#on top of her being so incredibly passionate she could burn up-

[hatchetburiied]

something something Noah being sun coded in the way she goes against all of the wandenreich's principles........

[lessi-lover]

Begging for the softest Katie McCabe fic ever where she and her girlfriend are just absolutely obsessed and in love and would do anything for each other and their Arsenal teammates make fun of them for it.

flirty II k.mccabe x reader

small little one to start of the year! missing my katie content atm ★ flirty II k.mccabe x reader

"save some of that energy for me later, won't ya, love?" your girlfriend teased as she ran past, swiftly dribbling around you, but not before kicking the ball through your legs. you stood bewildered, a look of pure shock on your face. the cocky smirk on her face as she glanced back at you was infuriating. you could only stand from afar and watch, as she made a beeline towards the goal, successfully dribbling past all her opposition. it was only the loud ripple of the ball hitting the back of the net that snapped your mind back to life.

walking her way over to you cockily, her hand connected sharply with your behind, making you yelp loudly. you flushed bright red, and you turned to glare at her, only to hear your teammates snickering behind you. she stood there, a few feet away, her face lit up with a mischievous grin, clearly pleased with herself. "i told you to stop doing that in front of people," you shouted as you ran after her, trying to sound stern but failing to hide the amused smile tugging secretly at the corners of your mouth.

her laughter rang in your ears, and she looked over your head winking at her jeering teammates. "oh, come on love, you know you love it," she mocked, pinching your burning cheeks, before turning to jog back to the game.

as you watched her effortlessly blend back into the game, skillfully maneuvering the ball with ease, your irritation faded into fondness. her ability to bring make everyone burst into laughter even the most mundane moments was truly a gift. her talent on the ball never left you not feeling proud, and you felt incredibly lucky to call her yours.

"come on, stop drooling at the girl, her ego is already big enough," caitlin teased you, as you admired your girlfriend. her voice loud enough to draw more laughter and taunting from the other girls. you shook your head, your face somehow even redder now, and if it weren't for the weather being so chilly today, you were sure you would have copped some more insults, as you ran back to your position.

you ran up the sidelines, determined to prove yourself to your team after the mistake you'd just made. you made every run, creating a multitude of options, to try and help your team, and you were rewarded with the score being lifted to a tie.

a loud whistle sounded in your ears, signalling it was the end of practice. you breathed a sigh of relief, before you felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around your waist, and you were pulled tightly into their chest. you placed your hands on top of theirs, leaning back into the familiar hold.

"beautiful play, darlin." your girlfriend spoke. "couldn't take my eyes of ya." she admitted, and you rolled your eyes at her, now a smile shown on your face. "couldn't take your eyes of me, or my ass?" you questioned. "both." she confessed. pressing her lips to the side of your face, as you squirmed in her arms, which only made her hold you tighter.

"oi, get a room you too!" alessia yelled as she walked past, boots and water in hand. "yeah, nobody asked for a front seat to whatever you two do at home." vic, the younger of the two agreed, the both of them cracking up and smacking each others shoulders in amusement.

"ya sure? i thought i heard someone say you were VIP's?" katie retorted, her voice high in confusion, although the smirk on her face gave it away. gently grasping your neck, she swiftly closed the distance between you. her lips met yours warmly, as her hand came up to rest behind your ear. she kissed you as if she was rediscovering every contour of your mouth, her lips moving passionately slow against yours.

you pulled back, your smile mirrored her own as you stood shocked at her unexpected kiss. a series of jeering comment rippled through your teammates, as you were both scolded by your captain for 'inappropriate workplace behavior', although the slight curl of her lips betrayed her words, she really did love you both more than she could admit. it was clear the she was only acting stern for the sake of team discipline.

as you walked, hand in hand towards the dining room, you were suddenly another arm wrapped around shoulder, the person pulling you into them. "come have lunch with your fav girls." steph declared, your right arm now looped with kyra's who lay her head on you.

looking to your right, you saw your girlfriend being similarly 'kidnapped' by viv. the team now working together to separate the two of you. viv rolled her eyes when she caught the brunette eyes lingering for a moment too long, as you, steph and kyra walked in front of them.

"stop staring." "i'm not." "yes you are." "im allowed to look at my girl." "softie."

katie trudged angrily in the cold, her hands rubbing up and down her forearms, desperate to fight off the chilly weather. usually this was your job, forever warning the girl about the cold weather and that her lack of gear would result in a nasty cold. you often ridiculed her about her stubborn refusal to wear proper clothing, but she'd just flash you a grin, one that said she could handle the cold. but today you weren't there to drape your scarf around her neck, or to scold her for wearing a thin jacket.

instead, you were experiencing some similar clapback from your best friends. as you tried to catch up to katie, you path was blocked. "not so fast, cheeky. your little girlfriend will do just fine on her own." the younger girl teased, arms crossing sarcastically over her chest. "ky." you tried to reason with her, but she was having none of it, her head still obstructing your view of your girlfriend.

huffing, you made your way to lunch, but not without brushing off your friends, in an effort to let them know you were not happy. the entirety of training you were stolen every time you tried to interact with your girlfriend, and every time you tried to partner up with her, she was already being dragged away by one of your teammates.

and now, all you wanted to do was be with katie, cuddle up by the fire inside and just be in her company. as you walked, you made little clouds of cold air in front of you, and you couldn't help but think of katie. you could hear kyra and steph chatting beside you, and distant conversation around you, but there was only one girl you really really wanted to talk to.

finally making it inside, you felt you skin immediately warm up, the heaters warming the insides of your body. as the chill resided you, you felt your muscles relax, the tension fading away gratefully.

as you lifted your hoodie over your head, you made your way over to the buffet, intent on trying the new pasta recipe you had overheard on your way in this morning. you shuffled behind some of the girls, a few of them annoyingly blessed with indecisiveness. when you looked up, you saw the chefs chuckling and pointing behind you.

confused, you turned around and your heart all but melted at the sight. there sat your girlfriend, isolated from all your teammates, with a full plate of food and a similar looking plate next to her. walking up to the girl finally had you with a bright smile on your face.

"can i sit with you?" you questioned, the glint in your eyes unwavering. "no sorry. i'm waiting for my gorgeous girlfriend." she responded, tone dripping with sarcasm, as a small giggle left her lips. "i'm sure she won't mind if i sit with you in the meantime?" you replied. "i suppose she'll get over it." she said, shrugging her shoulder, and pulling out the chair for you.

"so flirty this morning aren't you."

"missed you, darlin." your girlfriend laughed, her ring clad hand now lying comfortably on your thigh. "again, missed me or my ass?" you asked, raising your eyebrows mockingly. the girl pinched your stomach, placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek, to which she was pushed away with a grin. "definitely you. but i won't deny it, your ass is pretty great," she teased, her hand resting on your side.

"you got my favourites!" you said, eyes gazing at the food you knew katie would have hand picked for you. "anything for you," she admitted, and you felt your cheeks flush once again. "and your ass," she said not a minute later, bursting into a fit of laughter, almost falling off her chair, whilst you smacked her chest offensively.

calming down, she was now aware of the amount of looks she was getting, a few of the girls shouting over to ask if she was alright. "that was so not funny katie." you spoke, arms crossed over your chest. "nah you should've seen your face, darlin." shaking your head, with a grin on your face, you tuned to the girl raising your eyebrows as if to say, "are you done?"

you shared a smile, you saw her gaze shift from your eyes to your lips, and you mirrored her movements. "come er, love," she whispered, her hand gently clasping behind your ear. leaning in, you closed the gap between you, meeting her soft lips in a feverish kiss. you tangled your fingers in her hair, gently tugging on her ponytail.

but before you could get too carried away, you were rudely interrupted. "well, well, well. if it isn't my favourite couple!" you heard beth yell behind you, a teasing grin plastered on her face. making room for herself between your chairs, she wrapped her arms around both your shoulders your necks straining uncomfortably.

"can't leave you two alone for a second can we? glad i came when i did." you rolled your eyes at the older girl, as she beckoned over your other teammates to sit around you. "i think that's our cue to leave, doll."

katie grabbed your hand weaving your fingers together, her other hand going to guide your waist to stand, as you made your way out. as you walked out, hand in hand, you heard the merciless teasing of your friends, each comment making you shake your head in disappointment.

"don't do anything kim wouldn't do!" "we still have a game on saturday, nothing too strenuous!" "oi, come back lovebirds!" "use protection!" "be safe!"

your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head at the last few, your teammates often using you and katie to try some not so family friendly jokes.

"don't those eyes be rolling back for anybody but me, babygirl."

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Homecoming Daydream Part 3

Summary: “And you’re mine“, she sighed happily. All mine.

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader.

Genre: Romance, fluff and smut.

WC: 4.473

Author's note: This is a multiple-chapter Toto x Reader fanfic. Noted that English is not my mother tongue so there will be mistakes.

Hi guys, it’s been a whirlwind journey for me to create something such a beautiful piece of work and to actually publish it on here. Thanks for all the love and support. I love you all! And here it is the very last part of the story. I love every bit of it.

Thanks @peachapat119 for being such an amazing beta reader 🫶🏻

Part 1

Part 2

Y/n leaned forward getting a closer look at the mirror inside the bathroom as she carefully re-applied her plush, red lip. She smacked her lips together to get the right shade of red in how it should be. Slowly, she let out a sigh and took a deep breath. This was not the first time today that she needed to remind herself she is, no was getting married. The reality still hadn’t fully sunk in. Finally, they were married. She was married. Married to him. To the man, she held close to her heart and mind.

As if sensing she was thinking about him, she heard her husband’s steps in the bedroom. Of course, since she thought about him all the time, the timing wasn’t a hard feat to manage. She looked up in the mirror and was met with a smile that threatened to melt her bones into goo. Good thing he stepped up behind her to hold her upright, his warm hands encircling her waist in a loving embrace.

“Hi there, Schzat,” He softly murmured in his low voice, almost as a whisper, ones that she can not be mistaken.

“Hi,” she whispered happily, hands on top of his around her waist.

“I missed you downstairs. Is there anything wrong?”

“I’m fine, just needed to freshen up a bit.”

Toto hummed contentedly, softly swaying them to the music that drifted through the open windows. She leaned back into him, enjoying how safe and protected she felt in his arms. He placed a chaste kiss on her shoulder, before tracing the shell of her ear with his nose.

„Have I told you how incredibly beautiful you look today?“

Her smile turned into a grin.

„Only about a dozen times.“

He shook his head and tsk-ed her quietly.

“A dozen? That’s not nearly enough. Let me remedy that right now.“

He turned her around in his arms until they were face to face and she was almost blinded by the happy expression on his face. He looked almost boyish with joy.

He got that boyish look that I like in a man

I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans

It's like I'm seventeen, nobody understands

No one understands

An angelic voice inside of her head suddenly sing along to the song that made her laugh aloud.

“You look utterly, undeniably, devastatingly gorgeous tonight, Mrs. Wolff.”

Y/n giggled.

“You really love calling me that, don’t you?“

“I really, really do.“

Toto slid his arms over her waist and back, until he reached her neck, gently cradling her head while he pulled her in for a kiss. It wasn’t their first kiss tonight, and it wouldn’t be their last by a long shot, but that didn’t make it any less remarkable.

Their kisses were filled with passion and desire, each one igniting a fire within them that had been burning since they first laid eyes on each other. Toto's hands traveled down her back, pulling her closer to him as their lips moved together in a dance of love and lust.

He could feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, matching the rhythm of his own. Their bodies pressed against each other, fitting together perfectly like two puzzle pieces that had finally found their match.

As the kiss deepened, their breath mingled together, creating a sweet and intoxicating mixture that filled the air around them. Toto couldn't get enough of her, couldn't resist the pull she had on him. He wanted to drown in her, to lose himself in the passion that consumed them both.

And as they finally pulled away, both breathless and flushed with desire, Toto knew that this was just the beginning of a love that would last a lifetime. Their connection was undeniable, their chemistry electric. And as he looked into her eyes, he knew that he had found his soulmate in her.

Toto’s body vibrated with a moan of his own, as he matched her intensity. The sound of it made her insides flutter and liquid heat pool at the apex of her thighs. Especially since she could feel the effects of their kiss against her stomach, plump and quickly hardening.

Y/n pulled back, trying to catch her breath. Toto didn’t care, he continued the onslaught of kisses on her body, trailing down the sides of her throat, following the neckline of her dress.

“Look so perfect, so beautiful, mein Engel“, he murmured, his hot breath against her skin. “Can’t believe you’re mine.“

Y/n gasped and giggled.

“And you’re mine“, she sighed happily. All mine.

Y/n looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his love and devotion reflected back at her. She knew that they were meant to be together, that their love was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love.

In that moment, they were lost in each other, consumed by the intensity of their love. Nothing else mattered, not the past or the future, only the present moment filled with love and passion. Y/n knew that she was truly home, in the arms of the man she loved more than anything in the world.

She smiled mischievously when pulled back from the kiss and licked her lips, feeling a surge of desire buzzing through her veins. Closing the distance between them, she ran her hands up his chest, feeling the hard muscles beneath her touch. Toto's breath hitched as her fingers trailed down his abdomen, causing her to smirk in satisfaction. When she looked up at him, she saw a mix of desire and amusement in his eyes.

“What are you up to, Schatz?” He asked, a hint of challenge in his tone.

She grinned, teasingly tugging on his tie before trailing her fingers along the waistband of his trousers.

"Just appreciating what's mine," she replied coyly.

Toto chuckled, his gaze darkening as she continued to tease him.

"Is that so? And why did you push me away earlier?"

She shrugged playfully, running her nails lightly across his waistband.

"I just remembered something I wanted to try."

"What's that?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.

She hummed softly, pressing a kiss to his neck before sinking to her knees in front of him. The surprise in his expression brought a thrill to her as she slowly unbuckled his belt, revealing his erection straining against his briefs.

"I couldn't stop thinking about doing this last night," she murmured, her voice low and seductive.

"Thinking about what, Liebe? Teasing me?" he growled, his desire evident in his voice.

Ignoring the submissive urge within her, she confidently pulled down his briefs and wrapped her hand around his cock, eliciting a groan from him.

“I swore to give you all of mine. So this belongs to me, right?” She asked in a sultry tone, looking at him through her eyelashes.

He gazed down at her, his breathing heavy, before finally closing his eyes and nodding.

“I’m yours, Schatz. Yours, forever, If you have me.”

"Good boy," she purred, stroking him slowly. "You'll only ever come for me, won't you?"

"Only for you," he replied, his voice strained with desire.

She smiled wickedly, enjoying the power she held over him.

"Remember that, my dear husband. You belong to me, completely and utterly."

She leaned forward, bracing herself on his muscular thighs and stuck out her tongue, letting some saliva trickle off onto the head of his cock. With her fingertips, she dragged the liquid downward, over the thick pulsing vein running down the middle, until she could draw little circles on the skin of his sack. When she heard another sharp exhale from above, she stopped tracing and gripped him again, and started pumping him in lazy strokes.

"Hmm, I’ve always loved how hard you get for me, dear husband."

He twitched in her hand and her smile turned into a sly grin.

"Fuck, Schatz. Whatever you're planning on doing, you better be ready for the consequences."

The threat sent a tingle down her spine. And when she looked up, she was met with that beautiful intensity, those brown eyes wanting. When she sped up her strokes just slightly, his gaze darkened and dropped from her face to her hand, more specifically her finger. The finger that now carried his diamond ring, sparkling in the low light. Her heart fluttered unevenly in her chest. Leave it to her husband to be turned on by the physical proof of their commitment.

"All I plan on doing is pleasing my husband. How am I doing so far?"

As she continued to stroke him, she could sense his control slipping away. The way his breath caught in his throat, the way his fingers dug into the sheets beneath him. She knew exactly how to push his buttons and she reveled in the power she held over him in this moment. The ring on her finger served as a reminder of their love and devotion, but in this moment, it was just a symbol of their shared desire and passion. And as she watched him come undone beneath her touch, she knew that they were connected on a deeper level than just the physical. Their love was a force to be reckoned with, and she was determined to show him just how much she adored him in every way possible.

She watched, mesmerized as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. His jaw clenched, as she kept up her movements.

“I love it when you touch me, Schatz. But you know what I need to be truly satisfied.“

Yes, she knew. By now she was very familiar with Toto’s single-minded need to drown her in pleasure, pulling endless orgasms out of her body until she was a helpless, boneless mess.

Y/n could feel her arousal soaked through her panties. She was dying as much as Toto, she wanted to touch her self but as if he could read her mind

“Don’t you dare to do so, Liebe. Even on our wedding day, you know full-well that that’s not the place for you to touch.”

The tinge of anger in his voice only spurned her on further. She took him back into her mouth, pushing forward until he hit the back of her throat, hollowing out her cheeks and sucking gently as she pulled back. When he groaned loudly as she took him deeper, she could feel the sound vibrating through her entire body.

Toto was getting close, too. She could tell by the tension in his strained muscles, his irregular breathing and uneven pace. He leaned back to hold on to the counter behind him, and something crinkled and dropped to the ground. But neither of them was able to care.

Y/n flicked her tongue against the head of his cock and sucked again, harder this time, tightening her lips around him. She rubbed her other hand over his thigh, moving higher to cradle his balls in her palm, rolling them just slightly.

Toto’s hips jerked as he pushed back into her mouth and he let out another guttural groan. The sound drove her mad with lust as she pushed herself to the edge, the gentle climax relaxing not just her core, but also her throat, as she took him deeper and moaned.

He cursed through clenched teeth and as soon as Y/n felt his hands in her hair, she also felt him spill in her mouth, hot and perfect. She dutifully swallowed every last drop and kept licking up and down his shaft as Toto panted heavily. He finally stopped moving and cradled her head in his hands, his cock still hard and throbbing on her tongue. Then he looked down, back at her and drew in a sharp breath.

“Holy shit“, he murmured when he got back to his senses.

In one swift move, he grabbed her by the elbows and pulled her up against him, kissing her with the hunger of a man who always wanted more. She melted into him, returning the kiss and pressing herself against his still-hard erection, hoping for the second round she suddenly very much craved.

They went back downstairs after Y/n managed to fix herself up somewhat. Though Toto immensely enjoyed the sight of his wife’s thoroughly fucked up hair and make-up, he didn’t need to share it with the rest of the wedding party. She slipped into different clothes, a lighter sundress. Even without the wedding gown, she looked so gorgeous, he couldn’t keep his hands off her, only relenting when she slapped them away on the way down the stairs with a giggle.

Finally, though, they were free from all the wild guests as Toto and Y/n left for their honeymoon.

As soon as they step through the door of their hotel’s room, she attacks him while Toto hasn’t even had the chance to set their hotel’s key card and their luggage down.

“Easy there, Schatz.”

“Don’t blame me, husband.”

After a moment, she begins to suck and nibble at his throat. Toto has to fight back the growl that wants to leave his mouth. God, he’s half hard just from her mouth on his skin, and he’d say, also from having her in his arms, so who is he kidding?

Her hand goes in between their bodies, fingers wrapping around his length as she stands on her tiptoes and captures his mouth in a soft kiss. He groans out shamelessly before he deepens the kiss and slides his tongue into her mouth, tongue stroking along the roof of her mouth. She meets him halfway and closes in harder, hand still jerking him off. Her thumb draws circles on his slit, spreading the pre-cum around the pulsing head.

Y/N’s other hand travels from the back of his neck down to rest on his chest, breaking the kiss by pushing him away. Their foreheads are still fused as they come up for air.

“Toto?”

“Yeah?”

“Take me to bed,”

He smiles before he kisses her again as both his hands thread through her hair, pulling them together. She’s quick to wrap her legs around his middle and Toto does his best to walk to their bedroom without slipping and falling.

It looks like he can reach his destination without incident. He makes sure to reach out and stores in the suitcases, although it’s damn distracting with a girl sucking on his neck.

Toto manages to lay her on the nicely made bed and pushes himself up to study her features. She whines at the loss of warmth. The sound that she lets out makes him chuckle because it’s so fucking adorable. It manages to tear at his heartstrings.

He pushes her further up and lays her head onto the pillow that’s fluffy enough to almost make her disappear. His heart takes another happy leap of the night when he hears her laughing with her head almost buried by the fluffiness of the cushion.

“Y/N? Where did you go?” Toto chuckles amused, his hands battling with the pillow right beside her head, making her reappear, “Oh, there you are,”

There’s still giggling when she reaches out and swats at his chest one-handed. Toto quickly takes hold of it, brings her hand to his lips and places a kiss on her knuckles before he lets go.

Hovering above her, with her hands around his biceps, he takes another moment to look at her. Takes that moment to memorize her face. He doesn’t know why, but he has a feeling that he won’t be able to enjoy her much longer, even though he hopes that his gut feeling isn’t going to be right the sinking feeling is there, and he doesn’t know the origin of it, nor can he explain it.

Her hand strokes up and down his arm, until they wind themselves around his neck, fingers stretching lightly at the short hair on the base of it as she pulls him down, and kisses him sweet and tender. Toto’s train of thought about the bad feeling has been cut short and he gives in to the kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth before he sucks in her bottom lip, which elicits the sweetest of moans from her. It’s a sound he came to cherish. A sound he wouldn’t mind hearing every day.

He smirks as he kisses lower, down the column of her throat, her hands in his hair as he trails wet kisses down to the swell of her breasts. Her husband sucks in a nipple while he twirls her the other in between two of his fingers. She keens below him, nails digging into his scalp. He alternates between them, thinks he could spend hours between her tits, and wouldn’t even think it was a waste of time because truth be told, they are fucking magnificent.

Like a man on a mission, or rather possessed, Toto works his way further down when she starts to get impatient, chuckles as he licks a trail down her stomach, leaving warm kisses on the marks he sees, making sure that she knows he’s not appalled by them. It’s a part of her and he takes everything he gets.

Y/N spreads her legs willingly. He grins at her enthusiasm, fitting himself in between them before he runs a hand up and down her one thigh while he places quick kisses on the other one. He alternates between them, always stopping short before he reaches the apex of her thighs.

There’s a short intake of breath before she lets out a whine. “Toto!”

He looks up at her, raising one eyebrow with an easy smirk, “What?” He’s being a little shit, and one day, she’ll club him over the head with one of the big books she keeps by her nightstand at home and he wouldn’t even be able to be mad about it because he brought it upon himself.

“You’re teasing,” She manages to push past her lips. It comes out a little strained as she writhes below him.

He takes his time, brushing his beard along the inner of her thighs like he has a death wish. Her glare takes him by surprise, doesn’t mean he’s stopping, though.

“I do?” He asks, feigning innocence.

“God, you’re— fuck!”

He chuckles as he sucks in her clit, has successfully cut her off and made her shut up by doing just that. He lets it out with a lewd pop as one of his thumbs rubs along her slit to her entrance, “Better?”

Looking up at her, he sees her rolling her eyes in annoyance before her hand goes to the top of his head and guides him back down. He can’t hide the satisfied grin as his tongue swipes around her clit.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He growls low, she’s getting so wet, and her slick is painting his face. It’s the fucking best thing.

The fingers of one of his hands toy with her entrance while he makes out with her pussy, his other hand kneading the flesh of her thighs. He slips in a finger, feels her opening up to him and wraps it tight. He lets out another growl that doesn’t sound human.

Y/N wriggles her hips and he slips in another finger, curving them. Her breathing is ragged, both her hands now on his head, fingers threading through his wet mess of hair as she grinds down and he curves his fingers just as he knows will drive her fucking crazy.

“Toto, oh god,”

Jesus, he loves how his name sounds when she says it like that. It’s coming out broken and on edge.

“Come, Liebe,” He manages to breathe out, mouth hovering over her sensitive nub, “Be a good girl, come for me,”

“Fuckfuck,” She arches her back, pulling his head further into her hot cunt. He looks up and catches a glimpse of her tits pressed together by her arms, her nipples stiffening as she throws her head back. Her thighs quiver around him, her pussy clenching down on his two fingers, keeping them captive.

His tongue licks her softly as he helps her ride out her orgasm and places gentle kisses on the hood of her clit. He smiles when he looks up and sees her blinking her eyes open only to beam back at him.

“God, you are fucking amazing,” He whispers lowly before kissing his way up her body, taking a little more time to worry at her nipples, because how can he not. In the background, she chuckles softly.

“I think you got it backwards,” She says playfully, and when he works his way up her throat, she wraps her arms around him tight to bring him down for a searing kiss. It’s all soft and tender, not like the heated kisses he’s used to, and maybe it’s because they are not in a rush. They’ve got all the time in the world because she’s now his wife. And yet, still, he thinks this is just too good to be true.

His throbbing cock brushes against her still-slick cunt, making her hum against his lips.

“Toto, fuck me, please,” She whines, her fingers stroking at his hair, and along the shell of his ear and how can he say no to that?

He pauses and sends her his signature grin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, please?”

Y/N emphasizes her words with a hip thrust forward, bumping her crotch against his hard-on. He’s so gone, growling again at the feel. What he absolutely loves is how she asks for it, since she knows that he likes to hear her beg and hear her use her words.

Her husband leans down and kisses her nose, “No.”

“No?” She asks with a hint of disappointment in her voice. Her eyebrows rise to her hairline.

“No,” He confirms, pressing a kiss between her eyebrows where a frown is showing. “I’m not fucking you.”

There’s that pout that tears at his heart. Fucking adorable. He can’t help but kiss it.

“Why?”

He grins again, wider this time, “I’m not fucking you, Schatz. I’m going to make love to you.”

At that, her mouth forms an O before her lips stretch across her face. Toto leans down to kiss the wide grin before he heaves himself up onto his haunches.

She’s lying here in front of him. It’s a fucking beautiful sight.

His hands spread her thighs some more and he moves closer on his knees. One of his hands takes his cock and threads the head through her slit, up and down, agonizingly slow. It’s like he wants to memorize the sight and the feel of his wife.

Toto might have gotten lost in the feel of it because she’s reaching down with one hand, scratching at his knee with her nails, “Toto!”

“Huh?” He jerks up momentarily and huffs out a chuckle when he realizes that he’s been stalling and therefore, teasing. “Yeah, okay. Okay, fuck, Y/N. Look at you,” He rests the tip at her entrance, pushing in just a little. His eyes fly to hers and back to her cunt that stretches around the head of his cock, ready to take him in further. He’s having difficulty deciding where to fucking look. Toto decides to keep his eyes on where their body connects, pushing in a little more and watching her pussy stretching around him, watching how it greedily hugs him and pulls him in. Fuck. “So good,” His voice is strained, and he has to swallow hard, “Your pussy feels so fucking good, Schatz,”

She clenches at the praise and he has to stop his movement for a hot minute. Everything is overwhelming, his senses are on overload and he fears that if she does that a few more times, he���ll be coming before he’s even fully inside, which would be really fucking embarrassing.

Her hand is on his knee again, tickling him there, “You okay?”

Chuckling, he lets himself down to hover above her, bracing himself on his forearms, bracketing her head in between. Her arms are around his waist and on his ass, trying to get him to move forward but he’s not budging.

He kisses her, sucks and nibbles at her bottom lip, “Yeah, I’m okay. Just have to take a moment, don’t fucking move,”

Y/N giggles and he bites her lips before he shuts her up by molding his lips to hers. He kisses her hot and hungry, not leaving her time to think about anything else until he’s ready.

Toto’s still kissing her when he finally moves, making her sigh into his mouth, drinking the sounds and hums of contentment, swallowing it as his dick carves a way into her hot heat.

He drops his head, kisses and nibbles his way to her earlobe, sucking it into his mouth as he whispers sweet things into her ear, “Always taking my cock so well, Y/N. So amazing, Schatz,”

This time, when the clench comes, he’s prepared. Toto inhales sharply, holding his breath for a little before he’s able to move again.

His movement is slow. He goes deep, her fingernails digging into his back every time he hits a particularly good spot. Once he figures it out, he keeps hitting that spot over and over. The scratch on his back hurts but it’s the good kind of hurt. He’s sure she’ll leave a mark and is secretly hoping for it.

“Toto,” His name falls like a prayer when she comes again unexpectedly.

From the way she squeezes around him, it’s less hard but more intense. He has to fight to stay inside, her cunt threatening to push him out.

“Fuck, Schatz,” He growls as he molds his mouth back on hers.

There’s this hazy feeling in his gut again when she kisses her, a fear that creeps up his spine that something so perfect can not last. And it’s like he’s begging her from the way he kisses her. Toto tries to tell her without using words and tries to tell her to stay with him. With every thrust of his hips, with every swipe of his tongue, he begs for her to fucking stay.

He comes shortly after, spilling what he thinks is his fucking soul inside of her. He doesn’t move though, keeping himself on his forearms as he tucks her hair behind her ear and rubs his nose against hers. He kisses her gently, kisses her nose, her forehead.

Y/N whines when he rolls off and gets out of bed, but he only does it so he can pull at the sheets and tuck them both inside.

They settle in the bed, her head on his chest as he strokes his fingers along her spine. Her breathing starts to even out, falling into a slumber. She’s his wife.

[redvexillum]

A/N: I didn't anticipate writing a Vox x Reader story (much less a raunchy, BDSM theme smut). But, I needed to get this idea out of my head so I can focus on my request and my other stories. So, here we are. Also, I've noticed there is a distressingly low number of PURE Vox x Reader stories, so I wanted to contribute to the database.

Though, I apologize if my version of Vox is lacking in any way. I have made many creative liberties with my head canon version of him.

Inspired by this post/conversation with the lovely miss @redfoxwritesstuff

07.09.24 - Now that I know where I'm going with this story, I have changed the title from [Short Fuse] to Signal.

SUMMARY: You royally pissed someone off because you were receiving anonymous hate emails for the past fifteen years. How incredibly petty and...entertaining. At first, you decided to ignore them but as their hate comments got increasingly creative, the more you couldn't help but add oil to the burning, passionate flame of their hatred towards you.

Until one day, the mysterious anonymous hater (probably) accidentally revealed themselves to be the one and only TV demon, an Overlord and CEO of everything technological and modern.

WARNING/TAGS: f!reader, toxic relationship, enemies to f*ck buddies to something indescribable, dom/sub undertone, sub!Vox, dom!reader, reader is a responsible dom, Vox takes a lot of L's but he secretly enjoys it, dual POV, Vox tries to be hip but ends up being a boomer, Reader is sexually liberal and confident, Vox is the brattiest sub you will ever find, kind of fluff if your squint

“Hello, my Sexy Peeps! How are you doing on this hellish day?” A melodious burst of laughter chimed from Vox’s phone. He took a dramatic sip from his coffee, savouring the rich, dark brew, and settled into his plush armchair, preparing to lose himself in her latest video.  

“Today, I thought I’d mix things up a bit due to a very popular request!” She continued and leaned forward in front of the camera, giving Vox a generous view of her cleavage. He approved her outfit choice for today, a tight-fitting cyan blue tank top with a plunging v-neckline.  

But aside from her attire, he was interested by her supposedly “new” content. He didn’t know she took requests from her viewers. Intrigued, he arched an eyebrow, setting his cup down on the side table and leaning his face closer to his phone.  

The newest online sensation on VoxTube was about to begin. This girl had seemingly materialized out of nowhere, drawing tens of thousands of views and subscribers to her channel. Her retention rates were astoundingly high for content so banal and ordinary. Initially, Vox had suspected his network had been hacked.  

He still couldn’t quite grasp how in seven layers of Hell she had managed to manipulate the algorithm with her simple videos. All she did was try the newest foods around the Pentagram and review random merchandise in a phenomenon called “unboxing.” 

His gaze inevitably wandered to the deep trench of cleavage she prominently displayed. He scoffed. He’d seen better. After all, his partner controlled the porn industry in Hell.  

Yet, that didn’t stop him from pausing her video sometimes, openly staring at her chest for a few seconds… or minutes…or maybe he may have saved a couple (several) screenshots of her video and her photos from her Sinstagram account. Perhaps he might have even saved some of her more salacious-looking photos on his internal hard drive for private viewing. 

All for research, of course.  

“Now, I know there’s this series – the longest-running series in all of Hell…” she trailed off, her plump, pretty lips curling into a mischievous smirk.  

Vox straightened in his chair, feeling the first flutter of excitement in his chest. Could it be? Was she going to mention his most prized project, “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!” for free?  

Excitement surged within him, a giddy thrill that this lame, greenhorn, no-name nobody was about to mention his series to her 2.5 million (and growing) viewers.  

“Guys, guys, guys,” she laughed, raising her perfectly manicured hands in the air as if in surrender. “I watched the first season and wow–” 

Vox pressed his thighs together, waiting with bated breath for what he hoped would be a glowing review. Perhaps he should contact her, reach out, sponsor her like all the tiny, insignificant, worthless, businesses were doing.  

“I gotta tell you,” She shrugged, raised her immaculate trimmed brow, and with a hearty guffaw, said, “it’s pretty mid.” 

Disbelief washed over him as he stared at the screen. Instinctively, Vox paused the video, staring at the freeze-frame image of her with a large smile dancing across her lips.  

Mid? Mid? What the fuck did mid even mean? 

Scrutinizing the word in his mind, he thought maybe she had given his series an average score. Average. He could work with average. But judging from the comments filled with those annoying crying laughing emojis and agreement that it was bad, he realized it was another piece of slang from this decade that he somehow missed.  

Power surged through his head as his mind dove into the database, and he opened his trusty Urban Hell Dictionary. 

The definition of Mid was… 

Below average. 

Not good. 

Mediocre.  

Boring.  

“WHHHHAT?” He roared, his voice glitching in between the long-drawn-out word. Springing up from his chair, he picked up his mug before hurling it against the polished floor. It shattered into a cascade of jagged pieces, their sharp lines reminiscent of crooked, mocking smiles. The hot coffee splashed onto the hem of his pants, its sudden heat mirroring the fury rising within him.  

Memories surged through him, back to when he was alive, back when they cancelled him for not being innovative enough, for not being entertaining enough, for being… 

Being…. 

Boring.  

His eyes twitched, electricity crackled and jolted up in arcs across the surface of his head before fizzling out at the points of the antennas from his hat.  

He should kill her. Get Val to make her disappear or force her into working at his porn studio. How dare she call the fruits of his labour…b-bo-… He seethed, unable to even say the damn, blasted word.  

Vox thought of a thousand ways to torment her, relishing the idea of making her cry with her below-average, not good, mediocre, BORING looking face. Anger surged, boiled, in his veins, and he did what he knew was the best course of action when faced with this unprecedented insult.  

After all, with VoxTek, he had an image to keep of being on the side of the lowly Sinners. He chuckled, forced, but chuckled, nonetheless. It would smear his good image to go after some small, nobody of a Sinner. After all, he was an Overlord and the CEO of the largest corporation in all the five fucking points of the Pentagram.  

She was going to get so cancelled.  

That he would make sure of.  

Humming a random, jaunty little tune, you shut off the ring light and closed your laptop. Stretching your back, you sighed in satisfaction as your bones gave a gratifying crack. You giggled at some comments from your review of the popular series, “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!”  

There were passionate defences claiming the series was a work of art, which was far-reaching at best. It was mildly entertaining enough to watch while you painted your nails. Seriously, the show looked like it was produced for the audience in the 1950s.  

You were the first influencer to give a poor rating to the TV series, and being first meant more controversy, more views, and more money from sponsorships as you rose to the trending list once again.  

Damn, gaming the system was the best. Truly, Hell was way behind its time compared to what people did for views back when you were alive.  

Following your routine, you washed away the makeup, changed from your tight-fitting clothes into a loose T-shirt and sweatpants, and laid on your king-sized bed that was far too big for one person. Staring up at the ceiling, you were surrounded by the void of your loneliness.  

You should…go out and fuck someone.  

Preferably, someone related to the entertainment industry. All that juicy gossip about your newest fling always raked in views and clicks.  

But the idea fizzled and died as you thought about having to play the submissive role, feeding their giant egos to compensate for their shit-sized cocks. You considered visiting the BDSM club, but influential people were rarely found out in the open in those shops. There was probably a private club that you weren’t invited to…yet.  

Vain.

Empty.

Nothing.  

It didn’t change much, did it? Whether you were alive or damned.  

Everything about your life was the same.  

Sitting up, you grabbed your phone and started to scroll through Voxazon, frivolously spending thousands of Hell bucks on useless crap.  

Retail therapy.  

The tried-and-true method to stave off depression and apathy.  

You were ready for that dopamine hit as you read through the reviews of the latest dildo models, your lips pulling into a sly smirk at all the new features of VoxTek’s newest sex toy.  

A chime resounded from your phone – a notification from your personal email. Your brows raised as the sender was from anonymous666@hellmail.com 

Confused, you opened the email, wincing at the possibility of infecting your device with a virus. But that thought quickly vanished as you read the email’s content.  

Subject: (no subject)  Dear Bitch,   Retract that fucking review about “Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What?!” from your video today, or you will regret it.   Furthermore, you have a “mid” face, and so are your boobs. Your boobs are super fucking mid. You probably get MORE views if you actually covered your boobs because that’s how MID they are.   And all your videos are MID. Especially the one you posted on July 7, 20XX, where you reviewed the Hellover drink. The one where you wore that shitty neon green tank top, which, by the way, is also fucking MID.   Anyway, this is my FIRST and LAST warning.   Fuck you.   P.S. Seriously. Fuck you.

Your eyes slowly blinked, once, twice, before a hearty, genuine laugh erupted from you. Oh my God. Did this prick actually hack your account to get your personal email to send such a shitty, lame-ass message? 

Breaths coming out in short, uneven huffs, you rolled over on your bed from side to side, clutching your stomach. Tears formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing so hard. You hadn’t laughed this genuinely since you fell to Hell.  

As your eyes traced over the words of their message, you laughed out loud again. It looked like you had a butt-hurt superfan.  

Humming, you rolled over onto your stomach and kicked your feet idly as you stared at the message. “Thanks for the laugh, virgin prick,” you whispered, planting a loud smooch on your cellphone screen. “Annnnd, delete!” Your index finger daintily tapped the trash can icon.  

Now, back to the task at hand. You debated between getting the glittery pink dildo or the two prong dildo. Tilting your head, you decided you deserved a treat, so you ordered both. 

As you were purchasing more random crap, your eyes glazed over, your mind fervently thinking of what to say for your next season review for that TV series. Just then, an annoying ad popped up – of course, from VoxTek – promoting their shitty Cobra vibrator. Seriously, you tried it, and it did nothing for you.  

An idea rapidly formed, growing until you jumped out of bed and ran to your laptop. No one had truly (and honestly) reviewed some of VoxTek’s terrible sex toys yet. In fact, you noticed that every single review for their sex toy line had glowing five-star ratings.  

Now, some of their toys were outstanding, making you come so hard until you were sobbing, soaking your underwear from your release. But that was one out of every five toys you purchased. Like all massive corporations, VoxTek was clearly buying reviews, giving themselves perfect scores.  

Perhaps it was time to change that. 

Your review of the series and the anonymous hate message were soon quickly forgotten. This was your chance to shake things up, to give the unfiltered, raw truth that your viewers craved.  

With a determined glint in your eyes, you started drafting your next video script. This was going to be huge, bigger than Jerry’s dick from last week, that was for sure.  

NEXT ->

💠 MASTERLIST 💠

[starfallkaz]

Sel x Bree thoughts that make me rabid

1. I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again: Cat boy Sel is sooo important

Bree has come to realise that Sel is very much like a cat and he very much enjoys sunning himself. Usually he’ll climb a tree in a sunny spot and perch up in a branch, Bree loves to watch the way the sun and shadows play across his face

the way he practically purrs when Bree scratches his scalp

he hisses at people he doesn’t like

2. One of Sel’s favourite ways of showing affection is pressing his cheek to Bree’s or pressing their foreheads together.

It’s the intimacy of sharing that space with her. Sel’s love language is physical touch, and it’s the casual intimacy of the gesture that he loves. Being able to see Bree, come up to her and kiss her temple or press his cheek to hers in greeting.

3. Sel loves Bree’s hair. Before she knew how much he cared for her, he’d catch himself admiring her in the sunlight. The way the light would play off the curls and wisps of her hair, alight in bronze hues. His lips would part and he’d stare and have to distract himself from reaching for her

He changed to satin pillowcases for Bree <3

4. I love the idea of Sel blushing, being furious that he’s blushing (how could my body betray me like that), which makes him glare. Bree finds this angry cat look quite adorable and enjoys seeing how she can get Sel riled up. Bree comments on how cute he looks, just to see his face burn and the scowl appear between his brows.

5. Sel finds it awfully inconvenient that Bree can feel his eyes on her - it’s difficult to skilfully pine for and admire a girl in a non-desperate totally cool way when she knows every time that you’re looking at her

Alice: I mean we all know Sel is down astronomically bad for Bree, it’s not a secret to anybody. Sel glares from the corner

I’m also so down for the bickering between Alice and Selwyn. Their ongoing bit of only referring to each other as “Kane” and “Chen” like two foes, but they’re united in their ability to kick anybody’s ass in defence of Bree

6. Not to be nsfw or anything but, it’s also canon that Sel’s canines are incredibly sensitive - one time they’re kissing on the sofa and Bree is on top of him, his hand stroking her thigh. Bree runs her tongue over the tip of his canine and the way he shudders and his eyes burn, and he just melts into her mouth - he’s like putty

7. Alternatively, kissing Sel when he’s aether drunk - after much insistence on his part that he’s completely fine, he just needs a couple kisses to make him feel better.

He sits on the edge of his bed and Bree stands between his legs. And he’s muttering in welsh looking up at her with burnt amber eyes, Bree catches some familiar words like, beautiful, breath-taking, and you’re incredible

she leans down to give him a quick kiss and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around her, leaning back on the bed and pulling Bree down with him as she giggles

8. there’s a live band playing at one of the campus bars and Bree wants to go - Alice has gone home for the weekend. Sel detests live music with a passion (it’s all too much for his senses), so William offers to go with Bree instead, reassuring Sel that everything is fine - it’s just a bar!

Sel still watches the perimeter from outside - he tried to stand in the bar with ear plugs in but his eye started twitching and he excused himself

9. When they’re walking around together and Sel will either have an arm slung over her shoulder, or she’ll link an arm around him and the casual contact and affection is everything to him

10. Bree finds the smell of his aether signature so comforting. Especially when he’s happy or at peace, the scent of charred cinnamon and whiskey is mellowed, almost warmer and more inviting. Bree is falling asleep one night and mumbles if he can cast something - he casts a light scattering of aether drops falling in the room. Bree sleepily smiles and snuggles into the crook of his neck. Sel feels his heart thumping so loudly in his chest - surely even Bree can hear it

Not to end it on a bittersweet note or anything, but for so long Sel struggled to visualise what he wanted for himself outside of his role. As Kingsmage there wasn’t really anything else but to care for Nick. But holding Bree there and it’s never been so clear to him what he had, and what he wanted to keep.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Dead Dramione

They stood on the hill, panting and doubled over. Hermione’s eyes burned.

“We failed!” She gasped and squeezed her eyelids shut. “We’re stuck here.” Her chest ached, and it wasn’t the burn from the cardiovascular activity. She felt Draco’s hand on her back, running soothing lines up and down her spine. A sob wracked her body and she straightened, turned to him, and dug her nose into his chest.

He smelled like mint and citrus, but now he also smelled like cloves and the safety of a campfire. It was strange, being able to discern so many different aromas coming off of him. In life, she might have picked out one, whichever was more powerful. In death, every scent was as distinct as the other. Every color vibrant, and every emotion seemed to be felt deeply.

“That’s it.” She sobbed into his chest, his arms wrapped around her back and his broad hands pressed into her lower back, his fingers digging gently into the fabric of her shirt. “We’re really dead.” The reality of it seemed to barrel into her, striking her painfully so. Her body went weak and limp in his arms and Draco held her up with ease. Her life was over. Both of their lives had come to pass.

“It’s alright, Granger.” Draco murmured into the top of her head. He said it again, this time kissing her hair with each word he spoke. She felt his nose nuzzle into her hair. “We’ve got each other.”

His words filled her with hope and heartache. Because they were dead. They were no longer alive. They no longer had their loved ones to see every day. No more holidays and birthdays. No more talks of the future, and having children or advancing their careers.

And Draco! Draco was robbed of a life full of love and so much potential! He was destined for great things. She had watched him prove the world wrong, reject his fathers bigotry and embark on a life of his own, full of a new found fame.

Neither of them had really lived, yet. They were only thirty!

But.

They did have each other. She couldn’t imagine being here alone. Draco had not freaked out once, since they both fell through that Veil. He had taken every bit of this journey with stride. It had irritated her at first. Because, who does that? Who faces the finality of their life with such cool collection? Who stares death in the face with only mild curiosity, and no fear detectable?

Draco Malfoy had saved her. In death, he had been her constant anchor. He was calm and cool and comforting.

She pulled back, and looked up at him. She took in the hard lines of his jaw, the fine hollows of his cheeks and the sharp bridge of his nose. His lips softened his features, making him to appear almost angelic. In life and in death, Draco had matured into an incredibly attractive man. In life, she had denied herself the freedom and allowance to consider his beauty without coveting it, despite being forced to work together so often. It was difficult to look at him with any fondness and not feel guilt over it. Because, their past had marred so much of their present. Ron still hated Draco, with a passion. And while she and Draco had often bickered and found themselves irritating the other — sometimes for the fun of it — she could no longer hate him. She found him intelligent and sometimes charming, though often to others as if to annoy her with the fact that he could be charming.

And he was fit.

His body was something she often found herself admiring from afar. She had admired the way he stood over his work. The way he tilted his head, his long neck stretched and the slight wave of the hair that often fell forward over his forehead as he studied the numerous strange and bizarre items that came through the department of mysteries. She had admired the long, dexterity of his fingers as he moved items over as his eyes took note of every detail. The way he ran his wand over them with the performance of complicated diagnostic spells.

She had admired the way his broad shoulders wore his blazers and vests. The way he’d roll his sleeves up to his elbows. The way it revealed the tattoo of thorny vines covering up the dark mark on the inside of his left forearm, dotted with unblocked roses.

He was beautiful.

And now, he was hers.

In death, they had been thrown together and it felt like she had not died at all. But had been woken up to a whole new world. A world where Draco Malfoy was the man who stood by her side, where colors were brighter, deeper. Where smells were more intoxicating and his touches, more electric.

“Granger.” She blinked, realizing that she had stopped crying. That her eyes had been glued to his face. Did he read her thoughts? Did he sense the direction they had taken?

His pale blue eyes seemed to have brightened as they swept over her face. They darted down to her lips, which had parted as if she were stuck dumb in awe. And honestly she was in awe. The muscles in his jaw tightened, his fingers tightening in her shirt.

She felt her eyelids grow heavy as his mouth drew her in. His hands pulled her in, slowly. Her foot tripped over his shoe, but neither looked down. She allowed him to press her chest into his body as she lost her balance, her hands to glide up his chest.

Draco’s head dipped, and she shuddered as his nose grazed hers.

“You and me, Granger.” He said it gently. But within his gentle words, was the promise to never let her go, never leave her alone.

She felt the tickle of his breath against her mouth and just as she parted her lips — as she had resigned herself that she was not doing anything wrong. Because she had died. She had died, and was no longer Ron’s fiancé. She had died and became Draco’s…something — silver smoke began to form around them. Briefly, Hermione assumed that they had not outran the fire. But it wasn’t actually smoke at all. It was a mist that climbed up their legs and clung to their bodies.

Soon, it engulfed them completely, and Hermione began to tremble as she lost sight of Draco. He was right in front of her and the mist was so dense, that she could not see him.

Her eyelids became too heavy to keep open and she felt her body falling away from his embrace as the world began to go quiet around them.

But, as consciousness began to slip away, she thought she heard the sound of her first name distantly called out.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Seeing in The New York Times the photograph of Helen Keller in the Observation Tower of the Empire State Building, I [Dr. John H. Finley] wrote her asking her what she really “saw” from that height. This remarkable letter written by her came in answer and was published in The New York Times Magazine. It will be agreed by all who read it that, as she said, she “beheld a brighter prospect than my friends with two good eyes.”

January 13, 1932 Dear Dr. Finley:

After many days and many tribulations which are inseparable from existence here below, I sit down to the pleasure of writing to you and answering your delightful question, “What Did You Think ‘of the Sight’ When You Were on the Top of the Empire Building?”

Frankly, I was so entranced “seeing” that I did not think about the sight. If there was a subconscious thought of it, it was in the nature of gratitude to God for having given the blind seeing minds. As I now recall the view I had from the Empire Tower, I am convinced that, until we have looked into darkness, we cannot know what a divine thing vision is.

Perhaps I beheld a brighter prospect than my companions with two good eyes. Anyway, a blind friend gave me the best description I had of the Empire Building until I saw it myself.

Do I hear you reply, “I suppose to you it is a reasonable thesis that the universe is all a dream, and that the blind only are awake?” Y—es—no doubt I shall be left at the Last Day on the other bank defending the incredible prodigies of the unseen world, and, more incredible still, the strange grass and skies the blind behold are greener grass and bluer skies than ordinary eyes see. I will concede that my guides saw a thousand things that escaped me from the top of the Empire Building, but I am not envious. For imagination creates distances and horizons that reach to the end of the world. It is as easy for the mind to think in stars as in cobble-stones. Sightless Milton dreamed visions no one else could see. Radiant with an inward light, he sent forth rays by which mankind beholds the realms of Paradise.

But what of the Empire Building? It was a thrilling experience to be whizzed in a “lift” a quarter of a mile heavenward, and to see New York spread out like a marvellous tapestry beneath us. There was the Hudson—more like the flash of a sword-blade than a noble river. The little island of Manhattan, set like a jewel in its nest of rainbow waters, stared up into my face, and the solar system circled about my head! Why, I thought, the sun and the stars are suburbs of New York, and I never knew it! I had a sort of wild desire to invest in a bit of real estate on one of the planets. All sense of depression and hard times vanished, I felt like being frivolous with the stars. But that was only for a moment. I am too static to feel quite natural in a Star View cottage on the Milky Way, which must be something of a merry-go-round even on quiet days.

I was pleasantly surprised to find the Empire Building so poetical. From everyone except my blind friend I had received an impression of sordid materialism—the piling up of one steel honeycomb upon another with no real purpose but to satisfy the American craving for the superlative in everything. A Frenchman has said, in his exalted moments the American fancies himself a demigod, nay, a god; for only gods never tire of the prodigious. The highest, the largest, the most costly is the breath of his vanity.

Well, I see in the Empire Building something else—passionate skill, arduous and fearless idealism. The tallest building is a victory of imagination. Instead of crouching close to earth like a beast, the spirit of man soars to higher regions, and from this new point of vantage he looks upon the impossible with fortified courage and dreams yet more magnificent enterprises.

What did I “see and hear” from the Empire Tower? As I stood there ’twixt earth and sky, I saw a romantic structure wrought by human brains and hands that is to the burning eye of the sun a rival luminary. I saw it stand erect and serene in the midst of storm and the tumult of elemental commotion. I heard the hammer of Thor ring when the shaft began to rise upward. I saw the unconquerable steel, the flash of testing flames, the sword-like rivets. I heard the steam drills in pandemonium. I saw countless skilled workers welding together that mighty symmetry. I looked upon the marvel of frail, yet indomitable hands that lifted the tower to its dominating height.

Let cynics and supersensitive souls say what they will about American materialism and machine civilization. Beneath the surface are poetry, mysticism and inspiration that the Empire Building somehow symbolizes. In that giant shaft I see a groping toward beauty and spiritual vision. I am one of those who see and yet believe.

I hope I have not wearied you with my “screed” about sight and seeing. The length of this letter is a sign of long, long thoughts that bring me happiness.

I am, with every good wish for the New Year,

Sincerely yours, Helen Keller

Top photo: Times Wide World Photos/Letters of Note Bottom photo: Associated Press

[techtalksfics]

Nightmares (Crosshair X reader)

This was based on the following request:

Hey I was wondering if I could have something nice and sweet with a soft crosshair×f reader....maybe she had a nightmare and had big anxiety so crosshair is trying to calm her down? Idk I love rough crosshair as much as soft crosshair lol!

This fic is for you anon and this may be slightly out of character for Crosshair but hey ho! Let's go!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.5K

Crosshair had been secretly pining for you stay in his arms after your friends with benefits arrangement. Not that the sex wasn't incredible, it left him elated and exhausted in equal measure.

And yet, after every encounter, you would make excuses and leave. He didn't want to plea for you to stay, it wasn't in his nature. Pulling yourself away from. He would try to make you stay, by wrapping his arms tight around you. Every time he did this, he secretly hoped that you would melt into his arms and stay there the whole night. The two of you comforted by the feeling of the other in their arms. But you never did.

If we were being truthful, it began to irritate him after a while. It irked him to his core. How could he express that wanted more than the current arrangement, if you ran away after the astonishing sex? You'd perfected the motion of rutting into each other, of tongues dancing in a passion union. He tried becoming more affectionate during the sex, hoping you'd get the hint. Hoping you'd understand the things he couldn't say. He would brush his knuckles over your cheek gently, stare longingly into your eyes, slow the pace so he could play with your body more sensually, making everything gentler. He would hold you close, melting into you as he thrust into you.

But you couldn't stay.

Not because you didn't want to and not because you weren't sure if Crosshair wanted to stay. You knew now that he wanted you to stay. You didn't stay because you didn't want him to know about the nightmares. You had them every night and you didn't want to share that with the man you'd slowly fallen in love with.

So, pained, you left. After every delectable encounter. Even though he is trying to convince you to stay and the feeling of his arms around you want to cling to him through the night. Share the intimate space and feelings together.

But you couldn't stay.

Until one night, Crosshair had been on top of you, propped up on his elbows. This time he had to say it. He took the risk and pressed his forehead to yours. Slowly, he lowered his lips to yours, placing a gentle kiss upon them. It was a whisper of a kiss, so soft and light that you weren’t sure he had done it. It was different from the usual fire you felt when you were together. As he stared intently at you, now softening inside of you, he kept his face close to yours as whispered, “stay.”

“I can’t,” you said, and it was almost a plea. A please to not let him see that side of you. He kissed you again, this time it was firm and passionate. Then he whispered it again, “stay with me.” With those soft eyes staring at you with a burning desire, you could hardly say no. Even though you wanted to.

So, in that moment, you caved. Tonight, you’ll stay. Nodding your head, he smiled softly and rolled off of you, body pressed against the wall. You positioned yourselves so your head lay on his chest, his head resting atop yours. One of your hands entwined with his over his chest. You had to admit that you adored the sensation of being together.

You couldn’t help but fall asleep in the arms of this grumpy yet sweet and caring man. You fell asleep listening to his heartbeat. Crosshair was delighted, he tried to hide his smile and he rested his atop yours. It was the comfort and pleasure he had craved for a while and finally you were here, in his arms. He sighed softly, grasping you closer with the arm that was lazily grazing against your skin. It tickled but you found yourself comforted by the sensation.  You listened intently as his heart rate slowed and his fingers grazed slower and slower until you both drifted off to sleep.

You were in Palace of the Jedi. Your lightsaber was glowing a hazy blue in the darkness of the hall. You’d hidden yourself in an alcove. You’d heard it over and over again. Order 66: The assassination of all the Jedi. That included you. You took a deep brearh as you considered the quickest route out of the temple.

You began to sneak down the corridor, hoping you wouldn’t encounter any clones. You were not so lucky. A group of troopers spotted you and began firing. You countered their shots, carefully aiming them back but only to injure, not to kill. One by one they fell to the ground. There were two left and so you lurched yourself forward, sliding across the floor and slicing the legs of the clones.

You continued running, trying to escape. When you managed to get through the doorway, you noticed him. Anakin. Your dear friend who has slaughtered younglings. Your dear friend who had turned to the Dark Side. As you looked at him, anger in your eyes, he looked at you with an angered pain. Our Anakin was still in there.

“You will die here,” he sneered at you, “you are weak. You were always weak. You will not get in the way of my new Empire.” His lightsaber suddenly alight, he began to circle you like prey.

You woke with a start. As you always did. Bolting upright you began panting heavily, feeling trapped in the memory. Your lightsaber snapped into your hand as you called for it. Luckily, you only kept it in your hand and did not light it. Your breathing was out of control. He will find me again, he’ll kill me, these thoughts circuited out your brain. Nothing else was getting in.

Crosshair heard you call out to the friends you lost in your sleep. He heard you mention Order 66. Your yelling and cries had awoken him and he tried to hold you closer but your body was rigid in fear. He stroked your hair gently, hoping it would calm you.

When you sat up suddenly, Crosshair mimicked your action, gently placing his arm around your shoulder. He had moved the second you yelled out. He reached for the lightsaber in your hand, whispering gently in your ear, “your safe. Just breathe.”  As he repeated those words gently, eventually your grip on your lightsaber slacked and he placed it to one side.

He slowly guided you to sit at the edge of the bed, he crawled between your knees. The solid floor causing him to wince slightly at the contact. He knew that the upright position should help you. But his eyes were trained on you, your eyes were glazed over as if you were still dreaming, you were mumbling the word stop over and over. You began to rock back and forth slightly, suddenly clutching at your sides.

Crosshair placed your hands in his and asked you to breathe with him. In and out. In and out. In and out. You both repeated the breathing for a short while until you stopped shaking and rocking. Yet, your eyes remained trained on the floor unable to look at him. He removed one of his hands from yours and reached up to brush it against your cheek.

“Was it a nightmare about Order 66?” He asked and you nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He queried cautiously and slowly. His deep voice vibrating through his body. You shook your head rapidly. His fingers were now playing with your hair as he gently stroked the side of your face, over your ear where he tucked your hair. Whilst he was doing this, something clicked into place in his head,

“You never stayed before because of your nightmares.” This wasn’t a question. Just a mere statement that was breathed out as he looked at you. Your eyes finally met his, and yours began to fill with tears.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, “I didn’t want you to see me like this. I always wanted to stay but I couldn’t let you see this. I’m sorry.” Crosshair’s heart lurched at your confession and tears.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I want to help you if you have nightmares.” Crosshair sighed softly, his hand landing on your shoulder, where he rubbed small, feather-like circles on your bare skin. “I care about you. I don’t want you to be alone, particularly when you’re hurting.”

“I care for you too, Crosshair.” You whispered softly.

"I knew my attempts to make you stay weren't that subtle." You couldn't help but giggle slightly and shortly at this.

"N-no, I picked up on those signals a long time ago." You retorted gently. He offered up a small smirk and brushed his knuckles of tear stained cheek once more. He reached up and placed a small kiss to your forehead.

Realising he had nothing further to say, Crosshair crawled back across the bed and lay on his back. You simply watched him as he did so. When he opened his arms for you, you crawled back to him, laying with your head on his chest.  You were still shaking a little, but you slowly calmed as he stroked your back gently. He was warm and comfortable but he had become stoic and calm to in equal measure. You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking about and so you asked him what was on his mind. He dipped his head down to look at you and you were already looking up at him.

"I'm thinking about your nightmares. About Order 66." He said softly, still stroking your back. He was silent for a moment before he added, "no matter what comes our way, I'll always protect you."

"I know." You murmured into his chest as the heaviness of sleep began to wash over you. Eventually, you both fell back to sleep. There were no more nightmares that night.

[ghuleh-recs]

In honor of @anamelessfool’s birthday I have made us all a mixtape of my personal must-reads from her incredible arsenal of fanfiction. You are not ready for how brilliant her writing is. There is truly something for everyone. Whether you’re a reader-insert enjoyer, a terzomega enjoyer, or even a late-1970s noir mystery enjoyer—Fool’s got you covered. Tight plotting, satisfying characterizations, and lovingly constructed lore can be found in every single one of her creations. Her world building is unmatched and never fails to blow my mind. Don’t even get me started on her young papa portrayals. I frequently have to kick my feet and scream into my pillow over how wonderful (and sometimes heartbreaking) they are.

To top it off, Fool is a terrific artist and such an interesting and lovely person. Have you seen @resin-popia?! What can’t she do?

Please do yourself a favor and check out the recs below. Be sure and leave some bday comments and kudos if you do! Like I said, there is something for everyone.

Recs under the cut.

Violence & Gentleness - Primo x OC

You made me forget myself...I thought I was someone else, someone good... LATE OCTOBER 1979 Primo has his work cut out for him as the bodyguard of the beautiful and fearsome Mater Emerita Jocasta. As mystery after mystery unfolds, it becomes harder to remain a honest man in this den of thieves called the Ministry.

For One Creature's Sake - Primo and Copia

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it."- Frankenstein's Monster Moments in Primo's and Copia's lives.

Ribbons & Ties - Terzo x Omega

For reasons beyond Terzo's understanding, he wants to give Omega a present for the ghoul's "birthday". It proves to be a lot more complicated than Terzo realizes.

Reciprocity - Terzo x Omega

Terzo and Omega spend a tender afternoon together. Nothing bad ever happens to them ever again.

No Deal - Nihil x F!Reader

1970Nihil was one of these friends of friends of friends. Some forty-something cat who lived further up in the mountains, in what you suspected was some sort of commune. Shit like that was pretty common around here. The higher up in the mountains, the weirder folks got. Could be the altitude. You've decided to live a quiet bohemian life, but one of your clients Nihil has plans for you that afternoon other than just chatting about the latest albums.

Sweeter Red - Copia x OC

Your kiss so sweet, your sweat so sour…sometimes I’m thinking that I love you... but I know it’s only lust. Copia is a scrungly little nerd and this totally happened to him. There's something about Cardinal Marian. Maybe it's the way she infuriates him with her laissez-faire attitude, or ingnites his soul with envy of her free spirit. Rage and love, at a certain point they merge together into an overwhelming burning in the heart and mind: passion.

VIII Strength - Copia x GN!Reader

VIII STRENGTH Strength (Physical and Will), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Copia is a pent up sort of man, he always has been. He enjoys being Papa but on his worst days the title has a near physical weight pressed across his shoulders. He comes home to you, and you can tell when it's been one of those days. Luckily, he has you to guide him.

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡

[laylajeffany]

Not an ask, but, I'm currently about 2/3 of the way through Chaos for the Fly, and it is truly one of the greatest things I've ever read. It has made me laugh, cry, and every emotion in between. I have spent the whole time learning alongside Wednesday to love and care for myself. You've expressed out loud feelings of my autism and anxiety that I never could before, I've never read panic attacks more accurately written, and simultaneously you've taught me how to begin coping with them. The way you so vividly separate the voices of different characters, the way you describe every emotion so perfectly that leaves me feeling like I'm right there in the moment. The depth that you add to all the canon characters without taking away from their original personalities, the way all of your OC's fit so perfectly into the story, every single one of them mattering, not a single line, character or scene is unnecessary. I long for family like Josie and Emi, but in a way, just reading about them makes me feel they're talking to and teaching ME. Somehow on top of all that you wrote one of the most beautiful and realistic slow burn romances, It never feels rushed, no intimate touch or comment feels out of place, and yet you're constantly hoping for more. Then, once they are finally together they continue to have a beautiful and ever evolving dynamic, which is where a lot of other authors fall short in my eyes. The way you show Wednesday's comfort level with every character not just Enid, combines with her autism and uniquely affects each individual dynamic shows such and intimate level of understanding, it's so incredibly impressive. I think you may have ruined season 2 for me when it does eventually come out, simply because even with Jenna Ortega as a producer, it could never be as good as what you've written. and so I thank you. Thank you for writing this beautiful, spiritual, mental, and emotional journey. I hope for nothing more than that you keep continuing this story beyond chaos for the fly because I don't think I'll ever be ready for your writing to be over.

Thank you so much for this!! Slow-burn on a realistic timeline, organic character development and a meaningful portrayal of emotional struggle in a hyper-fantastic setting are my passion. I��m glad it’s resonated with you! Writing OCs is always a gamble but people really seemed to resonate Josie and Emiliana for certain (as well as others but I hear about them the most). I’ve ruined S2 for myself, truthfully and if Gwendoline Christie really isn’t in it, I’m not sure if T. Martel and I will even be watching lmfao. (This entire fic started in a parking lot at the mall when she was lamenting about needing Larissa Weems to live and I mumbled, “I guess I could write something.” HAHAHAHAHAHA.)

The good news is that I’m still playing around in this universe, I’m almost 50k into chapter one of the sequel and I think that it might actually end up being longer than I anticipated originally (just like the other fic I’m working on goddamn it I did try to make new year’s resolutions about this but it seems like I’m breaking them). I don’t think anyone is going to be mad about it! 

Thanks for reading and for letting me know how it’s impacted you! Happy to have helped in some small way. 

[msommers]

🥪📚🤝🎒 for Riya, Meredith and one more of your choosing!

what is this?? tabby answering prompts in a timely manner??? unheard of. (mwah mwah i'm giving u kisses ty ty) // yet another oc ask game

🥪 On a scale from ‘burns water’ to ‘5 course menu’ how well can your OC cook?

RIYA — after thinking on it for a minute, i think Riya might actually have some decent baseline cooking skills purely because i can see her dad as being a great cook and he would have loved having her join him in the kitchens on occasion. and tragically Riya would do anything to see him happy, even stooping so low as to making her own brunch 🙄 i mean incredibly basic though. like she can chop the vegetables, stir the pot, keep things from burning, blah blah. no actual technical skills or know-how. so on the scale we'll give her "could cook fantasy boxed mac and cheese but you don't want her to because she's gonna complain the entire time about having to do it herself when there are actual cooks around"

MEREDITH — that b.ridgerton scene of the siblings standing in front of the stove all “well i should not know how to turn it on” “and you think i should?” but it's Meredith and Fergus. and she stays that way for the rest of her privileged life. she has more important things to do than whip up a meal! let the staff do it!! that’s what they’re paid for smh. she's a "might burn your toast because she misjudged the heat" on the scale.

GREER — she can heat up something that you give her but not much more than that. Greer spent more time in the dungeons than on kitchen duty and i wish i was joking about that. on the scale she's a "let her prep all the ingredients and i'll do the rest"

📚 Your OC has to improvise a 10 minute lecture about a topic of their choosing. What do they choose?

RIYA — if she needs to select a “serious” topic, then she’s going off on a deep dive on the history of the Free Marches Grand Tourney. it would naturally include her penchant for adding unnecessary details and perhaps a little extra drama here and there, and it’d reach a point where you can tell she stopped her research after the past eight or so tourneys (she won the 32nd so. lmfao), but at least she’s accurate and knows what she’s talking about. if she thinks she can be a little silly?? 10 minute long fantasy tier ranking of all the current top smut books in Nevarra and why her favorite is obviously #1, the others can't compete.

MEREDITH — i wanted to give her a fun answer but if it’s improvised she’d want to fall back on things she’s knowledgeable on and probably thinks she Has to excel or she’s a failure, so she’d likely go for something boring like a brief synopsis on the past decade of Landsmeet councils or explaining the basic duties and expectations of Teyrnirs and their heads. if she's feeling frisky then maybe the latest Fereldan fashion trends and their improvements on previous designs.

GREER — if she can get away with it, predictable righteous rant on the history of Templar crimes in her Circle alone. if not?? i think she could manage to scramble together a coherent ramble about theory on strong emotions affecting a mage’s casting and mana. as somebody so fueled by rage and passion she's absolutely done the research.

🤝 Does your OC have someone they want at their side when they are scared? Who?

RIYA — many people bro, she's not afraid of turning to others for support. top of the head would honestly likely be her eldest brother, Regulus. he taught her how to be brave in the first place and she'd feel fucking invincible with him at her side tbh. next in line would be Bastian but :///

MEREDITH — it's kinda fucked up and weird to say but like. anybody who is more frightened than her. because they're somebody in need and that's when it's easiest for Meredith to bury her own fear so that she can take care of them, the damn noble hero she is. if we want an actual name here then it's obviously going to be Alistair. he's her shield 💚

GREER — i don't think so, no. she learned pretty early on that she was on her own for most of her battles and adjusted to not relying on anybody for support.

🎒 If your OC had to pick three things of all their belongings to keep, which would they chose?

RIYA — she's shaking crying throwing up as she picks them but: her father's handkerchief, the golden heart-shaped locket sent by her family, and the pair of Valdivia signet rings (they're a combined set to her fuck off she's taking both or lightning bolting you about it).

MEREDITH — the Cousland shield, her father's signet ring, her mother's dagger.

GREER — her staff, a handcrafted spellbook gifted by a former apprentice of hers, the sending crystal gifted to her by Dorian.

[nayci]

Tagged by the lovely @keldae. (I didn't forget about this I swear…)

Thing of note, I am an unashamed Canon x OC/Reader fan soooo take that for what you will. lol

3 Ships

Joshua Rosfield/Suraya Murdoch (Final Fantasy 16) These two have lived rent-free in my head and my soul since Final Fantasy 16 game out. Still waiting for it to come to PC so I can actually play it but I digress. Hasn't stopped my brain from coming up with something. Somehow their story ended up being childhood friends to lovers to boot. Normally I go for an older man, younger woman vibe. But for these two? It's reversed and it's wild and I adore it. Joshua being the inheritor of the Rosarian Duchy and Suraya being the adopted daughter of Rodney and Hanna Murdoch. So, the two of them inadvertently got pushed together during the early years since her father wanted her to get the most out of her upbringing, self-defense being a top priority along with her studies. Suraya was and still is incredibly protective of Joshua's happiness and hated his mother with a burning passion for how she treated all of them, even to her own detriment. That said, Joshua formed feelings first when they were children, but never had a chance to speak of them before the fall of Phoenix Gate. So it was years before anything could happen. Suraya on the other hand, never had a chance to even think about it until they were reunited, and she had to come to terms with the fact that her ten-year-old friend was no longer a boy, but was actually a young man determined to bring her the happiness and joy she gave him, should she wish it.

Vergil/Alya (Devil May Cry) These two shitheads have also been living rent-free in my head since 2019 and have given me at least five different massive fanfic reworks since then. And it continues to morph and change so I just keep flipping my desk over at this point. Anyway, for these two it was never an overt thing. They pretty much fell together without ever explicitly talking about it as neither was looking for a relationship. Behind the scenes Dante was over Vergil's bullshit, Trish and Lady were over Alya's bullshit, and Nero was like: fuck that I'm not getting involved, and watched from the sidelines with Nico who had a betting pool that everyone was in on much to the pair's annoyance after the fact. Either way, Alya wanted answers after her father was murdered and Devil May Cry is who ended up coming to her aid. To that end, it opens up a massive can of demons and angels. But those angels aren't your traditional light and loving kind. Having the upbringing Vergil had, or lack thereof after his mother's death, he was always wary about opening up again, and in many ways still is, but Alya takes it in stride. And for that, Vergil is silently grateful. In turn, he is her protector and rock, and a good listening ear. What he can't say in verbal words, he will say in written poetry. This is more of my status quo, older man, younger woman vibe, but with the added bonus of magic, demons, and a slow-burn romance.

Graha Tia/Khulan Noykin (Final Fantasy 14) Listen, when I got into Final Fantasy 14 back during ARR, me and my Warrior of Light didn't think too much of the Allagan cat boy. He was a friend, nothing more to her at the time, and while she did mourn for him when he locked himself in the Crystal Tower, she also understood. Plus, she was dealing with her own feelings for a certain rogue bard soon-to-be gunbreaker. It wasn't until Shadowbringers that Graha Tia came in dropkicking Khulan in the face, and Thancred being a complete ass didn't help. Khulan during this time saw much of herself in Graha Tia's willingness to die for a cause and hated it. Not him of course, but seeing a mirror of some of your faults is never a fun thing. As their friendship developed after defeating Emet Selch, it eventually became a dance around the subject of feelings. Graha never feeling like he was good enough for her and Khulan feeling the exact same way but of herself towards him. Everyone else saw it as it was blatantly obvious, but the events of Endwalker came before anything could become of it. Khulan ends up in a dark place during this time, almost robotic like her ARR self, but a lot more deadly than her early days of being just an arcanist. It's when she begins losing her friends that the walls around her heart begin to break, and Graha's sacrifice was the breaking point. When all of it was over and they were back home, the two of them start to explore something more as Khulan recovered from her fight with Zenos. Now, going into the events of Dawntrail, me nor Khulan know where this is going to go. But hey! it's a new adventure!

First Ship

We're going back to when I was but a small eight/nine year old child and loved Ash and Misty as a pairing. During this time I didn't know what fandom was or that people wrote fanfic and created art. So it was mostly me creating terrible drawings. Did I self insert into pokemon as well? Of course I did! lol

Last Song

"The Phoenix" from Fall Out Boy. I just discovered it after find a GMV for Final Fantasy 16. It was so good I had to find it in my Apple Music and is now on repeat. I regret nothing regarding my hyperfixation.

Currently Reading

"A Court of Thorns and Roses" by Sarah J. Maas. Yes I'm late to the game, but hey! I made it! Am I only on chapter 3? Also yes, but hey, I'll get throgh it eventually.

Last Film

I think it was Mission Impossible 3? It was on at work so it was just background noise.

Currently Craving

A vacation. A true, real, good vacation. Tagging anyone who wants to do it

[sincreator]

Her legs still shook from the sensation that washed over her. Out of breath, the Fallen took some time to fully adjust, though her constant moaning and frequent, shaky breaths revealed just about how much she needed a distraction. At death's door nobody would ask her to repent or care for her cosmic nature. She desired to sin, sin, sin, until she'd burn. And if the world didn't end tomorrow, who knows? Atarniel knew, and had to remind herself, that this was strictly physical and not just some scheme from either of them. Simply horny and fatalistic, Atarniel simply ignore the fact that they were supernaturally linked.

Instead she relaxed quite a bit as he began to pull on her lower lip. The moans wouldn't subside. Instead, Atarniel's fingers eagerly brushed over his abs, trailed over every vein on his cock as if to memorize them. "You really liked that, didn't you? Fuck, you're so hard." Still, his fingers didn't stop moving inside of her, so she had failed to fully focus on his tongue against hers, resulting in a sloppy kiss. Cheeks blushing as some blood finally rushed back to her head, the Seraphim began to feel the effects of his venom. This incredible desire and lust, purely extracted out of him. For once, after 15 years, Atarniel could finally push back all of her grief, but certainly not all those haunting thoughts of their faces and words.

Toying with his cock, she just waited for him to grow tired of her games and slide right in. Feeling his tongue against her lips Atarniel immediately extended his tongue to first wet, then suck on it in its entirety. She'd always been about arousal and excitement, playing dangerous games of desire and passion, to see who'd come out on top. And yet, this time around, Atarniel believe nobody could be a real winner. They'd both suffered enough and needed a type of release. "Just for me? You're being too kind," she breathed against his lips.

She must've looked wrecked by now. Make up smudged, eyes teary, lips slightly swollen and her hair now slicked back -- all of her worries left her mind the moment he penetrated her, filling her up completely. Her tightness remained, the previous orgasm only increasing her warm, wet and narrow entrance for him. She had to adjust to his coldness once again. Short breaths followed, then louder moans and even some protesting as he slid out of her, only to slide back in. Every nerve in her body was on fire, completely fixated on him. Fingers eagerly dragged alongside the nearest shelf, almost knocking down a glass of something while her hips rolled against his, visibly eager to both help and increase the intensity of their union. Crossing her ankles behind his back, Atarniel managed to keep a tight grip around him, pushing him even further inside of her. "Ruin me," she groaned as the venom spread. Despite her passive role, with her being carried, the Seraphim still managed to apply some friction between them. Knowing her musculature well, she tightened herself up, forcing his cock to work a bit more, but the friction would be worth it in the end.

Feeling her left leg shake behind his back, the Fallen just laughed out loud, followed up by another passionate moan as she dripped down onto his cock, squirting again. Another wave of arousal overcame her, forcing Atarniel to really press against Zeke. Her fingers now forced themselves through his hair, tugging the strands on the back of his head. Instead, she pulled him down, legs kicking themselves off the well just so she'd lay flat on the tight area with him. Turning around, she kept one hand around his throat while she now began to roll her hips instead, taking control. "You feel so good inside of me. Fuck," the Seraphim now dragged his lower lip, biting a bit more forcefully.

Atarniel climaxed on his thigh, practically squirting across his lap as she dribbled down his toned, muscular leg; the venom hadn't even had time to do its part yet, that was one of the many things about this that made it so fucking hot. All he could smell was the fallen's breath, her skin, her blood, and the orgasm that Atarniel had just spilled between them. Tight, wet, and horny, Ezekiel couldn't think about much else besides burying his cock inside of her and fucking every last nerve in her into complese senselessness. He'd leave a puddle where Atarniel used to be and then scrape her off his dick long enough to carry her back to his bed. "That's right, squirt all over me baby. You're so fucking sexy."

Ezekiel's teeth pulled lightly at her lower lip, nothing to break skin, it wasn't even enough to cause discomfort: somewhere between the line of lust, desire, and dominance. The vampire laid claim to Atarniel, at least here in this space they'd carved out for the two of them. His tongue slid against hers as he tasted more of the pre she'd pulled from his cock along the breadth of her soft, wet tongue. Fluid and tangible, Atarniel practically quivered as Ezekiel's fingers moved his venom within her, his thumb massaging the tangible point of desire. A small bundle of nerves that lifted Atarniel's heart rate ever further. Neatly attuned to every breath and moan, to the soft whimpers and tiny gasps, vampirism let him listen to all of it. He'd always been about service, about listening, fucking, and getting his partner to the finish line as often as he could.

Atarniel pulled him in, her grip was relentless as he slid alongside her clit and against the fallen's wet pussy. Wet fingers threaded through her hair as he sighed dead air against her lips, pulled idly at her lips with his thumb as he slipped just a touch of her orgasm over her tongue. "Just for you, this big, hard dick is all for you." Ezekiel's tone was deep, lust blown and practically shaking from holding himself back all this time. He could feel her practically pulling him in so the vampire stopped fighting it and instead let Atarniel wrap around him completely. Warm, tight, and slick, Ezekiel groaned loudly as he muttered under his breath, "Fuck." Fingers pulled her hair from her face so that when he lifted his blue gaze from his own cock pushing inside of her, he could appraise the fallen's features. The lithe frame, full, swollen lips from being stretched around his shaft, and those dark eyes that reminded him of nothing but sin.

Ezekiel rolled his hips, are sharp thrust as the shelving shook around them. His hand at her thigh, he kept it lifted around his waist as another cradled the side of her head. Ezekiel's cock slid out before it went right back in, forceful, but nothing brutal or jarring. He'd gotten used to taking it easy on a body like hers, mortal frames that couldn't take the same kind of beating or didn't recover as quickly. Ezekiel could be sweet, he could be aggressive, and he could be a little bit nasty: a service stud. He picked up the pace though, Atarniel had asked him to fuck her, to fill up every inch of her, and after so long fuck if she didn't deserve it. Temporary pleasure wasn't enough to wash away the pain but it was a good distraction, he'd resolved to fucking or fighting his way through his grief. He couldn't see it if all he saw was red, Rhiannon was right, everyone Ezekiel cared for was dead. Himself too. The only thing left was a vampire that was more dick and muscle than person.

[youaintnothinbuta]

austin - missin’ her daddy

Summary: your daughter has had a bad day and just misses her daddy.

Pairing: dad!austin x mama!reader

Word count: 430

Warnings: dad!austin, fluff, sliiight suggestion of sex 

MASTERLIST

A/N: just pretend the gif isn’t Austin!Elvis and it’s just Austin and that she’s like 5 instead of a toddler thank you 😩

______________________

You had just got your son and daughter from school, buckling your daughters car seat for her as your son did his own. Before you could even ask how their days went, your daughter absolutely exploded into a mess of screaming and crying and yelling for her daddy. She’d always been a daddy’s girl, from the day she was born. You didn’t mind, your son was more of a mama’s boy so it evened out.

“Where’s daddy? I want daddy! I want daddy, mama!” Along with many other screams containing similar wording left your daughters mouth. You felt terrible, her teacher had informed you she’d had a pretty exhausting day and did incredibly well not have a tantrum in class at all, despite it being obvious she really needed to.

“Daddy’s at home, cooking dinner, okay baby? You’ll see him soon.” You cooed, your son also trying his best to calm his little sister, very much taking after his dad.

The drive home was tense to put it lightly, you silently admired your son for trying his best to help his sister instead of joining her with the screaming and carrying on. You pulled into the driveway, your son unbuckled himself and ran to the front door, waiting for you to unlock it. You picked your daughter up to get her out of the car and held her hand as you closed the car door, walking her to the front door. The second the lock clicked open, your daughter dropped your hand and sprinted as fast as her little legs would carry her to her daddy, screaming as tears ran down her burning cheeks.

“Oh, sweetheart. Come here.” He cooed, instantly he put down the knife he was holding to cut veggies and picked her up, holding her on his hip as she cried against him. ‘That’s gotta hurt the throat’ he thought as her held his daughter, who was in total hysterics in his arms. You soon emerged into the kitchen, placing the kids school bags down, looking somewhat defeated.

He gave you a concerned look as if to say what happened?

“She’s just had an exhausting day, her teacher said she’s been asking for you all day. But she was an angel and didn’t even have a tantrum in class.” You replied, praising her for being so well behaved.

“Is that right, princess?” He asked her, gently moving her blonde locks out the way of her eyes with a finger. She nodded against his face.

“I’m sorry. Daddy’s got you now, it’s okay. Do you want to eat dinner in your pyjamas? Would that make you feel a bit better?”

“Mhm.” She nodded, wiping her own tears messily.

“Okay, let’s go get you changed. Tell mama you love her first, for me.”

“I love you, mama.” She reached out to you for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, Austin still holding onto her bottom half, making you both chuckle.

“Daddy loves you, too, mama.” He smiled and kissed you rather passionately before taking her upstairs to her bedroom to get her into some warmer, comfier clothes. He turned to shoot you a quick glance as he took your daughter out of the kitchen, a glance that said ‘I’m gonna rid you of all that stress the second these kids are asleep tonight.’ making you chuckle at him as he raised an eyebrow at you, confirming you knew what he meant and then exiting out of sight.

You sighed as he wandered upstairs, so grateful for how much of an amazing dad he was, so much so you even heard a giggle come from her, wondering how he’d managed to do that, as she was screaming at the top of her lungs just 5 minutes earlier.

[eightmakar]

empty cups | n.m. | 18+

Pairing: Nathan MacKinnon x Original Character

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: drinking, mentions of underage drinking, swearing, smut (fem. oral receiving, protected sex)

A/N: inspired by empty cups by charlie puth. basically all smut so you were warned

tagging: @harlowhockeystick @bitchinbarzal @matbaerzal @taking-shots @fallinallincurls @jostyriggslover96 @burkymakar @flashyfucker @capsvsducks @xsyntheticsensation @double-j @hockeylvr59

Despite being explicitly invited, Chase Bauer felt incredibly out of place at the house party. Should she really call it a house party? It felt like a house party, with all the people milling around, the loud music, the kegs of beer strewn about, but not a house party she’d ever been to. The beer wasn’t the cheapest shit college guys could manage to purchase, the people she partied with were nearly all millionaires, and they held their liquor much better than college guys. 

Gabriel Landeskog walked up to her in her little corner, a big grin on his face and a bottle of fancy beer in his hand. “Bauer, why’re you all alone over here?” he asked, patting her on the shoulder.

“I was waiting for EJ to pick some better music,” Chase replied. “Some songs from this century would be great.”

“It’s not for lack of trying on our part,” Gabe laughed. He pointed to her empty hands and continued, “You need a drink.”

“I don’t like beer.” Chase scrunched her nose. 

“We’ve got a lot more than just beer. C’mon.” Gabe turned around and began to walk into Erik Johnson’s kitchen, so Chase followed him, making herself smaller to maneuver through the large bodies in her way. 

The kitchen was brightly lit in comparison to the rest of the house with shining bottles of every kind of alcohol Chase could imagine. There were brands she’d never heard of peppered in with bottles of Grey Goose and other top-shelf liquor she vaguely recognized.

“What do you usually drink?” Gabe asked her.

“I like sweet drinks mostly,” Chase said. She reached for a familiar bottle of lemon vodka.

“I think EJ’s got something if you want a mixer to make it sweeter.” Gabe began rummaging through EJ’s cabinets as Chase looked around the party. 

Erik Johnson’s home was always the party house. He owned a huge, isolated home with the most gorgeous views imaginable, and more guest rooms than anyone could count, which worked well for the wild parties he threw throughout the year. He always invited the whole staff, all the coaches and equipment managers and Chase and her coworkers, the athletic trainers, but this was the first Chase had chosen to attend, to celebrate the Avalanche winning Western Conference Final and going to the Stanley Cup Final.

Chase cracked a small smile as she looked over at Josh Manson sitting on a couch against a wall, waving a glass of something dark around and loudly telling a story to an apathetic Sam Girard. Mikko Rantanen sat across from them, his girlfriend on top of him, straddling his legs as they passionately made out like no one else was in the vicinity. 

Small groups of wives and girlfriends littered the walls, holding delicate glasses of wine and champagne, though Chase knew they could put back as much alcohol as their significant others. Other groups of players were interspersed around, some chatting lowly, some loudly, and others barely at all. Alex Newhook and Logan O’Connor had started an enthusiastic game of beer pong in the middle of the wide living room.

“How the fuck does EJ only have Crystal Light packets in this huge fucking house?” Gabe said, returning to Chase’s side and making her turn around. 

“That strangely makes sense,” Chase laughed. Gabe handed her the small box of lemonade packets and she immediately took two out. She filled a Solo cup to the brim with lemon vodka and mixed the two packets in. Taking a sip, she gave Gabe a thumbs up. 

“If I see you back in your corner, I’ll drag you to the dance floor instead,” Gabe warned.

Chase took another long, burning sip of her drink. “Got it, Cap.”

Gabe rolled his eyes and wandered away, over to one of the pods of players, leaving Chase alone with her cup to gaze around the party again. EJ was dancing with his fiancée on the “dance floor,” which was just an area of the room that was wide open. The enormous Darcy Kuemper, his wife, Kurtis MacDermid, and his girlfriend all danced with them. Chase thought they all danced like dads.

“Looking for someone?” 

“Jesus!” Chase jerked around and found herself face to face with a serious looking Nathan MacKinnon. Beer in hand, he gazed at her, blue eyes a little icy.

“Shit, sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s all good, I was kinda zoned out,” Chase admitted. She drank her lemony drink again, trying her hardest to finish it soon. 

A drunken Mikko bumped into Chase before Nate could say anything, dragging his girlfriend behind him and giggling as they went upstairs, but earning a sharp glare from Nate. Nate protectively put an arm on Chase’s shoulder and pulled her out of the middle of the room, out of the way of his drunk friends and teammates. Her feet were beginning to ache in her heels, so she took the chance to sit down on a barstool. To her surprise, Nate joined her, pulling a barstool over for himself as well.

Chase was convinced Nathan MacKinnon hated her. She didn’t know what it was; maybe the serious passion he played with, maybe the intense specificity he demanded with his equipment and his body, maybe the high standards he held himself and everyone else to. If and when she had to treat him, like she did recently when he got in a fight with Dumba for Minnesota, his body tensed up and he pulled away from her touch, which made her job as an athletic trainer much more difficult. She thought it might’ve been the fact that she was a woman, but he fiercely protected her at games, practices, and really any time someone tried to make a comment about her gender. When she’d first been hired, he and the rest of the team had been asked numerous times how they felt about it, and his response made her feel the most welcome and the most at home: “She’s part of the team and we treat her that way. We really only care about getting our job done and making a run for the Cup and she’s going to help us.”

“I’m not gonna lie, Bauer, I was surprised to see you came,” Nate said, fiddling with the bottle in his hand. He looked up at her and anxiously scratched his beard. 

“You were?” Chase asked incredulously, puffing herself up a little bit.

Nate winced at her tone. “Good surprised,” he clarified, and she relaxed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of EJ’s parties.”

“I usually don’t come, but this one seemed special,” Chase shrugged.

“You didn’t come to the President’s Trophy party last year. God, that one was a mess,” he chuckled low in his throat and half-smiled at her.

“So I take it I missed a lot of fun?”

“Oh yeah,” Nate laughed again, the ice in his eyes beginning to melt a bit. Chase was pretty sure in the two years she’d worked for the Avs, she’d never spoken more than a couple words to him, but here they were having a conversation like old friends. 

“Who was the drunkest?” She asked, swigging her vodka and trying not to react to the burning in her mouth and throat.

“Honestly, a lot of guys were pretty close. Josty was so fucked up he fell outside on the porch, broke his nose, and ended up just sleeping there.”

“Jesus,” Chase breathed with a small laugh. “I’ve never been that drunk in my life and don’t wanna be.”

“I have,” Nate said, pressing his lips together to hide a smile. “In juniors and at World’s.”

“Wow, in juniors? Nathan MacKinnon, under age drinker?” Chase smirked. 

Nate rolled his eyes. “You’re gonna sit here and tell me you weren’t an under age drinker too?”

“Genuinely, I wasn’t. I had my first drink on my twenty-first birthday. I know, how painfully boring of me.” Chase had heard it all, every comment under the sun about her dislike of drinking. 

“That’s not boring,” Nate said immediately. “If you don’t like it, it’s not boring.” 

“I don’t like the taste, unfortunately. Plus my tolerance is sky high, so I’ve only really been drunk twice in my life.”

“Really? What are you drinking now?” 

Chase took a sip of her drink, almost to show Nate she wasn’t boring. “Don’t laugh, but it’s lemon vodka with lemonade packets. It’s surprisingly good.”

Nate cracked a smile. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“It is,” Chase conceded, “but I do wanna get drunk, so this is how I have to do it. Straight vodka.”

“Hold on.” Nate got up and retreated to the kitchen. While he looked through the bottles of liquor, Chase people-watched.

Cale Makar was drunkenly singing to the ABBA song playing over EJ’s sound system with his girlfriend, André Burakovsky had apparently decided to only speak in Swedish for the rest of the evening, and JT Compher stood with his chest against his girlfriend’s back while having a conversation with Darren Helm, tugging his girlfriend far too close to him. 

“Goddamn,” Nate said as he returned clutching a partial bottle of vodka with a bar-style top that allowed for better pouring. “Cale is wasted.”

“Good for him, he deserves it.”

“He does.” Nate offered Chase the bottle. “I snagged this. EJ’s got a whole distillery over there, so he won’t miss it.”

“Oh shit, thank you,” Chase said. “What about you?”

“This isn’t just for you,” Nate grinned, then threw his head back and poured vodka straight into his mouth. 

Chase tried not to drool as she watched him. She was starting to feel a bit fuzzy, and she could feel her reservations about Nate slipping away by the sip. There was no denying he was incredibly attractive, a fact she was painfully aware of every moment she spent close to him. 

“Now my turn,” Chase said. She surprised herself, but she tilted her head back and opened her mouth.

Nate’s grin widened as he began to pour vodka in her mouth. She always thought vodka tasted like hand sanitizer, and the burning taste engulfed her mouth and throat. She tugged away, mouth full, and Nate accidentally got a bit of vodka on her chin. She swallowed and wiped her mouth with her sleeve, watching Nate’s eyes glaze over as she did. Fuck, was he into that like she was?

Chase shoved the thoughts out of her mind and chugged the rest of her lemonade combo. The liquid burned all the way down to her stomach, but the heat continued down her body and between her thighs as she watched Nathan tip his head back and pour more vodka into his mouth.

The song over the speaker changed. Cale clearly didn’t know it, but he looked over at Nate and Chase and waved enthusiastically. He came over to join them, creating a triangle with a third stool.

“You don’t know this one too?” Chase chirped. 

“I’m too drunk,” Cale shrugged, holding his hand out to Nate and motioning for him to hand over the vodka bottle. Nate did, and Cale barely leaned his head back, just moving the bottle, not unlike the way he drank water on the bench during games. He paused, swallowed with a scrunched nose, then poured more vodka in his mouth. Swallowing again, he shook his head and handed the bottle back to Nate. 

Chase took it and drank from it again. She could feel the alcohol she’d already drank slowly lowering her inhibitions, slowly loosening her mind, and she knew she had to continue to drink if she wanted it to stay that way.

“I’m impressed you’re here, Bauer,” Cale said as Chase drank. 

Chase wiped her mouth again and handed the bottle back to Nate. “Thanks, me too. I’ve always been afraid to come to one of these things.”

Cale’s rosy face frowned in concern, his eyes trying to focus on her. “Afraid?” he asked sadly. Nate looked at Chase too, but the concern looked different on Nate’s face. Almost more protective? She couldn’t tell, and with how fuzzy her whole body was starting to feel, she was even more confused. 

“Well yeah,” Chase started, feeling her mouth run without a filter of any kind, just words spewing and spewing. “There’s a lot of men here and some of you I don’t trust to not do weird things to me while I’m drunk and I don’t trust myself to not do weird things and fuck, I’m drunk.”

“Weird things?” Nate asked. 

“Weird things like Mikko and Susanna do. Like right now, Nathan, I want to kiss you so so bad, but I know I can’t, because you hate me but I’d still kiss you.”

Fuck. What the fuck just came out of her mouth? She couldn’t stop it.

“But that would also be weird because I don’t just want to kiss you I wanna do so much more than kiss you but I’ve never had sex before so I’d be bad at it.” Chase sighed and gazed at Nate, who looked incredulous. His blue eyes were wide as he drank from the vodka bottle, finishing off what little was left in it. 

“I’m definitely too drunk for this,” Cale said, shaking his head. He got up and returned to his girlfriend. 

“Shit, Nate, I didn’t mean—fuck,” Chase said. Her body was floating and swimming and felt like static on an old television. 

“I don’t hate you,” Nate said softly. “Why do you think that?”

“Well, you never talk to me, you flinch away from me if I have to treat you during a game, you don’t want me to tape you up before practice, you don’t want me to put the dumb pressure leg things on you, you always glare at me when I smile at you, you don’t smile back at me.” Chase paused to take a deep breath. “So you hate me.”

“Bauer, I—,” Nate cut himself off with a chuckle. “Oh god, I did not imagine tonight being like this.”

“What do you mean? You didn’t imagine having to hang out with me because you hate me and I suck and I’m annoying?” Chase pouted.

“No, listen, I—,” Nate shook his head, “I don’t hate you, Chase, it’s the exact opposite, in fact.”

“You called me ‘Chase,’” she said, blinking in surprise. 

“I mean, that’s your name.”

“Wait.” Chase held a hand up, having processed what Nate said. “It’s the opposite? The opposite of hate is love and you definitely don’t love me.”

Nate shook his head again. “Never mind, Bauer. I’m going to get a drink.” Nate got up and stalked off to the kitchen, leaving Chase alone. 

The opposite of hating her? Nathan MacKinnon couldn’t possibly like her like that. He was much too, well, him. He liked teeny, blonde supermodel types, not loud former hockey players whose job it was to keep him healthy. No, not Nathan MacKinnon, who kept his specific regimens of health, kept his body in top tier condition, who demanded excellence from everyone, including her and her team.

Gabe appeared in front of her, clutching a new bottle of beer and a tall glass of clear liquid. “Can I join you?” He asked. Chase nodded, so he sat down where Nate had just been and handed her the glass. “Nate asked me to bring you water.”

“Because I’m drunk and told him I wanted to have sex with him but that he hates me?” Chase clarified.

“He didn’t give me specifics, but I’m sure that has something to do with it,” Gabe laughed. 

“Now he definitely hates me,” Chase mumbled. She sipped some water, but she didn’t feel any less fuzzy. In fact, she could feel the rest of the vodka starting to hit her and the idea of going over to Nate, who now stood chatting with Nazem Kadri, and kissing him was becoming more and more appealing.

“He acts like that to all of us. That’s just Nate. Whatever he told you is the truth,” Gabe explained.

Chase hummed. “Well, he didn’t say he wanted to kiss me and have sex with me too,” she said, her words beginning to slur together the tiniest bit, her brain working hard to put letters together. “He was stuck on the hating me part.”

“I can guarantee he doesn’t hate you.” 

“You can’t read his mind!”

“Neither can you. Look, Bauer, I’m guessing he said he had feelings for you, right? I can guarantee you he does. The amount of things I’ve heard him say about you matches what you’re saying.”

Chase looked at Gabe with wide eyes. “Nate wants to have sex with me too? Even though I’ll be bad at it because I’ve never had sex? He wants to—.”

“Bauer, go talk to him.” Gabe used his captain voice on her.

“I’m even drunker than I was before,” she commented. “Even with the water. And we can’t have sex when I’m this drunk. I’ll be even worse at it. What if I puke on his dick when I try to blow him? God, maybe then he’d hate me.”

“Okay, Bauer? Go talk to him.” Gabe got up and walked away before Chase could say anything else. 

Chase took a deep breath and stood up. Her legs felt like jelly and she could’ve sworn she was leaning to one side. She giggled at herself, at the fuzziness coursing through her veins, at the thoughts coming to the forefront of her mind. She made her way over to Nate, shoved herself in between him and Naz, grabbed his arms and looked up at him.

“Hi,” she said, realizing how close her face was to his face. 

Naz excused himself, and Nate looked down at her over his crooked nose. God, Chase wanted that nose in between her legs. 

“Hi,” she said again. 

“Hi,” he replied shortly. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“I’m still drunk and I’m sorry I thought you hated me and that I said I wanted to have sex with you because I know we can’t have sex I’m drunk and you’re famous and we work together and you’re good at sex and I’m very bad at sex.” Chase squinted to try and focus on Nate’s face but it was very difficult. When did he have two faces? 

“I actually do want to have sex with you,” Nate said straightforwardly. “I think you’re smart and cool and hot and yeah, I like you. But I don’t think this is exactly the right time to do this.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me to treat you? Cause you liked me?” Chase put together.

“Yeah,” Nate laughed. “I tried to keep you away so I could focus, but having you around the past two seasons has not been a distraction at all, it’s helped me focus.”

“Oh,” Chase said, standing there. “Oh.”

“So we’ll have this conversation again when you’re sober,” Nate said. “I think I’m gonna leave anyway, actually.”

“Wait,” Chase frowned. “Don’t leave yet. We haven’t even gotten to dance. I don’t want you to leave. I’m drinking water now and it won’t take me too long to sober up. Please don’t leave.”

Nate sighed. “Okay, let’s go dance.”

Chase grinned, took his hand, and led him over to where Cale and his girlfriend had resumed their dancing and loud singing of random songs that came up. A rap song came on, definitely one Nate had introduced EJ to, because it was on their warm up playlist. 

Chase turned around, facing Nate, pressing her chest into his. Nate’s eyes glazed over again as he put his hands on her hips, dangerously close to her ass. Chase wrapped her arms around his neck and tugged his forehead down to touch hers, demanding his blue eyes meet hers. She ground her body into his, and relished in the small buck of his hips he responded with.

Nate let his hands slide down her body to grip her ass. His breathing was slowly quickening, his touch slowly tightening, as the song changed to another rap song and they continued their dance. 

Chase gasped when Nate pushed her away slightly and nudged his thigh between her legs for her to grind on. She immediately did, dragging the seam of her denim shorts along the length of his thigh. Feeling herself clench around nothing, she clutched harder to the back of his neck. 

“You like that?” he asked, eyes still drilled on her, a smirk dancing across his lips. 

“I’m drunk and you’re hot and I like everything you do,” Chase replied softly. “Please don’t leave yet.”

“When we’re dancing like this? Not a chance.”

She had no idea how long they danced, but by the time they stopped, she was sweaty and desperately craving more water. She and Nate separated and she hurried to the kitchen to chug water. Chase felt herself sobering up, the fuzziness beginning to fade, and with it, the confidence that had been flowing through her quickly dissipating. 

Nate came to join Chase in the kitchen to get water, too. He filled up a cup and drank long sips. Chase stared at his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He put his cup down after he finished, his lips glistening from the water, and Chase made a split decision. 

Chase stalked over to him and kissed him. 

Her hands found his cheeks, tracing his playoff beard with her fingertips. His hands rested on her ass again, tugging her closer as she pinned him against the counter behind him. His lips were soft and wet and warm and tasted like beer. His tongue gently made its way into her mouth, softly dancing around hers.

Chase pulled back and looked up at his red, puffy lips. “Fuck,” she said.

“Mmhmm,” Nate replied, then pulled her in for more. Nate kissed her like she was his tether to the ground, like he was floating and the only thing that could keep him down was her lips. His fingertips dug into her ass, and she was sure she’d have bruises tomorrow, but she didn’t care. She traced his bottom lip with her tongue, then pulled away again, just enough to speak to him.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Chase whispered.

“You’re still drunk,” Nate whispered back.

“I’m sobering up.”

“The guys will have something to say. They’ll never let us live it down.”

“So? I don’t care what they think. They won’t even notice.”

“Chase…”

“We don’t need their permission. We’re both adults.”

“You’re still drunk.”

“And I’m still sobering up. Nathan, I’m good. I’m probably like, the equivalent of two shots drunk now.”

Nate bit his lip and looked over her head at his friends. Chase turned around too, and she was right. No one was paying attention to them. Everyone was in their own worlds. It was the perfect time to sneak away. 

“Fuck it,” Nate muttered. “C’mon.” 

Chase giggled as Nate clung to her hand and dragged her away, upstairs to one of EJ’s spare bedrooms. There were solo cups strewn everywhere, and Chase didn’t care to know whose they were. She fell onto the bed with more giggles as Nate turned on the T.V. hanging on the wall in front of the bed.

“Why the T.V.?” Chase asked.

“Well, not to brag, but I’m about to blow your mind, and I don’t want to get chirped for how loud I make you moan,” Nate said, his eyes darkening with lust.

Chase shivered, but said, “Well, the only competition you have is my vibrator, but I’ve learned to be pretty quiet.”

“Oh really?” Nate raised his eyebrows, then flopped on the bed next to her. He rolled on top of her, positioning himself in between her legs and said, “I take that as a challenge.”

Nate leaned down and kissed Chase sweetly, with none of the previous fervor from downstairs. He kissed his way down her clothed body, bunched her shirt up around her stomach, and kissed the soft skin as he unbuttoned her shorts and dragged them down her legs. She wore her only pair of sexy panties made of a comfy lace, and Nate dragged his thumb across the band.

“Nice,” he complimented. “Who’d you wear these for?”

Chase smirked. “Mikko.”

“That’s a lie and we both know it.” Nate kissed her covered core and she jumped, making Nate chuckle.

“Nathan,” Chase said softly. “I’m nervous.”

Nate laid his head on her thigh, gazing up at her. “We can stop any time, you just say so.”

 Chase took a deep breath. “Just, uh, go slow?”

“Hang on.” Nate hopped up and left the room, returning a few moments later. He tossed an unopened box of condoms and a brand new bottle of lube on the bed next to Chase, then shut the door behind him. 

“Where did you get this?” Chase sat up and grabbed the lube, examining it. 

Nate shrugged, “I know where EJ keeps his shit. I’ll buy him more.”

Chase’s heart pounded as Nate repositioned himself between her legs. He wrapped his strong arms around her thighs, pulled her to the edge of the bed, then kissed her again through her panties, making Chase shiver. 

“You ready?” Nate asked. He kissed her again and looked up at her through his eyelashes. 

Chase took a deep breath and nodded, then Nate tugged her panties down in a swift motion, threw them on the ground behind him, and gently dragged his hands along her thighs. Chase watched him with bated breath, thinking he was going far too slow but also could go never fast enough. He ghosted kisses along her thighs, teasing her even more, and she pouted. 

“That’s some mind-blowing head you’re giving me,” she said, rather annoyed. 

Nate looked up at her, grinned, and rolled his eyes. He stuck his tongue out and traced it on the lips of her pussy, and she nearly leapt out of her skin. Nate chuckled, then let his tongue dip into her folds.

“Holy fuck,” Chase yelped. 

Nate swirled his tongue around near her entrance for a bit, clearly avoiding her clit, but Chase didn’t care. The simple gesture sent heat waves and ice through her entire body. Finally, Nate softly wrapped his lips around her clit. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Chase yelped again. Nate’s tongue massaging her clit felt incredible, in a way she’d always imagined but could never have imagined, in a way she had started to believe she’d never feel. He looked up at her through his eyelashes and gently sucked on her clit. Chase’s legs began to shake and she could already feel how fast her orgasm was racing toward her. 

“Use…use your fingers,” Chase gasped breathlessly. 

Nathan unlatched his mouth from Chase, then shoved his middle finger into his mouth. He slowly teased her with it, gathering up more of her wetness, and slid his thick finger inside her, lips returning to her clit. He curled his finger to massage her walls, keeping pace with his tongue. 

“Oh fuck,” Chase moaned, “oh fuck, I’m gonna come, oh fuck, fuck, Nate, fuck!”

Chase went sailing over the edge as her orgasm raked through her. Despite her legs shaking and her back arching, Nate kept his mouth on her as she fell apart for him. The constant stream of “fuck” that came from Chase’s mouth was so loud that she was grateful Nate turned on the T.V..

She finally came down, panting, and Nate slid his finger out of her and released his mouth from her. She grabbed his shirt and dragged him up to kiss him hotly, tongue immediately invading his mouth, tasting herself. Jesus Christ, he did what he said he would, and she was impressed. 

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” she breathed. 

Nate chuckled. “You did say earlier I was good at sex, if I remember correctly.”

“Jesus.” She was still trying to catch her breath when she realized Nate was still fully clothed, so she said, “You’re wearing clothes still. Let’s change that.”

Grinning, Nate stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. He unbuttoned his jeans and shoved them down his legs, along with his underwear, so he stood before her in all his glory. He was already semi-hard, and he clambered back onto the bed overtop of her.

“Do you want me to like, do anything for you?” Chase asked.

Nate quickly slid his arms under her and pushed her up on the bed, closer to the headboard. “Nope,” he said as he moved her. “I’m good. Are you good?”

Chase nodded nervously. “Y-yeah, I think so.”

Nate reached over for a condom and the bottle of lube. He stroked himself several times before he opened the condom wrapper, then slid the condom on. He grabbed the bottle of lube.

“Okay,” he said, opening the bottle. “If it hurts, tell me. If we use enough lube, we should be fine.”

“Yeah,” Chase agreed. “I’ll tell you.”

Licking his lips, Nate squirted lube on his dick, which he then spread around with his other hand. He squirted some onto Chase’s pussy, and she jumped.

“That’s cold, what the fuck?” Chase yelped.

Nate chuckled. “It’s not that cold.”

“Maybe through latex it’s not.”

“Alright, alright,” Nate conceded. “Do you want more lube or is that good for now?”

Chase brought her fingers to her pussy, spreading the lube around and inside her. “I think that’s good for now, but I’ll stop you if I need more.”

Nate leaned down and kissed her lips sweetly. “Please do. Are you ready?”

Chase nodded, biting her lip nervously. “Go slow, please.”

“I will.” 

Nate straightened up, then guided himself into Chase. Her mouth fell open as he stretched her, slowly inching deeper and deeper. She flailed her hand until it found his so she could tangle their fingers together. His pelvis bumped hers, and she knew he was all the way in.

“Oh fuck,” Chase muttered. “Just stay there for a second.”

Nate did as she said, patiently waiting, looking amused as Chase tried not to squirm. Having him inside her felt so intimate, so delicate, and she never wanted him to stop.

“Okay,” she said after a moment, “move.”

Nate readjusted his position on the bed so he was laying overtop of Chase. He rested on one elbow, keeping his hand intwined with hers, then rolled his hips back so he slid out of her, then rolled them forward to thrust into her.

“Oh my god,” Chase moaned. 

Nate established a slow, steady pace, thrusting in and out of her so she could feel every inch and ridge of him. She felt pressure, but not pain, and it was delicious, especially as Nate’s breathing became heavier and heavier on her neck and lips.

“Does it feel good?” he breathed, nipping at her earlobe.

“Fuck yes, it does,” she moaned back.

“Good,” Nate replied, straining a little. “Me too, it, oh, fuck, you feel so good.”

He kept the same pace and before long, they were both panting and sweating.

“Nate,” Chase gasped, “more, I need more.”

Nate obliged, attaching his lips to her collarbone and sucking hard as he increased the speed of his thrusts slightly and thrust harder into her. He released her hand and began to rub her clit. Chase’s free hand dug into his bicep, leaving tiny crescents on his skin.

Suddenly, Nate sat up, grabbed Chase’s legs, and pushed them out wider, stretching her hips, but also allowing himself to hit a different angle inside her. Chase’s mouth fell open and she couldn’t even moan; the pressure of Nate inside her felt so good it overwhelmed her senses and she couldn’t think clearly.

“Oh, fuck, Chase,” Nate grunted. “Oh fuck, I’m getting close.”

“I’m not sure if I’ll come,” admitted Chase, “but I don’t care.”

“I care. I’ll take care of you, okay?” Nate’s blue eyes were warm and lustful and genuine.

All Chase could do was nod in response. Her head lolled over as she scraped her nails from his bicep to his back, digging so hard she nearly made him bleed, and dragged her nails down his back as he fucked her. She swore she could feel him in her stomach, but then it began to hurt.

“Nate,” she breathed. “Nate, stop.”

Nate froze and brought his hands up to cup Chase’s face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

“I think we need more lube. It’s starting to hurt a little. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Nate said, kissing her forehead. Chase watched, eyes hazy. He reached over to grab the bottle of lube again, squeezing some onto his fingers, which he then slid inside Chase. He spread the lube around and pulled his fingers back out of her. He squeezed more lube on his dick, stroked it to spread it across himself, then closed the bottle.

“I’m ready when you are,” Chase said and reached out to hold his forearm.

“Okay,” Nate replied. He spread her legs again, then gripped himself and guided his dick inside her. Chase’s back arched as he slid into her. She relished in the feeling of him, pressing her lips together. Nate leaned back over her and began to re-establish the rhythm he’d had.

“I’m sorry,” Chase breathed again. “I know you were close.”

“Shut up, Chase,” Nate breathed back, hungrily kissing her as he snapped his hips against hers. “I’m basically back where I was, oh, fuck.”

Chase placed her hand on the back of Nate’s neck. “You gonna come for me, Nathan?” she teased.

“Shit,” Nate said through clenched teeth. “Shit, I’m gonna come for you.”

Chase pulled Nate’s face close to hers and whispered, “Come for me.”

“Oh,” Nate moaned loudly, spilling into the condom, “oh, fuck, oh my god, fuck!”

Nate’s hips stuttered to a stop and he closed his eyes, panting. He kissed her sweetly as he pulled out of her, making her whimper from the loss of heat and contact. Without a word, he kissed his way back down her body to settle between her legs again. He licked Chase’s clit and she jumped.

“Shit,” Chase squeaked.

Nate slid his tongue down through her folds to her entrance, then pushed it into her. Chase moaned, hands grabbing at him until he offered her one of his hands. He moved his other hand to her clit, softly circling it, and within moments, he had her coming on his tongue, his name spilling out of her mouth.

“Oh fuck, Nate,” Chase breathed. Her body was exhausted and spent, and she didn’t know if she could move. 

“Are you good?” Nate asked, laying next to her and pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. “Can I get you anything?”

“Fuck, maybe a Gatorade?” Chase laughed.

Nate chuckled, “I bet I can do that. Let’s get cleaned up first, though. You know you should pee like, soon, right?”

Nodding, Chase said, “Yeah, but I don’t know if I have the energy to walk right now.”

“Need help?”

“I think so.” Chase was embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” Nate said sharply. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Nate helped Chase sit up, then helped her to the bathroom. He pulled the condom off carefully and threw it in the trash, then took turns using the toilet and washing up. Nate went back into the bedroom and picked up Chase’s panties and his shirt. 

“Here,” Nate said, handing it to her. “You can sleep in my shirt.”

Chase’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sleep? Here?”

“I’d, uh, I’d like to wake up with you, but I think we’re both too tired to go home.” Nate smiled softly.

“Oh.” Chase looked up at Nate. He was dead serious. God, he really did like her, huh? 

“I mean, I can take you home if you want,” Nate added quickly.

“No no no. Let’s stay.” Chase stood on her tiptoes and kissed his nose. “But I definitely need that Gatorade.

Nate laughed, “I gotcha. Lemme get dressed.”

The two of them padded back into the bedroom, Chase pulling on her panties and Nate’s shirt, Nate pulling on only his boxers. Chase settled into the bed under the covers, grabbed her phone, and caught up on her notifications while Nate retreated downstairs for Gatorade. 

Nate returned with his arms full of Gatorade, snacks, and phone chargers. “I thought you might be hungry,” he explained as he dumped the contents onto the bed, “and I know my phone is dead, so I stole a couple chargers too.”

“Thank you, Nate,” Chase giggled. “You’re very thoughtful.”

“Don’t tell anyone else that,” Nate joked as he climbed in bed with her. He grabbed one of the Gatorades, cracked it open, and drained it. He grabbed another and handed it to Chase, who opened it and took a few gulps.

Exhaustion hit Chase. “Oh shit,” she mumbled. “I’m fucking tired.”

“Me too,” Nate yawned.

“Can I, uh, can we cuddle?” Chase asked.

Nate smiled at her. “I was hoping we would.”

Chase grinned, put her Gatorade down, and scooted into Nate’s body, laying her head on his chest. His soft heartbeat was like a lullaby, and she knew she would be asleep soon.

“Nate?” she said sleepily.

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t let this be a one night thing.”

Chase felt Nate kiss her head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Can I take you to breakfast in the morning?”

“Bold of you to assume I’ll be awake for breakfast.”

Nate chuckled. “Brunch? Lunch? Whatever meal we want when we get up?”

“That sounds perfect,” Chase giggled. “Goodnight, Nathan.”

“Goodnight.”

[sor-vette]

❝𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲❞

You knew three things about Park Jimin. In order, he was, despite all, a very kind man. Secondly, he was the devil and thirdly, which Jimin himself insisted to be true, was that he was in love with you.

• type: Jimin x reader • rating: SFW • w/c: 6.3k • main masterlist

• genre/about: fluff, friends? to lovers? very much romantic vs. emotionally constipated feat. adulthood feat. extremely pining Jimin because when the guy is the pining one is peak intellect fight me, the reader has specific zodiac placements but other than that nothing bodily wise is mentioned

• c/w: mentioned attempt to coerce someone into drug abuse, mention of past eating disorder, discussion of self-image issues, mildly suggestive

• a/n: was just rifling through my drafts and remembered this was a thing. I liked it even though it's unfinished and kinda sappy

• permanent taglist: @ilsan-seoul; @chimchimmarie; @pinkcherrybombs; @introlxv

There were three things that needed to be known about Park Jimin, was what Tilla told you while you had jogged to meet her boyfriend's roommate. In order: he was a Libra Sun, Gemini Moon, and Cancer Rising, which can all be summarised in one category - he was incredibly flirty. Though Tilla insisted she had already said Libra Sun whatever that meant and that there was no other, literally no other, bar for her Namjoonie, that was as ethereal as Jimin. Those were the things that preceded his fine name - good looking to an insane degree and flirty. Hence why when you had glimpsed the top of his bleached head, you had already swerved hard left then and remained the only one from the clash of two social circles - Namjoon's and Tilla's - as an absolute mystery.

Tilla once again insisted that she had already made everyone aware of your Scorpio Sun status...whatever the hell that meant.

Now, some years, not a lot but some years gone, you knew three more accurate things about Park Jimin. In order, he was, despite all, a very kind man. Really, not even being an eternal sceptic -

"It's that Capricorn Moon of yours, I'm telling you," Tilla declared, passionately waving around a fork and accidentally sending a piece of egg flying into Namjoon's face who was unsuspectingly sitting by the neighbouring cafeteria table. A victim in many cases. That's how they met actually.

- not even being an eternal sceptic, could sway that despite the occasional, human hiccup, Park Jimin was an attentive and caring man. Secondly, he was the devil.

As you had gawked at the suggestive photo of him, grabbing his crotch, long tongue poking at the corner of his full lips, the entire shebang and acknowledging that he made that sort of lewd act look artistic, you knew that Park Jimin was an ocean if not the whole world of hurt. When you confronted him over the group breakfast, why would he ever send such a thing, he had only smirked over a cup of orange juice and after innocently fluttering his eyelashes, asked whatever did you mean. Of course, not five minutes after another picture had followed.

All of that could be ignored, pushed, shoved, burned and forgotten if not for the third thing.

The third thing which Jimin himself had insisted to be true.

Which is that he was in love with you.

You wake up one day and you're an adult. An adult with bills to pay and taxes to be deducted. You work away in a job you don't like but don't dare to change because unemployment is no joke and you live in a studio apartment too small that costs too much and is not in any shape or form of any resemblance to the appealing pictures of the white and green variety found on Instagram. Your socks have holes and your shoes let in water when it rains too hard. You're so very lonely but you've given up on the dating scene because the fear of being messed up, being damaged is too vast. Dating is hard. Opening up to people is hard.

There is very little romance to be found while you wander on a path that feels like a wrong choice but you don't want to think about it too hard yet because what if you had messed up and what if you will end up exactly like hundreds of others, figures in the disgruntled mass, all chasing a dream that maybe didn't even exist.

It's all very bleak.

Except for Saturdays.

Saturdays are these nice little blankets of comfort where nice things are possible, given, of course, that you spend money on them but that doesn't matter. You can sleep in, then tuck the sheets that need a wash over the bed and grabbing only your wallet to name, venture out into the city. You've got your tote bag, because nowadays everyone has them and you stroll, briefly careless, underneath the sun. And then you can get a coffee of your choice and an overpriced something that the barista swears their soul for and you can sit and dream in the plushy chairs of the ambient little coffee shop.

It's as near to perfection as you can get.

If not for Park fucking Jimin.

You're not a university student anymore and you're far from high school, all the romantic nonsense of meet-cute, friend of a friend and such are well over - you're simply too old for it. It must be some ultra ironic twist of fate for him to look into the shop window just at the moment when you look out. He freezes mid-step and meets your gaze, recognizing you in an instant, well because...because supposedly he was in love with you.

It was a damp July night and cicadas were in a full shriek all around the small meadow. You passively watch from the sidelines as Namjoon and Tilla sway together, completely in their own world. Namjoon had gone through your immaculately designed trials and tribulations from hell and made it through with passable grades. And in spite of the habitual threats of emasculating him with a corkscrew and the rather deep resentment for their romance, you are, in the end, happy for these two baboons and hold your fingers crossed that they will not contribute to the divorce rates and instead be one of those couples, farting next to each other in their old. Or whatever the fuck they did.

You guard your champagne like it's a lifeline because holy hell Yoongi was snorting that shit by the litres and you salute quietly to yourself - to the end of an era.

He outdid himself this evening. Absolutely stunning visuals from Mr Park. It's just an objective fact, you think to yourself.

But... but Jimin is also there. Jimin was...complicated. For you, at least. He's looking at you. He was always looking at you but it never quite grows into being creepy. It's simply peculiar. By now it's been already four years since you were begrudgingly introduced to each other and you've made peace with being in his focus.

"I like you," he suddenly says, the light breeze ruffling his hair.

You laugh awkwardly but Jimin doesn't.

"Uh...I like you too."

"No, no," he shakes his head. "I'm in love with you."

After a stilted pause, he continues.

"Strange, isn't it?" his smile seems bizarrely self-conscious. "To be in love?"

What do you say when such a thing is just dropped upon you with no warning whatsoever?

"Guess so."

Well, probably not that.

Jimin left quickly after. Went on the world tour or whatever models did and you don't see him anymore.

Usually, the confession meant the end of the movie, the culmination of the plot, the beginning of the happy ever after but this was real life and as such there was nothing, just the fearful pondering of what could have been better and self-congratulatory pats of what was avoided. He becomes a voice in your head, forever confusing you as to why would he say such a thing and a distantly familiar face printed on the covers of laminated, high-end magazines. 

Yes, all the cuteness, all the cliche romance is over. But if you believed them, which you didn't, but if you did, then the image of Park Jimin bounding towards you with a smile so wide his eyes did the thing of narrowing into thin lines, would be the only one who'd fit the scenarios.

"Hello, stranger," he beamed, hooking off the mask and advancing forward with great speed and agility. It was that grace of an unceasing charmer. Cancer Rising. Whatever that meant. You scamper upwards, weighing between a hand wave or a nod of the head and then you're left standing still as Jimin hugs you. Not a casual press against the side hug but a bone-crushing, enveloping-you-fully-until-all-you-smell-is-my-cologne type of hug. The breed of which you've missed dearly.

It takes him a while, a couple of wags from left and right, to step back and skim you over. As he's smiling wide you focus on that one crooked tooth in his mouth. One, neat little flaw to remind you and everyone else that he was, in fact, a human being but unfortunately this was Park Jimin and even his flaws were at their worst merely endearing.

"You look lovely," he praises and you clear your throat. Did he have to be so sincere about it?

"You too. Though you must hear it often."

He inclines his head.

"I like to hear it from you. Thank you."

You hum, glancing down at your occupied seat. Jimin does too.

"May I join?" he asks.

"Sure."

You meant to say no. Did you? Did you really? There's nothing wrong with talking a bit with Jimin, right? Catch up? He was a friend of a friend, anyway.

And also the guy who was in love with you.

Okay.

Alright.

Like that makes sense.

He pulls the chair and nestles into it, running his hands through his hair. You had seen nearly all the colours of the rainbow on his head. How he had even a scalp to hold onto, the world may never know.

"How have you been?"

"....I've been here."

He gives a gracious laugh. Jimin was always so quick to laugh.

"And is it nice here?"

You glimpse outside.

“Not really."

He chuckles again. It must be the condensation from all the coffee making. The shop was getting quite toasty.

"What about you? What have you been doing?"

You fetch Jimin his matcha latte, declining his offer to pay back.

"Worked nonstop, pretty much," he shrugs. "I went on a runway once, but I stopped doing it when I developed an eating disorder and my manager suggested to do cocaine."

You are left sitting with your mouth wide open like a fool.

Jimin's eyes crinkle as he smiles at such a thing. Like it wasn't fucked up as all shit that it happened.

“I'm better now though. Kicked that piece of shit away."

Everyone knew that everyone had self-image issues. That was the selling point, it was profitable for even the objectively perfect to be doubtful of themselves and spend thousands and thousands on diet pills, form-fitted clothes, alternative "healthier" eating which was the same look-obsessed culture now rebranded itself as wellness. Yes, you comprehended that but it didn't make it any less unbelievable to hear someone like Jimin, Park the motherfucking Jimin, openly reveal that he didn't like how he looked.

He curiously watches your brain gear and error over and over again.

"Don't apologise if that's what you want to do?" he laughs, quietly, shyly, as though he'd done something wrong. "It's not your fau-"

"I just think that's an atrocious fucking horseshit," your mouth runs on auto-pilot because your brain is lacking. It was never a good combination.

"What is?"

"For anyone to ever think you're not beautiful."

"And to...to suggest drugs? What the fuck is wrong with these people?" you snarl, gripping your coffee cup with pulverising strength, briefly wondering why Jimin winced. Did he not like the coffee? He had never complained before…

Unbeknownst to you, Jimin blushes bright red because it's the brutal honesty in your tone that truly does him in. He was used to the saccharine compliments that seeped like poison from strangers' mouths, designed to reel in and it never failed to be vile. But he still found enjoyment in hearing the odd little praises if they came from you. You who had no ulterior motive. Oh, how he knew about the lack of any motives. Truth be told just fifteen minutes ago he had yelled at himself "enough!". But all the attempts to forget you had boarded a plane, flew to the Himalayas and tossed themselves from the highest peak the moment you appeared on the other side of the window. Not even he himself quite understood this thing he had for you. What he did know was that he despised matcha latte but never had the heart to correct you so he suffered through it the times that you got it for him. And that was perhaps more of an insight than he could ever explain to others or to himself.

"Don't know," he replied casually, "I didn't stick around to ask."

"That's good. Are you..are you actually fine, though? Or are you doing your thing of lying to not seem like a burden?"

He smirked mirthlessly.

"I'm actually fine. Dealt with it."

You leaned back into the chair with a heavy sigh.

"So, how's Joontill?"

You snort.

"Enjoying the fine Australian weather."

Jimin frowns in confusion and you mirror his expression.

"They're in Australia right now?"

“Well, yeah. Namjoon got that internship at Murdoch University. They're doing some kind of study about the Coral Reef. Tilla is finding herself on a new spiritual journey. Something about crystals."

More than once, you had looked at Tilla and Namjoon and thought that there were more commonalities between a tiger and a cockatoo than those two. Nevertheless, the two weirdos persisted in their mutual obsession with each other.

“I knew that, it's just...I was meaning to stay here for a while and they offered me their place to stay until I found my own."

"Maybe they left you a key in a mailbox or something," you ponder.

“Maybe," he agrees and sips on the drink.

“So, you're actually settling down? Can't be! Mr Eternal Bachelor?"

"Oh, yes, truth is indeed stranger than fiction. I'm settling down here. Since I'm not doing runways anymore, I applied for a place in a local fashion and lifestyle magazine. I'm done chasing the glory," he exhaled snidely, eyes momentarily darkening at what clearly were fractures of some sour memories.

"That's nice," you lightly remark, careful not to prod at anything still aching. "What will you be doing?"

"Writing, editing, maybe modelling," he took a sip of the coffee, flinching again. 

He must hate it, so why was he still drinking it? 

"Sort of jack-of-all-trades help."

Both of you agree that it's a needed start over. Seemingly only minutes pass but then the barista reminds you that they'll be closing in fifteen minutes.

Dishes of pastries have piled all around and when you look outside, with a stiff neck and even stiffer backside to your surprise the sky has turned dark. Unavoidably, like all good things did, Saturday had come to its inevitable end. The air is fresh and cool outside and your cheeks glisten with unexplainable heat. Jimin stretches with a smile, whining at the sore muscles. The lights of the nearby fruit vendors starkly remind you of Joontill's wedding night and so, still operating on a basic instinct of speaking first - thinking never, the question simply rips out as you linger in each other's presence.

"Do you still like me?"

Jimin, who was in the middle of saying goodbye, freezes like a deer caught in the headlights. He stands like that for a moment and then smiles as though you were sharing some private joke. 

"Yeah," he laughs. "Yeah, I still do."

"Scorpio venus," Tilla enunciated like you were not getting some rudimentary piece of common knowledge. "If he's making eyes at you, you're doomed, sis."

You put the powder brush away with a sigh. All you asked was did she knew why that Jimin guy had been gawking at you at her boyfriend's party.

"Ain't your boy-toy the same house?"

“Those are placements, not houses," Tilla amended, hanging upside down on the bed, lollipop sticking out of her mouth. "And yes, Joonie -"

"Joonie," you scoffed.

"- is also Scorpio venus. How do you think I know I'll get my guts rearranged this night and tomorrow morning?"

You crinkle your nose in disgust.

"Gross."

"I'll be going now," he sighs and it is mind-boggling to you how he does that. Confesses and then proceeds life as normal. Most people would be digging themselves in a ditch, you first and foremost, but not Mr Park. He had told you twice already that he fancied you and then simply left.

You bite discreetly on your lip. What would happen if you would cast everything aside? Take him by the hand and lead away? Well, the thing would be is that he would probably fall out of love the moment you'd fall into it. That's why there was the term "timing". Time was a precarious thing and often changed with every passing wind. And you were well aware of how painful it'd be to actually fall in love with Park Jimin. You had been dancing on that edge for years now and as such had tethered nicely to the side of inactivity. Even if you found out that loitering around him in person made you irrationally want to kiss him.

As you part, each walking in your own separate directions, you think of being so sneaky by waiting until the very last second to glimpse back at him. Just once. But as you do, you find that to his credit, Jimin was already looking.

"Shut the fuck up," you growl not even bothering to lift your head from the pillow. Tilla doesn't have to say anything. That smarmy, annoying little face of hers shouts more than words ever could.

“I did not speak!" she objects but with a tint of amusement. The weird subject of you and Jimin had entertained her for years with no signs of stopping. Behind her, there sprawls the beautiful vistas of the Australian sea, the sun high in the sky while outside you can perhaps glance at a faint glimmer of stars aimlessly wandering through space.

"Oh, I do wish you would just seize the bull by the horns. Jimin's fine enough of a stallion and by rumours -"

"Don't you dare to discuss Jimin's dick out loud!"

Somewhere outside of the camera comes Namjoon's grumbling threat. When Tilla points her phone at him, he can be found with a toothbrush lodged in his mouth, tugging his shorts over his ass.

Unfortunately not an unseen sight.

“I've got eyes only for you, babe."

"Liar, liar, tiny thong on fire," he casts her a stormy glare. "You were thirsting over those surfers all day. I know."

"Oh, you do? Why don't you come here and punish me then."

"Please, I beg of you, there's only so much vomit I can project!" you interrupt, physically gagging at the unfolding scene.

Tilla merely rolled her eyes and you try not to ponder too much on the fact that judging from the peculiar angle one of her hands must be tied to the bed.

"But back to you, listen, I know it may be hard to believe, only for you of course, but Jimin is still carrying a massive fucking torch for you. If you don't do anything, that flame will go out."

“So? Wonderful! I want it to go out!"

Tilla's eyes soften.

"Babe..."

You shake your head once more.

“No, don't pity me."

"I'm not pitying you! It's just that it's not really a plan - to move to Alberta, adopt seventeen dogs, go insane one night and then die from hypothermia while streaking outside, after which your dogs feast on your decomposing flesh."

You regard her with a raised brow.

“Why ever not? I've spent my entire life with that plan."

Tilla sighed leaning back into the pillows. Her wrist was indeed locked in a pair of fuzzy, pink handcuffs.

“You know you are capable of love, right?"

“I've loved you my entire life," you are quick to agree.

"And Namjoon."

“Doubtful."

Tilla smirks and Namjoon groans somewhere in the distance.

"Know your place, boy-toy," you bark at him. "I was here first."

"She was," Tilla interjects, pointing one solemn finger off the camera. At this point, Namjoon mutters something about "women" and exits stage left.

"You know I'm not saying you should jump Jimin because he's gorgeous and nice and has the hots for you-"

"That's exactly what you're saying."

"No, well, maybe a little bit, but it's fine if you reject him because you don't like him or because you know you won't regret it. But do you remember Katie?"

Could you ever forget the little wench who'd stolen your purple, fuzz covered purse bedazzled with the words "icon"? It was a vicious and unjust crime that took weeks to get over.

"Do you not regret punching her in the face that day she came to school with your bag?"

Of course, you did. Being a seven-year-old who had not yet hit a growth spurt such as yourself, Katie then seemed so invincible and tall. But now as an adult, having the sage wisdom and knowledge that one famed day you'll knock out not one, but two dudes of senior class when they tried to pocket your hard-earned money, you deeply mourned the fact that you hadn't given her the knuckle sandwich that heinous skank clearly deserved.

"My point is, don't let Jimin be another Katie. You're so bitter already, god knows, we don't need you to be any grouchier in your old."

"Ha ha ha," you mock her dryly but deep down you knew she was right. It was that mutated, single-celled organism called a brain you both shared like any other friendship that lasted longer than most marriages. "Anyway, I'm surprised you let him stay over. You're usually so twitchy about anyone touching your stuff."

Tilla frowned and a sickly squirming feeling rose in your stomach.

"I didn't? What are you talking about?"

"Jimin said that until he'll find his own place, he'll stay at yours. Went to look for the spare key and everything."

She shot upright in terror.

"Namjoon! NaMJOONIE!"

Immediately, the doors burst open.

"What happened? Are you hurt? Are you alright?!"

“Did we actually say "yes" when Jimin called us about staying over?!"

"I did say "yes"," comes his bashful voice. "But I didn't mean it for him! I meant it for you, considering what we were in the middle of..."

These horny amoebas.

"You picked up the phone when you were having sex?!"

Tilla graciously ignores your outrage.

"Do we have any spare keys?"

"Of course, not. It's unsafe."

If group chat messages were true, then Yoongi moved back to Korea three months ago and Hoseok had left across the country to finally finish his degree in contemporary dance, that means -

A ring by the door.

- that you were the only one in the city that Jimin was familiar with.

You and Tilla exchange glances and slowly, annoyingly slowly, upon reaching the same conclusion as you, she blossoms into a broad smirk. When you rip open the door, the phone still in hand, you find Jimin there, knuckles suspended in the air, clearly not expecting the eager welcome.

"So, a funny thing -"

"JIMIN!! HELLO!" comes a scream from down your thigh.

"Oh, hello, Tilla!" he leans down to wave at her, smiling brightly. "You seem to not have left me a spare key, Mrs Kim-Hogen."

"Uh, yeah," Tilla glances nervously to the side where no doubt guilty Namjoon was hiding outside the camera. "Well, you know Joon, all butterfingers.""

"Or skilled fingers. Are those handcuffs I see?"

As he was leaning down, a chain previously tucked underneath Jimin's shirt falls out. It sways in the air, back and forth and you have this small but really rather intrusive thought. Would it sway like this in your face when he's on top of you? The thought vanishes with an aggressive shake of the head.

"Why yes, they are," Tilla purrs. "Whoever said that long-lasting relationships are a drag needs to find themselves a better partner. I'm the happiest I've ever been. Don't you forget it, angel!"

"Oh, I'm nothing if not a hopeless romantic, Mrs Kim-Hogen," and with that chain still dangling, he has the absolute gall to look up and meet your gaze. "Just my person's quite stubborn."

No. You're not doing this.

“Okay, well that's enough of that," you huff.

“WAIT NO! There's so much I want to ask him! What happened to the fashion show? What happened with Mi-Ran? Are you settling dOWN JUST FOR-"

You smack the phone shut, tired of serving as a tripod so these two gossipy bitches could discuss their sexcapades. No, you did not want to hear any of the details of what they both got up to, thank you very much. The thought alone left a sour taste in your mouth. The phone is tossed on the sofa. It bounces back and falls onto the floor.

Naturally.

Jimin crosses his arms behind his back.

"So," he begins awkwardly.

"So," you echo.

It's weird. You're strangers but not really. You're sweethearts but not even close. You're friends but were you?

It's all so very odd.

"I understand if you don't want me to crash here but on the off chance, if you say yes, may I ask?"

Smooth. He has engaged the Libra as Tilla would say.

"Yes," you dumbly answer, without hesitation gripping the door in a panic. You did not just agree to it.

Jimin too seems shocked. His eyes are wide and his mouth is falling slightly open. There's that crooked tooth again.

"Yes? Wait, yes, as in, I can ask or yes as in..." he exhales a shaky breath. "As in I can stay with you?"

"Yes, you can stay with me," you drawl. No, that was not what the shards of brain masquerading themselves as an intellect told you to say. You were meant to say that you're truly sorry and you wish you could but the space is simply too small to allow another person in. But as such you say neither of those words, the sentiment coming from your mouth is quite the opposite.

"You sure?" he clarifies and you roll your eyes.

"Do you want to stay on the street? Because one more -"

"No, no," Jimin laughs, hastily waving his hands. He's practically glowing and you turn to glance away. "I'd rather stay here, thanks."

"Well, then, come on in."

He shuffles inside and you note the lack of baggage. He also didn't have any in the coffee shop. The only thing he carried was an unassuming bag thrown over his shoulder.

"Chanel?" you point at it, with an arched eyebrow as he shimmies through the small hallway, trying to shrug his jacket off.

"What? Oh, no, an airport at...Berlin, I think. It's hard to keep track of all the places I was." Showoff. "Why Chanel specifically?" he grunts, kicking his shoes off. It's only by a miracle that you have spare slippers available. They were fuzzy and adorned with large cows but he'll have to suck it up. To his credit, Jimin doesn't even bat an eye.

"Oh, I don't know," you reply after a moment. "I just thought that Chanel was your breakout."

A teasing smile is back on his face and you turn your back on it, switching on the overhead lamps in the living room.

"Hmm, I wonder how you knew that."

"...Tilla told me," you stubbornly refute, peering into your fridge to offer as a snack.

"And not those magazines on the table?"

Your eyes snap to the offending objects, recalling that underneath the odd bill and notebook, there did sit a varied collection of Jimin's faces. Harper's Bazaar, L'Officiel Hommes. Pieces he knew you had no interest in. When drunk on a political debate night one night, you'd sparred with Namjoon for about thirty minutes about how journals like these were nothing but laminated drivel and the fact that they were grey was just about the only thing that differentiated them from yellow pages.

“Wrong subscription," you brush away and Jimin chuckles while taking in your house.

His eyes are wide and his gaze curious. With a reminiscent smile, he inspects your diplomas, most of which he was there to witness in the audience. You remembered, when you got your honorary diploma, the so-called summa cum laude, after long hours and tears and breakdowns. He had been the loudest to cheer you on. So loud, he, in fact, beat not only your entire family and Tilla combined but also made himself noticeable in the eyes of the university choir's leader. Your classmates had teased you on and on about what supportive boyfriend you had and you were so happy that day the distinction didn't seem worth pointing out. Your hands tighten around the fruit plate. Had he...liked you already then? No, impossible! Impossible. Wasn't he dating someone around that time? Christine? Magnus? Rosa? You couldn't even recall. The point was, there wasn't a day in university Jimin's life that was spent in a bed unwarmed. You smack the plate perhaps a tad harsher on the table than strictly necessary.

Jimin giggles on the side. Despite much of your protests, Tilla had hung up some of the childhood polaroids you both shared, making for rather nostalgic, albeit embarrassing mementos.

"Oh, my God, look at those cheeks," he coos, pointing at a five-year-old you, wrenched in a tin foil spacesuit. The combined result of watching both E.T. and Back to the Future a day before the "what do you want to be" theme day in the kindergarten.

"And the pigtails! This is gold. I must capture this!" he pulls out his phone and before you can throw something sharp in his direction, the mortifying embarrassment is already stored in his gallery.

"You share that to the group chat and I'll-"

"-emasculate me?" he finishes. "Yes, I know. I think you've threatened to do that over a hundred times and yet here I stand - still endowed."

"Don't test your luck, Park," you growl, arranging the final orange slices. "Any day now. It could happen any day now."

He snickers and sits down by the table.

“I like your home," he says, swaying a bit. "But why is it so small?"

“Oh, I'm trying to save up as much as I can. This place already costs an arm and a leg. Hard to imagine what bigger spaces would rip off."

Jimin pops a grape in his mouth.

“True."

“Do you want ramen, perhaps?"

He tilts his head.

"As a food, not as a pickup line," you threaten him with a knife that was used to cut the oranges. Jimin quickly tugs it aside.

"Sure. I'm just wondering since when did you get so nice? Did you miss me, perhaps?" he clicks his tongue and leans in with a mischievous smile illuminating his face.

"Don't say nonsense," you snap back but you did. Just a little tiny bit. Sometimes. On the oddest of days.

While the water boils you get down to business.

"There is only the couch that you can sleep on. It's a pull-out, but still a little small overall. You're okay with that?"

"I'm okay with a pull out though I much prefer the keep in method," he wiggles his eyebrows while leaning against the countertop. You push past it.

"As you can see there's not much to explore. The door on the left there is the bathroom, door on the right just this weird storage space. Any questions?"

"You’ve got a partner?"

You close your eyes and exhale rather dramatically. 

"Say goodbye to your penis, Jimin," you grimly mutter and move towards him with a melon scooper clutched tightly between fingers. He rushes backwards, laughing. 

"I’ll take it as a no," he blurts out, looking too unconcerned for someone whose life hinged on the kindness of your rotten soul. “It’s just so I would know what to do if someone rushes here while I’m there naked on the sofa.”

The water boils and you pour the packet into it, stirring absent-mindedly with Jimin’s eyes locked on the back of your skull. 

"And, of course, so I would know whether or not I’m free to seduce you."

You drop the seasoning into the water. 

"What makes you think you can seduce me?" you casually reply, fishing out the plastic. "It hasn’t worked in all the years we’ve known each other."

He crosses his palms underneath the chin, appearing for a second misleadingly angelic.

"Yes, but I wasn’t really trying then. All in all, it’s getting quite pathetic on my end to pine you after all these years." 

It’s just the steam from the pot, it’s just the steam from the pot, that’s why my face is so warm, you tell yourself. 

"So I’ll take this opportunity to be straightforward with you."

You really didn’t need for him to be any more straightforward. He already confessed - twice! - what was there even left to do?

“And if you’re not my girlfriend/my wife/my fiance by the end of this, I guess…" he trails off into silence. The humour in his voice had drained and you find yourself fearing the end of that sentence. As much as you would prefer Jimin not to waste his time on you, ultimately and with no little amount of heinous selfishness it would still sting to have these feelings be lost. You let out a small groan.

Make up your mind woman, you scold yourself, let him go if he wants to go. Yes, it's for the best. You and Jimin were simply incompatible. Worse than being two opposite magnets, you were brown and he was blue, mixing them together would just make a sludge, a neither that nor this colour which was both dull and unusable for any self-respecting artwork. Some people could be the opposite and meshed well, green and blue, Tilla and Namjoon, some, you and Jimin, was a no go. 

As you’re weighing the matter in your own metaphors, you don’t notice that Jimin never actually finished the sentence. The threat was largely only reserved for himself. “I guess, I’ll leave you alone.” But he never had the guts to say it out loud, scared that it would come true if he did.

Your eyes droop dangerously low. You and Jimin had made him a place to sleep, using decorative pillows and extra fleece blankets for now. He told you that his stuff was still being shipped. He had washed the dishes while you made a quick run to the store to get him some toiletries. He was given his towel and the apartment was coated in the small glow of the living room lamp. Quiet music was swimming through. Jimin said that he’ll turn it off. It was strange to have him here. To have anyone here. The second Tilla and Namjoon had gotten married, her absence gradually grew more and more until now she was in Australia. It was unusual, but you found that you didn’t mind it just yet. 

“Hey, __________,” Jimin whispered and your ears naturally perked at the sound of his voice, all the way from your lofted bed. 

“Hmmm?”

“Don’t….don’t believe too much what these papers say about me.”

There was a hint of frailty in his tone and you’re once again brought to the fact of how horrible these last few years had been for him. The times that he appeared in yellow pages were not tremendous in the count, but there was never a single good entry. Just the clubs, the arrest, the reckless spending and driving and so forth. 

"Don’t worry," you murmur back, eyes closing. "I never did."

At first, Sunday comes like it had a thousand times before - lazy with sleep weighted eyes, and the gnawing realisation that the fun is halfway over. Tomorrow is Monday and it’s just hours, once again hours away from Doing The Labour. It’s exhausting to Do The Labour. As you pull a pillow over your head, scoffing at the sunlight streaming through the window, you whine to yourself - you don't want to Do The Labour. But the hunger grumbling in your stomach is a stern reminder that you have to, want to or not. You lift your head up, groggy and squinting in the pouring light. You stretch, something cracks, and there's a persistent, mysterious ache somewhere in your back. Adulthood. But as you climb down, opening the window to let in the fresh, morning air, you glimpse at Jimin sleeping on the sofa. Dark hair messy on the pillow, soft snores rising from his open mouth.

The gust of morning breeze rips through the curtains and he shivers, instinctively pulling the blanket nearly up to his ears to protect himself from the unwanted elements. You smile and then for the first time in a very long time you allow yourself to sit and simply gaze into the city. Dogs and their sleep weary owners trudged in and out of the park, runners in their never-ending mission to make everyone else feel lazy took laps amidst the freshly opened shops, half-abandoned construction and the occasional stray cat. Together and separate - the life of a city.

And when Jimin wakes much has changed and yet nothing really. The Sunday like many before this one is spent quietly, with a nameless, bright cartoon in the background, coffee made, and yoghurt to be enjoyed. Despite what your fears always insisted, it's actually quite simple. You're still you and he's still him and you're both here in this small apartment, on this lazy Sunday morning because you want to be here. It's just that simple.

As Jimin shuffles over, still partially sinking into slumber, you quickly delved into a bowl of non-sugar non-fat diet no-additive greek yoghurt just not before sprinkling a handful of strawberries and half a pack of chocolate chips. 

Jimin smiles over his cup of coffee. 

“I like to eat healthily,” you establish, shaking the very last of the chips into the bowl.

“I can see that,” he bites his lip to not laugh and the chain around his neck dangles in the air as he reaches down to lay a light kiss on the side of your cheek.

© sor-vette, 2022