on gems on her snout and what seems to be sloppy hot pink nail polish on her little nails. She looks up at him with desperate, quiet eyes as if pleading for help.

Joel raises his brow at the whole scene, his eyes scanning each one of you over again. He chuckles and shakes his head, mumbling a "sorry girl" to poor Spoon, who puts her head back down and utters a loud sigh of defeat. You and Sarah start up the show again just as he's stepping back out and closing the door behind him.

He can't stop smiling to himself. Whipping out his phone, he opens your chat and begins typing:

"Send me a pict--"

He doesnt even hit send when his notification in the chat goes off:

image attachments*

You: already did :)

And up pops a few  candid photos of super model Sarah with more smolder cool swagness possible for such a tiny baby.

He's already prepping a folder to get these printed at the Walgreens today.

- - - -

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda

[therealslimshakespeare]

🍸 Harry Crosby headcanons

18+ -helluva lot of nsfw under the cut but interspersed with a lotta fluff and domesticity…to me that’s the appeal of this man, cannot be separated one from the other: the unassuming sweater wearing vet at the block party is also a man of hidden depths.

Long promised and woefully incomplete, the word count was getting out of hand so I’m tossing it out, there’s more where this came from. Not edited so, apologies

Entirely co-written by myself and my comrogue @crazymadpassionatelove , enhanced and bedazzled by chats with @ab4eva including special additions from other guests who commented under my announcement post, credit is given at each specific point for their contributions

|screencap cred grabbed from: @hawkinsfuller

First off let me say it’s been ages since I read A Wing and A Prayer. I remember loving it, loving him and I cannot stress how much I respect and admire the real Harry Crosby and his Jean, the Missus of our dreams.

This is purely for fun, a heavy mix of both Boyle’s portrayal and a tad of Crosby’s real life vibes as taken from his accounts by me. Sometimes you gotta take historical figures’ virtues in one area -say navigation and math- and translate it to the more suggestive aspects of life -say, how to find a clitori- *gunshot*

Because this man’s biography is the most oral-leaning, drink-your-respect-women-juice book ever. Ok, almost ever. For a wwii book at least. Uhem so -I am prejudiced, sue me.

See, sometimes it’s the quiet, stressed ones with a self consuming desire to please who have the cozy sweaters and the attentive appreciation for your interests and the stubby fat schlongs and the propensity to keep you in suburban comfort all your days

The compulsive drive to call you “button” and be on time for church and thank you for your scrambled eggs each morning with eager kitchen countertop oral before waking you children up with annoyingly soft catchphrases they’ll recite fondly at his funeral: “rise and shine” etc

Also back to the perfectly respectable schlong for just a moment -This is a Thing! Justice for the perfectly adequate plug stoppers, not everyone needs a rolling pin, who can resist giving head when the head is the same gorgeous color as his lips?!

Mr Crosby is skipping off to lecture college kids about literature post-war with a pep in his step that you put there without fail, you can’t help it, it’s as essential as the matching “his and hers” coffee mugs you bought during your honeymoon

Cookies slightly burned cuz you’re busy as bunnies in the bathroom while the kids ride bikes in the cul-de-sac is a Crosby staple

This is a man who as husband keeps you well supplied with mixers and microwaves and cute little nighties and also loves your brain -SCORE.

Loves to gift you with bath oil and fun stuff to smell good. He's into lavender. It benefits him in the end, loves to sit on the edge of the tub and just talk with you for ages

Croz’s go-to distresser is to have Jean sit on his face until his vision spots

She knows as soon as he walks in the door. Fixes him a Shirley Temple, takes him by the hand to the bedroom and …..boom.

De—stressed

As for the ptsd nightmares? He just barely starts to thrash in his sleep and Jean is rolling that man over and taking matters into her own hands

You’re Jean now, you do realize that don’t you? It was never ever going to be anyone but Jean

This man leaves love letters on your pillow, in your apron pocket, in the dash of your car anywhere at all that you’re likely to be. All of this even though he’s gonna be home by six that evening.

Also, hear me out: lots of evenings he just lays down next to you for ages, facing each other on your sides, absentmindedly mapping your body with his calloused palms and fingering you for ages while talking about Persuasion.

Actually gives a shit about your opinions too, and not in the way of wanting to argue them. When you make a good point his eyes get even droopier and he grabs your neck and…

“You're one smart cookie Mrs Crosby”

“My clever, wise, beloved…”

Honestly though, deep connections and the ability to go vulnerable, and if those moments are often concluded with little laughs to shake off the moment -it doesn’t diminish it

Can actually talk about dying to you, not in a morbidly preoccupied way, but he can face it and admit it and be vulnerable enough to acknowledge the likelihood

Then get on with what needs doing

He appreciates how well you grow to know him, and he in turn makes a lifelong study of you

Also, this man is so highly attuned to your well being.

Yes you have to put up with his stress but for you? He will man-up repeatedly and without thought. He doesn’t even think twice about just up and leaving whatever situation is tiring you. did you see him hop up to get the fuck outta that bar fight? Yeah so, you’re bored? Tired? Stressed? It’s not even machismo it’s just a homebody not giving a fuck with the subtext of “my wife and I would like to go home and read and cockwarm”

Often gives the shiftiest excuses to army buddies and coworkers just to go home and hang with you, swears he has to repair that squirrel feeder -or that an alligator is in his swimming pool, “sorry guys maybe drinks next week”

Don’t tell the guys but…HE PAINTS YOUR TOENAILS

Maybe some of your high school friends snickered about Harry Crosby way back when. Making googly eyes at you and barely getting out the most stammered greetings? Bookish and a little clumsy at times?

Ha, you won in the end

He comes home in one piece, that beautiful schlong still intact

you prayed for that ok?

“Lord keep my husband safe -- and his girthy manhood in tact as well” …for the babies you’re hoping for of course...just that… kneeling in silk pajamas each night, adding this addendum with a blush but was always faithful to keep it in your prayers

Sometimes you have that thought in church as well...so you has to take a couple deep breaths and calm yourself...it's because you want children...not because you’re already so sprung off this man's dick after only a couple weeks of married life.

weeks that feels like a lifetime ago now, by the way

Prim and lovely Jean Crosby staring off into stained glass worlds thinking of having her tight little hole tugged open and her guts rearranged, it’s even worse than her thoughts prior to the wedding, because she’s had the experience, then suddenly it was ripped away

And she’s empty and scared to death for him

She gets asked to sing at the funeral of a lieutenant who never even got off the ground during a training flight,

work and church and such are hopeless distractions

Wanders through the department store wondering if every other wife misses this way, does everyone feel the same primal ache?

Dear Jean Crosby terribly worried she’s a freak yet entirely unrepentant for it

But ya know what’s probably funny? Across the ocean Harry Crosby is sometimes so direly missing his wife in the carnal way that he just about spaces out too, and god knows there’s zero privacy anywhere and the showers are the showers but like???? it’s just a no-go most times and everyone gets very confused when he’s in this mood?? Not at all suspecting baser distractions are what’s at play. Somehow someone figured it out, maybe he actually snapped a little about having five seconds to himself while reading a letter and they’re like

OH

And somehow there seems to suddenly be five minutes or so when NO ONE but Crosby is in the showers?!

It only takes him two minutes to get there but he needs to stand there catching his breath and clutching at his heart while he thinks of Jean sprawled beneath him

This is probably Douglass’ doing? Because he’s a good dude, he doesn’t underestimate Croz AND he’s a dirty little bastard himself

“Fellas, the man got himself a wife while half of you guys are virgins? Of course he has urges?”

In a quiet, rare moment, Gale bends his ear -Harry is so modest and low key...unlike some folks *looking at you Bucky*- “So, uh, where'd ya say you and the missus went off to before ya came here?“

Gale’s gotta casually open the door for this conversation “Lots of good sights to see? I, um, haven't done much traveling myself”

It takes Croz a few conversations until he realizes just what Gale means, until then there’s a lot bewildered eyebrows at the inquiry and bashful appreciation for the interest: “Major Cleven I-I already told you, sir, we had a little cabin in the Alleghenies for a week?“

He's been telling Jean about Major Gale Cleven, about how she'd really like him. Gale is a good fella. He tells her about all their "travel talk"

Until one day Jean writes back: “Oh honey, that Cleven of yours is a virgin”

Whether Harry divulges to Gale anything he learned about ladies in that little cabin in the mountains writhing before a fire on a bearskin rug, that first time Harry actually didn’t stop and ask if Jean was dying every time she made a noise but instead, kept going until her cried properly built and she screamed…

well, it was probably an abbreviated account that mostly consisted of “wives are just wonderful people, Major Cleven” with a far off look in his eyes

Gale leaves him to it after all- Harry was married for like 3 seconds before he left, It's literally either playback of the last horrific mission or thinking of the curve of her spine

He gets the dreamiest look on his face, eyes all shiny, mouth a little slack

Somehow these two can be so passionate and yet it’s so wholesome and good and angelic?!!! It’s the allure of them

Because it’s all in these gentle and safe and good boundaries? Like it isn’t complicated and yet it’s not simple and it’s neither settling nor is it turbulent. something to be said for “doing it right”

They genuinely thank God for each other, they’re so sure it was always intended to be just them

I have 1k of headcanons just for the homecoming ok? Y’all will have to request those separate

But once home:

The eye contact they make at social events?? It’s a whole language, the most loving and adorable thing ever

He may not be a real gem of a singer but he’s an excellent hummer. so much gentle humming around the house while he’s fixing the stove light or rocking a baby to sleep or-

You know what I mean don’t you? Some men can just humm and you’re instantly wet? No I don’t mean humming a Billie Holliday tune

I mean humming when you make a new reaction to his incessant fingering while he’s reading, makes him look away from the page and arch a brow, highly inquisitive puppy dog look on his face, reading glasses pulled down.

*a new spot? After all this time? Must investigate further*

This man, when in his element, is a goddamn tease, he’s impossible, he’s goofy, he makes sex the joyous sacrament its supposed to be every damn time and he ain’t shy to remain stark naked for ages

Praise kink for miles in that, once you’ve praised him, he will keep doing whatever earned it for the next two hours. Brace yourself

He can recite your favorite literature passages (he knows them and took pains to memorize them by your tenth anniversary) when he’s gently plowing you from the back with his hand on your neck and your ear lob in between his teeth

He’s a biter my friends -gotta keep quiet somehow, can’t scar the passel of children y’all made, after all

So many excuses given to kids about “mama and I need to talk about the mortgage” -very rarely is mortgage even thought of once the door is closed and locked

But that brings us back to the early days, it’s one thing to know someone so well after all those years but the early days?

Two Virgins named Jean and Harry went straight from the chapel to fucking like Bunnies before he went to war

Harry had done his research tho. All that reading…

Harry Crosby totally ate his wife out on their wedding night.

even though he’d never really seen a full vagina before

he’s a bit methodical, yeah? At first? with a hint of overly flustered and terribly delighted

So I’m just picturing him like hunkering down there, tentative but firm hands on your thighs: “to get my bearings, honey pie” as he takes in the lay of the land

because there’s a lot happening down there on a lady, ok? -there’s petals and more petals and slippery slopes and little buttons and a tiny hole that has to be for pee, no way he’s supposed to go in that one?! but, but she doesn’t have another? Well the backdoo- no can’t even think of that. Oh god ok, ok, vaginal opening, -I guess that’s a vaginal opening?! and due north, a little button that makes her squeak when I touch it. ok ok, might as well start there…

I can see him with a metaphorical pencil behind his ear, ready to jot down notes

Jeanie finally sighs and grips him by the ears and hauls him up for a kiss and just grinds against him and insists it’s lovely

“just kiss me, silly.” she says to him after awhile.

“Mmm, I do like kissing you, Jean” he grins back

he’s naturally kissing his way to her boobs and staying there a lovely long time but she starts pushing at his dark head, *hint hint* lower down her belly and lower, and lower and he’s so caught up he doesn’t even realize it until there’s a sweet little patch of curls under his chin and he looks up with the oddest expression of curiosity and doubt on his face only to be met with Jean’s expectant eyebrow

She wouldn’t want me to?—-*ah, she just face planted me in pussy, ok then*

Lapping at it with the biggest grin, there may or may not have been some noise complaints

the whole apartment complex just knows he’s a good husband, never would peg him as a stud if you met him in the hallway but, Jean sure takes forever to say goodbye to him in the mornings so he must do something right

All the neighbors just can't help but be happy for those two kids

They cook them food and leave the casserole dishes on the landing so they can savor each other for as long as possible before he leaves

Next Sunday they show up at church like dutiful little Americans and they’ve got hickies everywhere and his cheeks are a permanent pink, Her knees are red and raw under her church dress

I feel like maybe they get a little adventurous as their time together draws to a close? Maybe they break a dining room chair? She's too mortified to put it out on the curb

*saves it for 50 years*

Some of those wedding china ends up in pieces on the floor. Can't explain to her aunts why they don't have a full set all of a sudden

i really hope he never loses that occasional hair trigger premature ejaculation tendency.

Sometimes it even shocks him, “O-Oh...shoot”

The last day together is a dismal and precious night

The poor man probably laid there on her sweaty boobs after blowing his last load with the saddest *fml* face on as he processed it being, indeed, his last

But HOMECOMING!

and now the war is over they can set up house and make babies

A small breeding kink, after all, these men marched home from war and basically were told "get a job and let's repopulate for all the boys we lost!"

It’s so damn primal when you think about it but under the veneer of the starched and polished 50’s

Croz can't think straight in that tight little hole, let alone think of the ramifications of another baby

“Give it to me, give me another, come on Harry, we've got an empty space in the Christmas card anyway, think of it!! fill me up baby oh godddd Jesus bless your pretty dick-*

it’s the most mundane reasons and he still busts a nut like she’s some filthy vixen and not his sweet and slightly too optimistic wife

frantic love making with a sweater and socks still on, too

Jean is a writher because the longer they are married the longer he lasts and soon she’s come and he just keeps going and she cannot keep quiet then and he’s too big to ignore or calm down between, just thick enough to always be tugging just right and she fully sobs from it sometimes

Often she’s trying to cup herself?!? Fully spasming and shaking and curling in but his strong forearm is over her belly and his lips on her ear

This man is a god at spooning sex

she is so cock feral when she falls pregnant it almost alarms him

The books didn't say anything about this?! He's exhausted and dehydrated and his classes are suffering as a result

Wants to ask Egan if he encountered this phenomenon

His war buddies become a new father support group

"Hang in there pal, only three more months"

They’ll be in the kitchen just chatting before dinner, she wants to tease him. Scoops a little cherry pie filling onto her finger. He licks it and sucks it off -- bites the finger too, in the background dogs are barking and kids are running amuck

As the Crosbys you’re in for a life of very benign but nauseatingly idyllic Christmas parties.

Snow globes, y’all

Sweaters, spiked eggnog and very well thought out gifts

Harry is the sort to carry Jean's purse when they are out shopping and she is trying on clothes. He also has no problem going and buying her sanitary napkins at the drugstore when she's on her period, because it's completely normal and there's nothing for anyone to be embarrassed about. Basically, he is just stupidly in love with her. He's like a puppy who will always follow, but she doesn't take advantage of that fact (credit to:@noneedtoamputate)

He is Harry “Have You Met My Wife?” Crosby back home, too, it’s even worse when he gets tipsy and his confidence grows and good luck shutting him up about how beautiful she is

This is the sorta man whose kids only learn Daddy was a goddamn boss during the war when they’re outta college, a very casual “oh yeah, that was sort of a thing, pass the salt.”

It’s canon this man cut his own son’s hair all his little life, propped him up on a little stool in the back yard and got to trimming -some of the only times the boy ever heard of those devastating missions

Imagine? Same man who used to take you out on the porch into the night air and rock against his sweater when you were a baby and wouldn’t settle is the same man who bombed the hell outta Fortress Europe

He’s the kind of man whose kids are so enamored over how both sides of the coin could settle in the same man, they end up making a documentary about him

Now I also need you to think of this man at bath time in the early 50’s -Shirt sleeves rolled up, top two buttons on his pristine white button up shirt popped with a peak of chest hair showing through, his curls getting steamed by his kids bubble baths

He’s got the prettiest slightly hairy forearms, y’all -according to Jean at least

Gives himself a bubble beard to make his kids laugh, will stay on his knees watching them play for ages, fully participating

His white shirt gets fully transparent with all this splashing and Jean has to really keep her mind on what’s next when she can so easily see his hair and pretty little nipples pebbled in a chill under them. Stops her whining about water on the floor in seconds.

Harry’s already hushing her and mopping it up with a towel anyway

The Crosby kids will have memories of their idiotically in love and enthralled parents who loved being parents, wrapping their baby selves snuggly into towels and setting them on the counter and just cracking up over how cute they looked with their chubby and shiny widdle faces poking out of terry cloth

Jean and Harry spend a lotta time doing that, they just love their kids, ok?

Brushing their cute little Croz curls

Jean can’t say no to a single one with their sad puppy eyes their daddy gave them

Sometimes they sit the kids in front of the fireplace (they obviously needed a house with a fireplace after that honeymoon) and line them up. Talk about them as if they aren't sitting right there. "Honey, look at those gorgeous eyes -- and his smile! Oh my, who do these cuties belong to?"

But it’s not all placid domesticity. Picture this:

Crosby with a mega phone, organizes a neighborhood Easter egg hunt. He's in charge, his aviators on, taking this so seriously

There are maps, he’s planned this for weeks, some of those traits and skills he picked up during the war come back at the oddest times

this gets even more intense if any of the war buddies are there

Harry writes letters to them strategizing, they all come and bring their own kids

It makes the local paper for being one of the biggest Easter egg hunts the state has ever seen

Night falls, children fall asleep and there are still some eggs left. Armed with booze and flashlights, the boys go out to collect the rest

Harry and Jean don't collect any though, they end up in a bush necking somewhere

Bucky gets very adamant about finding them and Brady is just as adamantly begging him not to

But Major Egan cannot be stopped, he rallies his men, hopping on the kids’ bikes and scooters

Everyone heckling each other in the dark suburban neighborhood

"Ya lost your touch Buck, keep up will ya?"

They all end up in a schnapps induced heap in the Crosby's backyard, long limbs all folded up on too small equipment

Jean and Harry leisurely stroll back up the street under lamp glow to their house where everyone is feral and collapsed and calling loudly for their hosts

Sharing soft little smiles and picking twigs out of each others hair

They tuck these idiot men in on the couches and floor, blankets, sleeping bags and dogs

Hear me out: Jean is the only human able to talk a belligerent Bucky out of his thirtieth beer

She has that sweet way about her that makes every person wanna be a better man for her

When he finally gives in and throws his arm over her little shoulders and swears she’s a good woman, Harry is there with the pan and the aspirin and the blanket

She makes them all the most perfect hangover breakfast the next morning, gingham checked apron stretched over swollen belly

Harry nuzzles her belly when she stops at his plate to dish up the eggs

Everyone wants to gag over how perfectly content these two are but that would be a waste of the best breakfast in the USA

And if Jean happens to make the best baked goods on the block - Croz is making sure everyone knows just who’s muffins those are on the bake sale table. Or if she wants to pursue a career or education? Harry is her biggest cheerleader, doing anything and everything to support her and being sure that everyone knows how incredible she is at what she does. (Credit @blurredcolour)

They may be the sweater wearing, block party and Sunday school couple but don’t think anybody gets away with being snide to Mrs. Jean Crosby -there will be comeuppance, even if it’s just an exquisitely literate verbal evisceration.

There's even more often a roaming band of local kids who kick the shins of everyone who's mean to Mrs. Crosby, because she gives them sweets and feeds them when they're hungry and cleans up their scrapes when play gets too rough and -if Mr. Crosby hands out a comic or two to the boys that "accidentally" tripped some bloke who was harassing his wife, well. All is fair in love and war. (Credit to @promptedwordsmith)

When in the summer of 49 the Crosbies get a swimming pool dug? It might as well be considered public property.

not just the kids who are attached to the crosbies, though. your home is a constant revolving door of visitors - including a bunch of ex-servicemen. if it's not bucky lounging in the pool, or rosie painting the fence in his shirtsleeves because he wanted to be helpful, then douglass is smoking a cigarette in the yard while trying to make you laugh. ev is asking harry to show him how to read this goddamn map bc they're supposed to be taking a trip to the grand canyon in a month, and bubbles is over for dinner every other night. even brady sometimes shows his face, if only to carp at harry for getting them lost over france that one time while working the barbecue because you asked him to. when you and harry bought the house with an extra room you weren't sure you would ever use, you didn't expect it to be occupied as often as a popular hotel. if anyone ever had any bad intentions toward the crosbies, they're definitely rethinking it. those that don't...well. being in the air corps teaches one all sorts of creative ways of getting back at people. (Credit to @fidelias)

Imagine all the different skills the Crosby kids (_and their neighbor friends who never seem to leave_) learn from these guys?

“Oh yeah, Bucky Egan taught me how to swim while wearing his aviators…”

In other words:

Harry Crosby went home and built himself a little Norman Rockwell Camelot and then opened the doors of the kingdom to his buddies and -that’s as it should be.

And that’s not even mentioning how the Air Force and the CIA walked up to his front porch and interrupted a backyard ballgame to ask him for his help

It sucks to be super smart and needed when all ya wanna do is teach literature, go camping and help keep the church life going

But still

Jean sure looked good in Pakistan, the kids enjoyed a new culture and Harry likes to say he may have done some good

[cowboyemeritus]

Cenerentola (Frater Imperator/Reader)

Summary: Copia hosts a gala to celebrate his ascension to head of the Clergy. When things go haywire, it's up to you to keep him safe. In the process, it becomes impossible to avoid your feelings for him any longer.

Content Warning: mild violence, a singular Monty Python reference

Notes: me? writing sfw? it's more likely than you think.

i've been doing a lot of social dancing so naturally that made me think about dancing with copia. i am also a sucker anything remotely cinderella-esque lol. reader is sort of based on an oc of mine.

i don't really know how i feel about this — i had ideas for two related scenes and then had to fill in the gaps from there. sorry it's so long lmao

feedback is always welcome :)

Even amidst the sea of people below, it is impossible for you to miss him. Copia shines like the Morningstar, the candlelight glinting off the ruby brooches and bedazzled collar of his new, freshly pressed suit. All eyes are on him as he spins the delighted young Sister of Sin in his arms, leading her with grace and elegance through the steps of the fast-paced waltz. He’s changed so much in the years since you left the Ministry. Now, with his ascension to head of the Clergy, there are moments where he seems like an entirely different person, exponentially more confident and self-assured than you remember. 

You know his new demeanor, however, betrays a deep-seated anxiety, the product of years of vague threats on his life from the organization he’s now expected to lead. And surely, the irony is not lost on him that the very hall in which he is now dancing sits directly above the crypts, where the bodies of his assassinated brothers lay in eternal repose.

From your position, leaning against a column up on the balcony, you have the entire ballroom in your sights. Every step, every gesture, every side conversation, is under your scrutiny. This was by design. Although Copia, by some miracle, lived to see the end of his reign as Papa, the transition of power has not been an easy one. Threats abound, the old guard of the Clergy still dissatisfied with him, many enraged by his recent promotion. His mother’s scheming was meant to protect him, but now it seems to have backfired, putting him in more danger than ever before. While this gala serves as a way for him to potentially smooth things over with the Upper Clergy, asserting himself as Frater Imperator, he is also making himself vulnerable, open to attacks of all kinds.

As a favor to his predecessor, the woman who taught you everything you know, you begrudgingly agreed to provide additional security around Ministry headquarters. At first, returning to the Abbey, its halls so hauntingly familiar, reminded you of why you left in the first place: decadence, hypocrisy, lies — a message lost in a quagmire of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. Somehow, though, Copia and his ghouls have wormed their way into your frozen heart over these last few months. It was done before you even knew it was happening. Copia has this sort of magnetism about him, some preternatural force that makes it impossible not to be charmed. It was like this even when he was a shy, awkward cardinal. Because of this, although the Clergy wants him gone, he has the distinct advantage of a congregation that completely adores him.

The song ends, and Copia sweeps the Sister into a dip. She giggles, pressing a playful kiss to his cheek. Something in your chest pangs.

At the end of the day, you just work together. It would be foolish of you expect anything more. Still, there’s been an undeniable tension between the two of you since your return to the Ministry. You see the way he looks at you, the way he hangs on to your every word when you speak. But maybe you’re imagining it — you spend so much time around him that perhaps you’ve mistaken proximity for fondness.

You sense a familiar, fiendish presence approaching from behind. “You’re having fun,” Cirrus remarks, entering your field of vision. She has a flute of champagne in each hand and offers one to you. To maintain the illusion of normalcy you accept, taking a small sip of the bubbly, golden liquid.

“We’re on the clock,” you say, eyeing a small group of cardinals that have congregated near the refreshments table. They seem to be merely gossiping. Rain is stationed nearby, carefully observing. “No fun allowed.” The ghoul chuckles, leaning against the balcony railing on her forearms.

“I take it everything’s alright so far?” You nod, thinking back on the hours you spent painstakingly drawing sigils at various locations around the Abbey, setting up one massive alarm spell. If anything supernatural tries to get in, you’ll know. All that’s left is to be on the lookout for any natural, more human threats. You swallow down a lump in your throat, hoping your preparations will be enough.

“Try to relax, then,” Cirrus coaxes, sipping her own drink. There’s a pause. “You should go dance with him.” You feel your cheeks heat up, but keep your composure.

“I don’t have time to mess around,” you state bluntly. Your posture sags a bit. “He’s busy, anyway.” Copia is leading another Sister onto the dance floor, taking the starting position as the ghoul band strikes up another tune. You zero in on the hand resting on her hip, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. It looks like her dress doesn’t have any pockets; the probability of her concealing anything is low.

Cirrus places a clawed hand on your shoulder and gives you a playful jostle. “For you? He’ll make time.” You give her a quizzical look and she winks, straightening back up before taking her leave. “Do it!” She calls. “I’ve got good money on you two getting together!” Your mouth hangs slightly agape, watching as she descends the stairs to rejoin the party.

You take another, longer sip of your champagne, relishing in the sensation of bubbles tickling your tongue. It helps take the edge off, if only a little. You remain up on your perch for another long while. Copia eventually abandons dancing in favor of strolling through the crowd, greeting and shaking hands with various high-profile guests. It’s harder to keep track of him this way, even from your vantage point, so once your glass is empty you descend the stairs, entering the fray for yourself. To your relief, no one pays you any mind as you weave through the mass of bodies. You spot a truly nameless ghoul carrying a tray of empty glassware and flag them down, depositing your glass. You’re about to find a better place to camp out when someone taps you on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, signorina strega.” You turn and sure enough, it’s Copia. He’s holding out a hand. “May I have this dance?” Multiple pairs of eyes are now focused on you. Swallowing hard, you flush, smiling nervously. It’s a little more attention than you’d like, but you reason that within arms reach of him is the best place to be right now.

It’s completely logical, not motivated by anything else.

“Of course, Frater Imperator,” you reply, bowing your head slightly. You make it a point to use his full title in front of the guests. “I would be honored.” Gingerly, you take his hand, and he leads you to the dance floor. You pick up your pace a bit so that you’re able to whisper in his ear. “I’m not very good.” Copia gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Do not worry. Just follow my lead.” As the last few bars of the current song play, Copia guides you into the starting position, placing his right hand delicately on your hip and holding the left out for you to take. You try not to think about how, even through the leather of his gloves, his hand is so warm. Having difficulty looking him in the eye, you glance over his shoulder in the brief moment of silence between songs. You see Cirrus, Rain, and Swiss gathered by the refreshments table, watching you with shit-eating grins plastered across their faces. The air ghoul flashes you a thumbs-up and you have to resist the urge to destroy her with your mind.

“Ready?” As if on cue, the band resumes playing. You recognize the song instantly: Waltz No. 2, Shostakovich. How woefully on brand. The dance begins, Copia stepping forward with his left foot while you, mirroring him, step back with the right. It’s easy enough to follow him after that, stepping to your left as he steps right, then forwards to start all over again.

“One, two, three. One, two, three. You’re a natural.” Once you find a steady rhythm, you’re able to look up from your feet and actually start to enjoy the feeling of whirling around the room.

“How are things?” He asks, clearly trying to remain nonchalant. There are so many eyes on you, and from the crowd you sense intrigue, amusement, and a significant amount of jealously.

“Fine, so far,” you reply through a smile, trying to make it as difficult as possible for people to read your lips. Copia nods.

“Bene.” A few beats pass. “Thank you for all your hard work. I appreciate you coming back after...” He looks away for a moment. “I appreciate it.” You didn’t do it for him and he knows that, but his expression of gratitude makes heat bloom in your chest nonetheless.

“I’m glad I did,” you say without thinking. “This place is different now. Good different, because of you.” Copia smiles, the skin around the corners of his eyes crinkling. He raises his left arm and you pass under it in a spin, feeling lighter than air.

“I had hoped you would be able to enjoy yourself tonight,” he admits, a hint of guilt in his eyes. “Instead it seems you are just fretting over me.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

“It’s that ego of yours I’m worried about,” you tease. “Pretty soon there won’t be room for anyone else in this Ministry.” Both of you laugh at this.

“I had better check myself, then,” Copia says, running a hand through his mousy brown hair. “I would hate to see you leave again.” That catches you off guard and you nearly trip, but his hand finds your hip again, keeping you stable. By now, you’re certain he’s noticed the blush on your cheeks.

“Don’t worry. I’m not-“

Somewhere, an invisible thread snaps. It makes your stomach lurch, the color draining from your face. You pause, your playful expression melting away as you try to pinpoint the source of the disruption. The South Wing. It’s approaching fast. When you return to this plane Copia is looking at you with concern.

“I have to go,” you say quietly. He doesn’t have time to respond before you exit the dance floor, heading for the large double doors at the other end of the ballroom. It’s hard not to shove people out of the way as you duck and weave through the crowd. Dewdrop is at the entrance, minding his post, but as you approach it’s clear from the rigidity of his small body that he’s been waiting for you. He follows you wordlessly out into the hall. Kicking off your heels, the two of you take off in the direction of the intrusion. You internally curse your foolishness for talking yourself out of wearing sneakers, or even flats.

“It’s something nasty,” he says once you’re out of earshot of any guests. You can only nod in agreement, hoping the two of you are enough to deal with whatever this foul thing is.

You round the corner to the South Wing and stop dead in your tracks. The sight before you makes your blood run could. Charging towards you is a hulking creature, easily Mountain’s height but with Aether’s bulk. It’s clearly a humanoid figure, but its edges are poorly defined, a mist-like quality to them. Still, you observe shapes that resemble horns and a tail, and that tells you all you need to know: a rogue ghoul, not bound to this plane by a contract. As such, it’s less of a consolidated form and more of rampaging ball of fiendish energy. This information helps you narrow down the list of potential culprits exponentially.

There’s no time to dwell on that, though. The creature is headed straight for you, no doubt attracted to the smell of your human flesh. Before you can react, Dew puts himself between you and the ghoul, ready to engage. He’s strong in spite of his small size, but the odds of him defeating this massive a beast on his own, especially one this energized, are slim. You realize he’s buying you time to cast a spell, and immediately you formulate a plan in your head. It will take some time to accomplish, but if he can hold off this monstrosity for long enough, you should be able to successfully banish it back to the Pit without endangering him as well. Planting your feet, you take a deep breath, letting your eyes shut. There’s a whoosh of warm air as Dew charges the rogue ghoul. Energy begins to flow through you as you chant under your breath, crafting the spell. A metallic taste fills your mouth, the air crackling with static.

You’re about halfway through the incantation when the sound of a body hitting the floor breaks through your wall of concentration. The creature roars, forcing you to crack an eye open just in time to see it lunge at you. It’s covered in scratches and burns, but Dew is ultimately the one on the ground, desperately trying to pick himself back up. You’re only just able to side-step, the spell breaking as you focus all of your energy on surviving the next few seconds. You’re frantically backpedaling when it swipes at you, claws catching you in the side. You cry out as it tears through the flimsy red fabric of your dress, leaving three long gashes in its wake that begin bleeding immediately. Though profoundly painful it’s a superficial wound; if you had been stationary, there’s no doubt it would have disemboweled you. 

Your back hits the wall. Dew shouts your name but you just stand there, frozen. The creature is about to pin you when a large body slams into it from the side, knocking it to the ground. You immediately recognize the form as Aether, and looking in the direction from whence he came you see Cirrus, Swiss, Rain, Mountain, Sunshine, and Phantom, all approaching with teeth and claws bared. Cirrus gets to you first, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the scuffling ghouls.

“Are you-“ She finally notices you clutching your side, blood seeping into your dress. “Oh shit, are you okay?” You nod, lifting your hand to show her it’s minor. Phantom is helping Dew to his feet. He seems alright other than a few scratches, the fall appearing to have knocked the wind out of him more than anything.

“I’m fi-” Your heart nearly stops. “Is someone watching Imperator?”

“Cumulus and Aurora are with him,” she says. “They’ve got it under control.” You let out a relieved sigh, shoulders dropping. It’s only now you that you notice how much tension you’ve been holding in your body all night. Your body trembles with excess adrenaline.

Aether lets out a frustrated growl. You barely have time to look in his direction before the rogue ghoul, having slipped out of his grasp, hurls itself out of one of the long, gothic windows lining the hallway. Bits of stained glass go flying, scattering across the marble floor tiles. The creature is smart enough to recognize it’s been outnumbered. One-by-one the members of the pack leap through the broken portal, none of them too keen on letting the intruder escape. Dew tries to follow, clearly excited about the prospect of a hunt, but Cirrus shoos him away from the window.

“Go clean yourselves up,” she orders, perched on the ledge. It’s directed mostly at you. “We’ll take it from here.” With that, she jumps down, disappearing from view as the sound of the pack whooping and howling fades into the distance.

Twenty some-odd minutes and a round of healing magick later, you and Dew are sitting out on the steps of the back patio, passing a cigarette back-and-forth. By now, the rogue ghoul has most certainly been torn to ribbons. There could still be threats lurking, but for as much as you’d like to go find Copia, you’re nowhere near presentable and would prefer not to incite panic, or suspicion, among the guests. Besides, you’re hardly capable of doing anything now, your energy completely drained by the evening’s events. You only had enough juice left to stop your cuts from bleeding; anything physically strenuous would certainly reopen the wounds. For now, you’re content to enjoy the cool autumn air, knowing he’s in capable hands.

“There you are.” Speak of the Devil. You look over your shoulder and Copia is stepping out into night, flanked by Cumulus and Aurora. Clutched in one hand are your strappy red heels, and it’s only now that you realize you’re still barefoot. Dew, with a quiet groan, rises to his feet and climbs the stairs, passing Copia as he descends.

“We’re going to go take care of this one,” Cumulus says, draping an arm over the fire ghoul’s shoulder. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but for a moment you swear she winks at you. Dew tries to shrug her off with a huff, and the girls giggle. Copia nods approvingly.

“Thank you, miei cari. We will debrief in the morning.” The three ghouls turn and step back inside, leaving you and Copia on the stairs. Your heart beats a little faster with the realization that you two are alone, although you tell yourself it’s because you won’t be able to defend him in this state. There’s definitely no other reason.

“Your glass slippers, my lady.” You roll your eyes and reach out to take your shoes from Copia, but he refuses to hand them over, kneeling on the stair below you. “Allow me, per favore.”

This might as well be happening. Lifting your foot up, you grant him permission to assist you. Copia slides the first shoe back on, holding your calf with one hand. Again, you can’t help but notice how warm and gentle his touch is. 

“I’m sorry for running off,” you say, needing to break the silence. “I hope you didn’t think that-“

“Not at all. I figured that something was, eh, ‘going down.’” When he looks up he finally notices the gashes in your side. He hisses, wincing. “Ahia! That looks like it hurts.”

You wave him off. “’Tis but a scratch.” He looks like he’s going to protest, clearly upset, but instead opts to tighten the strap of your shoe before moving on to the next foot.

“What happened?” He asks, starting the process over again.

“Rogue ghoul,” you explain, looking out into the forest at the edge of the lawn. “Likely the work of Cardinal Ambrosius. He’s gotten in trouble for trying to make contracts before. Doesn’t look like he’s quite figured it out, though. I can have his head on your desk by Monday morning, if you’d like.” 

Copia laughs through his nose. “You are absolutely vicious, mia strega.”

You shrug. “Just doing my job.” Once Copia finishes with your other shoe he stands, offering you his hand.

“Walk with me?” 

You give him a hesitant look. “I don’t want to keep you from your guests.” He scoffs.

“I have had enough of those two-faced pricks for one night. A lifetime, even.” His expression softens. “But if you are not up for it, I-“

“No!” You shoot up, taking his hand. It startles him a little bit. “I’m good. Let’s go.” Copia smiles, the moonlight sparkling in his eyes. Like an obedient  lamb, you let him lead you down the rest of the stairs and across the patio to where a walkway wraps around the side of the building. He’s taking you to the gardens, it seems. Though your legs feel like jelly, the walk isn’t very long, which you’re thankful for.

The gardens aren’t really a sight to behold this time of year, but the full moon bathes everything in a mesmerizing blue glow, giving the space a dreamlike quality. The ballroom is just up another set of stairs, the music still audible where you emerge. You stop by the fountain, a marble visage of Lilith pouring water from a bottomless goblet. The water is still running, providing a little extra ambiance.

“Care to dance?” Copia asks. “We were so tragically interrupted before.”

“I…” Damn you and your nerves. You’re blushing again. “I don’t want to get blood all over you.”

Still, he persists, shrugging. “It’s a black suit.” It’s hard to say no to that face, but the McQueen jacket? Really? He gives you a pleading look and your resolve instantly crumbles.

“Alright.” It’s all but a whisper. “But go easy on me.”

You don’t wait for the next song to start, you simply get in position and go from there. It’s slower than what you danced to before, and you two end up just swaying to the rhythm rather than following any steps. That’s fine with you, your legs are still shaking, though you can’t tell if it’s from exertion or something else entirely.

“You look beautiful,” Copia says after a few measures. In that time you two have drifted closer together, only a few inches between you now. It’s hard to look him in the eyes when your face is so embarrassingly red, so you choose to stare at the ground.

“I’m a mess.” You laugh, but there’s something bitter in it as your eyes wander to your soiled dress, torn and bloody. There was a silly, naive part of you that had been thinking of Copia when you selected it for this evening. He stops swaying, a hand finding your chin and gently lifting your head. In your opinion, he’s the beautiful one, practically glowing in the moonlight. 

“Nonsense. You are the fairest of them all, cara.” You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth draw up into a slight smile.

“You’re getting your fairytales mixed up.” The two of you share a laugh before dissolving into a few moments of comfortable silence. You can tell he’s thinking about something, and he looks away, clearly nervous.

“Did you mean what you said about coming back?” The question catches you off guard for a second.

“I did,” you finally respond. “I really did. This place feels like home again.” Swallowing, you decide to take a bit of a leap. “Did you mean what you said, about me leaving?” You haven’t discussed it in a long time, but when you first took the job, the understanding was that this was only a temporary arrangement, lasting at least until Copia was able to settle into his new position. The notion pains you now. He nods.

“Yes. I-“ He chuckles. “I cannot stand the thought. Signorina strega, say that you will stay with us, with me.”

You don’t even need to think about it. “I will. Of course I will.” Copia beams, and the sight is breathtaking. There’s another pause, the air between you charged with an energy more powerful than magick. In the ballroom, the final notes of the song ring out, though you hardly notice. A bomb could go off next to you, but even that wouldn’t be enough to pull you out of this moment.

“Beautiful…” You don’t protest when he cups your flushed cheek, running his thumb across the bone. “May I kiss you?” It takes everything you have to not melt into a puddle.

“Please.”

And then his lips — Sathanas, they’re soft —  are on yours. Stars explode behind your eyes as he presses into you, the hand on your hip to pulling you in closer. His body is so warm against you; it feels so right. Your heart is racing, head spinning, as the euphoria overtakes you. 

He kisses you until you’re both out of breath. When he finally pulls away, you want to chase after him, to kiss him until your lips fall off, but then your knees buckle. Copia is just barely able to catch you, letting out a surprised little noise you can’t help but find adorable. He seems less concerned when he sees you’re grinning like an idiot.

“Alas, I have killed her!” You both laugh as he helps you regain your balance. “Why don’t we sit down?” Humming in agreement, he leads you over to the fountain, sitting you down on the edge. He brushes a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “Are you sure you are alright?”

“Just peachy,” you say, gazing at your intertwined hands. “It’s been a long night.” Feeling bold and still a bit woozy, you bring Copia’s hand to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. 

“Ah, young love.” You both jolt, heads snapping in the direction of the voice. Before you stand the glowing specters of Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator. The old man has a wistful, nostalgic look on his face, while your former teacher observes with her arms crossed. How long have they been watching you? “Just like we once were, don’t you think?” Imperator huffs.

“I sure hope not.” Her focus falls on you. The wrath in her translucent blue yes makes your blood freeze. “You think you’re good enough for my son, girl?” For a moment, you’re completely speechless.

“I-“

“Are you two serious right now,” Copia shouts. “Get out of here! Go on! Get!” He gets up from the fountain to shoo them away. Imperator gives you a pointed look before dissolving into a blue mist. Her message is clear: this isn’t over. You gulp.

Copia groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe those two. I finally get to have my moment with you, and then they go and spoil it!” He flops back down next to you, sighing. “I am sorry, bella. I understand if-“

“Forget about it,” you say, holding up your hand to silence him. “Just kiss me, like, forever.”

Copia happily obliges.