#one more prompt fill to come tomorrow!

[xavieremix]

okay so the tags on that last post got me feeling those melon collies so i'm just gonna. tagdump in here. slightly sensitive topics? so uh. scroll down (or press J to jump to next post). or read my thoughts like the morning paper. sorry. cheers.

[withahappyrefrain]

number one on the smut prompts with tyler owens 🫣👀

Most people dreaded summer. The heat, the random thunderstorms, the seemingly endless droughts.

You craved it.

Summer meant late mornings, tangled up in the sheets. It meant watching sunsets in the bed of a truck. It meant going to rodeos and going home instead of a random motel.

It meant tornado season was done. Summer meant Tyler was back in your arms, spending time with you (aside from the research and occasional videos).

The exhaustive heat was still there. But he made it bearable.

"Just come join me," His voice is hot on your neck, his words stated between gentle nips as his fingers toyed with the hem of your denim shorts.

You giggled, trying to remain steadfast despite your thighs clenching, "Why do I feel like you don't want to shower?"

"Because I don't. I want to stay cool and spend time with my pretty girl," Tyler was so shameless, but you couldn't fault him; in fact, you loved that about him. How he was so insistent on talking to you one night after a rodeo, leading you to this very moment years later.

"Please?" How could you ever say no to those stunning green eyes?

The cold tile was refreshing, the cool water giving your heated body a much needed reprieve. Tyler's mouth was unrelenting as it alternated between your lips and your neck, his fingers quickly thrusting in and out of your soaked folds.

You had one hand tangled in his dark blonde hair, tugging on the locks in a desperate attempt to lure his lips back to yours. The other was gripping one of his broad shoulders, no doubt your fingernails creating crescent shaped marks that Boone would tease him about tomorrow.

"Think she's ready for me?" His lips ghost over yours, so close to giving you what you wanted.

You nodded, unable to speak due to how his thumb was drawing lazy circles on your clit.

He hoisted one of your legs up, pinning your knee against his hip. Upon feeling his cock enter, you tilted your head back, a deep moan echoing off the shower tiles.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was barely audible over the shower. No matter how many times you two did this dance, it still took your body some time to adjust to the sheer size of him.

Because of course he was big.

"S'fuckin tight," Tyler grunted, his Texan upbringing shining through in his words, "Every time."

You buried your face into his neck, hoping it would muffle the sounds of your pleasure soaked sobs.

He was relentless, hips all but slamming into yours, determined to push you over the edge. You learned early on that when Tyler put his mind to something, he made sure to see it through, whether it was a storm or your orgasm.

You clutched onto him for leverage, your legs shaking as he got you closer to making stars explode behind your eyes.

"That's it, c'mon pretty girl," he chuckled at the way your tight walls clenched around his cock upon hearing his special nickname for you, "Lemme feel ya. Wanna feel ya soak me."

Almost as if on command, your vision went white as pleasure shot through your body. You were yelling saying something, most likely his name as you soared through the blissful trip.

"Ah fuck, pretty girl," his hips snapped against yours once, twice, three more times before stilling, his own release quickly filling you.

The sound of the water hitting the tiles and your heavy breathing filled the room. Finally, you were the first to chuckle, breaking the ice.

"Welcome home baby," you grinned before pressing a kiss against his wet cheek.

"Welcome home, pretty girl."

[kashverse]

Nanami and yuuji? Or maybe jst Nanami..You can choose the prompt! I jst wanna see more of them

i live to write for papamin and yuuji <3 thanks for requesting

there were many things people didn’t know about nanami. for instance, his impressive ability to make five different kinds of soufflés, his uncanny knack for always finding the best parking spots, and, of course, his surprisingly adept skill with a guitar. whenever he strummed those strings, the rich, mellow notes would fill the room like warm honey, each chord carefully played, each song a testament to years of practice. and, of course, yuuji noticed.

"papa," yuuji announced one day, struggling to drag nanami’s acoustic guitar across the floor, the instrument’s body screeching horribly against the tiles. “i wanna be a moosician like you!” nanami, cringing at the sacrilegious sound of his beloved guitar being manhandled, managed a tight smile. "that’s great, yuuji. but maybe we should start with something… smaller."

and so, enter the ukulele. a tiny, four-stringed instrument that seemed perfectly sized for yuuji’s chubby little hands. yuuji took to it immediately, strumming with all the enthusiasm of a rockstar playing a sold-out concert at madison square garden. "TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE STAaaaRRRRR!" he belted out in a voice that could only be described as beautifully tone-deaf. "HOW I WONDER WHAT YOU AaaaREEEE!"

you tried to hide your smile behind your hand as yuuji’s fingers fumbled clumsily over the strings, creating a unique version of the song that could only be described as experimental jazz. nanami, sipping his coffee with the resignation of a man who knew he’d never experience silence again, watched as his son poured his entire soul into the performance.

"up above the world so high! like a diamond… in the… pie?" yuuji paused, face scrunching in confusion. "no… in the sky!"

nanami chuckled softly. "almost, yuuji."

but the grand finale was yet to come. as yuuji reached the dramatic end, he went for a flourish, fingers flying wildly over the strings—and the ukulele pick slipped from his fingers, disappearing into the sound hole with a soft thunk.

there was a moment of silence. yuuji blinked down at the instrument, poking a chubby finger inside. 

"papa… it ate my pick."

you snorted, trying to hold back a laugh, while nanami set down his coffee, hiding his grin behind his hand.

"papa, is it hungry? do i need to feed it more picks?"

nanami shook his head. "no, yuuji. we just have to get it out."

"okay!" yuuji turned the ukulele upside down, shaking it violently, tiny brows furrowed in concentration. "give it back, you bad ukey-lely!"

you finally let out a giggle, watching as nanami tried to calm yuuji down, showing him how to gently retrieve the pick instead of waterboarding the poor instrument. and later, when the ukulele was pick-free and yuuji was tucked in for the night, you glanced over at nanami, who was softly strumming his guitar in the dim light of the living room.

"i think he gets his musical talent from you," you murmured. nanami chuckled, plucking a gentle melody. “he certainly gets the enthusiasm.” 

you leaned into his side, a soft smile playing on your lips. "and the dramatics."

he hummed, fingers dancing over the strings. "we’ll work on the lyrics next."

from his room, yuuji’s voice called out, "papa, can i sing twinkle twinkle again tomorrow?"

nanami sighed, setting his guitar down. "of course, yuuji. every night if you want."

"yay!"

and though it meant endless nights of off-key lullabies and missing ukulele picks, nanami couldn’t help but think that, these were the moments he’d remember forever.

plus, he figured he could write a pretty great song about it one day.

[buckets-and-trees]

Whining to Bucky that you're horny, but also that it's too hot and you're too sticky for sex 😫

Title: Too Hot Characters/Pairings: Bucky x Millennial Female!Reader Word Count: 700 Summary: Standalone part of the Desperate to Devoted story. Summer in the city. Heatwave. Too hot. Boyfriend doesn't care.

Content/Warnings: established relationship, vaginal fingering, excessive heat wave, vibranium arm special features

Author Notes: IT IS NOT NECESSARY TO READ ANY OF THE REST OF THIS SERIES. True stand-alone but does take place after Big Conversation, so they're at the point of an established, committed relationship. Week six of @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer - the prompt was "I won't be able to stop myself." Also filling my April box for Build-a-Bucky Bingo with the "gradually moving in together" prompt.

Flat on your back on your bed, you heard the buzz of your phone on the mattress next to you, but you didn’t want to move.

You’d finally edged out of being miserably hot after laying under the ceiling fan and enough of the day’s heat wave levels of heat only just beginning to dissipate outside.

Checking the text would require moving, and your limbs still felt like too much of a burden.

Bzz.

You weren’t sure if it was another text or the reminder that you had an unopened message, so you didn’t open your eyes.

Bzz.

Bzz.

You smiled and finally reached for the phone. Only one person would be sending you multiple texts.

Bucky.

Lifting the phone and opening your eyes, you saw you were right and unlocked the screen to read the messages.

BUCKY: Just landed, will head your way as soon as we debrief.

BUCKY: I know it’s only been two days, but I missed you like crazy!

BUCKY: Should I pick up something for dinner?

BUCKY: Can’t wait to hear your laugh and feel your lips against mine you have me crazy for you…

Your smile turned into a grin, and you rolled over onto your stomach and began typing your reply.

YOU: No food, only ice cream. Too hot.

YOU: Missed you, too, but no touching. Too hot!

You sent the red, hot-faced emoji for good measure.

His reply came through a few moments later.

BUCKY: No can do, I’m dying to sink my cock into your cunt.

Your stomach instantly flipped reading those words.

“Fuck you, Bucky Barnes.”

YOU: Hot is winning over horny.

At least for now. Though your core was feeling enticed, the rest of your body rebelled against the thought of the heat of another body anywhere close to you.

BUCKY: We’ll see about that… I won’t be able to stop myself.

Your stomach flipped again.

Six months ago, Bucky was the man you begrudgingly worked with when assigned to missions for his team, and now he was your insatiable boyfriend.

YOU: When you get here you might change your mind…

An hour later, you heard Bucky’s key turning in the lock of the front door. He hasn’t moved into your place, but he’s over often enough now that you gave him a key.

“Damn,” he said, voice raised enough for you to hear him in the other room, though your place isn’t terribly large. “I had no idea it was this hot!”

“Air conditioning is out,” you replied. You heard him setting a couple of bags on the counter – likely food he picked up. “They have someone coming tomorrow to look at it.”

“You should’ve gone to my place,” he said, “even when I’m not there, you’re always wel-,” he paused when he stepped into the bedroom doorway, “-come.”

He groaned.

“Do not even touch me,” you warned in all seriousness.

“This is not fair,” he replied. “You expect me to leave you alone when I haven’t seen my girl in two days, and you’re laid out in only your underwear on the bed?”

“I do not want any skin on my skin, Barnes.”

It was a testament to how hot you were that your brain had not even come close to thinking of the key Bucky had also given to you to his place.

You didn’t open your eyes, too exhausted from the heat, but you could feel his gaze roaming over your form.

“You’re making this hard in more ways than one,” he grumbled.

“I’m resigned to my melted fate.”

The mattress dipped with Bucky’s weight, and you groaned. “No.”

But then you gasped and your eyes flew open when very cold vibranium fingers skimmed up your inner thigh.

“No?” he chuckled.

“I didn’t know you could…?” you trail off, distracted when his fingers slip beneath the gusset of your panties and begin to tease your wet folds.

“It’s not a feature I usually need.”

You gripped the cool metal of his arm, holding him firm against your pussy.

“I want one orgasm from my girl, and then we’re staying the night at my place. It’s too hot here for anything, and definitely too hot for everything I want to do with you tonight.”

You whimpered and let your legs fall open when two of his fingers entered your aching hole. “Deal, absolute fucking deal,” you agreed.

....I'm sure that was not the intention when Suri programmed his limb to be able to drastically change temperature, but certainly coming in handy at this moment. 😏

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[nightlark100]

The List

I had an idea for a silly fanfic about the teen wolf pack making a list of rules for their pack to follow but i never got beyond the list itself and a tiny bit of story. So i thought i'd post it here.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

It had started as a joke. After another brilliant Scott plan gone wrong, Stiles had scribbled 'SCOTT IS NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE PLANS' in big letters on a piece of paper which he then stuck beside the front door.

"This is ridiculous," Scott protested, moving to take it down. "My plans aren't that bad"

"Yes they are. And no touching the paper! That is an official document"

"What."

Derek, drawn by the discussion, hovered in the doorway to the living room.

"Stiles… what is that and why is it on my wall?"

"This is the official Hale pack list of rules. We must all abide by it."

Scott scoffed and looked to Derek, expecting the alpha to side with him. Instead, he just narrowed his eyes before nodding.

"Alright"

"What?! But… Derek!"

"Sorry Scott. It's on the official list of rules, we have to follow it. No more plan making for you"

Scott is not allowed to make plans

No one mentioned the list again for a while and when they did, it was in a teasing way whenever Scott tried to suggest something, whether that something was what they should do that weekend or how best to combat a flurry of pixies in the preserve. The reminder of the ‘no plans’ rule was met with a good natured groan and an eye roll from Scott but little else.

One day however, Stiles was brought out of his latest research binge by the lid of his laptop being sharply closed. He looked up, blinking a few time as his eyes adjusted to the room after hours of staring at the bright screen.

“What the hell?”

The rest of the pack was sitting nearby, having been occupied by their own activities, with Isaac hovering uncertainly beside Stiles’ chair with a sheepish look on his face.

“Isaac?” Stiles prompted.

“Sorry Stiles but you’ve been researching for a day straight.”

“And?”

“Well… i mean… it’s on the rules.”

“What rules?”

“The official pack rules. By the door.”

Their conversation had drawn the attention of the others, most looking confused. Stiles set his laptop aside and went to the door. There beneath his scrawl was a new addition. 

2. Stiles' laptop and phone must be taken away after 24 hours of continuous research.

“Who put that there?” he asked. The others stayed silent. Scott looked slightly smug but Stiles knew that wasn’t his writing. He let out an irritated noise and fished his phone from his pocket, intending to retreat to his room. If Isaac wouldn’t let him back on his laptop, he could still access his work that way.

Derek reached over and plucked the phone from his hand.

“Sorry Stiles. It’s on the list. You can have them back tomorrow.”

“Derek! Come on!”

He moved to grab at the phone but was struck with a wave of dizziness that sent him stumbling. Hands reached out to steady him, he wasn’t sure whose.

“Stiles, when did you last eat?” Lydia asked.

“Ermm… breakfast maybe?”

“Today?”

“No… yesterday…”

“Hmm. And drank something? That wasn’t full of sugar?”

“Errr…”

“Kitchen. You’re going to eat, drink some water and then you are going to get some sleep.” She guided him out of the hall with a firm hand, pushing him into a chair at the kitchen table while Isaac retrieved some leftovers from the fridge and filled their largest glass with water.

Both of them stayed in the kitchen with him until he was suitably fed and hydrated, then Lydia took him upstairs and put him to bed, giving him a dark look as she promised that if he got up to get one of his books instead of sleeping there would be consequences.

Stiles reluctantly obeyed.

He wouldn’t admit it but he did feel better the next morning. Until, as he headed downstairs, he noted a new line had been added to the paper by the door. 

3. Stiles must be made to eat something and drink water after 6 hours of continuous research

After the first few additions, it seemed that some kind of dam had been broken and the rest of the pack didn’t hesitate to implement their own rules (although no one would admit to putting the limits on Stiles’ research time)

4.  Newly turned betas are not allowed to partake in team sports until they have proven they can control themselves (e.g. no eye flashing, no claws, no fangs, no doing backflips over other players or any other feats of sudden athletic ability that may draw attention to the pack)

5.         All of Derek's dates must be vetted. THOROUGHLY

“That's it. I'm putting a ban on Derek dating” Stiles said, picking chunks of viscera out of his hair. “This is the third time! At this point it's just negligent of us not to investigate anyone inviting you out.” A thought occured and he spun around to face Derek. “oh my god. You're a Xander!”

“What?”

“A Xander! Right Peter?”

“I would have to agree. He does have Xander like qualities when it comes to dating.”

“Again I say… what?”

“Buffy the vampire slayer. Peter and I have been watching it together.”

“Really Peter?”

“It's good!”

“It has its moments”

“Yeah you're just mad cause they got rid of Ethan. Who is 100% you. Just in it for the chaos.”

“Would that make you the Giles?”

“No! Why?”

“Oh come on, they were definitely a couple.”

“If i’m anyone, i’m willow.”

“Wouldn’t Lydia be Willow?”

“No, Lydia is Cordelia.” he glanced around, fearing the redhead would appear and yell at him. “On the surface, superficial cheerleader type. But goes through a bunch of character development and has a power that sucks.”

“Flawless logic. Why are you Willow?”

“Magic. Bi. Brief fall to the dark side. And then Scott would be Xander,”

“I thought I was Xander?”

“No, you’re just Xander when it comes to dating. Scott’s Xander the rest of the type.”

“And I suppose Allison is Buffy?”

“Noooo… Allison is Faith. "

6. Peter and Stiles are not allowed to watch Mythbusters anymore 

“Really Derek?”

“Yes. Really. Last time you watched that show, you ended up building a trebuchet.”

“I believe it was just Stiles who built the trebuchet.”

“Yes but you helped load it.”

7. No Sex in the common areas! Erica this means you! (poor Isaac)

8. When offered a boon by a faerie BE SPECIFIC

9. Stiles is not to be left unattended in the vet clinic

10. Stiles is not to be left unattended around witches

11. Stiles is not to be left unattended around magic users

12. Stiles is not to be left unattended

13.  Lydia and Peter are not to be left alone in a room together.

14. In the event that Stiles is transformed into a small furry animal, he is to be given into the custody of the Sheriff or Derek. Or Peter. Most importantly, Erica is banned from going near him (OH COME ON! YOU LOOKED INSANELY CUTE IN THE BATMAN COSTUME)

15. The Notebook is a great film and whoever keeps hiding the disc will stop immediately. OR ELSE. I think the or else was implied here Stiles…

16. Stiles is not to be given coffee

17. Stiles is not to be given extra Adderall

18.  Anyone who gives the Sheriff food not on the approved list will face the wrath of Stiles

19. Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Melissa McCall

20. Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Chris Argent

21. ~Peter is not allowed to comment on how attractive he finds Stiles Stilinski~ (Stiles objects to this rule)

22.  When throwing items at people, do not throw any of the books or Peter will eat you

23. No Stiles, having sex with a male werewolf won't get you pregnant. Even if it's an alpha. (That we know of)

24. No one is allowed to drive the Camaro except Derek

25. No one is allowed to eat in the Camaro

26.  Alison is not allowed to take her crossbow to school

27.  Alison is not allowed to take her knives to school

28.  Seriously Alison, stop taking weapons to school!

29. Stiles is not allowed to touch any of Alison's weapons

30.  If you bleed in the jeep, you are responsible for cleaning it

31. Do not enter the kitchen when Stiles is cooking. (This is for your own safety)

32. If you enter the kitchen while Stiles is cooking, do not attempt to steal food he is preparing. Werewolves cannot regrow fingers

33.  If Stiles declares someone is evil, he is probably right and should be taken seriously.

34.  If someone new starts working at the school, they are probably evil

35.  If Peter offers to kill someone for you, he is not joking and it is not okay (no matter how tempting it is)

36. Do not ask Derek about dating Cora

37.  Do not make dog jokes, especially to Derek, Stiles! (Not my fault he has no sense of humour)

38. ALWAYS CALL STILES FIRST IF YOU FIND A BODY

39. Stop asking where our eyebrows go when shifted

40. Stiles is not allowed a pet dragon

41. Stiles is not allowed a pet griffin

42. ~Stiles, stop trying to adopt baby mythical creatures~

43. Peter stop leaving dead animals on Stiles porch seriously dude, my dad thinks I've got a budding serial killer after me ~well, I wasn't technically wrong…~ minus the budding part

44. Stiles is not allowed to use his PowerPoint when telling people about werewolves (I don't care how many slide transitions you put in)

45.  No Stiles, giving your PowerPoint to Peter or Lydia to present is not a loophole (oh come on! I even put a bibliography at the end! it's not my fault you're technology adverse!)

46.  Derek is not allowed to lurk around abandoned buildings. It really doesn't help with the serial killer vibe you give off

47. If you kill someone, please make sure you chop them up or find another method to ensure they don't come back! We shouldn't kill people at all! I said IF! ~Stiles, please remember I'm an officer of the law~

47B. AMENDMENT TO THE PREVIOUS: If you kill someone, please make sure you chop them up or find another method to ensure they don't come back AND make sure you dispose of the body so that dad doesn't have to do extra paperwork

----------------

By request, here is a legend to tell who is writing what:

Stiles

Peter

Derek

Scott

~Sheriff~

Erica

Lydia

Isaac

Allison

Boyd

[chalkscene]

tears of themis ⇢ YOU DECIDE TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT

ft. luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen & vyn richter

you’re shifting restlessly on the couch when you catch your LUKE alarm keychain—handmade by luke himself—peeking from behind the armrest, “luke says he’s sorry.” you can’t help but smile at the sound of luke faking a small voice and whatever rage that filled you from your argument hours ago has now dissipated, endeared by the sweet gesture. “you’re gonna set off that alarm by accident,” you quip, the lightness in your tone encouraging luke to come into view. “you’re not mad anymore?” he asks, cautious yet hopeful. all his years of training and building a hard exterior to be a detective have nothing on you because in the warmth behind his hazel eyes that only you can bring out, you still find the boy you grew up with. the boy you’ve always loved. “i can’t stay mad at you,” you admit, on the brink of tears, “luke, i’m really sorry…” luke is quick to bring you in his arms, declining your apology because that’s what he does—he’ll blame everything before he’ll blame you. you’re unable to hold back a sob, prompting him to hold you tighter before he whispers in your ear, “let’s not do this again, okay?”

ARTEM is going over a recent case when he realizes it’s almost midnight. he’s usually one to pull an all-nighter but gnawing at the back of his mind is the argument he had with you today—you two haven’t spoken to each other since. after having decided to put off his work until tomorrow, he walks out of his home office to join you in bed but he finds you in the living room instead, your pillows and blanket already set up on the sofa. he can tell you’re aware of his presence from the way you’re deliberately not looking in his direction. still, he attempts to catch your attention with a soft call of your name. when you don’t reply, he carefully crosses the distance between the two of you. “we can’t fix this if you won’t talk to me,” he pleads. artem’s convinced his words have fallen on deaf ears until you finally speak, “i just don’t want to say the wrong thing again.” artem understands, thinking back to what started as a simple disagreement escalating into something it shouldn’t have and before you could stop it, you were both raising your voices at each other, saying things you didn’t mean. “i’m sorry about everything i said,” your voice sounds weak as it quivers and artem immediately wraps you in his embrace. “me too,” he tells you, “we can talk tomorrow. just come to bed.” when you nod into his chest, he presses a reassuring kiss at top of your head as he promises, “we’re alright.”

as MARIUS waits for you in bed, anxiety slowly eats away at him, the argument he had with you hours ago replaying in his mind. you should’ve walked in by now, he thinks, so he waits a few more minutes before getting on his feet and makes his way downstairs. he’s rehearsing his apology, muttering to himself to test the words on his tongue but it all flies out the window when he finds you asleep on the sofa. ridden with guilt, he decides to save his sorry’s for tomorrow when you’re both lucid for a proper conversation. marius is careful not to wake you up—gently slipping an arm beneath your head and looping the other under your knees to carry you to the bedroom. he’s tucking you in bed when you begin to stir awake. “sorry,” you hear him whisper, “didn’t mean to wake you up.” “what time is it?” you ask groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “it’s late. go back to sleep.” he places a tender kiss on your forehead to lull you to your slumber before he shifts you on your side, his chest against your back as he slides an arm across your torso. “sweet dreams,” he mutters and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. “marius?” “hm?” “i’m sorry about earlier…” “that’s my line, miss,” he quips, albeit sincerely. he gives your body a gentle squeeze as he pulls you flush against him. “i’m sorry, too,” he replies, “i never want you to go to sleep upset.”

you’re getting settled on the couch when you hear VYN clear his throat as he carefully places a fresh cup of tea on the table in front of you. “chamomile tea,” he states, “it will help you sleep better.” there’s the slightest caution in his voice but it’s enough to tell you what the tea is for—peace offering after your heated disagreement earlier. “thank you,” you mumble, gradually feeling the guilt bubbling in your chest, “you’re using reverse psychology on me, aren’t you?” there’s no bite in your tone but vyn’s eyes still widen at the accusation. “n-no,” he stutters and a giggle involuntarily escapes you, to vyn’s surprise. “i’m joking.” when you notice his body language go lax, you slowly reach for his hand. “and i’m sorry for the things i said to you,” you tell him, “i didn’t mean it.” “i know.” a soft smile curls on his lips as he interlocks your fingers together, “so am i.” you stay quiet for a moment, basking in his touch that you missed terribly before he speaks again. “if you still wish to be alone tonight, i don’t mind staying here.” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, aware of the fact that this is just him assessing your boundaries—vyn does mind and you know that—so you shoot him a dubious look instead to which he responds with a sheepish smile. “i suppose you’ve changed your mind?” you actually give him an eye roll this time. “you know you had me at chamomile.”

[navybrat817]

Back to the Office

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You got back to the office to get your phone and stumble upon something you shouldn't have seen.

Word Count: Over 2k

Warnings: Dark AU, minor character death, mention of blood, threat of violence, kidnapping, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Beach Fun Nonsense! Hope you lovelies enjoy. @youdontknow-things requested Bucky and a visit Under the Boardwalk (dark) with prompt #28 in bold. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You quietly entered the building and sighed when you caught the time on the clock nearby. Most of the lights were off since everyone was gone for the night, but you didn't mind since you wouldn't be there for long. You just couldn't believe you made it all the way home before you realized that you forgot your phone, too preoccupied with reading a new book on the train. It was a downside of having to go into the office three days a week. Now you’d have to rush to make dinner or order out once you got back.

At least your desk was on the first floor and you could work from home tomorrow.

You passed by a few cubicles and shook your head once you made it to yours. It wasn't much, but it was still your space. “There you are,” you muttered, your phone sitting right beside your keyboard where you left it. Grabbing it, you smiled to yourself when you saw a text from your mom. She was always checking on you.

Just as you were about to respond, you noticed a dim light out of the corner of your eye. It was coming from your boss’s office. You should've known he was still there since it wasn't unusual for him to stay late. He was the kind of boss who showed up first and left last. He also had a good sense of humor to balance out his hard work ethic.

You walked down the hall before you could stop yourself and knocked twice on the cracked open door. He didn't say anything, but his rule was you could always go in if the door wasn't shut and locked. “You know, the company won't go under if you go home,” you giggled as you pushed the door open completely.

Your laughter died in your throat when you saw your boss facedown on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The sight and coppery scent that filled the room made your stomach roll and you tried to force air into your lungs as your phone fell from your hand. You felt paralyzed, unable to go to his side to check his pulse. But from how still his body was, you sensed he was dead.

What happened to him?

“You aren't supposed to be here.”

A deep and oddly pleasant voice you didn't recognize drew your attention past the body to the desk. A tall man clad in black from head to toe met your wide-eyed stare with a soft smile. With cobalt eyes, long dark hair, and broad shoulders, you would've found yourself attracted to him in any other scenario. But this stranger exuded danger.

You were in trouble.

“W-Who are you?” You asked, unable to keep your voice even. “What happened to him?” You added, not wanting to outright accuse him of anything.

He tilted his head. “I’d tell you, but…” He winked, the rest of the statement hanging in the air as the tension skyrocketed.

I’d have to kill you.

Your legs shook before you took one step back. The second step you took made him frown. The third stepped he moved toward you. You turned and ran as fast as your feet could carry you. If he caught you, would you end up in a pool of your own blood, too?

Blame it on fear or disorientation, but you took off in the wrong direction. Instead of heading toward the front of the building like you should've, you went straight toward the supply closet at the other end. Your hand shook as you locked it behind you, your legs giving out as you caught your breath.

Fear raced down your spine as you cowered on the floor, blankly staring at the door in front of you as you hugged your knees to your chest. You bit your lip and tried not to make a sound when slow footsteps approached. Maybe there was a chance that the man didn't see where you went. It was a stupidly optimistic thought.

And you couldn't believe you dropped your phone. You could've tried to call or text someone for help. Would it have done you any good though? By the time anyone got there…

“I know you're still here and I’m sorry. I was kidding with that whole ‘I’d tell you, but I’d have to kill you’ implication. Bad joke given the circumstances.” His voice rang out clearly through the door. “Bet you’ve never seen a dead body before. I know it can be quite a shock.”

The image of your boss dead in his office was one that would haunt you.

“Everyone calls me Bucky,” he said, so casually that it unnerved you. How was he so calm? “It's a nickname.”

You never heard your boss or anyone around the office mention someone named Bucky. It was a name you would've remembered since it wasn't exactly common. What did he want?

“I was sent here to kill your boss. As you can see, I succeeded,” he continued when you didn’t respond, his voice slightly louder. Closer. “I’m very good at my job.”

You whined, tears burning your eyes. Your boss was kind to everyone. He had a family. Why would anyone want to cause him harm?

“Bet you didn't know he was mixed up with some bad people. Ones who aren't so forgiving with anyone who tries to steal from them. Of course you wouldn’t know. Why would you?” He mused.

Your heart pounded when he stopped in front of the door, his feet blocking out some of the light that came through. You backed up more as if that would help you. Whatever your boss was mixed up in, it didn't justify killing him.

“Sorry you had to see the aftermath. Like I said though, you weren't supposed to be here,” he went on, knocking twice on the door and making you jump. “Can’t say I’m entirely upset that you're here. My team and I like to be thorough when we research our clients. So, naturally, we have a file on you.”

You clamped a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming or yelling at him. He didn't really have a file on you, did he? He was just toying with you. He had to be.

But when he spoke your name like honey on his tongue, you knew he was serious.

“Been working here for what? A few years now? Kind to everyone at the office. Their ‘go-to’ when they need help, but you’re underappreciated. No one even thanked you for that cake you brought in earlier this week.” Your stomach dropped when he chuckled. How did he know? “And you haven't gone on a date in about six months. Bet you're pent up. I can help with that.”

Your skin crawled, but you stayed quiet. Your life didn't concern him. Except in a strange way it did. Because your life was now in his hands.

A sigh came from the other end of the door. “I know you won't believe me, but I won't kill you. You’re innocent in this. I do have to take you with me though because I can't trust that you won't go to the cops. Can't have loose ends. You understand that, right?” Bucky said, his tone almost pleading with you to see it his way before he knocked twice again. “So open the door.”

No. You couldn't go with him. The man was a killer. “I won't go to the cops,” you promised once you lowered your hand from your mouth. You just wanted to go home. “I won't tell anyone what I saw.”

He chuckled again. “You’re so cute. And you're a good girl, aren't you?”

Heat spread up your neck. “Please, if you just-”

“You have two options. First option, you stay in there and I break down the door. If I have to do that, I'll drag you to my car, throw you in the trunk, and chain you up in the basement once we get to my home.” Fear shot through your body. “I'll feed you bread and water so that you don't starve, but it'll keep you weak enough that you won't be able to run far or fight back should you get out of your chains. Who knows how long I’ll keep you down there?”

Your mouth parted in horror and you wondered if he could hear how hard your heart pounded through the door.

“Oh. And I'll go through the contacts on your phone and start killing them off. One by one.” He paused when you choked on a sob. “I'll start with your mom and dad.”

Squeezing your eyes shut didn't stop a tear from falling. “Please, don't,” you begged. You couldn't let anything happen to them.

“Now that's the first option,” he said in a gentler tone. “The second? You open the door and come with me. I'll hold your hand while you sit beside me in the car and I'll make sure you're nice and comfortable when I take you into my home. I’ll feed and care for you, and your loved ones will be safe.”

A shuddering breath left your lungs. Going with him willingly was the lesser of two evils. “If I go with you, you really won't hurt my family or friends?”

“You have my word, doll face.”

He could snap your neck the second you opened the door. He certainly looked strong enough to end your life without breaking a sweat. Could you trust him to keep his word? Did it matter? You sealed your fate the second you came back to the office.

At least if you went with him, there was no reason for him to hurt anyone else, right?

“You said you had a team. What about them?” You asked, sniffling as another tear fell. Would they want you dead?

He cooed, like it would comfort you in a sense. “Don't worry about my team. They’ll be here soon to take care of the mess, but they won't lay a finger on you. You have my word for that, too. Just open the door.”

If you let too much time pass, he’d likely make good on his promise to break down the door and everything else after. “Okay, Bucky,” you said, as if saying his name would humanize him. You pushed yourself to your feet, wiped your eyes, and reached for the door handle. “I’m going to trust that you’ll keep your word.”

You barely had the door open before he reached in and grabbed your arm, yanking you out so you were nearly pressed up against him. Instead of pain like you expected, it was surprisingly gentle. His iron grip wasn't breakable though and there was no use in fighting. He won. Both of you knew it.

“I like how you say my name,” he smirked, holding up your phone before he pocketed it. You made a sound before he shushed you. “I won’t hurt them since you came out here willingly, but I can’t exactly give your phone back to you now, can I?”

“I guess not.” You swallowed, your throat dry. He pulled you close and you wished you could pull away. “When will you let me go?” You asked, hoping in your heart that he'd grow bored of having you around and set you free.

His brows furrowed, confused by your question. “Never,” he stated.

A single word snuffed out the hope like an extinguished flame on a candle.

“Never?” You whispered, fear filling you all over again when you looked into his eyes. You saw your future in them, something dark and cold. You longed to feel warm. “But my-”

“I have my very own doll to play with now, so why would I let you go? Oh, don't be so tense. I promised I’d take care of you.” With a loving smile, he used the other hand to caress your cheek. You would've collapsed in a heap if he wasn't holding you. “Let’s go home.”

Home to him. A prison to you. All because you just had to go back to the office.

So, that happened. Maybe we can revisit this yandere-like Bucky in the future? What do we think? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[oneforthemunny]

how you like them apples |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: you surprise eddie with his favorite fall treat, and, oh, is he surprised.

since i'm feeling so fall, i decided to write a ficlet around my love cowboy!eddie. also follows the lore that sweet girl is not the best cook lmao. super fluffy. genuinely nothing but the sweetest fluff and love.

Your head turned at the rumble of the truck, moving slowly down the gravel driveway towards the house. Eddie always drove much slower than you, always on to you about speeding down the gravel, flinging it everywhere. 

The red truck’s bed was filled with lumber, left over from the recent renovations the Ives’ family had done to their new fence, just up the road- well, that’s what Eddie always said, it was more like a good ten miles away. Irvine Ives had called Eddie up last night, asked him if he wanted it before he took it to the junkyard. He knew Eddie was repairing a patch in the fence a Bronco he was training had kicked out. 

“Back so soon?” You grinned, pressing a hand over your brows to shield you from the September sun. Not as bright as it was in June, but still unforgiving in the middle of the day. 

“Yep, wasn’t much, but I think I got what I needed.” Eddie hummed, turning the key and killing the ignition, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “Think I got enough to patch it though. Just gonna need to repaint it since it’s not the same kinda wood.” 

Your brows raised, walking over towards the driver’s side, leaning in towards the window. “I can help you with that.” You hummed, breathing in the cloud of smoke he exhaled with a content sigh. “I love to paint.” 

Eddie grinned back at you, a soft crease in his dimples that made your body buzz with excitement. “Yeah? We can go to town tomorrow if I get this done. Pick out a color.” 

“That sounds like fun.” You beam. “I was going to say we need to go to the grocery anyways, so that works out.” You hum, a large brown bag catching your attention, nestled beside Eddie in the passenger seat. 

“What’s that?” You ask, leaning on the door to see. “Apples?” 

“Yeah, Mrs. Ives insisted I take a few. Said their trees were overflowin’ with ‘em.” Eddie nodded towards the bag, lightly tapping your hand to move, opening the truck’s door. “Figure I’d give a few to Medusa. Try to do something with the rest, maybe.” 

You nodded slowly, wheels in your mind already spinning with an idea. Eddie handed you the apples, cradling the bottom until you got your grip on the heavy bag. “‘M gonna go start on this. Try to get it done today.” 

“Ok,” You hummed, hugging the apples to your chest. “Have fun, baby.” 

Eddie snorted in laughter, head ducking down, stealing a quick kiss from you. “I shouldn’t be too long.” He looked back at you, eyes narrowing in suspicion as you simply nodded, pulling the screen door open and slipping in the kitchen. 

Normally, you’d offer to come help him, sit with him and talk about nothing in particular, and hand him the tools while he worked. Not this time. You didn’t seem mad, or upset- really, you seemed perfectly happy. Which left him a little suspicious. 

The clanging of a large, steel pot falling on the floor soothed his worries, left him grinning to himself in humor as he started off to the barn. 

“Sift? What does- like move it around?” You muttered, brows pinched in concentration that was teetering on annoyance. Your eyes squinted in concentration, trying to decipher the loopy, old school cursive on the faded, yellowed recipe card in front of you. 

The first time you found the recipe box, it was buried under piles of other things, lost in the mess that was Eddie’s bachelor pad before you moved in- really, before you were in his life. His Mamaw Munson’s recipes, all her best dishes, all in one tin box. He sat in the kitchen with you between his legs, he’d poured over each one, told you which ones were his favorite, sometimes even added a little anecdote that had you beaming with joy. 

“Oh, this one was one of my favorites, baby,” Eddie had said, eyes lighting as they scanned over the card. 

“Apple Cobbler. She’d bake it in this cast iron skillet so it’d stay hot, and we’d put vanilla ice cream over it- holy shit, it was so good.” Eddie swallowed his drool, he could practically taste it still. “She used to have an apple tree before it got blown away by this bad tornado one year. But she’d go and pick them every fall when they were ripe, and she’d always make it for us. It was my favorite thing.” 

Looking at the recipe in front of you, you could see why Eddie loved it so much. It did sound really good. 

It was just very complicated. 

“Take your peeled- shit,” You looked at the sliced apples, still with the skin on, in the bowl in front of you. “Why wouldn’t you say that before I added the other stuff, Mamaw?” You huffed, pulling the drawer open for the whittling knife. 

The kitchen was a disaster, sticky and flour filled, bowls piling high in the sink; and you hadn’t even gotten halfway through the recipe. Grabbing a handful of the butter and sugar rolled apples, you placed them on the counter’s free space, carefully carving around the edge where the skin was. 

This isn’t too bad, not taking as long as I thought it would, You thought to yourself, finally in a grove of cutting around the skin, tossing the apple back in the mixture. 

A smoky, sugary, thick smell alerted your senses on your last few apples. Turning, you saw the filling that was supposed to be simmering, now bubbling with thick, burnt globs in the pot. You grabbed the handle with a panic, shoving it to the free stove eye, turning the hot one off. 

The mixture, which was supposed to be a light caramel brown, was a deep dark molasses shade. You lifted the whisk, cringing at the toughness of the gooey substance. “It’s ok,” You shook your head lightly, looking at the clock. “That’s- whatever. It’ll bake and soften in the oven.” 

Pulling out the pan, you shoved the now skinless apples to the bottom, scraping the hardened filling mixture on top. The wooden spoon nearly broke trying to mix it in, sticking out of the cemented filling. 

You could see Eddie through the small window over the sink, down to the last stake in the fence, already beginning the wiring. He’d be done soon, this had to cook for forty-five minutes, and the kitchen was a disaster. 

“It’s fine, it’ll be fine.” You muttered to yourself, pouring the batter on top, not bothering to smooth it out like the instructions said- there was no time for that Mamaw. Instead, you slid it in the oven, turning the timer. 

Eddie came in just as you’d finished putting your last dish away. Your body surged with excited heat, smug that you might actually get away with your little surprise- well, as long as he didn’t go to the back porch, where the burnt filling was in the pan, cemented in. 

“Mm,” Eddie sniffed the air, sugary and a little… smoky? “Smells good in here, baby.” He gave you a dazzling smile, hoping you wouldn’t pick up the hesitancy in his tone. 

It was no secret that you weren’t exactly the best cook. Not that Eddie cared, but after you almost burnt the house down making lasagna, he was a little weary when you’d cook. 

“Does it?” Your eyes lit up, filled with excitement that he wouldn’t dare take from you. Whatever you’d made, no matter how charred or inedible it was, he’d scarf it down with a grin if it’d make you happy. Even if it gave him food poisoning like the chicken ala king did. 

“Yeah, what’re you makin’?” Eddie reached for the oven’s handle. 

You pushed it closed with a click of your tongue, smacking his hands away. “Don’t.” You shook your head. “It’s a surprise.” 

And you were true to your word. It certainly was a surprise. 

When you placed the concoction in front of Eddie, grinning so big, so proudly, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything but grin back. “Wow, you, uh, you made this for me, sweetheart?” He smiled, eyeing the plate in front of him. 

“Yes,” You giggled, topping the runny dough on top with a scoop of ice cream. “You said it was your favorite, and when you brought the apples home, I just thought I’d surprise you.” You chirped, sliding him a spoon. “I followed your Mamaw’s recipe.”

“You spoil me, sweet thing. You know that?” Eddie smiled, heart swelling at the sentiment. You really did spoil him, were too good and too sweet to him- even if you’re cooking wasn’t as good. 

“Try it.” You sat next to him, bursting with excitement. “I know it won’t be as good as hers, but I think I did a good job on it.” 

Eddie looked down at the plate, swallowing the dread building in his throat. He dug his spoon, sawing it through the thick middle until it finally came out in a clean cut. Taking a large scoop of ice cream, hoping it would mask the flavor, he took a bite. 

“Is it good?” You leaned forward, eyes rounded in hopefulness, scanning his features eagerly. 

Eddie hummed, his teeth cemented together from the filling, sure his crown might pop out from the material. The filling was tough, the dough undercooked and lacked something that made it rise, but the apples were delicious- just like his Mamaw’s except…

“Oh,” Eddie winced before he could help it, finger digging in his mouth. He pulled out the hard thing that was wedged in his molar, turning it with a brow raised. “Is that- is that a seed?” 

Your face fell, looking at the seed back at Eddie. “Well, yeah, from the apples.” You said, heart skinning in your chest. “I didn’t- it didn’t say to take them out or anything, so I just left them in.”

Eddie swallowed, stomach turning lightly at the bite. “No, it’s- I mean, it’s good, baby. Some people take them out, but- no, this is, it’s really good.” He nodded, smiling at you gently. “‘S really good.” 

“Really?” You squeaked. “Better than the muffins?” 

“Yes,” Eddie said truthfully, whole heartedly. That was the truth, this was so much better than the mess that was the blueberry muffins. “So much better. This is really good, sweetheart. You really surprised me. Too sweet of ya to do this.” 

You squealed, hugging him tightly, legs straddling his waist in the chair, lips pressing kisses over his cheeks, his chin, his lips. Eddie’s arms wrapped around you, squeezing you into him, playfully nipping at your jaw to hear you squeal, before his lips caught yours, pulling you into a heated kiss. He’d eat all your burnt cobblers if it meant you’d be happy like this, if it made you this happy. 

[queers-gambit]

Love What You've Done with the Place

song by Rascal Flatts

prompt: he's never been a man built for relationships, until you come into his life. now, the house feels like a home.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: more brain rot rambles, probably cursing, NOT edited, very docile, fluff, romance, hardened men being simps.

It started with clothes. Just a few, here and there; left behind, forgotten, purposefully stuffed in his dresser for when you stayed the nights. He didn't mind, in fact, Tangerine encouraged you to bring whatever you felt comfortable with leaving since he hated how early you'd leave in the mornings to get ready for work. He found his mornings were peaceful when you were around; neither rushed, both content, starting your days on high notes with each other.

So, he made the decision and found an old sitting-vanity for you. He put it in his bedroom simply because he was fascinated with the hair and make-up process; thinking it was incredible that women had such skill. When he came home about 3 months ago, he noticed your vanity when he first got home from a particularly difficult mission. Your chair was draped in an old university tee shirt, and he smiled.

It was like watching your comfort grow and it warmed something deep in Tangerine's heart. Your make-up wasn't always in a neat array, sometimes just left from a quick touch-up; making the house feel more like a home.

Tangerine also bought a strainer for the shower's drain to catch your hair. He didn't get angry like previous boyfriends did when he found strands of your hair left behind - not on purpose or by some gross standard, but it was natural that hair shed in a shower and not every single strand could be picked up. So, to make life easier, he just quietly bought the hair trap, placed it, removed whatever empty bottles from the shower, and went about his day. But then he started to notice your hair left other places.

His counters, his sink, the floor, your vanity, his bed sheets and pillows.

Tangerine had his issues with possessiveness in the past, but this wasn't remotely similar. No, Tangerine found himself smiling when he would find your hair in his clothes; thinking it was funny, almost like a mark or badge of honor to designate him as yours. It was a brief thought, but Tangerine actually felt giddy by the idea of people just knowing he was off the market 'cause his lady's hair was clung to his suit jackets.

He liked it. He really did. He'd not admit it aloud, but he liked it.

Tangerine wasn't the most humble man in the world, but he certainly liked to flash what was his. Golden jewelry, expensive, tailored suits, shining Italian leather shoes. And now, you, the woman who invaded his heart and head - and now his home. He adored showing you off, feeling affirmed and invigorated by the longing glances men threw your way, and while he expected jealousy from other women, they seemed more impressed by your beauty and grace as well.

He remembers one night, after a several weeks long mission, he just wanted to hold you. His throat was a little choked up when he called you, knowing you were at home after reading an earlier text. So, you rushed over in the middle of the night and he'd yet to let you go home - three days later.

"You've gonna have to let me out of bed sometime," you smiled playfully. "I have work tomorrow - and no, I'm not calling out again."

"C'mon, love, don't leave me alone," he whispered, looking like a beaten down puppy. The mission was much harder than he'd let on, but Lemon usually always filled you in. He thought it was important for you to know certain details that Tangerine was sure to omit, knowing those were the details that haunted him.

"I'll be back after my shift," you promised, nuzzling his nose with your own. "I also need new panties and clean clothes."

He sighed, "Some in there," he pointed to his closet now.

"What?" You giggled.

"You've left enough behind, got a bit of a collection goin', yeah?" He smiled softly, wrapping you back up in his arms. With a sigh, he relented, "I'll let yah go to work, love, just... Need this a bit longer."

You obliged, but the next day, you were gone before he woke up. With a frown, Tangerine dropped back onto the bed - but inhaled deeply when his nose buried into your pillow. He hummed in pleasure, feeling himself brim with contentment, bringing the fluffy item to his chest and nuzzling it; your perfume left behind to soothe him.

Was Tangerine clingy? Oh, for sure! He didn't think so, but you knew better. The contract killer liked you close, liked his hands on you; even if it was just a hand on your waist or a nose near your neck. He missed you when gone, but he usually held himself back from texting you all day - wanting you to be able to focus on your job.

But that day? He was inept, just wanting you; wondering if he paid you the same salary, if you'd consider just staying home. So, he texted you several times.

This obviously threw you off a little, knowing him better than himself most days. But he just missed you, so, you sent a selfie - promising you missed him too and would be home right after work.

He saved the photo and tried not to dwell on how you said you'd "be home" and not "come to his place". He had to take a few moments to calm down, feeling his heart zing with unfamiliarity - but not being afraid of it like he had been when you first started dating. He could recognize he was happy, that he was excited to see you everyday, and that the idea of coming home to you was far too appealing to ignore any longer.

It seemed neither of you needed to actually have an official conversation about living together. Lemon didn't mind, in fact, he was the one who insisted you have your own key; adoring you and whatever affect you had on his emotionally constipated brother. So, some mornings, Tangerine wasn't surprised to find a slightly damp towel left hanging in the bathroom, nor by the make-up on his counter - you using that mirror because of the fluorescent lighting. He never put it back, he didn't move it - he liked seeing it. It meant you were still here, and the idea of it being gone made his stomach knot with anxiety. He also wasn't surprised when he went to use the shampoo you insisted would help his curls flourish (you were right), only to find it damn-near empty. His shower gel, too.

When you came home that evening, you had Target bags in hand; replacing whatever was empty, making Tangerine grin to himself by how in-sync he felt with you. He'd never had a connection such as this, only ever feeling close enough to Lemon, but you changed everything for them both.

How Tangerine ended up with someone courteous was truly beyond either of them. Someone kind, caring, adventurous, sweeter than pie - someone definitely out of Tangerine's league, something he never let himself forget. He adored you to your core - thinking someone such as you should never have gotten tangled up in someone like him, but he knew, if the time ever came, he'd never be able to let you go. In fact, most days, he had to convince himself not to just pick you up and carry you around while he did chores or ran errands.

The very idea of losing you sent his heart into his stomach; hallowing his chest in a harrowing fashion that made it hard to breathe. Just a week or two ago, Lemon found Tangerine in the kitchen, hand to his chest as if he couldn't catch his breath, heaving for air; his worry spiking, but quickly realizing what was wrong.

"Bruv, you've gotta breathe - calm down," he tried to coax. "You're having a panic attack, you've gotta just focus on breathing."

"Fuck off with that!"

"Seriously, man," Lemon insisted, catching Tangerine in a vulnerable state enough that he actually listened without much of a fight. When Tan seemed a little more under control of his own emotions, Lemon asked, "What the hell happened?"

Tangerine shook his head, "Nothing t'worry 'bout - "

"Bullshit," Lemon snapped. "I've never seen yah like that, mate, the fuck happened?"

It was embarrassing, but Tangerine managed to answer, "Just... Just started thinking that if she ever left me, I'd fucking crumble, mate."

This made Lemon frown, "She's not gonna leave you, man. You know that. The girl's madly in love with you, yeah? Like madly in love - like to a degree it makes her stupid in the head, all right? Obviously, you too," he chuckled, shaking his head as he affectionately ran a hand over the back of Tan's head. "You're workin' yourself up, 's all right. You don't have to think about that - ever - 'cause she's it for you, mate. Yeah? Hear me? She ain't goin' nowhere, not without you."

Tangerine needed the assurance. Being alone after having a taste of your love felt impossible to Tan now, something he was never bothered by before. Seriously, why give a fuck about a relationship when he had his brother? Someone who loved him unconditionally and wouldn't leave? And then he met you and understood why people gave fucks about relationships.

It was as if every room you ever entered was brightened up simply by your smile. Your laugh wasn't always the most ladylike, but it was genuine and true and always made Tangerine smile to himself. During any public outing, Tan was always close - we've established this - but he liked to play a small game. One of your love languages was physical touch, so, you liked kissing him if even just for a single second. He was aware of your lipstick, feeling the tacky substance stain his cheek, but he wouldn't wipe it off. His game was to see how long it'd take before someone would point it out; his reputation didn't always warrant others to feel secure enough to speak up. Some nights, Lemon would motion to his cheek, and other nights, you'd return home, remove your make-up, and swipe make-up remover over his cheek to clear the color away.

However, it wasn't often you ventured in public due to Tangerine's innate introverted nature. You went if The Agency made it mandatory or if you were feeling stir crazy, but majority nights, Lemon would find you both lounged on the couch in various positions.

Sometimes, you'd be watching a movie together or binging a show. Other times, you were reading a book while Tangerine poured over paperwork. And once or twice, Lemon's come home to find you belly laughing and playfully scolding Tangerine as he tried to paint your toe nails. It was a homey sight to Lemon: seeing his brother so in love and at ease, hearing your laughter, the entire flat filled with warm smells of burning candles and homemade meals.

It wasn't evident at first, but with you laying in Tangerine's arms, clothes left on the floor, bellies full of whatever meal you had prepared that evening, favorite show playing on the bedroom TV, he realized that he loved what you had done with the place.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Naughty

Warnings: non/dubcon, degreding language, sex work, choking, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: You take a job on Christmas Eve but you're not worth if it's worth the money.

Character: Rafe Cameron

Day Fifteen of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - working on Christmas Eve 

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Yes, I’ll be there,” you promise as you stare at the numbers above the door, lighting up one at a time. “I’m not the one who’s always late, Maura.” 

“Sure, try to bring a bottle with you this time. Or something, at least.” Your sister chides. 

“Mm, can’t wait to see you tomorrow. See ya,” the elevator stops and you roll your eyes. “Muah.” 

You stopped arguing with your sister in your teens. She does an awfully lot of talking for someone who doesn’t shut up. If she paid attention to anything besides herself, she’d remember you brough a full charcuterie to last year’s affair. Surely, she must remember eating all the aged gouda. 

The years pass but so much stays the same. You get off the elevator and head down the hallway. You check the room number on your phone as you enable to the tracking app. You can never be too safe. So long as you’ve been doing this work, you’ve never settled into complacency. 

You stop in front of the door and put your cell away. You take out your pocket mirror and do a once over. The last time you worked Christmas Eve was back when your job was standing behind a counter and smiling as shoppers screamed about discounts. No more. Your work isn’t glamourous, but it pays well. 

You slip the mirror back in your purse and unbutton your coat. You push your shoulders back and shrug off the chagrin of the conversation with your sister. You raise your hand and knock. An hour or two and you’ll make back much more than you paid for your Christmas gifts. 

You can hear movement from the other side of the door. You wait patiently. Concern blooms the longer the occupant takes to get there. When the door does open, you’re almost caught off guard. Not just by the suddenness of it, but by the man looking out at you. 

It’s not that you’ve never had younger clients before, but you aren’t typically their choice. You charge a rate which is highly selective on its own and most men opt for a younger flavour. Still, you have your niche. Men who want to be discreet. 

This one is anything but. Early twenties by your measure, shaved head, a scrape across his cheekbone, and glassy blue eyes. There’s no pretense as he greets you in a loosely tied robe, his chest peeking out between the slack fabric. 

He’s tall, a bit lanky at first sight, but his shoulders are broad enough. It’s the leanness that comes with the grace of youth. Give him twenty years, he’ll fill out, probably more so if he can afford your fee. 

You wait politely for an invitation inside. 

“Mm,” he grumbles and slinks away, leaving the door open. Right, he’s not a talker. Most times, that’s easier. 

You step into the room and gently close the door. The expectation is there. You always have detailed discussions prior, and you’re sure to get half your rate upfront. 

You set your purse on the console table near the door and slip off your jacket. The older men, the more established ones who like to play gentleman, will help you and hang it up. Some will even help you out of your shoes, others like you to keep them on. You do it all yourself. 

It’s not often you feel like an intruder. It doesn’t feel like he’s expecting you. The bed is a mess, the TV is blaring, and he’s made no effort to hide the pill bottles across the table. You’re wary as you scan them over for syringes. That would be a red flag. The least he could do is put out a bottle of wine. 

“We had an agreement.” 

“Yeah, shit,” he scratches his head and goes to the table, swiping up a folded paper. “One clinic open today. Out of town. They thought I was tryna get methadone.” 

It’s a good sign that you can understand him. His voice is low and droning but not incomprehensible. You take the paper and look it over. Negative, negative, negative. You go back to the door and flip open your purse. You look up the clinic and the doctor’s name. 

“I’m fucking clean,” he snarls. “Sure are judgmental considering.” 

“Cautious. For your good as much as mine,” you fold up the paper, content. “Condoms?” 

He pushes his head back towards the bed without a look in your direction. You see the wrappers on the night stand; the ones you get from the quarter machines in the hotel restrooms. Wow, big spender. If he hadn’t put your special holiday rate directly into your account, you’d be out. 

“Well, honey, what do you wanna do first?” You soften your tone. 

“You’re old enough. You know how it works.” 

You chuckle lightly, “sure do, honey.” 

“Fucking stop with the honey.” 

“Right,” you accept breezily. 

“I mean, how fucking old are you?” He turns to face you. “Put as much makeup on as you want, you gotta be what? Forty? Shouldn’t you be with your kids?” 

“Why would I have kids? So they can grow up to be snotty brats like you?” You retort. 

“Fucking charming seeing how much I’m paying.” 

“We’re not here to get to know each other, are we?” 

“There’s dozens of younger girls on OF. I could have any one of them for half the price,” he growls. 

“So why don’t you?” 

“Now who’s nosy?” He scoffs as he goes to the mini fridge and swings the door open. He takes out a mini bottle of Tito’s vodka. He cracks the plastic ring and drains it in a gulp. 

You go to the bed and pull the blankets straight. He snorts and whips the bottle onto the floor. He comes up behind you and you tense, waiting for him to shove you down. You get the sense that he’s that type. 

“Why ya doing that?” He breathes down your neck. 

“I--” 

“I didn’t pay you all that to lay on your fucking back, you can fucking work for it,” he fists your hair and wrenches you back. You hiss and try to turn to him. 

“That’s extra,” you snip. 

“Shut the fuck up,” he drags you away from the bed. 

You put your hand on his as your roots tug. He brings you across the room and pushes you up against the sliding glass doors that look out onto the balcony. You hold back a gasp as the high-rise view of the city makes you dizzy. 

He kicks your feet apart as his fingertips dance up the side of your dress. He feels around your hip and finds the slit cut up to your thigh. You stare out at the blurring lights and lean back into his grasp to ease the pressure on your scalp. 

His hand dips under the satin and he pushes a thick fingertip along your slit, pushing between your lips. He crowds you against the glass as your breath fogs your vision. Your can barely keep your nose from touching the door. 

“You old fucking bitches think you got it all figured out,” he sneers as he urges his finger further back, curling it roughly against you. “You’re all just the same, though. You’re just mad your tits are falling.” 

You grimace but don’t talk back. You have a feeling how this is going to go. You have your limits and if he pushes them, you’ll make him stop.  

He continues to rub you, without much results. You grit your teeth and bear it. None of your clients are especially skilled or even concerned with more than their own pleasure, but most of the time, you can guide them to a tolerable experience. 

He leans in and his hot, alcoholic breath seeps around you. He pushes his nose against your shoulder as he wiggles his fingers aimlessly. You put a hand on the glass to keep yourself steady. He growls and teases your skin, just beside the slender strap of your dress, with his teeth. 

“Fuck,” he rips his hand away from your cunt, scratching your thigh. “Don’t you fucking do this for a living?” 

“Tell me what you want,” you counter. 

“Fucking fuck. I want you to fucking scream,” he lets you go with a jerk of your head. You barely keep from hitting the glass. “Get the dress off.” 

He backs up and you do as he says. You drag the straps down your shoulders and shimmy out of the sheath. It pools around your feet and you kick it away. As he specified, no underwear, no bra. You turn as he grabs a condom from the table. 

“The fuck you looking at, turn around.” 

You spin back to face the city. The wrapper crinkles as he approaches you again. He groans as he gets close. He grabs the back of your neck and you let out a noise as he forces your face into the door. You turn your head so the cool glass flattens your cheek. 

He snakes his arm around you and stretches his hand across your pelvis. He hooks two fingers along your cunt and spreads you. You arch your back as his tip pokes at you, catching on your ass but far from its target. You reach back to help him and guide him down to your entrance. 

He snarls again and pinches your neck until your skull throbs. He squeezes his tip between his knuckles as he frames your cunt and bucks his hips. He brings you to your toes as he rams into you. You hold your breath as your walls clench around his intrusion. 

“Huh,” he thrusts again, breaking through the resistance, “you’re fucking tight.” He pushes into you and wiggles his hips as you squirm. His nails cut into your flesh as his other hand retreats to your clit. He rubs around your bud, missing it by inches. “Who’d fucking think...” 

He slides out and ruts back in harshly. You slap your hands on the glass as your tits are smushed against it. He puffs against your hair as he pumps into you, each time harder than the last. You brace the doors as you bend your legs slightly to keep them from collapsing. 

“God fucking damnit.” He slips his hand around your neck before you can react. His long fingers squeeze your throat and you hiss. You try to peel his grasp away. No chocking, one of your rules. “Is this what you do when your kids are decorating the tree at home?” 

“Let--go,” you rasp as you claw at his hand. 

He groans and slams into you harder, the sound of your flesh reverberating loudly as the force radiates through your hips. You try to push back into him and he rips his hand away from your pelvis. He puts it against the back of your skull, adding pressure to your neck as you gulp for air. Your forehead hits the thick glass as he pounds into you. 

“I fucking paid you,” he growls, “so fucking take it.” 

You gurgle, unable to get much through your whittled throat. You cough and wriggle helplessly. He drones around the rhythm of clapping flesh. 

“Fucking bitch! You fucking slut,” he snarls as pushes your head against the glass, only to lean back and hold you at arms’ length. Each tilt of his hips is filled with malice. “God, you’re fucking dirty, aren’t you, whore? Too fucking old to be taking this cock. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

You reach back as your head swells. You feel around blindly with your nails and catch the edge of his robe. He grunts and jerks you violently, burying himself deep as he stills. He snickers and peels his hand away from your skull. He loops his arm around your neck as his other hand hooks under to grope your chest. 

He chokes you with his bicep as he hauls you away from the door. He turns you and walks you awkwardly across the room, his dick splitting your insides. He crushes you over the corner of the bed as he falls onto you. Your legs dangle off, toes on the floor, as he pushes your knees wide with his. 

He squeezes his arm tighter around your throat as he once more falls into a frantic motion. He huffs and puffs, grunting and growling, as he digs his nails into the soft flesh of your chest. He bows down to chew on the brim of your ear as a deep snarl plumes from his nose. 

He laughs again as you choke and cough above his thick arm, “oh, it won’t be over soon, slut. I took a fucking viagra for this.” 

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ WOW, ALL FOR ME, BABE?❞

— minors dni, recording, sending nudes, mentions of blowjob (flashback) fem! masturbation, implied blackmail?

the sweet tranquility of your study session is interrupted by what was supposed to be a phone on do not disturb.

‘vrrrrrr!’

traces of light shine onto the desk, prompting you to turn the device face up and give in to a little distraction. a groan leaves you immediately at the sight of “suguru ‼️🖤” —a name you did not set willingly— popping up on your screen.

suguru‼️🖤: send satoru a nude or smthg

your brows knit together, befuddlement dragging across your features. you’re holding the power button when three more texts show up.

suguru‼️🖤: he’s stuck with his dad or whatever, surprise him

suguru‼️🖤: if not i can send this instead…?

suguru‼️🖤: 1 attachment

sighing in defeat, muscle memory fills in your password, and you head to the messages only to immediately be met with a thumbnail of your crying face, stuffed full of geto’s cock. memories of the occasion come tumbling back, a night geto visited your room out of boredom and had you suck him off for hours under the threat of destroying a project worth a huge chunk of a class’s grade, something you absolutely couldn’t afford to fail. pulling your hair, fingering your pussy, fucking your face and, most notably, making you denounce gojo in between gags and feeble cries.

‘tell me how good you feel’ his soft voice murmurs into your ears. ‘so much better than with satoru, right?’

and you nod, you have to, unless you want geto to deny you another orgasm. ‘y-yes, ge-, suguru, you’re so much better, i promise.’

gojo would, without question, spend an entire night destroying all 3 holes in your body if he even caught a glimpse of that video, and so you set your books to the side, pulling your shorts down silky, plush thighs, and angle the camera in a way to get a good pic of your cunt. you have the unfortunate expertise of sending gojo nudes before, so you know exactly what he likes.

it only takes a few minutes of rubbing over your clit through your panties before you’re soaking wet, thoughts of porcelain white hair, strong, muscled arms, and a familiar grin dancing around the edges of your mind even though you’d prefer to think of anything else. finger trembling over the screen, you hit what you assume is the white button for a photo, phone still upright in your grasp as your fingers tease into your dripping hole. one, two are all you can manage before it becomes too much.

‘satoru..!’, you mewl into your pillow as an orgasm quakes down your spine.

you barely look at the screen as you send him the picture, huffing and panting and blinking away the blurriness of your vision. after a few moments to recollect yourself, you sit upright preparing to go clean up in the bathroom, before a set of buzzes grabs your attention.

SATORU💙💙: WOW ALL FOR ME BABE??

you start to shake your head at the overreaction to some quick photo of your pussy, before noticing the large play button over what you’ve sent. your heart plummets, because surely you did not just bless gojo of all people with a video of you moaning for him, but his next texts confirm your suspicions.

SATORU💙💙: fuck that’s so hot i love when you say my name

SATORU💙💙: CANT WAIT TO SEE YOU TOMORROW PRINCESS 👀👀

tagz: @anthoosies look babes 👀

[rowdyluv]

𝘽𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙊𝙪𝙩 · 𝙟𝙝⁸⁶

summary: Trevor isn’t a fan of how Jack’s changed for his girlfriend.

warnings: use of y/n, kind of angsty, more fluffy, trevor being kind of a bitter friend,

word count: 1.1k

authors note: i really liked the request prompt but i struggled to write it. to the anon who requested it i hope it doesn’t let you down 🥺



Y/n’s laughter echoed through the restaurant, a melody that seemed to seep deep into Jack's soul. He couldn't help but smile as he watched her throw her head back, revealing the small, delicate spot on her neck where he knew her pulse would be racing. He knew if he placed his lips to it just how the noise she would make would sound. Her hair, usually pulled back into a tidy bun, had come loose and now framed her face in a halo of curls. It may have been two years since they started dating, but Jack still found himself completely and utterly captivated by her.

As they finished their dinner, Trevor nudged Jack and motioned for him to follow him to the bathroom. "Look," Trevor whispered, "I know you love her and all, but she's holding you back, man. You need to live a little, go out with all of us, have some fun." Jack sighed, feeling torn. He knew that Trevor was his best friend, but he also knew how important y/n was to him. He didn't want to lose her, no he couldn’t lose her, but he didn't want to miss out on all the adventures he could still be having with his friends.

"Why don't you come out with us anymore?" Trevor asked bluntly. "You used to be the life of the party. Now you're just...different." Jack hung his head, unsure how to respond. "I just want you to be happy, man. I really think you're making a mistake by staying with her." Trevor opened the bathroom door and walked back towards the tables. It was purely happen chance he was even here and Jack was too. Trevor on a date while Jack was on one too.

The two boys returned to their respective tables, Jack couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in tightly churning in his gut. Trevor was on to something; he did miss going out with all their friends and having their crazy adventures. But y/n was everything to him. She made him feel loved in ways he had never experienced and supported him in everything he did. It may have only been two years, but Jack couldn't imagine his life without her now. He knew he couldn't continue like this, though. Something had to give.

That night after dinner, as the two walked hand in hand through the park, Jack managed to gather up the courage to confront his new worries with y/n. "Hey, there's something I want to talk to you about," he said, his voice barely registering over the children still playing on the playground. Y/n stopped and turned to face him, her eyes instantly filled with concern. "What's wrong, Jack?"

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I love you, y/n. I love you so much. You know that. But I feel like I'm missing out on a lot with my friends. I want to be able to spend time with them like I used to." He looked down at his girlfriend who drew in and chewed on her lower lip, clearly being hurt by his words.

"Jackie, I thought we had talked about this.. I thought you trusted me enough to know that I would never stand in the way of your friendships?. If anything, I want you to have them in your life more. You are my life, today, tomorrow, hopefully next week and further, but I want you to have a life outside of me too. I love you more than you probably think I do, but that doesn’t mean we always have to be together.” Y/n told the sweet boy standing before her. He was awestruck while she was speaking.

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers for any hint of deception. An action he instantly felt guilty for. He should’ve never let his friends inside his head. Seeing nothing but sincerity, he exhaled slowly.

"I guess I just... I just need to find a balance, huh?" She nodded, wrapping her arms around him. "I'll always be here for you, jackie. And I want you to know that I understand. We'll figure this out together."

The next weekend, Jack and y/n arranged a "double date night" with Trevor and his newest girl. The four of them went to one of the local art galleries, something y/n loved to do, afterwards they went to a cozy Italian restaurant for dinner.

As they walked side by side, Jack was overcome with a sense of excitement and anticipation. Both had been building within him since the plans were made. For the first time since meeting y/n, he felt like he was truly experiencing something elating again.

The entirety of the night was filled with wholesome laughter and conversations about everything and anything, as both couples shared stories and experiences, and found common ground in their shared love for art and food. Y/n and Trevor even managed to strike up a conversation about their favorite artists and sport teams, which surprised Jack and made him smile. He had never really thought of his best friend and y/n having much in common, but it seemed like tonight was proving him wrong.

“Seems you picked a good one Rowdy.” Trevor snickered referring to y/n. “I’m glad you changed your mind about her Zegras. But I didn’t just pick a good one, I picked the best one. At least for me.” Jack was smitten with her and Trevor fake gagged. Earning himself a laugh from all of them.

While they finished their meals and sipped on their respective drinks, the atmosphere in the restaurant shifted ever so slightly. The lights were dimmed, and a soft, romantic medley filled the room. Jack caught y/n glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, an expanse flush of warmth spread through his chest.

In that moment, Jack realized that this was exactly what he needed: a balance between his relationship with her and his friendship. He didn't have to choose between them anymore.

As the music continued, Trevor and his date excused themselves to the dance floor, leaving Jack and y/n with a moment to themselves. She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling practically screaming out her love for him and Jack himself was flooded with a rush of his affection for her.

He leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers, whispering a quick intimate “i love you”. He placed another kiss on her lips, meant to be soft and innocent but as their kiss deepened, the warm, content feeling of love and happiness spread throughout both of them.

The rest of the night flew by in a blur of conversation, laughter, and dancing. They all truly seemed to enjoy each other's company, and Jack couldn't help but feel grateful for this unexpected gift. As the night drew to a close, they agreed to get together again in the coming weeks. Trevor and Jack said their goodbyes before everyone went their separate ways.

“Y/n?” Jack called out softly from beside her. She glanced up at him, as if to ask him ‘what?’ “Thank you for tonight. I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. For us.” She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him. “I love you, I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you but I hope I keep staying lucky.” Jack brought her hand up to his lips placing a quick kiss to the top of it.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Prompt: The Last Lines

Choose one of the last lines of these literary works, and either create a new story/poem or continue writing the story...

“He was soon borne away by the waves, and lost in darkness and distance.” —Mary Shelley, Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus (1818)

“After all, tomorrow is another day.” —Margaret Mitchell, Gone With the Wind (1936)

“She looked up and across the barn, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously.” —John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath (1939)

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” —F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (1925)

“Are there any questions?” —Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale (1985)

“Yes,” I said. “Isn’t it pretty to think so?” —Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises (1926)

“She called in her soul to come and see.” —Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937)

“There was the hum of bees, and the musky odor of pinks filled the air.” —Kate Chopin, The Awakening (1899)

“It’s funny. Don’t ever tell anybody anything. If you do, you start missing everybody.” —J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (1951)

“The eyes and faces all turned themselves towards me, and guiding myself by them, as by a magical thread, I stepped into the room.” —Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (1963)

If this writing prompt inspires you in any way, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read your work!

more last lines ⚜ the first lines More: Writing Prompts ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[spatialwave]

Kiss prompts with two dialogue prompts!! For Reader x Jayce, please! 🩷 Thank youuu!

"i think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me"

"shut up" (affectionately)

ask and ye shall receive!!! tysm for sending!!!

lightweight.

pairing: jayce talis x fem!reader word count: 1.1k tags: mdni! fluff, kissing, alcohol use, jayce gets flustered, notes: ok this was so fun omgggg hehehe. my asks are open for more with any char (i'll do my best to stretch my range, but of course i love jayce, hehe). i only have a few more to write which i will be doing tonight & tomorrow!!

“You’re a lightweight,” A smile pulled across Jayce’s lips, his tanned cheeks were coated by a rosy colour as his hand wrapped around the half-full glass of beer. Honey eyes flickered over your face, noting the way your lips parted as you laughed, the smile reaching your eyes as you waved a hand in front of your face.

“Hardly,” you breathed out as your laugh settled, wobbly on the stool you sat on, “I can handle my liquor just as well as you can.”

“Wow,” he commented with a lift of his brows, “that is a very incorrect statement,” he guzzled the remainder of the dark beer that filled his stomach with heat and left his mind the perfect amount of fuzzy. Enough to make him relax and forget all about the stress of the research that weighed down his shoulders.

As if it were a competition, you finished the rest of yours, the taste bitter on your tongue as you forced it down and ignored the teasing remarks he threw your way.

“Enough,” he laughed, pulling the glass from your lips as some of the liquid dribbled down your chin, “I’m not carrying you home.”

The sound of his laughter caused your heart to ache, a devastating feeling you’d been trying to avoid for weeks. It was disrupting your day-to-day, stupid Jayce Talis and his stupidly beautiful smile and even stupider laugh gave you goosebumps.

“I’m fine!” You swatted at him, your hand smacking his chest playfully as you nearly toppled forward against him.

Jayce was quick to grab you steady at your shoulders, supporting you back to your seat as he dropped his head low enough to get to your level, “Fine? Okay, get up and stand without making a fool of yourself.” 

“What?” You scoffed, furrowing your brows together.

“You heard me, get up and prove you’re fine,” he smirked, letting go of you and resting an elbow on the bar top as his eyes analyzed your movements. His cheek pressed against his knuckles, relaxed, as he waited for you to topple so he could come to your rescue like the knight in shining armour he wanted so desperately to be for you.

You tilted your chin up, huffing as you slid off the stool with calculated ease. Your hand stayed against the stool for support, and it was immediate how the alcohol affected you. The world wasn’t spinning, but you were certainly unable to stand still.

“This is bullshit” you argued when you removed your hand from the stool and stumbled forward, catching yourself before Jayce had the chance to step in. You flashed your eyes at Jayce, “Bet you can’t either.”

He rose to his feet, several inches taller than you, as he crossed his arms over his chest. He quirked an eyebrow, staring down at you, and you rolled your eyes once again.

“You’re so annoying,” you murmured, shifting forward so you could lean against him. You were silent as you felt him drape your coat over your shoulders, knowing what was coming next, “take me home.”

This had become a common occurrence, two young scholars at the academy looking for ways to blow off steam on the weekends. Alcohol was your poison of choice for the past few weekends, indulging in any and all forms of liquor to forget about the upcoming academic week that would certainly leave you exhausted.

“You know,” you murmured, “this is the third weekend in a row we’ve found ourselves in this situation,” you said, arms wrapped around one of Jayce’s so you could steady yourself as you ventured through the quiet late-night streets of Piltover, “are we alcoholics?”

Jayce snorted, “You are.”

“Shut up,” you giggled affectionately, arms gripping tighter around his, and he was forced to clear his throat as he kept his eyes away, redness burning at his cheeks from your closeness, “I like it. I mean, uh, it’s been fun,” your voice was soft as to not echo too loudly off the surrounding buildings, the only other sounds being two pairs of shoes clacking against the pavement, “I don’t know… Sorry, I’m rambling. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

His eyes flickered to you, slowly blinking as he watched the way your eyes focused ahead and unaware of the way he admired you. To him, you were everything. An unrequited love.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” You mumbled, looking up to catch his gaze before he was able to look away.

“I recall you being the one who told me to shut up,” he answered, lips pulled into a smile.

“You’re awfully annoying, has anyone told you that?” You rolled your eyes, tearing your gaze away as you approached the building of your apartment. 

Jayce watched as you pulled away from him, taking the first step up the brick staircase and turning around to face him. You were eye-to-eye now, rather close in proximity, but you hadn’t cared so much. You had enough liquid courage settled in your stomach to clear your mind and lose most of your inhibitions.

“Well,” he sighed after a few moments of awkward silence, eyes flickering away for a moment, “goodnight.”

You hadn’t returned farewell, your feet planted firmly where you stood. With a curiously raised eyebrow, you noted the way his eyes had flickered to your lips a few times, jaw clenching. He was horrible at being sly.

You smiled.

“You’re forgetting something,” you chimed, head tilting playfully as you bit onto your bottom lip.

“No, I’m not,” he returned the raised eyebrow, oblivious to your flirty tone.

“I think this is the part where you’re supposed to kiss me,” you said, a sickly sweet smile playing along your lips. You watched in delight as Jayce became frazzled, cheeks burning a deep red as his lips parted, struggling to say anything. 

“Uh, well–” he stuttered, swallowing a lump down his throat. A much different demeanour than the cocky attitude he had back at the bar.

“I’m kidding,” you laughed, patting his chest a few times, “goodnight, dork,” you hummed fondly, turning to take an unbalanced step toward your apartment.

You hardly moved away when you felt your body being tugged back, turning around just in time to feel Jayce’s lips press against yours. Your eyes widened, shocked that he’d actually done it, your stomach exploding into a mix of butterflies and fireworks.

He pulled away, but you chased, closing the distance once more as your hands lifted to the back of his head, brushing through the short strands of his hair. His hands wrapped around your waist, pulling your body close as your lips moved together in an electric kiss.

One that had been avoided for so long, desperate and sweet. Needy.

“Shit,” Jayce whispered through an anxious chuckle when you both pulled back for air, foreheads pressed together and noses bumping. Your breath mingled, the smell of alcohol tickling your nose. You stayed there for a few beats, quietly holding each other and watching the way his eyes dilated as he stared into yours.

“Took you long enough,” you teased, out of breath.

“Shut up,” he whispered, crashing his lips to yours.

[cosmiclily]

chapter three: party in la

wc: 2.6k

cw: alcohol consumption, making out.

“Alright, LA! My name is Y/N!” you shout into the mic, your voice carrying over the roaring crowd. “This is Jinx, our favorite guitarist!” You gesture toward Jinx, who grins and raises her guitar, prompting a fresh wave of cheers.

“And over here, we’ve got Ekko, our bassist!” Ekko steps forward slightly, throwing a playful wink at the crowd, his confident smile earning a loud round of applause.

“And last but definitely not least, in the back, we have Vi—your favorite drummer!” The crowd explodes into deafening screams, their enthusiasm almost shaking the venue. Over the last couple of weeks, Vi’s newfound “bad girl” reputation—fueled by her messy breakup with Caitlyn and her knack for stirring up controversy—has turned her into a social media sensation. The owners of the bars she went to hated her, but for some reason, she became really popular with some fans.

You weren’t complaining, though. Attention is attention, whether good or bad, and it undeniably helped the band climb out of obscurity and onto the radar of new fans.

“And we are Shadow and Shimmer,” you say, your voice steady but filled with emotion as you look out at the sea of faces. “Thank you so much for having us tonight, LA. Now, I’ll leave the stage to the big star of the night!” You give a small bow as the crowd cheers louder, and the four of you exit the stage, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

“That was insane,” Ekko says, running a hand through his locks as you make your way backstage. “Best crowd we’ve had yet.”

“Yeah, well, Vi’s fan club out there definitely helps,” Jinx teases, nudging Vi with her elbow. “Bad girls for the win, right?”

Vi rolls her eyes but smirks, tossing a drumstick in the air and catching it effortlessly. “Whatever gets them to show up.”

You shake your head, laughing as you glance back toward the stage entrance, the faint echo of cheers still audible. “I just hope the crowd is this good when we headline our own show,” you say, walking toward the dressing room with the others trailing behind.

As you step inside, Archie is already waiting for you, his phone in hand and a grin plastered across his face.

“Great show, guys!” he says, clapping his hands. “There’s a lot of buzz on social media already—people asking who the opening act was. You’ve got new fans chomping at the bit to know more about you. And since this was the last show of the tour, I’m pretty confident about locking in that album deal.”

The room erupts in cheers, with Ekko and Jinx high-fiving each other while Vi leans back against the wall, her trademark smirk softening into something almost hopeful.

“We did it,” you say, a grin spreading across your face. “This tour was just the beginning.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Archie warns with a chuckle. “This is just step one. If that album deal comes through, it’s going to be a whole new level of work. But for now, enjoy this win. You’ve earned it.”

You sink into the worn couch in the dressing room, letting out a deep breath as your heart finally slows down. This is it! you think, excitement buzzing in your veins. Of course, there was still a mountain of work ahead, but success felt so close you could almost taste it. For the first time, the dream didn’t feel like a distant fantasy—it felt real.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Archie says, adjusting his glasses as he heads for the door. “See you all tomorrow for the debrief.” He waves once before disappearing into the hallway, leaving the room in a rare, brief moment of calm.

Too brief.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you catch the glint in Jinx’s eyes—the mischievous spark that always precedes her best (and worst) ideas. She hops off her seat like a coiled spring, her grin stretching ear to ear.

“You know what this means, right?” she says, a dangerous edge of excitement in her voice. Before anyone can respond, she’s already grabbed a pair of makeup brushes from the vanity and started banging them against the shelf like drumsticks. “Partyyy!” she announces, punctuating the word with a mock drumroll.

Ekko groans, leaning his head back dramatically. “Jinx, come on. We’ve got a flight tomorrow. Can’t we just chill for one night?”

“Chill?” Jinx gasps, spinning around to face him with mock horror. “Ekko, we just smashed it in front of LA! The crowd loved us, Archie’s practically foaming at the mouth with the album deal, and you want to chill?!” She plants her hands on her hips, looking between all of you. “Vi, back me up here!”

Vi, who’s been leaning silently against the wall, sipping water like it’s the only thing keeping her upright, raises an eyebrow. “Depends. What kind of party are we talking about?”

“The kind that doesn’t involve thinking about flights or rehearsals or… whatever the hell Archie’s ‘debrief’ is,” Jinx says, hopping onto the couch beside you, her energy infectious. “Come on, we deserve this.”

You glance at Ekko, who’s already looking at you like he’s begging you to be the voice of reason. But as you sit there, the adrenaline still pumping, you can’t help but think Jinx has a point. You do deserve this.

“Fine,” you say, throwing your hands up in defeat. “But if we’re doing this, it’s low-key. No setting off fireworks in the hallway, Jinx.”

She gasps, clutching her chest dramatically. “Fireworks? Me? I would never.”

Vi chuckles, shaking her head. “This is gonna be a disaster.”

But even as she says it, there’s a small smile playing on her lips. And as Jinx jumps up, already planning the night ahead, you can’t help but feel a spark of excitement. Disaster or not, it’s exactly what you all need.

As you make your way to your hotel room, thoughts of the night ahead start creeping into your mind. Jinx had mentioned a "very low-key" club the dancers had been raving about—something underground and edgy. It sounded like the kind of place where you could blend in, dance out the stress, and maybe forget about the whirlwind that was your life for a few hours.

You unlock the door and step inside. Vi throws herself on her bed, makeup wipes in hand, already taking off the heavy eyeliner she wears for the concerts. But her laid-back demeanor doesn’t fool you. You’ve seen how fast her mood can shift, especially after a couple of drinks.

As you rummage through your suitcase, mentally cycling through outfit options, you glance over at her, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. “Do I need to worry about you tonight? Or can I focus solely on what kind of skirt I’ll be picking?”

Vi looks up, raising an eyebrow before chuckling. “No worries, princess. I’ll be on my best behavior.”

You narrow your eyes playfully, not entirely convinced. “Your ‘best behavior’ still includes breaking at least one rule.”

She grins, leaning back against the headboard. “Okay, fair. But tonight, I promise—no fights, no drama. Just me, a couple of drinks, and maybe a little dancing. You’re the one who should be careful, though. Those ‘low-key’ places Jinx picks always have some kind of chaos waiting.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you pull out a black skirt and pair it with a crop top. “Chaos is kind of her thing. But maybe that’s exactly what we need tonight.”

Vi watches you for a moment. “Yeah… maybe it is.”

You nod, heading toward the bathroom to change. Tonight was about unwinding, letting loose, and—if you were lucky—having just enough fun to leave the stress behind without waking up with regrets. And with Jinx leading the charge, you knew one thing for sure: it wouldn’t be boring.

──────────────────────

The club was… interesting. It was exactly the kind of place Jinx always seemed to thrive in: loud music that vibrated through your chest, bright, flashing lights, and an overwhelming sea of people dancing like there was no tomorrow. You, on the other hand, were more of a bar person. You liked loud music too, but the kind where you could still have a conversation without shouting yourself hoarse.

You leaned toward the others, trying to make yourself heard over the relentless bass. “Do you guys want to get a drink?” you shouted, your voice barely cutting through the noise. Still, the message got across as they nodded in agreement.

“What do you guys want? I’ll order while you find us a spot to sit,” Ekko offered, his voice somehow carrying just enough to be heard.

“I’ll go with you,” Vi said casually, stuffing her hands into her leather jacket pockets. The two of them turned to you and Jinx for your orders before weaving through the crowd toward the bar.

You glanced at Jinx, who was already scanning the chaotic room with her sharp eyes, clearly in her element. Together, you navigated through the packed dance floor, searching for a place to settle down. After some maneuvering, you managed to claim a small booth near the edge of the room, away from the thickest part of the crowd but still close enough to feel the club’s electric energy.

As you slid into the booth, Jinx gave you a knowing smirk, leaning in closer to be heard. “So… what are your plans for tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow at her, unsure of where she was going with this. “What do you mean? My plan is to survive this chaos, maybe have a drink, and avoid any unnecessary drama.”

Jinx rolled her eyes, her grin widening. “Come on. You can’t come to a place like this without at least *some* intention of having fun. No crushes you want to dance with? No one you’re secretly hoping to bump into?” She wagged her eyebrows teasingly.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Not all of us live for chaos, Jinx. I’m staying away of relationships dramas, Vi’s is already plenty.”

Jinx leaned back, shrugging. “Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if Vi gets all the attention tonight. The ‘bad girl’ image is magnetic, y’know. People eat that stuff up.”

You glanced toward the bar, catching a glimpse of Vi and Ekko still waiting for drinks. Vi was leaning casually against the counter, her presence naturally commanding, even in a place like this. Jinx wasn’t wrong—people had been flocking to her lately, drawn to her reckless charm. You just hoped the night wouldn’t spiral into one of her infamous scenes.

“Yeah, well, let’s just see how the night goes,” you said, brushing off Jinx’s teasing. You weren’t entirely sure what you were hoping for tonight, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something unexpected was bound to happen. After all, with this group, it always did.

──────────────────────

And one drink turned into two, then three, then four. Before you realized, you were already on the dance floor, the bass of the music thrumming through your chest like a second heartbeat. You were sandwiched between a blonde woman with a dazzling smile and who you assumed was her equally attractive friend. Their laughter mingled with the pounding music, and though their words were lost in the noise, their energy was infectious.

Right now, you didn’t really care how stuffy the room felt or how you’d probably sweated off most of your makeup. The tension and exhaustion that had been clinging to you for weeks melted away with every beat of the music. The world outside didn’t matter; there was only the rhythm, the heat, and the pulse of bodies moving around you.

The blonde leaned in closer, saying something you couldn’t hear but smiling like you’d just shared the funniest joke. You laughed along anyway, her carefree energy pulling you deeper into the moment. You caught a glimpse of Jinx across the room, perched on the edge of a couch like a queen surveying her kingdom, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watched you. Ekko was by the bar, deep in conversation with someone who looked just as enamored with him as he was with his drink.

Then, there was Vi. Leaning against the wall near the edge of the dance floor, drink in hand, her sharp blue eyes locked onto you. You weren’t sure how long she’d been watching, but her expression was unreadable, her lips pressed into a thin line. It was like she was caught between amusement and something else—something heavier.

For a moment, the room seemed to spin a little slower. The blonde woman grabbed your hand, pulling you closer, and you let yourself go again, never breaking eye contact with Vi. Not as you kissed the blonde, or as her friend leaned in to claim her own moment with you. The bass thudded around you, drowning out the world, but the intensity of Vi’s stare burned through the haze like a spotlight.

Eventually, you peeled yourself away, making your way back to your booth. Jinx was waiting, perched on the edge of the seat with a shot glass of something bright purple in her hand. Three more shots were lined up neatly on the table, like soldiers ready for duty.

“When did you have time to get more shots?” you asked, eyebrows raised as you slid into the booth beside her.

She grinned, her signature mischievous smile spreading across her face. “While you were busy sucking face with the two hotties, of course.”

You rolled your eyes, but the flush creeping up your neck betrayed you. Before you could respond, Vi and Ekko appeared, almost as if summoned by Jinx’s teasing. Vi’s expression was carefully neutral, but her eyes flicked to you for just a second too long before she sat down across from you.

“What did we miss?” Ekko asked, his eyebrows raised as he slid into the booth, glancing between you and Jinx.

“Oh, nothing much,” Jinx said, her tone light but laced with mischief. “Just *someone* making out with not one, but two people on the dance floor.” She shot you a sly look, clearly enjoying herself.

Ekko barked out a laugh, grabbing one of the shots from the table. “That’s the kind of energy I like to see! Let’s keep it going!” He raised the glass in a toast, the excitement in his voice infectious.

“For someone who didn’t even wanna come tonight, you sure sound hyped,” you teased, grabbing your own shot glass. Your words were light, but you couldn’t ignore the weight of Vi’s gaze on you. She was sitting just across the table, silent as she swirled the drink in her hand, her expression unreadable. Was it disinterest? Annoyance? Something else entirely? You couldn’t quite pin it down, but it was enough to make your stomach flutter uneasily.

You hesitated for a moment, the glass cool against your fingers, before clinking it against Jinx and Ekko’s.

“To bad decisions,” Jinx declared dramatically, her wicked grin making it clear she had no regrets about anything that had happened—or would happen—tonight.

“To bad decisions,” you echoed, tipping the shot back in one swift motion. The alcohol burned on its way down, a sharp reminder of just how far you’d let yourself loosen up tonight. For a second, you thought about those fleeting moments on the dance floor—your hands tangled in blonde hair, the press of unfamiliar lips, and Vi’s eyes locked on yours from across the room.

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masterlist - chapter four

notes: special thanks to @entraptasimp for helping me with the name

vi is so hot in this fic i keep foaming at the mouth when i’m writing her 😭😭

taglist: @oidloid @saturnhas82moons @baylegend6 @vaebear

[rootedinrevisions]

Kinktober 2024: Day 15

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know it's not technically the 15th yet. But I just finished writing this one and I'm really excited for you guys to read it. I also know I have a lot going on tomorrow so not sure when I'll have time to post it, so posting it a little early!

PROMPT: "Feel what you're doing to me? That's all because of you!"

KINK: Lingerie

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (P in V)

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

TAG LIST: @missmarveledsblog I @shanimallina87 I @fore45fore

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The late morning sun poured through the windows, casting a warm glow across the living room you and Bradley shared. You sat cross-legged on the floor, fingers carefully smoothing out the last corner of the wrapping paper around his coming home present—a gift you’d been planning for months.

The photo album sat snugly under the glossy paper, bound by a neat ribbon you tied with extra care. Inside were the boudoir photos you had taken just weeks after he’d left for deployment. It was something special, something intimate, to remind him how much you’d missed him. Each photo was a memory in itself—a way for you to stay close even when he was oceans away.

You pressed down the final piece of tape, running your hand over the gift with a satisfied sigh. The small album, resting in its elegant wrapping on the kitchen table, felt like a secret shared between just the two of you, a piece of you waiting for him to come home.

The clock ticked closer to the afternoon, and excitement bubbled in your chest. It had been six months, half a year since you'd last seen Bradley in person, and today was the day he was coming back. You grabbed your keys, heart racing in anticipation, ready to meet him at the base. You gave the present one last glance before heading out, the thought of his reaction swirling in your mind as you made your way out the door to bring him home.

* * * *

The air buzzed with excitement as you stood among the crowd at the base, your heart pounding in your chest. You watched as one by one, men and women began walking off the plane, their faces weary but lit with the relief of being home. Your eyes scanned each face, searching desperately for the one you’d been waiting for. The anticipation twisted inside you—until finally, there he was.

Bradley stepped off the plane, looking up just in time for your eyes to meet. That familiar smile spread across his face, and in that instant, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you. He dropped his duffel bag to the ground and took a few determined steps toward you. Without thinking, you broke into a run, closing the distance between you in seconds.

You launched yourself into his arms, wrapping yours tightly around his neck as he held you close, his arms enveloping you in that perfect, safe embrace. The world seemed to melt away as you both stood there, holding onto each other for what felt like minutes, neither of you wanting to let go. His warmth, his familiar scent—it was everything you’d missed.

Bradley pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips before he leaned in and pressed them to yours. The kiss was slow, lingering, and filled with all the love and longing that had built up over the last six months. 

After several kisses and a few more tight hugs, he whispered, "I’m ready to go home."

But before you could move, he draped an arm protectively over your shoulders, keeping you close as the two of you made your way to his Bronco—the vehicle you had driven there, waiting to take him back to where he belonged.

* * * *

You and Bradley walked through the front door, the familiar comfort of home welcoming both of you as you closed it behind you. Bradley paused, noticing the carefully wrapped present sitting on the kitchen table. He glanced at you with raised eyebrows, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice laced with interest as he gestured toward the gift.

You smiled, leaning against the counter. "It’s a little coming-home present for you."

His curiosity deepened, and he gave you a playful look. "Can I open it now?"

You nodded, watching him as he moved over to the table, his large hands quickly but carefully tearing away the wrapping paper. When the paper fell away, he stood holding a sleek photo album, his eyes flicking back to you with even more curiosity.

"A photo album?" he asked, his lips tugging into a smirk.

"Just open it," you teased, crossing your arms and biting your lip in anticipation.

Bradley’s gaze shifted back to the album as he slowly opened it, revealing the first photo—a soft, almost innocent image of you wrapped in one of his Hawaiian shirts, buttoned up but still leaving a hint of bare skin peeking out. You watched as his expression softened, his fingers gently turning the page. As he flipped through each photo, his smirk grew.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip when he reached the next series of images—the ones where you had started to unbutton the shirt. You felt a warm flush rise in your cheeks as his eyes darkened with appreciation. By the time he reached the photos where the shirt was completely gone, revealing the pale blue lace teddy you had worn just for him, his breath caught.

The intersecting straps, the delicate lace, and the strategically placed cutouts accentuated your figure in all the right ways. Bradley took his time, flipping through those photos a little more slowly, savoring each one, his gaze lingering on the sight of you in his favorite color.

When he reached the final set of photos, where the teddy had come off and you were laid out on the bed with nothing but a sheet draped across your bare skin, his eyes widened slightly. He glanced up at you, his expression a mix of admiration and something more heated. You felt his eyes tracing every inch of you as if he could still see the images in his mind.

"Damn," Bradley breathed out, his voice low and husky as he looked back at the album, and then back at you. "You did all this…for me?"

You smiled softly, feeling your heart race at the way he was looking at you now. "Every bit of it."

Bradley set the album down and turned toward you, his strong hands finding your waist as he pulled you against him. His gaze was filled with adoration as he whispered, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

His lips captured yours in a heated kiss, the intensity building quickly as his tongue slipped past your lips, deepening the connection. His hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you impossibly closer. 

But before the moment could escalate further, you stepped back. Bradley looked at you, confused, his brow furrowed slightly.

That’s when you tugged at the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your denim shorts. His confusion quickly faded, replaced by realization—and a growing anticipation. His eyes darkened with desire when he noticed the shirt you were wearing wasn’t yours. It was one of his Hawaiian shirts, the same one you had worn during the photoshoot. You began to slowly unbutton it, just like you had in the pictures, teasing him with every undone button.

Bradley’s gaze never left you, his breathing growing heavier as you undid the last button, revealing the lingerie beneath—pale blue, lace, with the same intersecting straps and cutouts from the photos. He whispered something, maybe a quiet curse or a breathless declaration of how much he loved you, his voice thick with need. Whatever it was, you couldn’t quite make it out.

You gave him a playful, teasing look before turning and heading toward the bedroom.

You’d barely made it into the room before Bradley was on you, his hands quickly unbuttoning and sliding your shorts off, leaving you in just the delicate lace. 

He pulled you back against him, your back to his chest, one hand trailing down from your chest to your stomach while the other gripped your hip, pressing you into him. You could feel the hardness there, his need evident against you.

A soft moan escaped your lips as Bradley leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Feel what you’re doing to me? That’s all because of you.” His voice was low, filled with raw desire, and the sound sent shivers down your spine.

Bradley’s words lingered in the air, sending warmth through your body as his hand moved from your stomach to your thigh, fingers brushing lightly along the edge of the lace. He gently traced the outline of your lingerie, teasing the sensitive skin beneath it. His breath was hot against your neck, and your body instinctively arched into him, craving more of his touch.

His fingers trailed back up, slipping under the lace at your hips as he whispered, “You have no idea what seeing you like this does to me.”

His voice was deeper now, laced with desire and intensity. He let his hands roam over your body, tracing the delicate fabric that covered you, while pressing your hips harder against his. You could feel how much he wanted you.

You let out a soft gasp when his fingers finally found the spot between your legs, rubbing slow, deliberate circles over the thin fabric of your lingerie. Bradley’s lips were on your neck now, kissing and nibbling along your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you.

You tried to push back against him, wanting to feel more of him, but he was in complete control, keeping the pace slow and torturous.

“Not yet,” he murmured against your skin, his hand moving even slower as he teased you, the tension building with each passing second.

A needy whimper escaped your lips, and Bradley chuckled, his low, raspy laugh only making you want him more.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he whispered, his fingers never leaving their spot between your thighs, driving you to the edge.

Your breath came out in short, desperate bursts. “I need you,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely a whisper as you leaned your head back against his shoulder, giving him even more access to your neck.

Bradley didn’t need any more convincing. In one swift motion, he spun you around to face him, his hands gripping your waist as he pressed his forehead to yours. His eyes, dark and full of desire, searched yours for a brief moment before his lips crashed into yours again. His kiss was rougher this time, full of hunger and urgency as he began guiding you toward the bed.

Before you knew it, you were on your back, and Bradley hovered over you, his gaze tracing every inch of your body, still adorned in the lace that had driven him wild. He paused for a moment, admiring you, his lips curving into a small, mischievous smile. 

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion and desire.

He leaned down, pressing soft kisses to your stomach, working his way up until his lips were at your chest. His hands slid under you, quickly unclasping the straps of the lingerie and tossing it aside. 

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he whispered against your skin, his breath hot as his mouth moved to your breasts, teasing you further.

Your back arched at the feeling of his tongue tracing circles, his hands firmly holding you in place. Every touch sent jolts of pleasure through you, and you could feel the tension building again, stronger and more intense with every kiss, every brush of his fingers.

“Bradley,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you urged him on.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Bradley's hands began to roam lower, and as he positioned himself above you, you felt the heat between your bodies build to a breaking point. There was nothing gentle now, just raw need and passion as he finally gave in to the tension that had been building between you since the moment he walked through the door.

He positioned himself between your legs, giving himself a few pumps before he started pushing himself into you. You immediately felt the stretch that had come after six months without any intimacy. He took it slow, pressing kisses to your shoulder as he tried to be gentle. 

He gave you a few moments to adjust once he was all the way in, both of your breaths coming in heavy. His hips pressed against yours, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you, but it wasn’t just the physical sensation—it was the connection, the months of longing, and the love that had built up in his absence. The world outside disappeared, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other, as if time itself had paused to let you have this moment in full.

With each motion, Bradley’s lips found your skin, trailing heated kisses along your neck, your shoulder, wherever he could reach. 

“God, I missed you,” he whispered between breaths, his voice rough with emotion. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath warm and ragged as he whispered more, the words tumbling out between the motions of his body. “Missed you so much… every night I thought about you, baby… how perfect you are… how much I love you.”

The way he said it, his voice thick with yearning, sent shivers down your spine. You felt his hands—firm, but tender—roaming your sides, his fingers digging in slightly as if he needed to confirm you were really there with him. His touch set your skin alight, the months of separation making each caress, each brush of his lips, even more intense. Your body responded to him instinctively, arching into his every movement, meeting his hips with equal fervor.

“Missed this,” he groaned, his forehead still pressed to yours as his pace quickened, his hips driving into you with a little more urgency now. “Missed us… missed the way you feel, the way you move with me…” His voice was hoarse, broken by the weight of his desire and the emotion that flowed between you both. His words only heightened the pleasure building inside you, the sensations intensifying with every thrust, every whispered confession.

Your nails grazed down his back, your fingers grasping at him, needing him closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him. He grunted softly at the feeling, his muscles tightening under your touch, but it only spurred him on, his hips pushing harder, his body pressing against yours as though he was determined to make up for every missed moment.

The heat between you grew unbearable, your body tightening around him as he moved inside of you, the pressure building and building, your breaths becoming more ragged. His voice was still there, whispering against your lips, “I love you… I love you so much,” the sound of it driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Finally, it was too much. The pleasure hit you all at once, washing over you in waves so strong you couldn’t hold back. Your body trembled beneath him, your voice calling out his name, raw and full of the longing you had held inside for so long. Your fingers gripped his shoulders, clinging to him as the sensation overwhelmed you.

Bradley followed you into that release moments later, his body tensing above yours, a deep, guttural groan escaping his lips as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. His hips stilled, but his arms wrapped around you even tighter, as though he never wanted to let you go again. His breathing was heavy and uneven against your skin, his chest rising and falling with the aftershocks of his climax.

The two of you stayed like that for a long moment, tangled together in the aftermath, both of your hearts still racing, your bodies still buzzing from the pleasure. Slowly, Bradley pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, full of love and devotion. His thumb gently traced your cheek as he smiled down at you, the kind of smile that made your heart swell with happiness.

"There anything else in your closet that’s new that I should know about?" He whispered, his voice teasing but warm, as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, a kiss that was far gentler than the urgency of before, but just as full of love.

As your breathing began to slow, the world came back into focus, but it didn’t matter. At that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, everything else could wait. He was finally home, and he wasn’t going anywhere.