#my head is swimming with hate fucking one shots

[loveshotzz]

uhohuhohUHOH

😳😳😳😳

HOW COULD YOU PUT THIS IN MY ASKS?!?!

[anonymityisfunwriter]

get him back!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: You established that he's a bad idea. You know that. You know there's a million and one reasons to stay away from him. And you will - probably. But first, you have to get him back.

bad idea right? | get him back! | love is embarrassing Anon's 1K Celebration

you watch him or maybe you're just glaring at him. you know that he knows he’s pissing you off. you also know you have no real claim to your ex boyfriend. you weren’t sure what the rules were for bed buddies.

you knew one thing for sure.

you were going to get bucky barnes back.

“you’re staring.”

your head jerks over to natasha. “what?”

she rolls her eyes and slides you a shot, “you’re staring.”

you toss back the shot with a wince as bucky grins down at the random girl he just started flirting with. it sounds like an even better idea now. you’re going to get him back. you’re just not sure how.

“i assume it’s not going well.”

you were never going to admit that to your biggest supporter, your best friend. who was also the biggest critic of your love life, or just the biggest critic of your relationship with bucky. “it’s fine.”

“i told you it was a bad idea. exes are exes for a reason.”

you really hate her 'i told you so' tone.

you already knew that. you knew that there was a logical reason he was an ex. there were actually a lot of reasons why he was an ex.

his habit of arguing with you about everything.

his temper.

his massive… ego.

did that stop you from ending up in his bed? no.

did your month long exes with benefits affair stop him from flirting with that girl across the bar when you were standing right there? also no.

he was just so much fun. and really sweet - at least most of the time. and it really is unfair how pretty he is. and when he said something wrong, he’d kiss you until you forgot your own name, let alone what he did to piss you off.

you’re torn between wanting him back in your bed or maybe setting his bed on fire.

but you’re going to get him back. one way or another.

tonight, alcohol making your head swim with bad ideas. you’ll start by making him jealous. two could play at that game. and you could play it so much better than he could.

you leave natasha without another word and you sidle up to the booth your friends occupied, slinging an arm over sam’s shoulder, “hey, sam?”

he quirks an eyebrow and huffs a laugh, “yeah?”

you stroke his arm up and down, “how would you feel about pissing bucky off?”

“sounds promising.”

your smirk grows into a wicked grin. “perfect.”

“two questions.” sam stops you in your tracks. “how drunk are you? and what are the chances that i get my teeth knocked in at the end of this?”

“not that drunk. and about 50/50,” you admit, reaching out to playfully stroke his cheek, “but we’ll stop before we do anything that’ll make him mess up your pretty face.”

sam’s hand catches yours, keeping it pressed against his cheek. he teasingly grins, “has anyone told you how big of a fucking flirt you are?”

“all the time.”

he kisses the back of your hand with a sly grin, “then, let’s do it.”

you lace your fingers with sam’s, pulling him to the dance floor. not close enough to bucky that it's obvious, but just enough that there's no way he'll miss you dancing with his beloved frenemy.

you wrap your arms around sam's neck, pulling him close enough that you can feel his whiskey breath dust your face. “call me crazy, but couldn’t you just talk to him?”

“we aren’t very good at that.”

just last week, you tried that. you poured your little heart out, but just as you were about to hit send, you heard natasha’s disapproving tone echoing through your head.

the last time, the fight that led to your breakup, you told him how he hurt you and he brushed you off. yet another reason he was an ex.

did he try to make up for it? yes. were you being stubborn? also yes.

“no shit.” sam grips your waist, lowering his hand just enough to teeter out of the friendly territory. “he’s looking… this is okay, right?”

“you’re perfect, sam.”

sam snorts at you, “flirt.”

“is he still looking?”

sam presses you closer to him for another moment. “he just looked away, but he looks pissed. i’m pretty sure he’s gonna to kick my ass.”

it’s childish. you won’t try to deny it. and as twisted as it sounds, you have no reservations about breaking his heart - so long as you’re the one to stitch it up.

you press yourself into sam a little more, “he’s going to love me and hate me at the same time.”

sam loosens his grip on you, quirking an eyebrow, “so you’ll play games with each other and just pretend that sleeping with each other for the past month means nothing?”

“that shithead told you?”

“oh please," sam scoffs. "you two were so obvious. even steve figured it out.”

“the asshole didn’t tell me that you all knew,” you grumble.

“did you tell him that wanda and natasha know?”

no, you didn’t mention that little tidbit of information to him either, but sam clearly knows that so you don't bother to respond to him.

“i didn’t think so.”

sam spins you around halfway, stopping when your back is pressed against his chest. he drapes an arm around you and whispers in your ear, “and i say this will all the love and respect in the world, but you’re literally doing all this to fuck with him. it’s pretty obvious.”

“maybe i just wanted an excuse to dance with you,” you tease.

“fuck off,” he laughs, turning you back to face him. “i’m serious, though, you two could solve 90 percent of your problems if you just talked to each other.”

“or maybe i can fix him.”

“how about you start with some honesty? see where that gets you.”

you shake your head, groaning at the advice. “i love you, sam.”

“love you too. enough to risk getting the beat down of a lifetime,” he points out. "by the way, he ditched the girl. he's sulking at the bar by himself now."

“i’ll talk to him," you promise. "only so he doesn’t kill you. the rest of your advice was bullshit.”

sam playfully rolls his eyes, “of course. i’d expect nothing less from the two of you.”

"thanks for the dance, sam."

"anytime."

and with that, you part ways. you head outside into the cold night. you don’t need to look to know that he’s storming after you.

“what the hell do you think you're doing?” he demands, immediately invading your personal space.

you angrily clutch the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in towards you, “getting you back.”

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[sunsents]

Neteyam - Reacting to your death

Hey y'all, how y'all doing 😟? It's been a year since I published something but I am in my avatar era. I will post an announcement about where I've been, but enjoy(?) this heavy angsty.

Summary —> You're on your last breath, and Neteyam has a hard time accepting it.

Pairing: neteyamsully x !reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 1024

Warnings: blood/angst/mentions of a g*n/sad neteyam

DON’T REPOST MY WORK

Sharp pain was all you could feel when you jumped down the ship. It was that short moment of pushing Neteyam before you to minimize exposure that the realization hit you; you followed after him without thinking twice about the consequences, yet again.

Your ears rang in the otherwise silent ocean, like the water completely separated itself from the unnatural, unnecessary and foreign violence happening in the surface. A sigh of relief, contentment, serenity, until you're resurfucing again - or rather, struggling to.

"Fuck," you sputter, feeling a strange loss.

Lo'ak shouts after you to hurry up, but you can't, and it frustrates you. You hate falling behind, no matter how dire the injury is. "You sxkawng," gasping and trying to hold onto something, crimson surrounds you. "I'm shot."

Everyone stills.

Neteyam's head whips around with nothing but pure, unadulterated horror. His eyes fall on your pained face, then the bullet wound on your chest. You can see dark shadows casting over his face, the tremor of his hands, the slowing of his breath - all working together to keep his gears turning you assume. He quickly swims forward. "Quick, the Ilu."

You feel yourself being held around your body - suddenly, warmth feels like an unfamiliar concept. When had you become so cold to the outside world? When had you closed yourself off that warmth was foreign?

Though in odd, you fashion, you're not panicking. You're just lying there, gazing at the sky and letting chaos erupt around you. Sounds are muffled, and you don't know what's happening but you can only assume they're taking you to land.

The sky looks uncharacteristically blue - against all odds you've found yourself in. Eywa is in mourning.

Maybe it's because you cannot fathom that you, your own life, cannot end. You feared losing loved ones, but never feared nor thought about dying. It's not like you were immortal of course, one day you were going to leave the physical world and join the all mother amongst your family.

You just didn't think it would happen this soon. And you still think against it - you think against it when Mr Sully lays you down on cold rock, when he turns you over to inspect something, and when he looks at you with a faraway look.

"Dad," Neteyam chokes out.

Everything hurts and you start struggling to breath. Light headed, that's when you stop thinking  all together.

"Am I-" you gasp for air, surprised that you, out of all people, is struggling to speak. You were quite chatty, at least that's what they told you. "Am I, dying?"

"No!" yells Neteyam, he's cupping your head with his palm, not letting your head touch the cold surface. "You're not dying, ____!"

He's sobbing, and you look around the faces of the people you consider loved ones. Lo'ak is wide  eyed, staring at your probably paled face. He looks in utter agony and...confusion? Mr. Sully is crying, this is the first time you have seen him cry - be so vulnerable. He was Toruk Makto, so he'd always dismiss you with a nod, sometimes crack a joke here and there but stay stern all the while. He was clutching your hand, his own shaking. Kiri was just now arriving at the little land formation, and the look of her horror on her face brings tears to your eyes. You were dying - no. You were dead, it was final.

You try to calm your breathing, an obscene contrast to the gushing blood on your chest. You couldn't speak, but you could feel. And you were feeling the love of the people around you - and with the intensity of it, you deemed it a worthy way to go.

Neteyam however, was cluthing on your hand, hard. "You are not leaving me ____....Dad!" he sobs, a wretched sound breaking through his chest as he doubles over your body and shudders. "Do something!"

He's yelling, screeching even. His dad looks in anguish at his son's state, or perhaps because he feels utterly helpless at saving you.

"It's okay, Neteyam." you say softly, in a very wispy voice; "You're going to be okay."

You smile, and he screams, trashing and hugging your body to his chest. You try to push him away, but to no avail. Your limbs have fallen weak, you have already accepted the pain. "No!" he screams again, chest reverbeting against your deflating form.

"No, no, no, no!"

Mr Sully grabs ahold of his son and softly pulls him back, seperating him from you, "Son, please," his voice sounds broken.

Lo'ak is silent beside you, head held down, shuddering. Warm droplets are hitting your arm, and you can only guess it's tears. Kiri is on her knees, begging To Great Mother.

But you know it's final. And you don't feel too sad about it. You'd get to be with your parents, and Eywa, and all that. You'd be happy, you know you would be.

"____! No, I have to tell-" Neteyam gasps, trashing in his fathers hold. "I love you, I see you. Please,"

You're eyes have finally glazed over, you're gone.

You hadn't heard, and that only breaks Neteyam more. He screams in agony, clawing at your body, shaking you so, somehow, miraculously, you would open your eyes, tell him you love him and that you wan't to spend the rest of your life with him.

But there is no, "rest”. This was it for you, this was your life. When you had told him that you wanted to spend your life exploring Pandora, this was the extent. You would never have that, you will never be able to fulfill your dream because this day was the entirety of your future and present.

Neteyam is helpless. He had somehow escaped his fathers hold and was hugging your lifeless body close to his. Shrieks were ripping from his throat, desperately trying to transfer some sort of energy into your limbs. He could feel his mother's warmth surround him, a weak force pulling him back. "Please, don't. Let me hold her."

He sounded so broken, empty, purposeless that his mother and father break down as well.

[fandomxpreferences]

It's Me, I'm The April fool

Funny Story Universe

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Mitchell!Reader, Platonic!Bradley Bradshaw x female!reader

TW:mentions of pregnancy, brief mention of breeding kink I think thats it

Summary: Bradley really needs to learn to mind his own business.

Word Count:2.1k

"Well, fuck."

You and Jake stare down at the two pink lines in disbelief, thoughts coming and going at warp speed. Jake is borderline buzzing with happiness and excitement but waits to see your reaction before showing it. 

He looks at the side of your face, trying to get a read on what you're feeling. Truth be told, you aren't sure. There's a mixture of glee and excitement, you know that much. You love Jake more than anything, and the idea of having a mini Seresin running around causes your heart to swell with love. 

Overpowering all of that though, at the very forefront of your mind flashing in giant neon letters, is fear. Not fear of becoming a mother or of Jake running for the hills never to be seen again, but fear of your dad.

He specifically told you to be careful, yet here you are, staring parenthood in the face. It almost makes you laugh because you know exactly when you got pregnant. It happened the same night Mav found out and nearly had a heart attack just at the prospect of you dating Jake. 

In your defense, you usually were careful. It's not your fault that your dad didn't learn his lesson about tempting you and Jake. It also doesn't help that Jake fucking Seresin has one massive breeding kink. You weren't exactly complaining at the time.

"Talk to me, baby. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

You're broken from your trance and turn to face your boyfriend. 

"Dad is going to kill us." 

Jake has the nerve to laugh, and you smack his arm with a scowl. 

"It's not funny, Seresin!" 

He manages to get his laughter under control, stifling tiny giggles as he tries to put on a serious face. 

"He's not going to kill you. You're his only child and carrying his only grandchild. Me, on the other hand? Let's hope the only thing he finds worse than a grandchild out of wedlock is a bastard grandchild."

Jake can see you trying not to laugh at his antics, and his stomach flips when he manages to get a smile out of you. 

"There's my pretty girl. We'll figure out Mav later, okay?"

You scoff and roll your eyes, settling back on the counter with your arms crossed. 

"Yeah, because that worked out so well last time." 

He pokes your sides and you almost hate how he manages to cheer you up even in the tensest situations. Almost.

"Well, now we know. I'll make sure to climb to a higher surface so he can't reach me." His face is completely deadpan, and you snort. 

"You're fucking ridiculous." 

Two weeks later, you've both fallen in love with the little bean, and you've had to physically drag Jake out of the baby section in every store you've set foot in. 

You're just leaving the doctor's office, a small black and white sonogram tucked into Jake's back pocket. You're twelve weeks along, and Jake is riding a high only comparable to racing through the skies.

The two of you chat in the car on the way to the Hard Deck; you're supposed to meet the team for drinks. You are still figuring out how to get around that, seeing as no one knows about your little surprise. 

"Do you think they'll have my eyes?" Jake asks, and love explodes in your chest. 

"I hope so. Honestly, I think they'll be a carbon copy of you." 

The thought makes his head swim, and he's consumed by images of a little blonde-haired boy or girl running around with his self-assured attitude. He knows they're going to be a handful, between his arrogance and your ability to charm anyone that looks your way. He can't wait. 

You stroll into the bar, immediately sitting by the pool tables to watch a heated game between Rooster and Coyote. The next couple of hours is spent laughing and making bets on who will win. 

It's not until Rooster orders a round of shots that you start to panic, and Jake can see the way your pupils widen as you try to think of an excuse. The tequila is set down in front of you, and you just stare at it. 

Jake slams his back, and when he's sure no one is looking, he takes yours too. You give him a grateful smile and pray that this isn't a night of heavy drinking. If Jake is doing double, he's going to end up getting his stomach pumped. 

Unbeknownst to you, Bradley does see the interaction and frowns but decides not to say anything. Maybe you're just not feeling well. He doesn't give it much more thought. 

But then, when everyone is leaving and he's walking with you to Jake's truck, something happens. Jake drops something, and when he bends down to pick it up, he sees a little white square sticking out of his pocket. 

He doesn't think twice as he plucks it out and looks at it, always too nosy for his own good. 

You freeze when you see it in his hands, and Bradley's face is as white as a ghost. His eyes rake over the image for a solid minute as you and Jake watch, waiting for the impending explosion. 

"What the fuck am I looking at?" Bradley whispers, and you gulp. 

He peers down at you and takes in the way you're wringing your hands and shifting back and forth. 

"Y/N, what the fuck am I looking at?"

His voice is almost too calm, and you think you broke him for a second. Jake glances between the two of you but remains silent. He's almost certain that if he dares to utter a single word right now, Bradley will be on him, and unlike Mav, he could do severe damage. 

"Surprise?" 

Bradley looks like he's about to faint and vaguely registers bile rising in his throat. 

"No, nope. This is a prank, right? I know you're not dumb enough to get pregnant when Mav expressly told you not to. Maybe Hangman, but not my baby sister." 

You chew on your lip, and Bradley has to fully walk away for a second before rounding back and halting in front of you. 

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you get off on pissing off Mav or something? You're going to be a single mom!" 

He's practically yelling at this point, and you shush him harshly before yanking him closer to the truck, away from prying ears. 

"No, I'm not, Bradley. Jake isn't going anywhere." 

He gives you a bewildered look and throws his hands up in the air, doing a complete spin to try and process the new information.

"Maybe not by choice, but Mav is going to kill him! I don't mean get angry and yell. I mean full military service, casket in the ground kill him. He just told you three months ago not to get her pregnant out of wedlock." 

He's facing Jake now, and you have to credit the blonde pilot for never wavering in the face of adversity. 

"Well, I actually have a solution to that problem." He shrugs. 

You and Bradley both look at him expectantly. If he has any ideas, you have yet to hear them. 

"We could just elope." 

Bradley barks out a disbelieving laugh, but you don't find the matter funny at all. Marry Jake? Usually, the thought of marrying a man you've been with for less than a year would send you sprinting in the opposite direction, but this isn't any man. 

It's Jake, the man that makes you laugh when you're crying and always eats your mushrooms because you can't stand the texture. The man who was so over the moon at becoming a father that once he knew you were okay, fell to his knees and hasn't stopped talking to your non-existent belly since. 

You're already attached to him for life, and the thought has crossed your mind. You don't hate it. 

"Jake, don't marry me just because I got knocked up." You sigh, and he shakes his head. 

"No, I've been thinking about this since that first night. Just seemed too crazy. It makes perfect sense, though, and Y/N Seresin has a nice ring to it. 

You smile brightly at the sentiment and slowly nod your head. 

"Okay, let's do it. Let's elope."

Bradley lets out a sound akin to a wounded animal, and you're suddenly reminded that he's there. 

"This is the worst idea I've ever heard. Mav will think you're doing it out of obligation and try to stop it. You can't be serious."

You ponder for a few seconds, and Bradley can almost read your thoughts. He doesn't like the look on your face, the one you get right before you drag him into one of your harebrained schemes. 

"So we won't tell him until after."

You say it as if it's the most simple thing in the world, and Bradley's knees almost give out. This is the worst deja vu he's ever had; how the fuck does he keep getting wrapped up in this shit?

"No, absolutely not. Last time you said that I aged ten years in six months. You're pregnant. You can't just hide this for months. How far along are you?"

You release an agitated sigh and lean up against Jake's hood. 

"Twelve weeks."

Bradley's eyes widen, and you would almost feel bad if it didn't look so funny. 

"Twelve wee- what did you get pregnant the night he told you not to?" 

You know it's a rhetorical question but answer anyway. 

"Yeah, actually. It's kind of funny when you think about it." 

Bradley actually sits on the gravel this time, staring ahead into the abyss. 

"It's actually not funny, and I wish I could think about literally anything else. Why am I always the one that has to keep a secret? I hate keeping secrets." 

He's whining, and you stifle a laugh. 

"Because you're always sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You do this to yourself."

He shoots you a mean glare, and you nudge him with your knee.

"Cheer up. This means you get to be the witness."

His head snaps to look up at you, and his mouth falls open.

"Objection!"

Your eyebrows shoot up, and you choke on a laugh. 

"You can't scream objection in a private conversation, Roos."

He leaps to his feet, and you adjust the angle of your head to stare up at him. 

"Well, I just did. It's one thing to ask me to hide something like this. But you want me to witness your elopement and not tell anyone?"

Jake finally steps in and subtly nudges Bradley back a few inches; he's gotten a little too close for his liking. 

"Well, you're the only one who knows. Besides, it should be someone important to us. We'll have the big wedding after all this is said and done."

Bradley stares him down for a second and ponders the idea. 

"You think I'm important?"

Jake scoffs and throws his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him. 

"That's what you took away from that?"

Bradley nods, and Jake closes his eyes, already regretting his next words. 

"If I say yes, then will you do it?"

You look on with amusement and give Bradley your best puppy dog eyes. 

"Guess you'll have to find out."

Jake pinches the bridge of his nose and tilts his head back to look at the sky. 

"Fine. Yes, you are important to both of us, and we would love it if you were the one to be there."

The words are almost like acid on his tongue, and he'll never forgive the grinning pilot for making him say it. 

"Okay, I'll do it. But you have to tell Mav soon!" He points his finger at you, and you recoil. 

"Don't point that thing at me, Bradshaw." 

He lowers his hand, and you clap, giddy at the impending nuptials.

"Okay, we'll put it together and let you know. Right now, I want nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep. This kid is sucking the life out of me."

Bradley snorts and tilts his head to the side. 

"Yeah, I would imagine a Seresin will do that to you." He mutters, and you kick him in his knee. 

"Ow!" He yelps, reaching down to grab the area while hopping on the opposite leg. 

"Watch it. They're half Mitchell too, you know."

Bradley scowls when Jake coughs to cover a laugh, and you turn to hop in the truck. Jake opens the door before giving his friend a nod and driving you home. This should be very interesting.

[dipperscavern]

secondincommand!reader getting hurt shielding robb during battle.. rubbing my hands & feet together like a fly on the wall

word count: 1.4k.. how to say oopsie in 14 different languages

robb stark x f!secondincommand!reader

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜.・。.・゜✭・.

war was unpredictable. anything could happen, nothing was guaranteed — except one thing. war was bloody.

he hated every time you fought with him. robb knew why you did, of course. how can you command men you won’t even fight for? why should they listen to someone who’s afraid to get their hands dirty?

you weren’t budging on it. as queen in the north, you had to fight for the people who chose you to rule them, and for the lands they’d settle on/return to after the war. robb could barely focus when fighting, knowing you were out there, but he was king in the north. he had to stand strong & lead by example, so he did. & things went well enough.

until they didn’t.

robb always led the vanguard, constantly put wherever the fighting was thickest. you were usually commanding the archers, being better with a bow than you were with a sword. though skilled with both, you didn’t mind being with the archers, & theon sometimes joined you. robb felt a bit better having you away from where it was bloodiest, and you had to compromise somewhere.

the battle had gone as smoothly as battle could go so far, until you broke from the archers & took an arrow for robb.

luckily, the archer wasn’t a great shot, the arrow lodging in your upper thigh. but to robb, it didn’t matter where it settled — you were hurt.

the man who shot you was quickly cut down, & robb caught you from falling. his head swam, vision going fuzzy from the thought of you being hurt. he would’ve paused the whole goddamn war right then and there, if theon didnt wrap your arm around his shoulder and promise to get you to the medic tent.

he wanted to keep you with him, take you there himself, but theon argued-

“there’s still fighting to be done!”

& robb knew he was right. with a silent prayer to the old gods, he mounted once more, ignoring the pain in his chest as he drew his sword.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

robb’s head was swimming, filled with thoughts of only you. as soon as the fighting was done, he set off to find you. nothing could stop him, & anyone who was in his way knew to get the fuck out of it. he spotted theon escorting you back to you & his shared tent, one of your arms slinked around his shoulders. you had a bandage wrapped around your upper thigh, spots of blood showing through the fabric as you hobbled as best you could.

he ran over, entering the tent just as theon was gently setting you down on one of the chairs inside.

“thanks, theon-“

“what in seven hells was that? hm?”

you & theon’s heads turned to look at him, both of you caught by surprise at his tone. you swallowed, looking at theon — a silent plea to leave before robb’s anger turned to him. he looked at you both, before turning & walking out.

“that was me-“

“almost getting killed?”

“protecting my king.”

robb just blinks, looking at you for a second. he can’t understand how you aren’t as utterly distraught as he felt in that moment, catching you in his arms as you fell.

“y’can’t just do that! just- take arrows whenever you feel like it!”

this is the first time robb has yelled at you. ever. you know he doesn’t mean it — or at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself, to keep the tears at bay.

“i would do it again.”

robb huffs out a laugh, turning around and looking at the floor, before looking at you once more.

“this is war, okay? i don’t have time to watch you while ‘m puttin’ a sword through a man’s belly!”

“then don’t?!”

“looks like i have to!” he says, motioning to the bandage on your thigh.

you sigh, “this is war, robb. people get hurt.”

he only shakes his head.

“gods- i shouldn’t have to watch over you like a child. y’should be better than that..” he says, turning & leaving you alone in the tent.

and for once, you’re glad robb leaves. the tears rolling down your cheeks wouldve embarrassed you if he saw.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

you weren’t mad at him. by rights, you should be, & if you were, you knew nobody would blame you — but you weren’t.

you had prided yourself on being the person to fix everything. you were always the solution, not the problem. you hated the shame you felt, and even though you’d take the arrow for robb a hundred times more, you hated when he was mad at you.

still, you knew robb would come to you when he was ready. he rarely let his emotions get the best of him, & you knew how much stress he was under. you sat at the table, maps & books spread out in front of you. you were upset, and burying yourself in your work was a reasonable solution.

you stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, back aching from your hunched over form. you sighed, finally deciding to turn into the bed that’s been calling your name.

wandering hands & soft calls of your name woke you up.

you opened your eyes, brain still clouded with the fog of sleep. you woke up quickly, seeing robb’s form above you.

“robb?”

“hey, pretty.”

your brows furrowed, cheeks heating at his comment. “thought you were mad at me..”

he shook his head, gaze softening. “came to say ‘m sorry. can i?”

you nodded, tongue darting out to wet your lips. he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, your own parting to give him access.

“‘m sorry.”

he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again. his lips trailing down your neck, mumbled apologies spilling from his lips between kisses.

your breathing gets heavier as he trails down, removing your nightgown & his own clothes.

“when i saw y’ take that arrow.. gods, doe..”

he’s gentle. he always is, but more so than ever before. he’s taking his time, full on cherishing you. it’s clear in the gentleness of his calloused, war stricken hands. the very same hands that had taken the lives of lannister soldiers earlier that day were now caressing you, softly roaming your body & sliding into the slick place between your thighs.

“wanted to stop the damn war right then, right there. hold you close, never let you go.”

he feels you clench on his fingers at his words. hot pleasure shoots up your spine, the throbbing pain in your thigh now reduced to a forgotten ache. he wants to do this for the rest of his life, he thinks. take off the crown, bed you all day long. give you so much pleasure you forget a time where anything ever went wrong, fill your brain with thoughts of only him, him, him. he makes a silent promise to do so, once you both return to winterfell. reward you for all the times you’ve saved his arse out here.

“y’couldve.. wouldn’t have- mm! complained..”

he chuckles at your words, tilting his head to the side.

“yeah? woulda liked that?” you nod. “yeah, i know.. i know it, pretty.”

it’s not long after, you’re gushing on his fingers. back arching as you coat your inner thighs & his hand with your arousal. robb presses kisses to your belly as you catch your breath, hands coming to intertwine with his curls as he trails up your torso. little-

“‘m sorry.” & “forgive me? please?”

‘s are muttered between kisses, and you don’t have the heart to tell him you forgave him hours ago — before he even came back. he aligns his cock with your entrance, slowly pushing in as he wraps his hand around yours.

“didn’t mean anythin’ i said. not a word. i was- seven hells… i was so afraid.”

you’re so full. tears brim your waterline at his words, his hands, his cock — just robb. he thrusts, in & out, movements making you shutter as you’re hyper aware of everything. every touch, every slow drag of his hips. goosebumps trail along your body as you bite back a shudder, feeling utterly oh so good.

you ask him to kiss you, & he’s compliant to your every need, pressing his lips to yours. he’d fulfill your every request, go to the ends of the earth if you asked him to. what teasing he may normally shower you with is out of the window now, savoring every moment he has with you, as if you could vanish at any given point in time. watching you take that arrow reminded him of that. that you could.

he hits the right spot, over and over again, making you see stars. it’s not long before your grip on his hand tightens, walls clamping down on his cock as you cum. he follows suit, cumming with a groan that reverberates deep in his chest.

he cleans you with a damp washcloth, making sure your stitches didn’t tear either. you’re both laying on your sides, you facing his chest as his hand traces up and down your spine. the silence is comfortable.

“you forgive me?”

“i forgave you hours ago.”

your laughter echoes into the night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜.・。.・゜✭・.

@cdragons @ghostinvenus (just lmk anytime u wanna stop being tagged!)

guys i went a little ham w this but oh well. posting smut on tumblr is soooo scary okay bye

[starlightsuffered]

Hate Fuck

Info - enemies, hate fuck, a little cnc, clothes breaking, cocky Timothée, insults during sex, legs not working from a good fuck, unprotected sex

I was so sick of hearing all about Timothée. Timothée this and Timothée that. So he'd landed a small role in a movie. He wasn't a star or anything.

Eleanor only wanted him along because she was ga ga for him. Her brother Henry was as well. Then there was Violet, Mary, and Harry. We'd all been friends since little up. Henry and Elenor were newer to our group and had brought Timothée into it.

Timothée had been like a shiny toy to the lot of them. I used to be the one they followed and admired. I used to be the one to make them laugh. Now everything was about that bastard of a show off Timothée Chalamet.

We had all scraped our money together to go on a trip to Florida and bask in the heat and beauty. It had taken a lot of work and planning but we'd managed it. At the absolute last moment Timothée had waltzed in and asked if he could go.

Everyone had voted yes except for me. It made me so mad that I had saved for SO long to help pay and he had just grabbed a wad of bills from his pocket. I fucking hated him.

The night felt long and I never slept well in hotels. I decided that I would make use of the out door pool. Perhaps the exercise would make my anger decrease.

The whole flight I'd had to listen to Timothée talk about his time on the movie set. As he spoke Eleanor gushed. I was sat beside Henry and he kept turning back to listen and comment since he was also enamoured with Timothée.

I had a migraine by the time we landed. Timothée had also be elected to choose where we ate that night.

Apparently, since he was part French, he would have better taste than us.

It felt like he was possessing my friends and I was sick of it. At least this swim would be Timothée free. I grabbed my towel and bathing suit. I headed into the bathroom and gasped in annoyance.

I thought for sure l'd packed my new bikini. However, in my hand was my old one. They were both pink, so l must've grabbed the wrong one. This one had clips that easily fell apart and my boobs had grown a bit so that there was a worry about them falling out.

I sighed. I'd have to buy a new suit when we went shopping tomorrow. This would do for now. It wasn't as if anyone else would be out there.

I walked the cold hallways, the ac was always blasting. It was like a blanket of humidity was thrown on me as I exited the hotel. I gasped as the heat hit me. The short walk to the pool had me swearing,

I jumped into the cool water. It soothed my heat prickled skin. I felt calm under the quiet surface. I could finally forget Timothée even existed. All would be right in my world.

SPLASH!

Someone jumped into the pool. I wanted to scream. Of course my nice midnight swim had to be ruined by someone. When I came up and saw who it was I wanted to scream again.

Timothée stood there with dripping curls and a smirk. I hated that he looked godlike in this lighting. His high cheekbones and perfect bone structure. It would be a hell of a lot easier if my arch nemesis was ugly.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Taking a swim," he offered as he leisurely paddled.

"It's midnight!" I shot back.

"You're here," he said blandly. I couldn't deny he was right. I put my hands on my hips and took deep breathes to calm myself.

"You know the world doesn't belong to you y/n. I can go places. I can make friends. I can come on trips. I can go swimming. I can-"

We both flinches as the clasp on my bikini top sprung open. My breasts fell out heavily. I would double D bras so there was a lot on display. Timothée's eyes were right on my nipples. I was too stunned to cover myself.

Suddenly, everything changed from slow and stagnant to fast. Timothée moved towards me. He was feeling me up and kissing me. I'd never felt such electricity. No one had handled my tits the way he did. The perfection in the way he squeezed, the way he rolled the nipples, the way he shuddered into my mouth.

"What are you doing?" l asked, but I didn't stop him.

"Kissing you, feeling you, worshiping your perfect body. It's all l've wanted to do since I first met you," he groaned. He pressed against me and I gasped. He was rock hard in his trunks and he felt big.

"Y-you hate me," I stuttered as one of his hands reached around to my ass. It all felt so good. Perhaps he deserved to brag and eloat if he could make someone feel like this.

"No, you hate me., I adore you," he professed.

"Well you're a pompous idiot, always showing off and-"

He grabbed my jaw and looked into my eyes. He looked filled with lust, like someone on the brink. He was pulling against restraints that would break any moment. Then, in the most surprising and gentle movement he leaned forward and placed a sweet kiss on my lips. It left me breathless and needing more.

"Why do you think I show off?" He asked me quietly, and then his long fingers were hooked in my bottoms. "Why do you think I brag and big myself up? Why do you think I mention only my best qualities and abilities?"

"Because, ohhhhh," I cut myself off as my bottoms were pulled all the way down. His large hands left me for a moment. I knew he was pulling his dick free and I couldn't imagine why I wasn't stopping him.

"To feed your own ego. To sound important. To make everyone obsessed with you," I snapped.

"No," he shook his head. I keened when his thick head pressed at my entrance. I could tell he would hit my g spot without even trying. He was so big. My clit throbbed. I hadn't been fucked well in so long.

"For you," he said as he pushed his head in. I grabbed wildly at his biceps.

"All for you, everything I do and say is to get your attention," he said. He had his forehead pressed against mine now. We were heaving together. I nodded slightly to the question that hung in the air.

He pushed all the way inside me. I held back but his moan of gratification was almost enough to make my knees weak. I clung to him. He began to rock his hips. His huge cock was filling me again and again.

"Uh oh fuck, it's even more perfect than I imagined. Uh, uh, uh," he groaned as he slammed home again and again.

I couldn't hold back my pleasure any longer. My nails were already embedded in his skin. I was clenching my jaw so that it ached. I had to make a noise or a sound or something to express how fucking, damn, good I felt!

"I hate you," I whispered, trying out the words on my tongue.

"What's that?" He panted as he pushed deep inside me. He had me against the pool wall. His hands were greedily feeling all over me.

"I hate you," I moaned as he hit a delicious part of me.

"I think you're the most beautiful girl in the world," he whined as he attacked my neck with kisses. I grasped the nape of his neck.

"You're hideous," I responded, my eyes squeezed shut in bliss.

"Your pussy feels, fuck, like heaven," he retorted.

"I can't even tell you're inside me," I nearly cried as he slammed in. He chuckled dark and low in my ear.

The water was splashing everywhere. He was mumbling hot compliments in my ear. I couldn't help but lift my legs up and put them around him.

"Mm, mm, mm," I nearly squealed as he went at me like an animal in heat.

"Please," he gasped

"Please what?" | growled.

"P-please," he said again. He sounded like he was pleading for his life. "Let me cum inside you. You can call me any name you want, just please, can I let loose in this perfect cunt."

"I-l- oh, fuck, yes, you fucking piece of shit, cum inside me raw," | screamed.

"Oh yes!" He shouted and rammed his cock inside me so hard I was seeing stars. My world was spinning as rope after rope of cum filled me up. Then I was coming too. I was exploding with lust and desire and pleasure. I was panting and clawing and making such pathetic noises as we both erupted.

"That was.... Wow," Timothée moaned as he reluctantly pulled out. I sneered at him as best I could.

"Speak for yourself," I said as I got out. However, Timothée giggled when my legs refused to work right when I tried to walk. I glared at the idiot.

[cybersteal]

ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕨: 𝕍𝕚𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕠𝕪

Tagged by @dreamskug and subsequently ripped off inspired by his, @lokiina’s, @nightcityace’s & @arcandoria’s creative take on it.

V: Hey, sorry I’m- Interviewer: Late? V: Only by thirty minutes, can't be that big of a deal. Interviewer: Maybe it is-

V: Okay, well, I'm here now, on a Friday night, instead of drinking myself stupid like I wish I was. Go ahead and ask your questions.

ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇ:

V: V. Interviewer: That’s it? V: Yup.

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ:

V: Male.

ꜱᴛᴀʀ ꜱɪɢɴ:

ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ:

V: Six feet. Interviewer: Actually? V: Does this look like a face that would lie to you?

ᴏʀɪᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ:

V: You first. Interviewer: Excuse me? V: Hah! Relax, choom, just trying to lighten the mood! Jeez. I’m Pan. Equal opportunity for all. Mostly me.

ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ / ᴇᴛʜɴɪᴄɪᴛʏ:

V: I was born in SoCal, but my parents are both from Mexico. I have a…complicated relationship with my Latino heritage, since it wasn’t really somethin’ that my parents took the time to share with me in detail, or my siblings. Never had the chance to ask why, but after comin’ to Night City, I realized I kinda missed out on a lot growing up.

ᴅᴏɢ ᴏʀ ᴄᴀᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ:

V: Well, I have a cat at home. One of those hairless ones. But I did always want a dog. Interviewer: Oh? What kind? V: Xoloitzcuintli.

ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛ, ꜱᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ, ꜰʟᴏᴡᴇʀ, ꜱᴄᴇɴᴛ:

V: Whoa, whoa, slow down, Jesus. Uhh…first one was-? Interviewer: Fruit. V: Right. I like grapes. The purple ones. Interviewer: Why purple? V: Shit, I dunno. They taste better? Interviewer: Heh. Yeah, fair enough. Season? V: I love summer. Life slows down a little, people take more time to relax. I don’t mind the heat, neither, ‘cause I can just go for a swim whenever, or go for a drive with the windows down. Cools me just fine. Interviewer: Preem. V: I like those orange poppy’s that grow all over the Badlands. California poppy’s I think they’re called.

Interviewer: And for your favorite scent? V: Right – probably amber. I've used the same brand of amber-heavy cologne for years. Oh, and I really like that one specific brand of tobacco my mom smoked. Interviewer: What brand was that? V: Can’t recall. Somethin’ imported.

ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ, ᴛᴇᴀ ᴏʀ ʜᴏᴛ ᴄʜᴏᴄᴏʟᴀᴛᴇ:

V: Coffee. Double shot. Sometimes triple, if I’m doin’ a long gig. Interviewer: Christ. V: Hey, merc work ain’t easy. It’s that or synthcoke. Interviewer: I’m scared to ask the next question…

ᴀᴠᴇʀᴀɢᴇ ʜᴏᴜʀꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ:

V: Yikes…like 5? If I’m lucky. Interviewer: I’m not at all surprised. V: The fuck is that supposed to mean?

ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʙʟᴀɴᴋᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ:

V: No, no. Hold on. I wanna know why you’re not surprised. Do I got bags under my eyes or somethin’? Interviewer: Actually, no. V: Nova. Interviewer: You got suitcases.

V: You’re fine, choom. I appreciate the banter. I don’t need to sleep with any blankets though. Interviewer: Really? Why not?

V: Sub-dermal armor. Got a bunch of other stuff you can’t see as well – keeps me runnin' hot, all the time.

ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴛʀɪᴘ:

V: Aw, shit. There’s so many places. If I had to pick, I guess…Havana. Interviewer: Cuba. You into history? V: Nah, choom. Beaches.

ꜰᴀᴠᴇ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ:

V: Mad Max. Interviewer: You don’t think that’s a little…stereotypical? V: Does it look like I care? Me and my sister used to pretend we were members of the MFP and annoy the hell out of our brother. I called him nothin' but Toecutter for two years. He hated it.

ʀᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ:

V: If you lick a person’s elbow when they’re not looking, they won’t feel it. Interviewer: …huh. Misty: Oh, V… V: It was the first thing that popped into my head, okay, I panicked-

This was a lot of fun to make tbqh. He's such a gonk - that ADHD brain keeps him moving around and fidgeting 24/7 even without the help of caffeine or stims and boosters, and he can talk about himself for hours, the narcissistic dickhead.

Shoutout to my bestest choombatta @klept0kid you deserve to have your name attached to your masterpiece lmao.

tags: @chooh2 @pinkyjulien @meltingangels @ouroboros-hideout @ne0n-rust @netripper @wilxfyre @klept0kid @glitchinginthegarden @nightcxty @shimmer-like-agirl @noirapocalypto @katsigian @wanderingaldecaldo @cyberpunkaddict @elvenbeard @wraithsoutlaws

[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 27.7k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: howdy ya’ll! This chapter took me a HOT minute to finish because i’ve been severely sick (if you’ve been on this ride with me since esos you know i struggle with my health) but it’s finally here! I cant thank everyone enough for reading and as much as I wish i could hear from you guys more often, i’m just going to keep writing along and hope someone likes it! The smallest interactions bring me so much joy.

Masterlink

ao3 link | spotify playlist

Chapter 5: On My Way To You

He’s never been more humiliated in his entire fucking life. Never—not ever, has he ever felt this embarrassed about someone seeing him naked. He’s been shot down mid alleyway make-out when she’d pressed too close and felt it. He’s been left in a hotel room when he had a woman naked under him and he finally pulled his pants down. Hell—he’s been told it hurts, asked to stop—asked to leave. But never has it made his heart pound and his cheeks stain red, never made him wheeze from anxiety and dread.

He didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s been doing his best to avoid you, give you the space you want, but you’ve been nicer lately and it makes him want to get closer, test those waters and get to know you, but the second he lets himself start to give in, his body goes full force and he has to get away. Today was a hard day for him because he’d been up late the night before trying to rewire a break in the fence that let out three heifers and the little calf you’d saved on Christmas.

He’d crashed hard last night and woke up too late to work himself over before starting his day—it usually helps him keep his cool, but today he spent two hours hours in the saddle of one of Hank’s horses, moving the heifers getting ready to calf to a smaller pasture, the older steer that were about to be sold off from last years calves to a quarantine pen. It was mindless and easy and Joel spent the whole time thinking about you and your pretty eyes and the way you still wear that necklace every day, like you haven’t even thought to take it off.

By the time he stops by the house for something to drink, he’s already spent half his morning picturing you in every position possible—real like he’s never had it before. He’s smack dab in the middle of one of his favorite fantasies, one where you’re going down on him, fully aware of what’s under his belt buckle and wranglers. You’d be so sweet to him, make him feel desirable without feeling like a chore. You’d kiss the length of him over his denim, drag his pants down his thighs and you wouldn’t gasp in shock. You’d want him—your mouth would water for him and you’d give him those pouty lips and bright eyes when you finally run your tongue from base to tip—it would be perfect—

“Morning Joel.”

He’s so caught up in his vision of you in his head he’s completely unprepared for this version, with berries smeared on the corner of your mouth, like the jam is just too sweet for you to leave untasted—you’re swimming in a sweater too big for you and christ he hates when you wear legging, hugging every curve of your body, filling in the shape of your body like a shadow. He does his best to form a sentence, keep himself from staring at the necklace chain he can see poking out of your collar. you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it.

When you lick the spoon clean, his stomach hits the floor and his head spin’s suddenly from loss of blood as everything warm and tingly in his body travels south. He knows he has to get out of there, doesn’t have time to stand here for another second if he wants to keep what's going on in his pants to himself.

He’ll kick himself later for not giving you an excuse to run off, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter right now. He practically runs for the barn, the small bathroom inside is a well learned friend, where he can rub one out fast and get it out of his hungry system. His body is famished, starved for your skin and he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

He gets his pants down as fast as he can, spits in his hand and starts quick. God, the way you’d looked at him when he walked in there, like you were happy to see him for once, glad to share his company—if only he wasn’t such a complete piece of shit who can't take a kind gesture for just that.

He sees your smile and he wants to dig his hands into the meat of your ass and hoist you up. Wants to hold you down and take you apart with his mouth. Your eyes meet his and he wants to watch them roll back when you take all of him, like no one ever has, ever will but he can let himself imagine it in this tiny bathroom that smells like livestock and dirt. He can imagine the way you’d want it, want him. The way you’d tell him how good he felt, how good he made you feel despite what he’s always been told about himself.

Just a few more—a couple more tugs and he’s almost there, so fucking close to the thought of your body and his, and…and…

The next thing he knows your eyes are on him, then tick down to his hand wrapped around himself like the pathetic man he knows he is. He’ll never forget the way you looked at him, the way you told him how traumatized you were to see him like that, he’s sure it would have hurt less if you’d stabbed him in the heart with a dull knife.

He fucking runs back to the cabin and get’s himself under a cold shower, trying to keep his hair from getting wet so you don’t know while his body takes a shock to its system, flushing out the desire and replacing it for his shame. When he’s red and shaking from the cold, he re-dresses and heads back towards the house. The longer he hides, the more likely you are to piece together the odd string of occurrences surrounding his disappearances. The longer he waits, the more guilty he looks, so he forces himself up the stairs, trying his best to catch his breath outside of the door until he finally has the gull to knock. He knows you’re in there, he can faintly hear something, soft little sounds that he can't quite make out, so he calls your name when the small rasps don’t catch your attention.

He nearly leaves when the door finally comes open, and…fuck if you aren’t a sight for his painfully sore eyes. You’re red all over, stunning, breathing hard with wide eyes like you’ve been caught at something. Maybe you have, he can imagine, maybe you were touching yourself—thinking about him. It's a futile dream, but he lets himself have it anyways.

No matter how much he runs, how much he tries his hardest to stay away, everything you do ropes him in and hog ties him up, unable and unwilling to be moved until you’ve decided what to do with him now that everything he is, is yours.

It’s shame that keeps him from embarrassing himself again once he drives into town, because the way you press against him in the truck makes his skin boil. He doesn’t deserve to have you beside him after what you’d been forced to witness, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants to slip his hand along your thigh, wishes Tommy wasn’t sitting beside you and he could stuff his hand down the front of your leggings and show you a thing or two—he knows he’s good with his hands—his mouth, he has to be if he wants to get a woman off. He wants to show you exactly what he could do for you, to you, but he keeps his mouth closed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel the whole way. It’s infuriating, how much you get along with Tommy now, who’s been nothing but crude to you, making passes at you left and right and god help him, you let him. He wants you to talk to him like that too, he wants to make you laugh, make you giggle and blush prettily.

But he just loads the truck. Watches when you and Tommy snicker over a bottle of whiskey he knows he can't touch because last time he made a fool of himself. He tries not to intrude on your space, tries not to bother you and Tommy around the fire later after he’s done unloading the truck alone. Not even Tommy helps him around here anymore, too far up your ass that he’s damn near useless.

He watches from the window like a fucking creep, trying not to work himself up over the way you smile at his brother, the way you throw your head back laughing at something stupid he probably said. He wants that to be him, sitting beside you with whiskey making him bold, faking it for him since he doesn’t have the ability to just talk to you. He’s sure he’d tell you everything, how beautiful he thinks you are, how much smarter than him you are. He’d probably tell you how many times he’s thought about you with his hands wrapped around himself, in the dark of his room with your name on his lips.

He doesn’t do any of that, instead he watches you from the window and lets his heart ache and pound until he sees the way Tommy lingers closer, touches your leg absently and you let him. He has to put a stop to this, so he tracks out into the cold and tries to put his foot down. Maybe Tommy will go to bed, you’ll let him walk you home and it will be so cold that you’ll ask him to stay again. But before he has a second to beg you otherwise, you’re kissing his brother.

You’re kissing his brother instead of him and he can't watch for another second, so he hightails it inside and slams his bedroom door behind himself. He can usually hear right through Tommy’s wall, but he holds his hands over his ears and tries his hardest to keep the sound of his ragged breaths from making it through the walls. At some point, he falls asleep, wishing you were laying right beside him, sprawled out, satisfied and spent with the shape of his teeth on your shoulder.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s not even close to sun up yet. He has a long day ahead of him, has to ride up to the north pasture, acres upon acres of beautiful pine covered land, but Joel has to ensure that the streams aren’t frozen over if he wants to move the heifers and their calves there soon. He gets dressed with a ache in his bones that he knows didn’t come from his age, his stomach is in knots because he knows what's been done, he knows he can’t change it—that he might not ever stand a chance with you now that you’ve been with him. Women always preferred Tommy over him, all the same cowboy charm with a bit more confidence.

He slips on his boots and places his hat on his head before lingering in the hallway for a long moment. He stares at Tommys door and imagines you sleeping on the other side of it. Did you like it? Do you like him?

He turns and starts down the hallways when the door comes open with a slow creak. He turns back around in the dark light of the hallway and, there you are wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and nothing else, your hair is mused and you have this look on your face, one that reeds shame and worry and for what Joel just can't quite put his finger on. You don’t say anything for a long time, just Joel and you and the fading darkness outside, your eyes tracking over him with a shiny hue to them.

“Where are you going?” Where is he going is the first thing you have to say to him? Like he climbed out of your bed and snuck off. “I uhm…I have a long ride up to the north field, thought I would get a early start on it.” He clears his throat and glances down at his boots, then back up at you. “Though I should give ya’ll some space, no one wants their brother listenin’ in.”

He starts to turn away again because he can’t look at you for another second when he knows you have his saliva on your skin and the shapes of his hands on your body.

“Can I come with you?” Go with him? You want to go with him when there’s a warm body waiting for you in a warm bed, where you can hide from the cold world, the impending darkness and a man like him. “You want to go? Why?” You close the bedroom door behind you like you don't want to wake Tommy and it makes Joel’s heart pound out of his chest for reasons it shouldn’t. “I don't know, it’s cold out there, you’re uhm…you’re naked.”

He tries, really tries to keep his eyes off your bare thighs, the shirt hanging off your frame and your sock-less feet on the hardwood. “I’m not naked, I have underwear on,” you lift one side of the shirt like you have to prove it to him and his eyes track to the black lace hugging your hips. Saliva builds in his mouth and he clears his throat, needing to turn away from you again. “If you want to come you should probably put some clothes on, I’ll meet you in the stable.” He starts to gather up his things, a light and his phone, trying to make himself busy so he can get away. “Well, will you wait for me—I don’t want to walk alone.” And Joel doesn’t want to do this right now, walk with you for a half mile back to the stables, sit beside you, wondering if it aches sitting in the saddle because his brother fucked you.

But he waits anyway, fiddles with the brim of his hat while he sits on the couch in silence as he waits for you to get dressed. You come out in your clothes from the night before, bundled up in a big jacket with your hair tied back. He tells himself not to think about it and heads towards the door. The walk to the stables is nearly silent, but the pounding in his ears drowns out the awkwardness in the interaction. How can he stop thinking about it? How you slept with him but dragged yourself out of bed to follow Joel into the cold? How you would trade a warm body for Joel’s cold shoulder?

“Need help with your saddle?” His voice feels raw from not using it, his hands aching from the cold while he cinches up the girth strap. This time next year, hell be saddling up Cersi to take this trip, he cant wait, but for now he’ll ride Hanks sturdy horse through the mud and snow. “I’ve got it, thank you.” There's no snap in your tone like he expects there to be and you work with him in unison, getting your mounts ready while the sun starts to climb into the atmosphere. By the time he gets out of the barn, you’re smiling at him. Smiling from your spot in the saddle with the reigns in your hands like you’re made for that.

“You ready to get a move on, cowboy?” His chest tightens at the way you gaze at him, wondering if you’d given Tommy that same look the night before. He wants to pretend it was all for him, pretend that you’re looking at him like that because you see something you haven’t before.

“You ready, cowgirl? When's the last time you were in a saddle?” He tries his damndest to keep his tone light as he hooks a foot in the stirrup and hoists himself up. “Been a couple years, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to ride.”

Did you practice last night? He shakes his head and wills away the image. He doesn’t think he'll be able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the ride, he can’t get the image of your mouth on his out of his head no matter how much he tries. It’s always fucking Tommy. He’s always been the favored brother, no matter how much of a fuck up he is. He’s always been the one to get the girl, the popular one in school, hell even his wife—

“You okay in there cowboy?”

Your voice comes like a shock to his system, snapping him out of another unpleasant memory. “Huh?” He looks around until he lays eyes on you, riding beside him with your hands resting on the horn of the saddle. “I was asking if you’re okay…you’ve been really quiet for the past half hour.” Half an hour? It's been a half hour since he started this ride? “Yeah, no, sorry. I have a lot on my mind, is all.” You pick up the pace beside him a little, till your horses are walking alongside each-other on the path. “Anything you want to talk about?”

He sits on the words for a second. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not particularly—but its you and your asking him and fuck, he wants you to get to know him. Maybe if you knew who he was, maybe if he had a chance to explain why he’s like this you might change your mind.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout my ex-wife.” He keeps his eyes ahead of him, because he doesn’t want to see the look on your face when you hear that, that he had a whole other life away from this place. “My mom told me you had an ex-wife. She didn’t tell me what happened.”

You knew? He’d told Hank and Louise a lot about his life, he had to if he wanted them to trust him. He wasn’t a bad man, just a burdened one. “We uh…we had a rocky marriage. Got together young, right out of high school. I was learning to work a cattle ranch and I thought I would be able to give her a good life but—she wanted more, I suppose. Started steppin’ out on me. She got pregnant by another man, but I still didn’t leave. Helped raise that little girl like she was my own.”

He thinks about Sarah and her curly hair that definitely didn’t come from him or her mom, her sweet smile, her first day of school—all the things he missed.

“What made you finally leave?” Your voice is so quiet beside him. He looks over at you under the brim of his hat and sighs. “She slept with Tommy. Came home from picking up Sarah from school and I…caught ‘em together in bed. Tommy said he did it because he wanted to prove to me that she wasn’t any good for me but, I don’t know, I’ve never been very good and stayin’ angry at him.”

Your eyes look far away in that moment, like you’re clouded in some kind of guilt, maybe because you’d slept with Tommy, too. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Joel.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head absently. “Ain’t no thing. I’m used to it by now, he’s always had a way with ‘em that I never had.”

He has, Joel can't even recall every encounter he’s had with a woman that ended with them leaving with his brother. Hell, it had been five years since the last time he’d (kind of) had sex, no thanks to his cockblocker of a brother. The first time in years since he’s felt more than just attraction to a woman and Tommy takes that from him too.

“We should get a move on, we don’t have all day and I have a lot to do when I get back.”

He digs his heal in and the horse picks up speed and to his surprise, you keep gate with him along the trail.

When he gets to the gate of the north pasture, his ass hurts from being in the saddle and his face feels wind chapped, but you don’t complain about a lick of it, like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Joel?” He’s closing the gate behind you when you call his name. It makes him look up from the latch. “Yeah?” He gets it in place and mounts his horse again, adjusting his hat on his head. “I’m really sorry, about how I treated you when I first came home.”

Fuck do you have to do this right now? Out here, where he has nowhere to run off to? “You're not the one who needs to be sorry. I never should have done half the things I did to you. I didn’t even know you and I assumed the worst of you. Should’ve never done any of that to you.” He never should have left you in the cold, never should have treated you any differently than anyone else because he thought you came from somewhere that didn’t like folks like him when he really likes girls like you. So smart and put together, so capable and confident.

“We got off on a bad foot, I suppose…do you think maybe we could…start over?”

You want to start over? With him? give him a second shot to not fuck this up again? Or maybe you don’t mean it like that, like he desperately wants it to mean, even if you fucked his brother last night, he doesn’t care, he’d take his sloppy seconds any day because it’s you.

“I’d really like that.” There's a sweet kind of shimmer in your eyes when you smile at him, rosey cheeks and a crinkle by your kind eyes. His sight ticks down to your chest, where he can see the necklace he’d given you sticking out of the top. You’re still wearing it, had you worn it last night? When he laid you down on his cold sheets while Joel wished desperately it was his?

Despite the pang in his chest, the rest of the ride is easy and light, you talk about nothing and absolutely everything, your favorite color, your favorite time of the year, Joel tells you how much he loves the spring and you excitedly agree, going on and on about watching the world come back to life.

You tell him about college, how out of place you felt surrounded by people who were so different from you. How nervous you were for the first year, but you’d made a best friend out of your room mate Mel, and you finally got the hang of it in your second year.

He tells you about drifting from place to place because Tommy usually stirs up some trouble and runs them out of town. He tells you about all the times he’s had to save his ass to your parents and how much he’s tried to hang on to the one good place he’s had in so long. He could talk to you for hours, all day if you’d let him, and you do. You hold his conversations like you’re a pair of old friends, catching up after years spent apart.

He’s so lost in you that he doesn’t even realize you’re back home until the house comes into view. He’s spent so much time immersing himself in talking to you that he’s completely lost track of where he is, letting the miles blow past him. It’s mid day and he still has a lot to do and he can tell you’re starting to get sore in the saddle. “I’ll get them cooled down, you should probably get some rest. You couldn’t of gotten much sleep last night.” He swings his leg over and climbs off the horse before taking yours by the halter so you can do the same. “Thank you for today…it’s been a while since I’ve had a good reason to ride.” You give him one of those smiles again and it takes everything in him not to lean in and kiss you because of it. He’s wanted to kiss you all damn day, slide his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull and hold on tight, slot his lips over yours and breathe you in deep until he can’t let you go again.

He doesn’t and you head off towards the house while he looks on. He watches till you make it inside and then some before getting back to his chores.

Work consumes the entirety of his day, until the sun sets and it starts to get dark and chilly when he’s finally got the animals fed and the equipment locked up. He knows Tommy is back at the cabin because he dropped off a plate of dinner to Joel in the stable on his way home. He’s about to start the walk back to the cabin himself when he hears the creak of the screen door on the house just across the yard. He closes the barn door behind himself and follows the sounds. You’re standing on the porch in a pair of sleep shorts and slippers, a tee-shirt that's too big and a nervous look on your face. You don't say anything, but Joel’s feet carry him to the steps, then up them one at a time, carefully and painfully slow, like he might spook you away if he moves too quickly. The wind is absolutely howling right now, whipping your hair around and cinching your shirt tight against your frame.

He hits the landing and takes a few more steps forward, until he’s a foot away from your shaking form, your big pretty eyes that are searching every corner of his. He should say something, he should say how much he enjoyed today, how much he wants to do it again and again and again.

“I didn’t have sex with him.”

It’s not what he expected you to say standing out here in this unforgiving cold, but its the best damn thing he’s heard you say all day. It feels like an endless weight coming off his shoulders and he lets out a loud gush of air he didn’t know he was holding. “What?” You puff your chest out a little, like you’re trying to get a point across to him. “I didn't have sex with Tommy last night.” You say it so matter of factly.

“Why didn’t you?” He reaches up and pushes his hat up a little, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His heart is pounding, his limbs shaking at the admission. “You know why.”

All at once, his pounding heart comes to a staggering stop, standing there on the porch looking down at you while he tries to keep himself upright. He doesn’t know why but the way you're looking at him now tells him there's something else here besides anger and hatred and shared distaste. You didn’t sleep with Tommy, because on the other side of that wall you were wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you.

“It’s cold out here…do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Joel’s bottom lip quivers so much he has to suck it into his mouth to make it stop, bite down on it to put it at ease. “Yeah, I…I’d like that.”

A warm little hand finds his, tentative fingers intertwined with his while you lead him inside of the house. You don’t take him upstairs, Joel doesn’t expect you to. You lead him to the couch and he sits down, kicking off his boots when you reach up for his hat. You set it on the arm rest beside him and grab a blanket off the back of the couch when he lays himself back on the pillow.

His body aches, his eyes feel heavy, but he doesn’t dare close them when he’s got an angel standing right before his eyes. “Goodnight, Cowboy.” You hum sweetly, lean down and press your lips against the apple of his cheek, more delicate than he’s ever been touched before in his entire fucking life.

When you pull away, those same cheeks are painted pink and he does his best not to grin too stupidly. “Goodnight, Cowgirl.”

You take the stairs up to your room but Joel rides the elevator to heaven from his spot on the living room couch.

[itzsana-kiddingmenow]

𝙨𝙖𝙣𝙖’𝙨 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙚𝙘𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙆𝙕:

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 7 — 𝙠𝙞𝙢 𝙨𝙚𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙢𝙞𝙣

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1.4k

𝙖/𝙣: late but defo worth it…i really outdid myself for this one, OUGHHH IM SHAKING MY HEAD LIKE A FERAL DOG I NEED HIM—

𝙩/𝙬: angst to fluff, rough tickling and soft tickles mentioned, seungmin’s an asshole but he means well

𝒍𝒆𝒆: seungmin

𝙡𝙚𝙧: reader

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33 @v--143 @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkytornpagess @lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry @channieissocute125 @soap143 @seungsluvv @skznccmlee @moony-9

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐞? 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐛s 🐾

he only really lets you tickle him if he feels like he did something to make you upset

seungmin may act all cold and uncaring, but he’s really not 🥺 

making him laugh always makes you happy, so he lets you

not that he doesn’t love getting tickled himself, but he’d never admit that. 

“Why are you so cold all the time! I’ve been nothing but loving to you, and…and it feels like you don’t love me at all!” You screamed, tears streaming down you face, rivulets of your sadness dripping onto the floor beneath you. 

Seungmin knew his expression would be as blank and uncaring as it normally was, but he didn’t know if it was his heart of his sanity breaking completely. 

You sobbed and almost falling over, Minnie rushed to catch you, but you shoved him away. 

“Don’t act like you care now!” 

Seungmin knew he fucked up. Badly. 

He could feel tears of shock and remorse welling up in his own eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to blink them away. Maybe he deserved this. 

You grabbed your bag, stuffing your phone into it and slinging it over your shoulder. 

“Where are you going?” Seungmin hated how his voice cracked, he felt weak and powerless. 

You knew, Seungmin was your best friend, he may have seemed cold in the beginning but he truly did love you. 

But what he had said to you was unforgivable. 

‘Okay, you’re annoying. Stop calling me, I don’t have the time.’ His voice had sounded so cold, unfamiliar. 

‘But, Seungmin.’ You coughed, spots swimming in your vision. ‘I’m really sick, I really need your help, please!’ You gasped. 

Call ended. You had broken down sobbing right there and then, how could he say that to you, no emotion at all? 

You had to drive to the hospital yourself, scared out of your wits to go alone, and had fainted right in the lobby. 

Three hours later, he still wasn’t there, and your condition had improved. But you felt nothing but unrestricted numb, but all the pain in the world. 

And now he was here, checking up on you and apologizing rapidly for being an ass, but nothing made you feel better, happier. 

“I’m going home. I’m sick, and I need my medicine, if you didn’t know.” You snarled, shoving at him as he tried to hug you, tried to whisper more apologies into your ear. It just made you madder. 

“You couldn’t do this when I needed you most.” 

Seungmin stood there helplessly, and you only just caught the glint of his tears as you slammed the door shut. 

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sobbing, you only needed one more thing before you broke down completely. Hearing the door unlock, you shot up to slam your door shut, but Seungmin was faster, pushing against the other side and overpowering your weak state. 

You stood there, tears streaming down your face, two hands covering it. You could feel his arms wrap around your frame, frail and uncertain. 

But once Seungmin asserted that you weren’t shoving him away, his arms pulled you into his chest, head coming to rest on top of yours. 

You wrapped your arms around his waist, and he held your face in his hands, leaning down to press a kiss to your wet cheek. 

Seungmin sank to the floor in front of you, grasping your foot. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. Please…don’t hate me!” Seungmin looked so broken, guilty. 

You couldn’t help but forgive him right away. Staring for a few seconds, you decide to make your move.

“Minnie.” You giggle. “What are you doing?” 

He looked dumbfounded. “What?”

“What are you doing on the floor—why are you grabbing my leg like I’m going to run away.” You snickered.

Seungmin paused for a few seconds, clearly thinking.

“I was gonna beg for your forgiveness.” He smiled up with you, grinning at the idea that he made you somewhat happier. 

You sank down next to him, hugging him tightly. “Don’t do this ever again. I really needed you.” 

Seungmin’s breath hitched. “I was being really crappy. It won’t happen again, darling.” He sniffled. 

“But…you owe me.” You glared at him with a pout, and he scrambled to reply. “I’ll give you anything…anything you want!” He held both of your hands in his. 

Gosh, he really was the cutest. Your best friend. 

“Fine. Let me tickle you.” You smirked, making your fingers into claws. 

“W-What?! Anything else, anything? Please!” Seungmin was already flustered, ears red and voice stuttering. 

He never lets you tickle him, you only normally manage to get a gasp out of him before he turns the tables completely, and you’re the one who was laughing. 

“C’monnn, you said anything~” You tease, and he slumped. “Fine.”

You squeal in excitement, running to grab your tie and your scarf. Seungmin flushed a deep red as you tied his hands high above his head to the headboard, and he squirmed in anticipation as you rested yourself on his thighs. 

“You ready for the biggest wrecking of your life?~” 

He blushed even more, squeezing his eyes shut before letting out a small whine. “Noho!” He was already giggling. How embarrassing. 

“They say that you only truly hear a person’s laugh when they’re being tickled.” You smiled down at him. 

“Just get it over with!” Minnie blurted. 

“Mmm, fine. Let’s start here.” You wiggled your fingers along his neck, startling when you hear the cutest giggles you had ever heard in your entire life. “Aweee~”

Seungmin was pretty sure his face was the color of tomatoes at that point, giggling crazily as your nails tickled along his collarbone. 

“How about…here?” You moved to his armpits, scraping up and down consistently. 

“AGH!! P-Please…” He squirmed and tried to seal his lips, just to burst into laughter when you massaged the center of his underarms with your thumbs. “Nahah—HAHAHA!!” 

“Your laugh is so cute!!~” You giggle along with him, a wide grin on his face that made you want to tickle him more. 

“NONONO!!” He shrieked when your fingers moved to his ribs next. “NO—AAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!” You jolted but smiled right along with him. 

“PLEASE—! PLEASE SOMEWHERE EHEHEHELSE!!” Seungmin choked, and you moved further to his waist, digging into the skin before slipping your fingers up his shirt to tickle him more. 

Minnie began to thrash wildly, cackles ringing through the room as his cheeks reddened cutely. ”AHHHAH IHIT TIHIHICKLES!!“ 

You knew exactly how to push his buttons. 

“How do you think raspberries would feel?~” You crawl further down with a shit eating smirk, moving his clothing out of the way slightly to expose his bare tummy and his belly button. 

Seungmin watched in horror. “W-Wait!! Don’t do raspberries…I might die!!��� He pleaded, stomach quivering under your hungry eyes. 

“But I want to…” You pout, and he giggled crazily as you trailed your nails along his cute tummy. 

“Here goes!” You lowered your head, blowing a torturously ticklish raspberry onto his skin. You’d never done it before, but it must have worked, considering Seungmin’s pleading was drowned out by his hysterical laughter, the cutest smile on his face as he laughed himself silly. 

“YAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEASE IHITS SOHO BAHAHAHAD!!” Seungmin shrieked, arching his back and slamming it back down when you blew another into his v-line. 

”MAHAHAHAKE IHIT STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” He begged, twisting away from the tickly sensation. 

Minnie was practically going insane already, and you decided to finish off with one more so he didn’t actually die. 

You decided to go all out for this one, pressing your lips to his cute belly button and blowing as hard as you possibly could. 

Seungmin let out a raw scream before descending into the loudest laughter you had ever heard from him.

“PLEASE—PLEHEHEHEASE OHOHO MY GAHAHAHAHAD!! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!!” He howled, thrashing his head around crazily in his bound arms. 

You let up after that one raspberry to his belly button, kissing it gently to calm him down as tears dropped into his collar. “Thahat was so brutal!!” He whined, and you fixed his shirt before climbing onto his heaving chest to untie him. 

Seungmin squeezed out the last few tears and giggles before slumping immediately the second you fully untied him. 

“You did so well for me…love you so much.” You pressed kisses to his wet cheek to rid the tears, pulling him into your arms. 

You didn’t expect him to reply, but he did. “I love you more.” 

You smile happily. “But seriously, you’re one of the most ticklish people I’ve ever seen.”

[skellymom]

"THE PLATFORM"

THE BAD BATCH CROSSHAIR FICLET

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Word Count: 628

Background: The story we didn't get of Crosshair's trials and tribulations while being left on the Kamino platform. (This ficlet may eventually be included as a future installment to my long running TBB OC series "Vagabonds". To read it:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/738467105361494016/vagabonds?source=share

Warning: Swearing, fear, physical pain, starvation, dehydration, Star Wars Canon violence.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Crosshair opened his swollen, burning eyes to the intense Kamino sun.  The sea spanned for miles around the platform.  The ruins of his home poked out of ocean.  It had stopped smoldering days ago.   

There had been NO rain since his brothers and Omega left him behind. 

No fresh water to quench his thirst.  Only his urine.   

Did his brothers DISPISE him so much as to NOT leave at least a canteen of water and some rations??? 

An exhausted, deep HATE rose in Crosshair.  He should have shot Hunter square between the eyes when he had the chance...except the kid would have seen it... 

...and his squad would have killed him outright.   

I deserve it...I’M A FUCKING FAILURE.  My brothers are gone...forever... 

He’d cry...if he could produce tears... 

Crosshair’s hunger was only abated after shooting down the occasional sea bird, feasting upon the body and drinking its blood. 

Fishing was impossible...as he was constantly being watched... 

...by the Saber Jaw trolling around the platform in the waters below. 

It’s large eye, the only thing poking above the surface, keeping tabs on ole Crossy. 

He initially watched it swimming around the wreckage, looking for bodies left after the Empire bombed Kamino City. 

Now it was coming for him.  Crosshair closed his eyes and wished for a quick death soon.  Baking in the hot Kamino sun until he died of dehydration was excruciating. 

Hours later a distant hum had Cross open one dry eye.  It was difficult to see.  Everything was a blur. 

The sound, now louder, slowly become a roar. 

His eyes strained to look skyward, but the glare blinded. 

A shadow fell over him, as the craft descended onto the platform. 

About KRIFFING TIME the Empire showed up...   

Although Crosshair was unsure if it truly was a ship...or mirage. 

The platform shook slightly as the craft landed.  Then the engine died.  Sounds of a gangplank opening.  Footsteps... 

Please make it ANY other officer.  I can’t STAND Forcedamned Cockstain Rampart’s uppity-assed voice. 

An image flashed across Crosshair’s mind: mustering the last of his strength to blast Rampart to bits AND have the stormtroopers shoot him out of his misery...at the same time. 

Crosshair smiled and giggled dryly.  

The footsteps stopped. 

“Would give the WHOLE galaxy if that smile were for US” 

Crosshair’s eyes popped wide open.  He jerked up on one elbow swinging Firepuncher up to sniper’s position. 

He attempted to swallow nervously...but he had no saliva... 

...Hunter stood meters away, intensely staring at Crosshair.  The words didn’t match the action.  Instead, Hunter emanated anger and hurt. 

He’s FUCKING with ME!  Coming back to torment!!! 

Echo and Wrecker flanked each side of the Marauder’s gangplank.  Their weapons weren’t raised but they held them ready just in case. 

Cross could barely see Tech’s head inside the Marauder.  Everything far away was a blur.  

Hunter turned them against me!  All for that kid... 

...AND THERE SHE WAS! 

Omega had slipped out of the Marauder, following Hunter. 

Crosshair growled and ground his teeth in rage.   

“I TOLD YOU TO TAKER HER AWAY SOMEWHERE!” 

Hunter blinked at the sound, his teeth on edge. 

Omega stopped in her tracks; eyes wide. 

“AND YOU BROUGHT HER BACK HERE AGAIN!” 

Crosshair kept on spewing more anger, hurt, and delirious vitriol.  While Hunter was intensely hurt and angry at his brother, there was concern.  Cross’ high emotional stress, severe dehydration and starvation drove his eyes to roll back...causing a loss of bodily control. Crosshair fought unconsciousness... 

...causing his finger to pull the trigger. 

Firepuncher jumped in Crosshair’s grasp.  It jerked him back to consciousness. 

Hunter barely had time to duck.  The bolt flew past his temple, shearing free the bandana from his head...and a few locks of hair. 

Crosshair stared in horror at what he just did... 

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[castlebyersafterdark]

what do you think are mike’s thoughts when he sees will naked for the first time? what do you think are will’s thoughts when he sees mike naked for the first time?

Expressing this concept vaguely through some random drabbles. Stream of conscious, unedited. Not my usual writing style. I never really write in this tense? Kind of ran far away from the premise of this ask, veered more into thoughts of attraction and firsts in a relationship, but this was fun! One drabble is about Will observing Mike during a trip to the lake pre-getting together and the other is some fun had in Mike's basement. I had a third part planned featuring Mike and 🍑😜 - ya know. But I'll post that another time because this post got pretty long. Enjoy? Under the cut...

"At the Lake"

Will sits on the edge of the old wooden fishing dock, feet swinging in the warm summer air, toes barely skimming the water below. Summer vacation began with the last ringing of the bell the afternoon before and as tradition stood - the party always spent the first day of summer at the lake. He's hesitant to jump in, and always is, despite the heat. What's below the water? What's lingering below the surface? The water looks freezing. He's not a fan of the cold.

It's so hot out - he can already feel sweat gathering at his temple and sliding down the back of his neck. He wishes the guys would hurry up and get in the water, proving that it was safe to dive in and swim. He turns his head at the sound of heightened commotion and braces himself as Dustin and Lucas finally decide to barrel forwards, racing each other to be the first one to jump into off the dock. Lucas wins by a long-shot and Will smiles fondly to himself as Dustin complains about an 'unfair head start' just as he cannonballs from the dock. His own gripes are cut off as his head goes underwater, but immediately continues where he left off as he resurfaces. They swim out further into the water, away from where Will remains seated and conflicted about following.

Will turns back once more and spots El and Max laid on on towels in the grass, sunbathing before braving the still-cool lake waters of early June and - oh. All thoughts fade away when he approaches. Mike. Will doesn't think he's going to survive another summer full of Mike Wheeler's skin and legs and arms fully on display. He's a vision. He's everything Will wants. And with summer and the lake and the heat and the frequency of the party's visits to their favorite hangout away from their houses, he's going to have to see a lot more of the boy he's obsessed with, smitten with, in love with. Who he wants in every way you can want another person.

He's liked Mike forever and has always thought he was the most beautiful person in any room. But as they've gotten older? It's entirely unfair. And Will is a weak, weak boy. He blushes as his eyes linger on his chest, follow the dark hair that trails from navel to swim trunks (emerald green and tight and showing so much pale thigh.) Will turns away, fingernails pressed hard into his palm to center himself and calm the fuck down. It's just Mike.

Hysterical understatement.

"Hey, Will. Still waiting for me?" Mike asks with that soft grin and soft voice that makes Will's heart skip a beat and stutter if he speaks too quickly in response. Get a grip. You've known him your entire life. Can't you be normal about him by now?

"You know the plan," Will sighs. "Sorry."

"Don't be, I get it. It's going to be fucking freezing, always is - but, whatever you need. I got this."

He hates the cold so much. He loves Mike for indulging every one of his ridiculous idiosyncrasies.

Mike jumps in with flailing limbs and an awkward landing, sputtering water when he come back to the surface. He cranes his head back and shakes the water from his face and hair like a dog in the rain. Will stares and stares as Mike curses the stinging in his eyes before chattering on about how the temperature isn't that bad. He tips back, swimming in place. Will's eyes dart everywhere, trying not to linger too long on any one thing as to not get caught, not seem weird. It is a challenge. He wants to commit everything he's seeing to memory to keep him company on lonely nights. And mornings. And showers. And afternoons when the house is empty. Shut up - he's sixteen and horny literally half of the time he's conscious. And most of the time he's unconscious, too. If it's not a nightmare, then he's doing unspeakable things to his best friend in the relative un-safety of his mind.

Whatever. He'll feel guilty another time. Mike is mostly naked and wet and smiling and laughing for him and only him at the moment. He's enjoying this.

Lithe muscles, sparse chest hair. He's pale, but so beautiful against the dark water. As an artist, Will adores a dramatic contrast. Like the way Mike's red lips stand out so much against his skin, with the lake water clinging to them, making them shine in the early summer sun. Will wants to slip into the lake and kiss him and kiss him and taste the lake without having to dive underwater to get the effect. He wants Mike to hold him close, cradled in those deceptively strong arms, keeping him afloat. He wants to trace those prominent collarbones first with the tips of his fingers, then with his tongue, maybe leave a mark. How easily would that pale skin bruise? It would be so thrilling to mark Mike up and let everyone know he was his. If only he was. But he wasn't.

Will sighs again and slips off the dock. The water is frigid and he gasps as it surrounds his body with goosebumps and embarrassing fear. And then Mike is close, there if Will needs a steadying arm as his body adjusts to the extreme temperature change and staves off panic.

"Are you ok?" Mike asks, and places both hands on Will's arms. They're close enough for their legs to entwine, treading water as their feet seek purchase on the shallow bottom of the lake.

Will swallows and forces his brain to focus on breathing and not on the way the water clings to Mike's dark eyelashes and bow of his top lip. He breathes in and out, and nods, forcing a smile that Mike immediately returns.

"Cool. You're alright. Race you out to the guys?"

"You're on," Will responds, and starts swimming out before Mike can say go. ---------

"In the Basement"

They've been making out for the better part of an hour, movie on the old television in Mike's basement long forgotten for things much more interesting. Will cannot get enough of his boyfriend. His boyfriend. They've been together for a little over a month and the thought - the reality of what they are - still sends a shiver down his spine and makes the ever-present butterflies in his stomach whip up into a fluttering frenzy.

Mike moans into his mouth after Will bites at his lip, and Will drinks in the sounds with a matching groan of his own and a pointed swivel of his hips from where he's seated in Mike's lap. His tongue darts out to soothe the place where he'd gently ran his teeth and is intercepted as Mike deepens the kiss, sucking on his tongue, so hot and wet and slick. It's heady, addicting. Will's fingers grip at Mike's hair, slide through his scalp, and Mike pulls away to gasp and groan and mouth at his neck. His hands have fallen from Will's waist to grip lower, and Will takes the bold initiative to guide them where he desperately wants them. They're still hesitant together at times, falling into the novelty of their relationship, in awe of what's now allowed between them.

Will loves Mike's big hands. He wants them all over his body, and he wants Mike to put them where he wants and maneuver him however he pleases - but it's embarrassing to say that out loud. He reaches back and guides them to rest on the swell of his ass, nodding his head when Mike pulls back to look him in the eyes and silently ask permission. Mike runs his hands up and down, squeezes the supple flesh, and takes Will's hard press forward as the go-ahead to explore and take what he wants. Mike pulls him forward, rocking up while Will rocks down, both so hard for so long now that they both feel as if they're going to burst sooner than they'd like. It feels so good, having their bodies this close, seeking pleasure from the person they feel so deeply for, and both long to chase the sensation as long as they can.

Mike seals his mouth back against Will's, licking inside again when Will whimpers open-mouthed at a particularly perfect thrust, clothed cocks dragging together through too much denim, though the friction is mind-blowing. He tips his head back and smiles in a hazy daze at the series of wet kisses placed along his jaw, down his neck, and journeyed in reverse to his parted mouth. He's so lost in pleasure at the feeling of their frantic, slow grind that he nearly jumps from where's he's straddled over Mike's lap at the feeling of a hand brushing his clothed dick.

"Sorry, sorry. Adjusting. My stupid zipper," Mike explains in a hurried, hushed tone as he removes his hand from where he'd been palming between their connected groins. He takes in Will's pleasure-drunk expression and arches an eyebrow. "Unless?"

Will smirks, eyes half-lidded as he shifts back and stares at the tented bulge straining the uncomfortable zipper of his boyfriend's jeans.

"Can I try something? I have a better idea."

Mike sucks in a breath, having a feeling that he knows where this is going. They've made out pretty much every day since they've gotten together, whether that be on afternoons like their current situation, hidden away in Mike's basement, or on the nights that Mike sneaks over to the Byers' house to crawl through the window and kiss and kiss until they either drift to sleep or lazily grind together until they come in their briefs. They've yet to explore further, with no barrier between them, and Mike tries not to immediately finish at the mere thought of Will's hand on his unclothed cock.

He doesn't expect Will to slide off of his lap and settle between his knees on the floor, despite the way they seem to spread instinctively at the sight of his boyfriend situating himself there.

"Oh, fuck," he moans as Will slides his hands up his thighs, shaky but determined to do this. He was prepared for a hand job and would have settled for that.

Part of him wants to be courteous and tell Will that he doesn't have to do this, but judging by the hungry look in his eyes, clearly Will wants to. He wants him. And honestly? Mike really wants this, too. He's only human after all, and he simply caresses a hand down the soft curve of Will's jaw, hoping the gentle gesture expresses how much he cares for and appreciates and loves Will, even if all the sappy, saccharine things he wants to babble are caught deep in the back of his throat at the sight of his boyfriend on his knees. He further chokes on his words as Will cups his bulge, palming it once, twice, then slowly pulls down the zipper. He lifts his hips as Will grabs his jeans and works them down his thighs to pool at his ankles, then are slipped off entirely. Will's eyes flick up to Mike's as he palms his cock again, reveling over how hot he feels in his hands, taking in the shape, the length. Will's mouth waters at the reality of what he's about to do. He's fantasized for so long about getting his mouth on Mike, finding out what he looks like. Before he can chicken out, he peels back the briefs, slightly damp from where Mike's been steadily leaking into the fabric, and moans low in his throat at his first glimpse of his boyfriend's frankly perfect fucking cock.

"Fuck, Mike," he moans, to which Mike makes a sound low in his throat, so rare to hear Will lose his composure and swear like that. Will can't stop himself any longer and shifts forward to press a tentative kiss to the exposed skin, inhaling the coarse hair tickling his nose with a pleased little sound, growing even harder himself at the scent of boy surrounding his senses. He circles his hand around Mike and strokes slowly up the hot length in his hand, thumbing at the soft, slick tip with near-reverence. "You're so big."

Mike's arm flies down to grab at the base of his dick as his hips involuntarily thrust forward, cock sliding through Will's grip.

"Shit, Will. Fucking hell, I was about to come. Jesus, baby."

Will chuckles to himself, grin manic and astounded with pride over the unintended effect his words and words alone had on Mike. The reaction is one hell of a confidence booster. He leans in and presses a sweet kiss to the wet head poking through his fist.

"Just being honest. You're perfect," he says and moves to cover Mike's cock with his mouth, sinking down the first few inches.

Will moans around him, inexperienced but loving the new sensation of being so full, mouth stretched wide, immediately obsessed with the weight of Mike's cock against his tongue. He struggles to breathe as he sinks up and down, too keyed-up to focus on both sucking dick and taking in air through his nose. After a short few minutes, he pulls off with a wet pop and a gasp, and switches to running his tongue from base to tip as Mike whimpers and moans above him, head thrown back against the top of the couch. One arm is gripping the cushion hard, fingers strained against the fabric, while the other rests with barely any pressure on top of Will's soft hair. Will thinks about Mike grabbing him harder, pushing him down, mind filled with a thousand filthy ideas at lightning speed, but he refocuses and guides the tip of his dick back between his lips.

It doesn't take too long after that, before Mike's moans and whimpers grow frantic as he taps Will's cheek to hopefully beam information into his brain that he's about to come. Will doesn't stop, bobbing sloppily as saliva pools and drips down the side of his mouth, eyes wet with unspilled tears from the effort. It's intoxicating, being the bearer of this much pleasure for the man he loves and adores. This is his new favorite activity. Will knows Mike is close from the way his thighs clench and tremble. With a humming confirmation to let go and a devastating combination of hollow-cheeked suction and an inspired twist of his wrist on the upstroke, Mike is coming, filling his mouth in bursts.

Will pulls away with tear streaks down his face and the release he couldn't fully swallow lingering at the corner of his lip. It's too much, it's far too much, and Mike has to kiss this boy immediately. He hauls Will up onto his lap, crashing their mouths together, plunging inside and moaning when he tastes himself on Will's own tongue.

"You're amazing, wonderful, fucking hot, and ughhh. Will! Baby."

Before Will can respond with words, he yelp as he's flipped onto his back on the couch. Mike shoves his shirt up to his neck, out of the way, to kiss down his chest, stopping at the waistline of his jeans with a wicked grin.

He unclasps Will's belt and says, "Your turn."

[moon-huny]

Stole the Moon - Chapter Four

CW: My content is not for anyone under 18. Minors DNI. Youre kidnapped, hostage situation, standard pirate stuff. mention of attempted assault, murder, afab reader, she/her pronouns.

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Going ashore, something about Buggy seems off.

A/N: I could not fit all of the smut that I wanted to include in this chapter so onto the next, which will exclusively be the chapter. I would just hate to rush and waste all of the angsty potential.

Learning more about our reader in this chapter tho. Gotta love some backstory. You know what they say, uncertain pasts make the heart grow fonder.

Okay, that's all, enjoy.

masterlist ✧˖°

previous • next

“Fuck off to where you came from Cabaji, you can pry her from our cold dead hands!”

You were laid out on the yellow loveseat sipping water while Lettie kneeled beside you and gently cleaned the red makeup from your neck. Marie was on the other side of the small cabin, pushing the door shut and spewing threats. She gripped the little iron knob and pushed her entire body weight against the door to keep the swordsman out.

“You forget that I happen to know at least eight different ways to kill you,” Cabaji shot back, the door once again shuttering against Marie’s attempts to keep it closed.

Last night, the two young women stumbled their way to the kitchen for a late night snack – and to perhaps steal some of the wine you and the captain might have left behind. Only what they found was you slumped forward in a dining chair, Cabaji with his feet up sleeping and an empty bottle.

Lettie’s eyes had gone wide at your predicament and Marie nearly slit Cabaji’s throat. Immediately the two of them carried you to their room to let you sleep the rest of the night.

“And you forget, Greenie, that I know just as many!” Marie shouted.

The hangover you had was impossible to ignore. Lettie’s gentle hand nursed you back to health for the most part, but that blanket of pain draped over your head didn’t make it easy to get off your feet.

You kept thinking back to last night. The way his lips had connected with your skin lit a fire that you couldn’t put out. The places where his kiss landed on your body had left an imprint like steps on the sand. Every thought you had the whole morning fell back to him, and his hands, and his voice, and his kiss.

You almost regret pushing him away. Your head was swimming with all of the potential things you could be doing this morning had the night gone in Buggy’s favor. 

His incessant need to have your allegiance was a subject you had no intention of ever budging. He kept you in a cellar on his ship as a prisoner, it’s not exactly strange that you wouldn’t want to join the very crew that imprisoned you.

“Captain wants her on land with him,” said Cabaji. “He said she has to be there.”

“Oh, come on!” said Lettie standing up from her place next to you and walking to the door. “What good will it do for Buggy to tote around this poor girl?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Cabaji said with a mock confusion from the other side. “I didn’t realize we were staging a mutiny! Although, for you two surely that’s not a new concept. In fact, maybe I should remind Captain Buggy about your backstory? Hmm?”

They both looked at one another nervously. After that comment, you immediately stood – dizzy as you may be – and made your way to the door. Moving around Marie, you pushed the threshold open to see Cabaji standing there waiting for you.

“Leave them alone,” you said. “I’ll come with you, just let me get dressed. That okay with you?”

Cabaji just shrugged and leaned against the wall with a bored expression. Closing the door, Lettie mouthed an ‘are you sure’ to which you simply nodded and began pulling some clothing together from their crammed reserve.

///

Cabaji did as was instructed and escorted you above deck. The two girls followed behind under the guise of wanting to go into the town just like every other crew member. 

Stepping out onto the deck of the ship, you looked out over the island. It was seemingly small, but with the amount of buildings stacked on top of one another you wouldn't have known it. Teeming with life in every direction, the little city was unlike anything you’d seen before. 

The sight of land caused you to remember –

A small seaside town.

 just big enough to spend time alone but small enough to know the names of all the residents. You were eleven years old again and walking the dusty road to the dock. The sun was setting through the beautiful trees and over the open pastures, the bridges on your path took you over sweet little streams reflecting the warm orange glow of the sky. 

Nearing the rocky shore, you came upon the tiny dock. Stomping your little feet to the end of the planked walkway, you hopped onto a woman’s boat. It was a fishing ship, large enough for three to be comfortable but small enough to be sailed by one.

“I told you to wait for me at home,” said the woman. In your memory you saw her wearing your necklace. The beautiful antique moonstone pendant. She was putting away fishing nets with a swift precision only someone with intense experience could do.

“I got bored,” you said with a shrug. “I want to go out on the boat.”

“You know we can’t do that, it’s getting late,” replied the woman hardly regarding you and continuing her chores.

“Aw come on,” your youthful self replied, crossing your arms and dragging out all the syllables in a whine. “I want to go see them.”

The woman stopped, put her work aside and strode up to you. Gripping both of your shoulders she said in a serious tone, “just because they let you live that one time, does not mean that those monsters will allow you to live a second.”

“They aren’t monsters, they are my friends,” you responded.

“And I am your mother, and I say no.”

“(Y/N)?” Lettie touched your shoulder gently.

“Yea!?” you jumped out of your memory. “Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I just had a moment.”

She looked at you with suspicion. You looked visibly shaken like you’d seen a ghost.

“Okay, well, if you need anything,” said Lettie.

“Just call for us,” chimed Marie.

You nodded back at them in return. Cabaji, Lettie and Marie marched off the ship and down the dock to enjoy whatever the island had to offer. Watchinging them continue up the street, no one ran in fear or called for help, yet the three acrobats did instill respect. People moved out of the way, regarded their presence humbly.

The clothing you’d chosen was suitable for the warmer climate. A long patterned dress with a slit up the side was perfect for the tropical air. But you would be lying if you said you didn’t pick it with him in mind.

As you stood looking out over the side of the ship, you heard footsteps approach from behind you. You turned to face him. His expression was blank, no self important smirk, no drag of the eyes along your body, nothing. He simply stopped, eyes connecting with yours, and with a bored expression, looked off toward the town.

“Let’s go,” he said, making his way toward the ramp down to the dock.

“Hey!” you called after him from higher ground. He turned to look at you with a dramatic head turn.

Raising his eyebrows all he said was, “what?” in the most annoyed tone you’d ever heard him use with you.

You scoffed, mostly in shock at the way he was speaking to you. You’d been threatened, sexualized, and outright ignored, but never had he been this … this … petty.

“What is your problem?” you said with all of the accusatory intent you could muster.

“My problem,” he responded. “Is that you wont shut up and follow where I am telling you to go. Now Let's. Go.”

You were stunned, absolutely in shock. Your jaw hung open but no words came out all you could do was stand there and attempt to find the right insult to throw, but nothing came to you.

He simply chuckled at your astonished expression and continued down to the dock. The events of last night sat with him late. He barely slept and while the lack of rest certainly contributed to his mood, seeing you this morning looking like that made him a whole new level of irritated.

Deciding you had nothing better to do and nowhere to go, you followed him. Chasing after the clown you felt your feet finally connect with land, you said what you’d been thinking since you docked.

“I could run away you know,” you said over his shoulder trying to keep up. “There isn’t anything keeping me following you, I could just book it and you’d never see me again.”

He stopped quickly and spun to face you, the quick movement causing you to bump into his chest. He’d forgone his coat and hat opting to keep just the vest and throw his long hair into a bun high on his head. The shorter pieces fell down around his face and some tucked behind his ear. 

“Then why haven’t you?”

His eyes had finally connected with yours and stayed there. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt exactly like what you’d been waiting for. Locked in his gaze you couldn’t think or speak, you just stood and let yourself search his beautiful green eyes.

“Yea,” he whispered for only you to hear. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back up. “That’s what I thought.”

Turning away from you and continuing on his way up the busy street, you snapped out of whatever trance you were under. He spoke loudly enough for you to hear him as you followed behind.

“Plus, even if you wanted to escape nobody here would aid or abet you,” he detached his torso and spun, arms crossed to face you while his legs continued walking on their path.

Outstretching his arms, “I own this city!”

Taking the time to look at the buildings you passed and the people all around, you saw a spectacular amount of Buggy related iconography. His jolly roger hung in bars, on fruit stands, and hotel welcome mats.

“You’re joking.”

“Is it really so hard to believe that some people would rather live under the banner of a pirate than between the iron jaw of the Marines? Isn’t that right ladies and gents?”

When you both rounded the corner, as if on cue, a chorus of “That's right, Captain” fell sweetly from the mouths of a gaggle of gorgeous young men and women standing on the street corner. They were dressed in beautifully scandalous clothing. The name Madam Zell’s hung above the door of the dimly lit building.

“I love when they call me that,” Buggy said, shooting the group a wink before floating back to attach himself onto his hips.

“Know them?” you asked, feeling jealousy making a home in your chest.

An all too proud smirk pulled on his face looking over his shoulder to say, “intimately.” 

You saw red. The gorgeous nymph-like gathering outside the bordello made you second guess yourself. He clearly didn’t have a type, the look of each individual completely different from the next. And yet, you still found yourself jealous of the beautiful individuals Buggy clearly visited. 

“Almost there!” he called back to you.

///

After a few more blocks, Buggy turned into a skinny alleyway squished between two larger brick buildings. At the end was a heavy carved wooden door. 

“Wait here,” he said, turning to you as he placed his hand on the knob.

“In the alley on an island run by pirates? Very funny clown,” you replied.

“Suit yourself,” he said, as the door opened into one of the strangest places you’d seen.

There were incredibly detailed scarves and lamps hanging from the ceiling. All around the room was bathed in different hues of light. The front foyer branched off into a few different hallways and rooms, from around the corner, someone popped their head out.

Their long lavender hair was pulled into a high ponytail, small circular glasses sat on the end of their nose, they wore a long black skirt, a dress shirt and a tailored waistcoat. 

“Ah, Captain,” said the shopkeep. “And … guest?” Their eyebrow went up inquisitively and their eyes darted back and forth between you. They then disappeared into the other room.

“Who is that?” you asked

“Beau,” said Buggy. “Chemist, alchemist, fortune teller.”

“And we need them because…?”

“Because they have all the goods that I need to keep making my very special ammunition, sweet cheeks.”

From the other room on the right, Beau reappeared. Walking over to Buggy and handing him a small purple sack. They turned to address you. Their eyes were done with beautifully colored makeup that would put the blue haired pirate to shame.

“In case you hadn’t yet had the pleasure, Captain has an affinity for flashy projectiles. My alchemy produces the kind of ingredients he needs for –”

Beau’s face fell. They stared at you for a long moment, something that made you noticeably uncomfortable. 

“You don’t even know what you can do,” they said.

“How did you –” you began before Buggy grabbed you by the wrist and led you to the door.

“Plans are just that, Buggy, plans. You can’t make anyone do anything,” Beau called out after you both. His comment clearly struck a nerve with the pirate as he stopped and turned around.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” said Buggy. “And it’s Captain to you.” He finished, pointing a finger in Beau’s all too relaxed face.

The alchemist leaned around their boss to speak directly to you.

“You’re going to have to figure it out for yourself. But, I suggest getting reacquainted with the moon … in your spare time,” Beau smiled. “I see a certain someone in your future taking up those nighttime hours.”

You were dying to know what they meant, you wanted to stay longer, ask more questions. If they could see the future, could they also tell you your past? Before you could open your mouth to speak, Buggy was pulling you out the door and back into the alley.

“Hey, no wait,” you tugged at his grip on you. “I want to go back inside, I want Beau to tell me more about myself.”

“And I want to get a drink,” he said, pulling you out of the alley and around the corner. You were able to get one last look at the door before it disappeared from view.

///

You sat on the small rooftop bar alone. Buggy had long since disappeared downstairs to one of the other floors of the nightclub to do whatever it is that pirates do best. Truthfully you had no idea what he was doing.

The night was beautiful. The bar wasn’t far inland, but it was also one of the highest points in the city. You could look down and see all the way to the ships in the harbor.

Like Beau had told you, you began to watch the moon. Surely it could tell you something about yourself. Unless, of course, the chemist was lying and working for the round nosed menace you can’t keep your mind from wandering back to.

“If I made a run for it, would you tell the clown?” you asked the only other lone soul in your vicinity.

The stoic bartender simply nodded his head and you rolled your eyes.

“Hey gorgeous,” said a voice you had hoped wasn’t directed at you. “Sitting all alone at the bar isn’t something a pretty girl like you oughta be doing.”

“I’m not alone,” you responded quietly.

The guy was twice your size and clearly used to getting his way. He started to lean over you, forcing himself into your personal space.

“You look very alone to me,” he said, leaning further into you. Out of fear, anger and god knows what else, you reached over the bar and picked up the nearest wine bottle before bashing it over the man's head sending him staggering back in pain.

“I’m going to run now,” you said to the bartender as you pushed yourself out of the bar chair and made a break for the stairs.

You ran and jostled your way through people right and left as you heard Goliath chasing after you. Each floor you’d sped down you would stop and look around frantically for Buggy before descending again at the sight or sound of your pursuant.

Eventually, when you realized the blue haired slacker was nowhere to be seen, all you could think to do was book it back to the ship and hope that climbing aboard would be enough of a deterrent for this ridiculously angry and frankly very insistent maniac.

Taking off down the street, the ship was insight, however, as you reached the docks, he had caught up with you and grabbed your arm.

“You pant little pant bitch!” He pulled your body to his face and spit his anger through gritted teeth. “Nobody gets a hit on me and lives, I am going to fucking kill –”

He is cut off by the view of a massive wall of water erupting behind you. The wave, stationary and towering fifteen feet tall descended.

You imagine the water encasing him, forming a barrier around his entire body. He floats there, in mid air in a sphere of ocean you created with nothing more than pure thought.

He is drowning. He tries to swim for the sides of his prison, the bottom, the top, but the current you’ve created is too strong. Eventually he stops fighting and you let the water go and crash upon the wooden dock hearing the thud of his body hit the deck.

Your body crumpling from exhaustion. 

The last thing you hear is him calling your name. You catch a glimpse of the full moon as you slip into unconsciousness.

///

You stand in his quarters, still, and boiling with rage. All he does is sit in his chair and look at you. The tension in the room was thick as blood, something you coincidentally have on your hands.

“You should not have left me alone.” you say. “I killed him.”

“Baby, please, I kill people all the time.” He replied sticking to his petty nonchalance from early in the day.

Your eyes went wide daring him to keep talking. He shut up very quickly then.

“I don’t even remember what happened. All I can remember is running and when he caught me I blacked out.”

You paced in your spot of the room across from him biting your thumb and plastering a worried expression across your face.

Buggy knew exactly what you did, he watched the whole thing happen. He watched you call up the sea and use it to drown a man midair. But it would be a cold day in hell before you knew that.

Sea water might as well be poison to him. The devil fruit inside was responsible for his inability to swim and if you so happen to get a hold on those powers before you had a loyalty to him, he’d be a goner for sure.

“What happened?” you asked the pirate. His long hair down and shirt changed into a loose linen.

“You know I wish that I could tell you, doll,” he said from his relaxed position in his chair. “But I didn’t see anything.”

He had lied dozens, hundreds of times before and while on the outside it seemed no different, he felt an uncomfortable weight on his chest, like he could feel the lie pushing him down. The way you looked so out of control. This wasn’t like you. You were confident and strong and always trying to stay one step ahead of him.

Your body fell into one of the other chairs in the room. Your head in your hands, all you could do was sit there and feel overwhelmed.

Perfect thought Buggy. He may have felt bad but he wasn't about to go back on a plan, not one so developed as this. You were in the palm of his hand all he needed to do was squeeze.

The clown captain made his way over and knelt in front of you. You peeked at him from behind your hands.

“Let me take care of you,” he said quietly, running his hand up the side of your leg from ankle to knee. 

Usually, you’d say no. Kick at him, demand a fight, challenge him. But him before you like this, begging in such a delicate way. You just wanted all the stress and frustration and fear to go away.

You nodded your head as he began to move the slit of your dress to free your left leg. He placed a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee and made his way higher, and higher. Soft lips connecting with your even softer skin.

Then you did something you’d wanted to do for so long. Between your hands you held his face and lifted him to your lips. Still kneeling before you with his hands moved to firmly grip your thighs in the chair, Buggy hesitated. The plan was just to eat you out, send you over the top with pleasure on his tongue, then discard you, make you beg for more.

But to kiss you ... could it possibly be so bad.

You ever so gently touched your lips to his own, teasing and testing to see what he would do, but he let you take the lead. Pressing your lips to his, Buggy was hit with a wave. It was unlike anything he had experienced before. The gentle supple feel of your kiss sent butterflies careening in his stomach. His chest felt tight and his pants felt even tighter.

He was used to the kinds of kisses that people share when they're just looking to fuck but never something like this, like you. It was addictive filling him with a desire he hadn’t felt in a long time. Not a want or even a need, a desire.

He could kiss you forever this way, his hands massaging up and down your pillowy thighs. You grew hotter pushing further into his kiss and moaning for more. This kiss, it was the kind that could seal the deal, make you love him.

But that was when he realized. He understood Beau’s fortune. He was already too far gone and losing control with every moment his mouth was on yours. He pulled away.

“Get out,” he said. His head hung in front of you still on his knees.

“Wha– What?” you questioned.

“I said get out.” He pushed himself to get off the ground and made for his desk to busy himself with something, anything that wasn't your body.

“Did I do something?”

He didn’t answer.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚

taglist: @tokoyamisstuff @mommymilkerfanclub @chaoticqueen33 @tootoomanycats @cefni @ruledbyproblematique @crayolacat-lilybelle @melissahew

taglist is open.

[thegreencanary]

Karen Wheeler Hate Club

Based on this request!

Paring: Billy Hargrove and Female Reader (established relationship)

TW: Cursing, Smoking, ADULTS BEING FUCKING GROSS. Minors this is a DNI cuz the adults are nasty. So go find Joyce and Hopper and get a story from them. A good safe bedtime story that doesn’t involve bored suburban moms who need to be in jail.

A/N: This is my work and I give no one the permission to post it on other sites or claim it as their own or do both of those things. Also Karen is gross for hitting on Billy and I will not take any questions at this time.

Also please take the Trigger Warnings seriously!Mental health first babes.

It’s a short one, just a little one shot!

Fuming wasn't a word that would describe you often, but today it fit perfectly. The sun was out but the fact that Karen Wheeler was trying to pick up your boyfriend was making you burn. Billy didn't mind, and at first he really liked it but once the two of you started dating he had backed off the flirting. Sure he was older and hotter than the high school boys at Hawkins, but Nancy was literally his age and she even got on her mom about it. You huffed as Karen tossed her head back laughing at something Billy said. He was just being nice, which means he was being a huge flirt. That boy had two settings, mad as hell and flirty as fuck. .The past few months you'd seen a different side to him with the Upside Down showing you different things about all your friends, you eventually developed feelings for Billy. No matter how sweet he was to you, he knew how much you hated Karen Wheeler. Grabbing your bag you almost jumped out of your lawn chair when you saw Steve enter the pool. He could take over watching the kids, you weren't going to stick around and watch someones MOM hit on your freaking boyfriend.

"Hey Y/N! Wh--"

"El is in the bathroom, everyone else is in the deep end. Have fun. Bye."

You cut Steve off and he looked so confused. His eyes followed yours and the sight of Karen looking up at Billy while he was on the lifeguard chair was all he needed to understand.

"See you later."

"Yeah."

There was some commotion behind you as you stormed out, only to feel a strong hand on your arm; stopping you.

"Where are you going babe?"

"Home...or maybe to Nancy's house to tell her dad that his wife is a pervert."

Billy sighed, he thought your jealousy was funny and a little cute but now it was clear that you didn't find it either of those things. He lit a cigarette and tried to talk to you.

"I get it, I can't exactly tell her to fuck off at work thought."

"It's fine Billy. I get it. Hot mom and everyone wants her. Well you can fucking have her then."

You ripped your arm away from Billy and stormed off. You heard him cussing behind you and saying you were over reacting but you didn't care. Later that night you got a phone call from Billy. He wasn't one for apologizing but he talked to you a bit about everything and you explained your side as well. The two of you made up under the rule that he wouldn't entertain Mrs. Wheeler at all. That was what was supposed to happen, yet Karen didn't seem to get the message that he wasn't interested. Every damn day she was at the pool waiting for Billy, wearing new swim suits and makeup...who fucking wears makeup to go swimming? You reached your limit when you went on your lunch break from work to eat with Billy and there she was, standing too close to Billy and trying to put her nasty hands all over her. The rage you felt carried your feet to Billy and you stepped in front of Karen, placing a big kiss on Billy's lips. He smirked and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you in tighter.

A moment or two passed and you separated, looking at Karen with spite in your eyes.

"I'm sorry, was I interrupting?"

"Not at all baby, Mrs. Wheeler was just asking about swim lessons."

That fucking bitch.

"Huh. Mike and Nancy swim great, just like their mom!"

A deviously innocent smile crawled across your face as you saw Karen step back in defeat.

"Yeah...its for a friend. She never really learned..."

"I'm sure she would fit right in to the group classes. After all, it's a little weird for someone your age to be spending alone time with teenagers, isn't it?"

Billy squeezed your side playfully. The smile on this face was of pure awe. You were a force to be reckoned with and he fucking loved it.

"I...I suppose so. Thank you for the information Billy. I'll see you around."

"I'm always at work."

He responded nicely but it was clear there was NOTHING more to feed the delusional Karen Wheeler. Once she was out of sight, Billy picked up where you two left off from the kiss and a blush reached your toes.

"Billy! People can see..."

"That didn't stop you before baby. You're so fucking hot when you're mad."

"Well don't make me mad like that again or you'll be the one I'm bitching at."

"You're cute when you think you can scare me."

He smirked and grabbed your ass. This lunch was going to be very quick.

[threadsun]

Ok, hear me out, I had random ass wolfden brain rot and now you're gonna have it to

I remember that Joseph is the alpha and Jack is somewhere below him but usually pulls Joseph's strings behind the scenes. So, what if some night Jack was being all sweet on Joseph and offers to let him relax by domming him. Joseph's never been allowed to sub as the leader of the pack and with Jack's honeyed words it doesn't take long for him to be ass up

Once they're done Jack reminds him of how humiliating it would be if the alpha was caught subbing! If he wants Jack to keep his lips sealed he has to let Jack use him whenever he wants :)

Sorry this is all a bit garbled it just popped into my brain in the shower and I needed to get it out of my brain before it disappeared ^^;

HEY HAVE I EVER MENTIONED THAT I WOULD DIE FOR YOU???

Listen, Joseph's the alpha mostly to keep the peace. Perhaps, had Elias and Taylor joined the pack sooner, Elias would've had a shot. But back when the pack was forming... well, Joseph was the only person everyone could agree on. Him and Nick, of course, but Nick staunchly refused to take on that responsibility.

It's not like he wants to be the alpha in charge, he just... he just hates the fighting. He just wants to keep the peace. And so does Jack! It's silly, really, how much Shaun and Ian object to him being the pack leader. Joseph can't wrap his head around why they insist that he's such a threat. Really, the guy's a sweetheart! And he wants nothing more than to help Joseph keep everything calm and happy.

Really, in the moment, Joseph was helpless. Such sweet words, such warm hands, and the promise of not having to think. Just for a moment, being allowed to let go. To not be in charge. To submit, like he always dreams about.

And god did Jack follow through on all those promises. To fuck him until his brain shut off. That huge cock stretching him perfectly, head hitting his prostate until he saw stars. Making him cum all over his sheets, his swollen knot bobbing between his legs rather than stuck inside someone for once. And Jack's knot... the way it pressed inside of him, kept them locked together...

As soon as Jack caught his breath, he was holding Joseph in his arms. Those big, warm, strong arms that made him feel so safe. And he's whispering in Joseph's ear, words the man can barely unscramble as he tries to regain the senses he's just had fucked out of him.

"—wouldn't do, would it? Everyone finding out the pack's leader was moaning like a bitch in heat for me."

Joseph had never heard such filthy words from Jack before tonight. But they sound more menacing now than they did when they were being grunted in his ear in time with Jack's hips.

"No one would respect you if they knew. If they knew how pathetic you looked getting knotted by me. It would humiliate you. It would throw the pack into chaos. They wouldn't be able to respect your authority... it would send us into another fight. Everyone vying to take your place... We don't want that, do we?"

Joseph whimpers nervously and shakes his head, tail twitching in agitation. "No... no..."

"Good, I'm glad we're on the same page..." Jack soothes a hand across his back, but Joseph doesn't find it as comforting as usual. "But you enjoyed this, didn't you? You want it to continue?"

Joseph reluctantly nods. There's no use in lying, they both know how much he enjoyed it. "Yes..."

"Good." Jack's voice is back to that perky, cheerful chirp. "Then we're in agreement?"

Agreement? Joseph's head feels like it's swimming. "Huh?"

"That you'll be my pretty little free use bitch, of course!" Jack says it like it's the most normal thing in the world, and it almost sets Joseph at ease. "No one will find out, but your sweet hole will be mine whenever I want it. It'll keep the pack together and give you your fill of submitting to a proper alpha. And isn't that all you want? I'm just giving you what you want."

The words come out of Joseph's mouth before he can think. Jack's doing that thing again, where he says the most unreasonable things in the most casual tone, until they sound quite agreeable. And Joseph's always been weak to that. So he nods and smiles weakly.

"Thank you, Jack."

[vixkirksleftballsack]

Nischa headcannons/ individual headcannons because they won’t leave my brain (a lot of them are copy pasted from a server I’m in)

Mischa is a huge adult swim fan, liking shows like morel Orel, robot chicken, and all that

Noel is taller than Mischa, but Mischa refuses to go along with the idea that Noel is a normal height and he’s just short, so Mischa lies about his height sometimes and claims Noel is just a giant

Mischa has wrestlers ear

Noel knows how to play the clarinet

When noel laughs, it’s always one of those out-the-nose chuckles

Mischa says that he gets in trouble with the cops frequently, but like the worst thing he’s done is jaywalked and stolen things from gas stations

Noel’s natural smile is downturned

Noel and Mischa have a “romantic” playlist, but Mischa adds the most awful shit to it. Like Eminem or Macklemore all over the playlist

Before Noel and Mischa were friendly with each other, they hated each other. Like Noel thought Mischa was a stereotypical dickhead homophobic hockey boy, and Mischa thought noel was a Pussy fuck

Mischa has a pretty awful gaydar, and assumed noel was straight when he first joined the choir and thought that noel was with ocean. (Noel immediately shot that down)

Mischa would sleep in jeans or pants, and Noel would have specific clothes he doesn’t like designated for sleeping

Mischa had noel do most of his English work, and mischa helped noel get better at the things they were working on in P.E.

As a joke once, Mischa asked Noel something along the lines of “do you have a crush on me or something?”, Noel fired back with a comment about his height and Mischa didn’t talk to him until he confirmed it was a joke

Once when Mischa was high/drunk, he was rambling to Noel who was prolly his tripsitter, and he kept on talking about getting matching tattoos/letting him tattoo noel

While in class, Mischa randomly laid down across his chair a bit and put his head on Noel’s lap (staring up at the ceiling), and didn’t move until the teacher realized and yelled at him

They shared a lot of their classes together so noel could act as a “behavior buffer”, but it didn’t work and Mischa would just randomly talk random shit in the middle of their classes to noel

[koqabear]

What Were We Fighting About Again?

requested: here ❁

Summary:

Hueningkai is insufferable, obnoxious, and currently stuck in the storage room with you, miles away from anyone who can come and help you.

Looks like you have some issues to resolve.  

Hueningkai x afab! reader

Genre: ex-friends/enemies to lovers, summer camp leaders au, miscommunication trope, locked inside trope, smut

Word count: 2K

Warnings: cursing, no partícular dom/sub roles, brief handjob, angry/rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie bc of course it’s me you’re talking about, multiple orgasms, slight dumbification, size kink, brief manhandling, grinding (let me know if I should add anything!)

Notes: the world is lacking Hueningkai stories… bless you for asking for this, who knows when I would have been able to work on my huening wip… currently accepting requests, feel free to drop by! Feedback is always appreciated, I hope you guys enjoy !! <3

“You fucking idiot, look what you did!” 

It wasn’t always like this with you and Huening— the two of you were friends, once. 

But as you found yourself locked inside the storage closet, miles away from your youth groups who were currently out on a hike, you couldn’t help but remember all the reasons why you weren’t friends anymore.

“You were the one struggling to get the stupid swimming equipment!” Hueningkai defended himself, returning the mean look you shot at him, “You should’ve gotten the door if you weren’t able to do it.” 

“You—“ you turn around, walking up to him only to stop yourself, clenching your jaw as you try to keep calm, only to fail miserably, “You’re insufferable!” 

Hueningkai laughs at that, an incredulous look as he takes a step towards you, glaring down at you, “You’re one to talk.” 

“I should have quit this stupid job the moment I saw you.” You say, gritting your teeth as you look at him— you could almost feel his breath on your face.

“But you didn’t,” he replies, his breathing shallow as he takes another step forward, cornering you in the dim room. 

When was the last time you truly got to look at Hueningkai? Because as he stands before you, lips parted and eyes lidded, you finally begin to take in how much he’s changed— he’s nothing like the shy, small, awkward kid you knew when you were younger. No, he’s much more different now; he’s tall and broad, encasing you easily as you try to stand your ground, but fail to do so as you feel your heart beating faster and faster against your chest. 

“I hate you,” you grit out weakly, a shaky hand finding itself on his chest; he’s firm, tensing up as he takes initiative, walking back until he’s got you pushed up against the wall, leaning down and placing a hand next to your head as he smiles coyly.

“You don’t mean that.”

He’s on you before you can process his words— his lips on yours, soft and pillowy, stark in contrast to the way he’s roughly kissing you, his body pushed against yours and his hands roaming all over your body. 

He’s got you good; because as you let out a small groan into his mouth, your hands finding purchase on his firm shoulders, you can’t seem to think of anything other than him. His hands are quick to untuck your shirt from your shorts, your uniform wrinkled and messy as he feels around your skin, a hot trail left behind every touch. 

Honestly, you can’t even begin to remember why your friendship soured so badly— a brief fight blown out of proportion, only to be followed by petty behavior is all you can think of. But as you lock your leg around his hip, pulling him closer and taking in the noise that leaves his lips, you can’t help but wonder how Hueningkai changed so drastically.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” he growls, the kiss messy as he briefly pulls away, taking off your shirt before going back in, your hands tangled in his hair as you don’t give him the chance to pull away. Grinding into him, you sigh as he reciprocates, the hard feeling of him pressed against you leaving your mind blank as your head falls on his shoulder, absentmindedly sucking on his skin as you both chase pleasure.

“I can’t even remember what I did, but you were so fucking persistent on being such a bitch to me,” he says, punctuating his words with a rough thrust, taking in the way you whine against him, your legs buckling at his sudden anger. 

“You were the one who wouldn’t apologize,” You complain, and before you know it, Hueningkai is ripping your shorts off of you. In retaliation, you tug at his shirt, allowing him to pull it over his head as you’re unbuckling his pants, smiling wickedly as his tough act falls apart the moment your hands are around his cock.

“You wouldn’t contact me, you just ghosted me and insisted on being the one who wasn’t in the wrong,” you grit out, circling his tip with your thumb as you take in the way he pants uselessly against you, mouth agape and small whines coming out of him as you begin to pump your hand against his length. 

His lips are on yours again, but he’s quick to break away as you increase your speed, his eyes closing as he drops his head onto your shoulder, his breathy moans and curses grazining your skin, his hands gripping onto your hips in a ruthless hold. 

“Slow— slow slow, ah... fuck,” he groans, stopping you as he grabs a hold of your wrist, pulling your hand off of him as he pushes your panties aside, adjusting his hold on you as he lines up against you.

You know it’s reckless, you know it’s stupid to suddenly be fucking the man that you couldn’t even look at, but fuck, your brain was just so clouded with need and frustration that you couldn’t help but throw your head back as he pushes inside you, the stretch so sudden and welcome that you wouldn’t mind being stuck here for a little longer. 

“You never even told me what I did,” he groans, not bothering to let you respond before he’s pounding into you, the sound of skin on skin joining in on the moans and whimpers that you let out. You couldn’t help but let the anger return at that, a hand reaching up to entangle itself roughly in his hair before you were pulling it, a surprised moan leaving his lips as his head tilted back.

“Yes I did, you asshole—!” You say, legs buckling uselessly as he suddenly hits a spot that has your eyes rolling back, pussy clenching on him tightly as he groans, the two of you sinking down to the floor before you’re back on each other, your thighs straddling him and his hands on your waist before he’s back inside you.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you act like you can do no wrong, you obnoxious, annoying…” you’re practically talking to yourself at this point, letting out all the years of anger and frustration that have been building up inside you, raging violently at the sight of him. 

Hueningkai’s mind is left blank as you set up this ruthless pace, your pussy so warm and tight as he grips onto your hips, his fingers digging into your skin painfully. All he can do is let out whines and whimpers as he watches you, your breasts bouncing beautifully in his face, your eyes lidded with lust as you look down at him, your eyes mocking and wicked that he thinks he might cum then and there. 

Your hands are on his shoulders again, and before he knows it, you’re pushing him down, his back meeting the cool wood as you’re pushing down on his chest, ignoring his pleasure for yours as you begin to use him. You can feel your body tensing up as you set a pace for yourself, the sight of Hueningkai whining and looking so fucked out making you much closer to your high than you expected. 

He watches as you reach down to grab his hand, bringing it up to your chest as you push it past your bra, allowing him to play with your breasts as you bring your hand to circle your clit, Hueningkai’s eyes practically rolling back with the way you’re clenching around him, the sight of you falling apart above him ingraining itself into his head. 

He’s still hard as you begin to slow down, sensitive and riding out your orgasm as you let out small whimpers, the frustration getting to him as you find yourself too weak to move.

Your anger has dissipated by now, your mind blank as it becomes Hueningkai’s turn to fuck you senseless, allowing him to treat you like a ragdoll as you’re being pushed down now, watching him place himself between your thighs before he’s pulling you closer, still angry at your attitude as he ignores your half hearted protests that you’re still too sensitive. 

“Fucking take it,” he growls, his grip on you bruising as your legs shake, the overstimulation too much for your brain as you’re left a mess on the floor, lips parted as you take in the way he roughly pounds into you. 

Hueningkai is big. You tried to pretend as if he hadn’t affected you, but the size of him was too much for you to handle, your brain only malfunctioning more as the sight of him manhandling you and encasing you so easily only makes you needier. You can feel another orgasm approaching by now, the feeling of him hitting all the spots that make you see stars overwhelming, your eyes meeting with his as you take in the way he seems to be enjoying your own fucked out state. 

Yet before you can reach your peak, Hueningkai is stilling above you, the feeling of his cum filling you to the point where it begins to leak out drawing a weak whimper from you. Then he’s collapsing on you, the pressure of his warm skin on yours welcoming as he’s still inside you, back for more as your lips find his naturally. 

“Can you even remember what the fight was about,” he breathes out, still hard as you begin to grind on him, your leg wrapping around his waist as you desperately hope for more.

“No,” you confess, breathless at the way Hueningkai is able to grind against your clit at this angle, skin flushed with heat at the way he chuckles, shaking his head before he’s attached to your lips, his shallow thrusts allowing him to go deeper, deeper and deeper until you feel him bump against your cervix, the hitch of your breath and the loud moan telling Hueningkai all he needed to know.

“Me neither,” he says, the two of you so close and intimate as you slowly help each other reach your climax, your heart finally allowing you to see Hueningkai in a new light. 

His hand reaches to intertwine with yours, the kiss becoming a mess of tongue and teeth as you bite at each other’s lips, swollen and red as you find yourself coming one more, the tight clench of your pussy around Hueningkai’s cock setting off his own orgasm, the feeling of him filling you once more bringing out a small whimper against your lips, his hips slowing down as he finishes riding out his orgasm.

The two of you are still, taking in each other’s presence as you silently wonder what this means for your relationship, the consequences finally dawning on each other as the sounds of the summer day that leak into the room are all that’s left. But when your eyes meet his, and you feel his cock twitching inside you, you can’t help but let go of all your worries.

❀❁❀

The two of you are locked inside the room for another thirty minutes, unable to keep your hands off of each other, only to be rushing to clean up when you hear the sounds of your groups calling out for you. To this day, you still wonder how you got away with such a feat, the two of you giggling childishly at the incident as your groups watch from afar, pausing in their activities from time to time to observe you.

“I thought they hated each other,” the kids would say, gossiping with your other youth group leaders. They would only sigh, watching the way you two couldn’t spend one second away from each other.

“We did too,” they would say, the sudden change forever left as a mystery to everyone except you two.