#slide that bad boy in the oven

[cendiqii]

what is your wisdom

*taps microphone* the secret to making bread is to leave it alone

[potchi-fics]

note: mhhmmpffhmmhfpphfmmm, also it's 3:50 am here when i finished writing this (w/o the good boy for the folks out there, here's the link, all of my g!p works will be posted in there.) tw; g!p vi, use of good boy, backshots

      vi’s libido is exceptionally high—especially when it comes to you and you only. you have the power to turn her on, to make her dick so hard, it’ll leave her aching, needy, and whiney. you could be bending to get something you baked from the oven, or press your tits on her arms to show her something, or just wear shorts that reveal your thighs.

her eyes have never shined so brightly. her dick gets harder and harder every time. the moment you step out of your shared bathroom wearing just her shirt and underwear—she is gone.

“vi, how are you turned on right now,” her hands roam your body, still slightly damp from a shower, “you seriously cannot be turned on.”

      she kisses your neck, vi’s front making contact against your back, leading you to lean your head to the side, giving her more access. 

vi whines out, her hips grinding on your backside, hissing at the small pleasure, “please, baby. can’t help it,” your hand lands on her hips as she begins to grind, letting you feel her cock through her shorts, “you make me feel so good.”

“vi–” you feel fingers at the garters of your underwear, eyes widening once she pulls it down, pooling around your midthighs.

      well, good thing your libido is higher, yeah?

she pushes you towards the end of your bed, making you land on your knees. and without even a second thought, vi flattens her tongue on your pussy, toes curling at the sudden pleasure. her thumb circles your clit at an agonizingly slow pace, but her tongue, god, her tongue is doing wonders to you.

a squeal escapes your throat when you feel her push in, hands gripping the sheets. vi’s groans serve as a vibration and it adds to the pleasure she’s giving you. she pulls her tongue out, licking down to replace her thumb. she alternates between sucking and giving your clit kitten licks.

“ne-need you inside, vi,” your mewls and whimpers spur her on, eyes shut, “inside, hurry.”

      obeying like a soldier, she quickly slips two fingers inside of your sopping cunt, groaning at the warmness and tightness of you. vi curls her fingers, her tongue doing circles on your clit.

the feeling of the tip of her fingers prodding on your g-spot makes your entire body quiver in need. you wet your sheets with your drool, face digging deeper into, crescent-like marks appearing on your palms with how tight you grip.

vi is no better; her shorts are ruined, the head of her cock dripping with precum. her cock itself is already sensitive, pulsing and twitching inside the material, straining against it. 

“vi, baby,” your voice is muffled, barely gasping your words out, “need you inside. your cock.”

      you turn your head to stare at her—the big bad wolf of zaun is broken, disheveled: hair is tussled, body coated in sweat, eyes needy. she pulls down her shorts just enough for her dick to slip out, slapping against her navel, and the tip just a little bit shorter than the patch of red hair.

your eyes glint dangerously under the light, face holding a barely contained smirk; you’ve got her wrapped around your finger. 

she grips the base of her cock, slapping it on your wet cunt, making another whimper escape you. vi slowly slips the head of her cock, biting her lip at the sight of you welcoming her. you bury your face into the mattress once more, attempting to at least suppress your noises.

you can cum with how her dick slides into you, how she goes deeper and deeper, ever so slowly; letting you feel her thickness, the veins. 

vi whines when you clamp down on her the moment the back of your thighs meets her own, “baby, so tight.” she brings the hem of her tanktop to her mouth, biting it to keep it from covering your pussy, “gripping me so good.”

“move.”

      vi rocks her hips, you refuse to let go of her. her thumbs press down on your back dimples, using your body as leverage to pump your cunt on her dick. unconsciously, you spread your legs wider, arching your back a little more, pushing back against her. 

every time she pulls out, only to thrust back in, it makes your eyes roll. with the way she’s moving, you can feel it deep in your pussy, the head of her cock dragging itself on your walls—you’re already convulsing in pleasure.

vi changes her pace, faster and harder, slamming into you like she’s about to put a baby in you. she bites down into her shirt, seeing your slick on her dick encourages her to fuck you harshly.

your unfocused gaze lands back at her, “i think i’m about to cum already, baby,” vi’s surprised gaze, hazed even, bores into you, “mh-hmm… you make me feel so good, vi. such a good boy for me.”

      she shudders at your praise, abdomen flexing, her dick twitching inside of you. she pulls you up by your arms, your back still arching as she pushes her hips into yours, forcing her dick to go deeper.

she pulls out until her tip’s only what’s left inside of you before slamming back in. she wraps one hand around your throat, attacking your neck with bites and kisses, leaving marks that’ll last for days. 

you’re letting out sinful and unforgivable noises, throat beginning to get sore, but neither of you cares. you lean your head back on her shoulder, a hand going up to caress the back of her head, grasping her hair to ground yourself.

“make me cum, baby, rub my clit,” to help you get over the edge, she gives attention to your puffy clit, rubbing it, her cock splitting you thin, “just like that, vi.”

      vi’s shudders again, holding back her orgasm just for you. she speeds up, a yelp emitting from you. you are just so tight, so warm, so good. your pussy sucks her cock in like a succubus, you’re milking her.

she feels your chest heave excessively, broken whispers of her name—her eyes are tightly shut close, and she’s cumming. she cums like a hose, filling you up to the brim with her cum. with each spurt, she thrusts; you love it. you love it so much that you’re going over the edge along with her.

“baby, your pussy’s crushing me,” vi whimpered meekly, cock still cumming, “fuck, you feel so good.”

you laugh tiredly, enjoying how her dick spasms inside of you, your eyes still closed, “not my fault your dick is massive, honey.”

      her posture relaxes once she stops cumming, her arms hugging your torso, the both of you catching your breath before she’s separating herself from you. vi lifts her tanktop once again as she looks down, she pulls out slowly, groaning at the way your cunt grips her dick, or how a bridge of your cum and hers appears.

“you’re carrying me to the bathroom.”

[honeyncherry]

we never tell - joe burrow

summary some mistakes only happen once — others walk through the front door and say "hi" to your mom

content 18+, suggestive, angst

"Did you take the pie out?!"

Your mother’s voice slices through the kitchen, sharp enough to rattle the glassware. You jump, nearly dropping the bowl of mashed potatoes you’ve been absently stirring for the last five minutes.

“What pie?” you ask, half-turning, but she’s already storming past you, yanking the oven door open with the kind of urgency that suggests an actual crisis is unfolding.

“The pecan pie!” she exclaims, fanning at the billowing heat. “The only thing your Grandma asked for, and I swore I told someone to take it out fifteen minutes ago.”

From outside, your dad’s voice drifts in, relaxed and completely unconcerned. “Everything alright in there?”

“No, it is not alright,” your mother yells, slamming the oven shut with enough force to rattle the stovetop. “It’s burnt.”

Your brother, who has been supervising (read: drinking beer while Dad does all the work), slides the back door open and peers inside. He takes one look at the situation: the scorched pie, your mom’s mounting frustration, the way you’re gripping the counter like bracing for impact.

“Doesn’t look that bad,” he mutters.

Your mother whirls around on him so fast that he takes an instinctive step back. He quickly retreats outside without another word — back to whatever life-threatening experiment he and your father are attempting with the turkey.

The kitchen reeks of cinnamon, nutmeg, and impending disaster. The house is thick with the kind of tension that comes from too many relatives packed into one space for a holiday. The sound of football blares from the living room, clashing with your aunts' chatter at the dining table.

And yet, beneath all of it — beneath the burnt pie, the inevitable migraine, the impending cycle of small talk you’d rather gouge your eyes out than endure; there’s something else.

Something off.

It’s been crawling up your spine all morning. Clinging to you like static. No matter how many times you roll your shoulders, shake out your hands, try to shove it down, it sticks.

Because you’re carrying a secret.

A big one.

The doorbell rings. A welcome interruption.

“Can someone get that?!” your mom huffs while elbow-deep in pie dough, already moving on from disaster to damage control.

Your feet move on autopilot.

You pull open the door.

Robin Burrow beams at you, bundled against the November chill, her blond hair peeking out from under a knitted beanie. “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart!” she says, pulling you into a warm hug before you can even register the cold seeping into the house.

Robin Burrow, who has been in your life for as long as you can remember.

Robin Burrow, who’s practically a second mom.

Robin Burrow — who is very much not the problem.

She and your mother met in elementary school and never really drifted apart. Not through high school, not through college, not even after careers and marriages and kids forced miles between them. They always found their way back to each other, the kind of lifelong friendship that made family out of people who weren’t technically blood.

The Burrows were always there.

When you were little, Robin was the mom who never let you feel left out. The one who snuck you extra cookies when no one was looking. Who let you curl up next to her on their couch during sleepovers when the boys had long since passed out. Who kept bandaids in her purse for scraped knees, and kissed the tops of your heads before sending you back outside to play.

And there was Jimmy whose deep voice and easy laughter always filled a room. If Robin was a second mom, then Jimmy was a second dad. Miraculously, one of your father’s closest friends. Always at every backyard barbecue and every football game. All milestones your families celebrated together.

Then, of course, there were the boys.

You were always a little on the outside when it came to them. Not in a bad way, just in a natural way.

The Burrow brothers were thick as thieves, and your brother fit seamlessly into their chaos. You were the wildcard, the youngest, always just a step behind.

At first, it was all of them: Jamie, Dan, Joe, and your brother. A whirlwind of shoving and shouting and sprinting barefoot across the backyard. But as the years passed, the older Burrow boys got driver’s licenses, girlfriends, and jobs. They didn’t have time for reckless backyard football or pointless dares anymore.

Eventually, it was just Joe and your brother.

Their bond only tightened as the others moved on.

And you?

You were still on the outskirts.

Your brother and Joe let you join in on football games when they needed an extra person, but even then, you weren’t really one of them.

Joe was polite. Quiet. A familiar presence, never more, never less.

A fixture at every family event, a familiar face in a sea of familiar faces. You exchanged small talk: How’s school? How’s football? when your moms forced you into conversation, but it never went deeper than that.

Joe was your brother’s friend.

A name you knew.

A person you’d never really known.

And yet, your breath catches — because now, that Joe is stepping inside.

Except he’s not the same to you.

His broad frame fills the doorway, cold air curling around him like it doesn’t want to let go. He drops a duffel bag (no doubt packed for the annual flag football game) to the floor with a quiet thud.

His shoulders rise with an exhale, the muscles in his neck flexing before his hands shove into the pockets of his LSU sweatshirt. The sweatshirt hangs loose over his frame, but you know what’s underneath.

You remember it.

His hair is still damp, fresh from a shower. The sight of it sends a jolt straight through you because you can recall what it looked like last night — messy from your hands, sticking to his forehead, his jaw slack, breath ragged.

He was wrecked.

Because of you.

You remember the way he tipped his head back with a groan, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his voice cracked when he said your name.

And now?

Now, he’s the picture of control. Completely casual and unbothered.

He scans the room like he doesn’t feel the weight of your stare. Like this is just another Thanksgiving. Like he didn’t have you pinned beneath him, dragging desperate noises from your swollen lips.

He pretends his hands hadn’t been everywhere — gripping, teasing, taking.

Like his mouth hadn’t been on your skin, branding you, unraveling you, ruining you.

Your stomach twists violently.

Because he had.

You slept with Joe Burrow, and now he’s standing in your parents’ entryway — smiling, hugging your mother and shaking your dad’s hand like he wasn’t inside you less than twelve hours ago.

The warmth of the house turns suffocating.

Your mother gushes over Joe, her voice painfully oblivious. Oh, you’ve grown so much! You look amazing! It’s so good to have you home!

His eyes flicker to you. Quick. Too quick.

But you feel it.

Because the last time he looked at you like that, he was above you.

One drink turned into another.

A conversation turned into a touch.

A touch turned into his lips dragging over your jaw. 

"Tell me you want this." 

Your answer wasn’t a simple yes. It was a plea. A confession. A surrender.

Yet now, his jaw tightens. He blinks once and looks away.

Like nothing happened.

Like you don’t still feel him everywhere.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

a/n: i have lotsss of ideas for this au but send in any specific requests of what you'd like to see !

[circledwithaheart]

Buck is a few shots deep (when did he switch to shots?) with his new bar buddy. An attractive older guy who, as it turns out, also used to work at the 118 under Captain Nash.

"You worked with Bobby?" Buck lights up and rambles on before the guy can answer. "That means you must've worked with Hen and Chim, right?"

The guy mumbles a few things that Buck can't hear, and probably doesn't want to, before confirming he worked with Hen and Howie.

"Yeah, right. Howie. You know he married my sister? Gave me the cutest little niece." Buck beams and pulls out his phone to show off the album of Jee Yun photos. And then the other thought strikes again.

They look about the same age. It's possible, he thinks. Well, it's not impossible. Buck goes to pocket his phone again, only he misses his shirt entirely and it clatters on the table.

"Sorry 'bout that, uh, so if you worked with them- did you, uh, work with, uh, T-tommy? Tommy Kinard?"

Why is the name that used to slide off his tongue so easily now trip and stutter like it doesn't belong there?

The guy laughs, not seeming to notice Buck's elocution issues, and takes another shot. “Fuck, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

He spins the empty shot glass like a top. “Kinard? Yep, sure did. One of the best partners I could've asked for. At least he got to leave on his own terms.”

Buck furrows his brow, something familiar scratching at the back of his tequila addled brain. “What, uh, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,” the guy says matter of factly.

“But, you seem like a nice guy, so I'll tell you," he adds with a wink. "It’s Deluca. Sal Deluca.”

Buck's heard the name, a few stories here and there. Heard he moved to the 122, but doesn't know why.

"You transferred, right?" Buck asks cautiously.

The guy - Sal - shrugs his acknowledgement. "More or less. Anyway, I guess I better amend my introduction then. It's actually Captain Deluca. But Sal is fine. Or just Deluca."

"Buck."

Sal looks at him like he's got three heads. "Is that something new the kids are saying these days or...?"

"No, uh, 's m'name. Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck."

Sal studies him for a second before holding a hand out. "Nice to meet you, kid."

They shake hands and Buck thinks about the way Sal called him 'kid'. It's not like when Tommy said it. More like Bobby or Chim. Familial.

"Sorry to drink and run, but I gotta get home," Sal says, pushing out of his chair. "Wife's gonna kill me if I'm home too late."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe." Then he's throwing some cash on the table and walking away.

~~~~~

As soon as he's out of sight, Sal taps on the camera app. It's probably a little unethical to surreptitiously be taking photos of the kid- Buck- but it's for a good cause.

Once upon a time he might have tried to pick him up, something about the kicked puppy look pulls at his heartstrings. Among other things. But now he's a happily married man with a whole brood to think about. Gina really would kill him, decorated fire captain or not.

He swipes over to messages and fires off a quick text.

Met your boy tonight. Christ Kinard he’s as bad as you. Should really put yourselves out of your collective misery.

It doesn't take long before the bubbles appear.

I did, remember? It's better this way.

Sal attaches the picture this time.

Better for who, exactly?

The bubbles appear and disappear again, until his screen eventually goes dark and no more responses come. Sal sighs and gets in the cab of his truck, contemplating another text, but ultimately decides against it. Tommy will talk when he's ready.

He steals another glance through the giant plate glass window where Buck is still sitting, sullen and lost, albeit with what looks like water this time.

"I hope it works out, kid, and he doesn't wait too long." Sal pushes aside the phantom acrid scent of a dinner forgotten in the oven while they fucked on the kitchen floor, the fear in Tommy's eyes when Sal asked when they could tell people about them. Because it had been months of sneaking around to each other's apartments. Of being more than just work partners- or so he thought. "Maybe he'll get his head out of his ass before it's too late this time."

[nerdygirlramblings]

Hear me out:

Romantic evening with our boys. Making pizza, watching a romantic movie, just cuddling all evening long.

Jonny, all the ever horny guy, starts and it ends with smut. Lots of smut but reader started her period without knowing. They're shocked and first but when reader starts crying, they quick to comfort her.

(I need comfort too. And I'm literally this close 🤏 to rip my uterus out my body)

Thank you for the ask, anon! I had to dig deep for this one because while I enjoy reading the spicy I don't usually write the spicy. I hope this is what you were looking for.

cw: bad accents, vaginal fingering, unprotected PIV, menstruation, rainbow kisses (iykyk)

Ever since you started dating the 141, Friday nights were date nights for you and whomever of your boys were home. Whichever soldier isn't out on a mission gets to pick the event, and if more than one of the boys is around, they each plan something for the group. Their thought was they are so often gone they want to woo you right when they're here.

But the Fridays you love best are when all of your boys are home because that's when you get to plan the date. Tonight happens to be one of those Fridays.

The boys are on base while you make preparations for tonight. You planned to finally use the pizza oven on John's grill. You spend the morning making dough, setting aside double portions for your soldiers and their appetites.

As the day wears on, you head to Sainsbury's for the rest of your ingredients. You get the supplies to make red sauce from scratch and a small jar of pesto for Kyle who sometimes likes to experiment. You know if he doesn't use it tonight, you'll simply make pesto pasta another time. A fresh block of soft mozzarella lands in the trolley. You know Johnny will enjoy happily shredding it for you when he gets home. A jar of olives, some green peppers, and a red onion from produce all go in next. Then you're off to find rashers, gammon, bangers, and pepperoni. You know at least one pizza will end up being more meat than anything else.

When you get back to the car park, you don't bother putting the bags in the boot. You lean over and drop them onto the floor of the passenger side as you slide behind the wheel. A quick stop at the florist for a small bouquet, and you're home again.

The house is tidy, but you freshen things up anyway. You need something to keep you busy as you wait for your men to come home. You set out some Yorkshire pudding and kilted soldiers as a pre-dinner snack, but not too much. You're cognizant of how quickly Johnny will stuff his face with whatever's nearby and not save room for supper. You pull down the large popcorn tubs and set aside the oil and kernels to make popcorn after dinner. You slide Love, Rosie into the Blu-Ray player and cue up the main title.

You have just enough time before your men come home to get yourself cleaned up. You'd showered in the morning, so you focus on fixing your hair and makeup. A pink and blue floral skater dress has been hanging the back of your wardrobe for weeks, and tonight's the perfect night to throw it on and show it off. As you're screwing the cap back into your lip gloss, you hear Simon's voice call out for you.

Light feet and a joyful heart carry you down the hall to the foyer. You step into Simon's open arms, cleaving yourself tightly to him. He's only just back from a mission that lasted almost a month. You kiss him softly, and he pulls away far too soon for your liking. If it were anyone else, you'd be embarrassed by the whine that escapes when he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. Instead, he looks at you and says, "Missed you, luv."

You move from man to man greeting each in turn. From John, who's been back and forth between Hereford and bases in places he can't tell you about, to Johnny, who was on the first part of Simon's mission but came home when Simon was sent elsewhere, to Kyle, who's been behind a desk for the last few weeks as he recovers from nearly falling out of the helicopter. Each gets a hug and a kiss and a whispered welcome home.

You're sure when Kyle is better, Laswell will send them all out somewhere. As it is, you've heard John fielding her calls late in the evening when he tries to hide it from you. For now, you plan to simply savor having your men home.

"Go on, wash up," you chide, shooing them from the foyer to the cloakroom. "Meet me in the kitchen when you're done."

It only takes a few quick strides until you're in the room in question, making sure that all the toppings are ready, that the sauce is cool enough to use, and that each dough ball has its own pizza pan. Each of the men join you in the kitchen mere moments later.

You don't miss the gleam in Johnny's eye as he looks at the flour. He cuts a glance at Kyle, and you clear your throat, crossing your arms as menacingly as you can. "We will not be intentionally making a mess of my kitchen," you state, looking between Johnny and Kyle. "Are we clear sergeants?"

Shock flits across Johnny's face and he looks back at Kyle who simply shrugs. The two men glance at John who, like you, has crossed his arms in front of him and is ready to glare them into submission. "I'm waiting, boys," you remind them.

Kyle responds quickly. "No mess. We heard you'd, doll." To which Johnny adds, "Aye, ma'am. Keeping the kitchen spick and span."

"Excellent," you say. Then you pass out aprons and tell your men, "I'd rather not scrub flower out of anyone's clothes, either, so put these on." There's a chorus of "Yes, ma'am." You can tell at a glance the only one happy about the apron is John, who's got his usual 'License to Kill Grill' apron on. However, the others don't fight you, and soon everyone's ready to make their meal.

You show them all how to turn the dough balls into flat crust and head out into the garden to turn the grill on. The pizza oven is set up according to the directions, and you want to ensure it's ready to go once all the pizzas are prepared.

When you come back into the kitchen, all four men have at least one crust ready, and Simon and Kyle are working on their seconds. You quickly put Johnny to work shredding the cheese into a large bowl and show everyone where the sauces are. Much to your delight, Kyle smiles widely at the jar of pesto on the counter. The cheese is ready once everyone has sauce on their dough, so everyone grabs a heaping handful. You point out where the other toppings are and let the boys design their dinners as you take your pizza out to the oven.

Each man brings you their pan when it's ready and they stand around chatting with you while the food cooks. You pull the first round of pizzas out and send John in to put everything out on plates and slice them. You put Kyle's and Simon's and Johnny's second pizzas in, then head into the kitchen to eat.

You slide into the open seat next to Simon and join the pleasant chatter. John pulls three tumblers and the bottle of Scotch Mrs. MacTavish sent at the holidays out of the cupboard. He pours two fingers for himself, Simon, and Johnny. Kyle pulls the top off a bottle of Carlsbad lager, pulling a long draught before setting it in front of him. Johnny places a glass of rose at your place.

Between bites of pizza, you fill the boys in on the gossip from work and hear some edited stories of Simon and Johnny's ops and John's base visits. Kyle chimes in with complaints about base staff.

You pop out to the grill for the second round of pizzas, bringing everyone but John their food. You and John both opted for one pizza and are both enjoying the meal and the company.

When everyone is full, Simon and Kyle pack up the unused toppings, John clears the table, and Johnny puts the large cast iron skillet on the hob. You stay in the kitchen with Johnny while the others head into the den. He pours a generous helping of oil in the pan and tosses the kernels on when it warms. It doesn't take long for the kernels to pop, and despite knowing what will happen, it still startles you.

Johnny chuckles at you, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Ah got ye," he says, nuzzling your neck. He reaches over, snags a kernel and holds it out. When you lean forward to take it from him, he pulls it back. "Uh-huh," he teased. "Close your eyes."

You obey, but instead of the warm, salty, buttery crunch of popcorn, Johnny's tongue invades your mouth. He swallows your moans, whispering, "Could a laid yerself on the table an' we would'a feasted, lass." He pulls away, an obscene sucking accompanying the motion. Your heart jackhammers in your chest. You're about to suggest skipping the movie when several voices call from the other room.

"Let's... let's, er, go join the others," you pant, quickly dumping the popcorn into tubs to carry in.

By the time you and Johnny make it to the den, Kyle and John are sprawled together on the sofa, and Simon's taking up the recliner. You and Johnny head to the loveseat, and he pulls you down into his lap.

Before the open credits finish, Johnny's nuzzling your neck and whispering more filth in your ear. "Ah cannae wait to fuck ye tonight, hen." "Gonna split ye open on mah cock 'til ye scream." "Yer cunt is the sweetest dessert. When can Ah have a taste?" The longer the film goes on, the wetter you get until you're squirming on Johnny's lap, hoping you aren't obvious to the others.

The heavy weight of Johnny's hand slips from your waist to your hips, and eventually, under your skirt. His fingers slip under the gusset of your panties and you gasp. "Shh," he coos. "Dinnae want to interrupt the film."

He slides one finger along your slit, teasing you before breaching your core. You groan low, and Johnny rumbles, "Yer so wet," into the skin beneath your ear. "Watch the movie, lass. Ye picked it special."

With one long finger in your pussy, Johnny's thumb presses hard on your clit, and you see stars. "Would rather," you pant, "focus on," another panted breath, "those talented fingers."

Johnny lightly bites down on your neck and shoves another finger into your pussy. You clamp down at the unexpected intrusion, and Johnny's thumb rubs little circles on your clit. Between the sucking on your neck, the fingers in your cunt, and the pressure on your clit, you climax quickly, biting your lip to keep from letting the rest of the room know what happened.

But when you glance at your other lovers, they're staring avariciously at you and where Johnny's hand disappears under your dress. Johnny shifts behind you, clearly turning to see the others. "Who wan's a taste?"

Kyle's off the sofa in a shot, kneeling on the floor next to Johnny. Johnny pulls his hand out from under your dress to press his slick-coated fingers into Kyle's waiting mouth. You glance down to watch and notice Johnny's fingers are covered in blood. You suck in a breath and grab his wrist. It hits you immediately what's happened.

"Johnny! Stop!" You look down and see Kyle's gaze land on the blood. He leans back and nearly falls down.

"Doll, wha'..." John and Simon are watching intently, and you want the ground to open under you.

You take a deep breath and cover your face with your hands. You can't bring yourself to look at any of them. "I think I got my period early." You spring off Johnny's lap and hurry down to your bedroom, trying not to cry. In your room, you strip out of your dress and see a small red spot on the seat of the skirt.

Before you can spiral into embarrassment, there's a knock behind you. You're standing stark naked, but there's no heat in his gaze when John looks at you. You bite your lip to stifle a cry, but the tears are welling up. "Aww, shh," John says. "'c'mere." He comes over to you and wraps his arms around your bare middle. "Dove, we're soldiers. We're not scared of a little blood." You don't think he realizes he's gently swaying you as he talks. It's soothing.

"But that's different, John," you whine. "This blood, this is dirty."

"Hush," he snaps. "Nothin' 'bout ya is dirty." He tucks your head under his chin and kisses your hair. "Ya think this makes us wan' ya any less?" He pulls back and taps your chin until you meet his solid blues. "Say the word an' all a' them'd be linin' up to fuck ya." He moans a little. "Can only imagine how good it would feel, yer cunt coated in somethin' even hotter than regular slick. Ya should hear Johnny out their praisin' yer pussy."

You feel heat rush up your neck and into your cheeks. "You really," you take a deep breath, "you don't think it's gross?"

The answer doesn't come from above you but from behind. "Nothin' you do is gross, luv," you hear Simon say. Now you know he's there, he isn't quiet about crossing the room. His large, calloused hands dwarf your hips when he pulls you tight against him. "I'd let ya ride my face for the pleasure of gettin' ya off, blood an' piss an' all."

It should disgust you, but you swoon a bit instead. You turn in his hands. "I can't believe you're okay with this."

"What's there not to be okay with?" Kyle's voice asks from the doorway. You look over Simon's shoulder and see him leaning against the jamb with smudge of blood on his lip.

"Kyle, what happened?" You know you sound panicked, but you can't reign it in. "You have..." You motion to your own mouth.

Kyle ducks his head and rubs his hand over the shorn back of his hair. "I, er, maybe still sucked your slick off Johnny's fingers." He catches your eye. "Any taste of you is worth it."

You're shocked at his admission. Before you can say anything, you hear Johnny's voice in the hallway. "Ye cannae start without me!" He barrels into the room and you notice a sheen of red on his lips.

"What?"

He flushes and admits, "Ah kissed Gaz ta see how ye tasted, since Ah couldnae taste from the source."

You're dumbfounded. Nothing in their demeanor tracks with what you've been told. When you were thirteen, Mum said your period was "a necessary evil." In school, the teachers spoke of biology and creating a space for new life, and while it wasn't disgusting, it wasn't appealing either. All your previous partners found other things to do with other friends when you had your period. But looking around at the faces of your lovers, all you can see is love and desire. There is no disgust, no revulsion, no recoiling.

"Dove?" John's voice breaks you from your reverie. He stands beside you and Simon still again, but now he's discarded his shirt. The top button of his trousers is undone, and you can see his cloth-covered erection straining the zipper. You understand immediately what he's asking, and you dip your head once.

Arms scoop you up and deposit you in the bed. You're surprised by the scratchy feeling beneath you. You run your hand over it and realize it's a bath towel. A bark of laughter escapes you. "You boys pivoted quick, huh?"

John leans over you, growling in your ear. "We wan' ta enjoy ya. And even more, we wan' ya ta enjoy yerself." His hands ghost up and down your sides, the touch featherlight. "I'm gunna kiss ya now, dove."

"Okay," you reply breathlessly. John's kiss is possessive, tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you as one beefy hand strokes over your curves. His lips start against yours and slowly drift to your neck, your collarbone, your sternum, your stomach, and finally right above your bush. He looks up and meets your gaze, holding it as he dips further down to like a stripe up your slit.

When he pulls back, you see the bright burst of red on the top of his tongue. Then he plants his face in your cunt, tonguing your hole and sucking on your clit. You start thrashing only to feel the bed dip at your hip. Simon and his big hands are back, one heavy on your hip to keep your bucking down, the other running softly along John's head as he slurps obscenely at your sopping, bloody pussy.

John's pursuit of your pleasure is relentless. There is no edging tonight, no long drawn-out teasing. He is a Captain through and through, and tonight's mission is your orgasm. Before long your muscles clench, and the tension in your core snaps. You're twitching on the bed, breathing slowly to bring your heart rate down, when you look down to see John's beard covered in a milky red mixture of blood and cum.

He rubs a hand down his beard, collecting some of the mixture, then holds his hand to Simon. With his eyes holding yours, Simon leans over and licks the mess on John's hand before Johnny shoves him back to get another, more potent taste of you.

You're so distracted by Simon and Johnny fighting over the remains of your taste on John's skin, John has moved nearer to your hip, and Kyle's slotted himself into the space between your thighs. His long, lithe fingers smooth themselves across your thighs, hips, and stomach. "Can I?" he whispers.

Despite the other men sitting at your hip, you respond with a whispered, "Yes."

Kyle pushes himself to the hilt in one fell swoop. He doesn't hold back how he feels. "Fuck, doll, didn't know you could feel better," he grinds out. He waits a moment for you to adjust until he, like John, chases your pleasure. Each of Kyle's thrusts is a long slow retreat before slamming home. He has one hand resting on your mons, thumb just lightly over your overstimulated clit. Every time his hips slam home, Kyle puts a lot more pressure against your clit. Soon he loses his rhythm, thrusts becoming erratic, fingers pulsing against your clit. You climax as he does, and when he pulls out you aren't sure if the liquid that follows is blood or cum, and if the latter, whose.

He flops beside you and throws an arm over his face as you disassociate. You hear Johnny whine and Kyle chuckle, and when you look over, Johnny's on his knees, Kyle's cock in his mouth. There's a lurid ring of red at Kyle's base that Johnny's spit makes messier.

Your eyes slip closed, and you feel the bed continue moving under you. Glancing on your other side you see Simon on his knees, John slamming into him. You catch Simon's eye and shift on the bed to kiss him. John pauses his movements enough to keep Simon from accidentally collapsing on you. After a moment, John grunts. You know he can't keep holding back, so you slide away from Simon to let John continue. Several thrusts later and John's sweaty form is draped against Simon's back.

You hear Kyle's choked moan and know he's close. Johnny has one arm perpendicular to Kyle's hips, pinning him in place while his other is below the edge of the bed. You're sure he's stripping his cock to match his mouth's movements on Kyle. When Kyle cums, Johnny swallows everything down, only a drop beading on his lip. He sees you looking, and instead of licking it away, he leans over to let you lick it off. When you sweep your tongue into his mouth, searching out the taste of him under the flood of Kyle, Johnny slips his cock into your warm, wet cunt. He thrusts half a dozen times before cumming, shouting your name. He's careful not to drop his weight on you, instead falling into the space next to you and tucking you against his larger frame.

You know you need to clean yourself up, especially if you don't want too much blood on the towels or sheets, but you're too blissed out to worry.

Date nights with all your boys are the ones you like best.

main masterlist

[bobluvbot]

sweet nothing

pairing: remus lupin x f!reader  summary: you thrive in filling everyone’s cup. remus makes sure your cup gets filled too. wc: 2k cw: descriptions of food, eating a/n: written after a long writing break pls be nice heheh p.s. thank you for all the love for my sirius angst fic!!! i saw yalls comments and messages and appreciate them sm!! i don't have plans at the moment to write a sequel/pt. 2 sorry :'( someday when i get inspiration i probably will but for now it's a standalone <3

The pesto pizza was a big hit.

The news of the heatwave came a month early so it gave ample time for James to rein in the necessary house improvement tasks: yard weeding and tidying, adding small stone steps for the toddler, and ordering the inflatable slip and slide pool for the sweltering summer days. And he was adamant to do it all by hand, no magic, so he “could get the full experience”. Lily likens it to being married to a professional landscaper and contractor at once, thankful that her decision to go on a date with James Potter during seventh year continues to be a great lifelong investment. 

You can still recall Remus’ early morning grumbles when james calls him over for help. It came to a point where he’d beg you to pretend to be mad at the setup, reasoning that “ james is taking him away from his lovely pretty girl” when his best friend calls him at 6am to start the day mowing the lawn. 

James would roll his eyes at excuses falling off of Remus’ lips, but he’d sincerely take your concerns to heart. Lovingly, you’d wave Remus off and give him pecks on both freckled cheeks, encouraging him to go and learn how to tackle on house repairs so he’d be well prepared when it’s your turn to build a family home. 

This usually gets him going, Remus’ secret lover boy tendencies kicking in, but not without grumbling and frowns thrown haphazardly (easily treated with touching and kisses). 

Sirius was off travelling the world for most of the month, much to Remus’ dismay, as he was then promoted as the first-in-line friend in James’ contacts. He did however send over a fancy outdoor pizza oven in lieu of his absence, and it completed the space. 

On the days where you finish work early, you’d join Lily as she picks up her little boy from nursery and take a leisure walk around their quiet neighborhood, a babbling toddler in tow. Then you walk into the perfect setting: the gentle hum of the AC, sunrays reflecting on the white marble countertops, a nicely prepared spread of afternoon snacks for the three of you, and the floor to ceiling glass wall separating the living area from the backyard offering a glorious view of two sunkissed shirtless men doing hard manual labor. Lily nudges you, handing a bowl of pistachios. “A snack for the show.” You return her glance, eyes both twinkling with playful mischief. Maybe the summer days aren’t as bad as it seemed.

But then the first draining day of the heatwave hit. There were minor adjustments to be made still, like some scaffolding to be tidied and hedges to be trimmed, but the heat had a special way to beat down the morale of any living thing exposed to it for a while, and it finally hit James. Early on a Saturday morning, you decided to accompany a still groggy Remus on his usual Potter house renovation shift to make him feel a bit better that you were also losing sleep with him. To both your surprise, James comes from the garden to meet you, looking worn out but wears a proud grin. “It’s all done,” he claims, clapping his hands together and you see him holding the wooden culprit that magically finished hours of yard work in a few minutes. So much for no magic. 

“Get some sleep and come back in the afternoon for the party.” Remus grabs your hand and apparates back home in record time, before James gets a chance to recant his words. 

Completing a full 8 hour sleep cycle does wonders to the mind and soul. A well-rested Remus was filled with high spirits, doting on you as you both get ready for the party. He showers you with compliments the moment you step out of your closet, giving him a twirl. Once the bashfulness sets in, you run to him and try to nuzzle your heated cheeks on his chest, anywhere to escape his lovely sappy gaze. He sits on the bed so you can’t hide, and looks up at you like you hung up the moon. It was maddening.  

“You look stunning, my love,” he says, hands on the back of your knees, sliding up under the hem to meet the soft skin of your thighs and resting them even higher. It took immense strength not to buckle down and fall into him. You’d foreseen this response the moment you decided to wear that white babydoll dress, but actually going through it is a terrible nightmare. As much as the idea of bailing on the summer party and letting Remus do whatever he pleases with you in this dress sounds very appealing right now, you had promised Lily that you’ll help with the cooking and food, and ghosting your best friend for a dick appointment sounds very juvenile. So against your questionable judgment, you grab your boyfriend’s face, give him a chaste kiss, and murmur against his lips, “james and lily will kill us if we ditch.” 

Even though it was an intimate gathering of close friends to celebrate the finished yard, you forgot to account for the amount of kids, partners, and pets that your friends have accumulated since graduation. James had to transfigure the already long dinner table even longer and double the number of chairs to accommodate everyone. The slip and slide also was transfigured into an actual waterpark, complete with a lazy river that kids seemed to enjoy after going on the slides. 

While it was definitely chaotic, it didn’t feel suffocating like packed events usually make you feel. It’s likely because of the familiar faces wherever you look, the ease of conversation just flows. Remus was anchored to your side until he wasn’t, whisked away by both James and Sirius as they announce to everyone who’s listening how his valiant efforts in renovation has resulted in the beautiful yard they were in today. You giggle at the endearing sight of your boyfriend furiously flushing pink while his loud best friends continue to brag about him. It’s just how the marauders would be back in Hogwarts, with you watching their shenanigans from afar whilst nursing a terrible, terrible crush on Remus. Only difference now is that you get to take him home. 

You eventually get whisked away too, thankful that Lily came right on time as you were starting to melt in the heat. The inside of the home smells and feels like heaven, as the chilly air from the AC carries the scent of freshly prepared ingredients and whatever concoction Lily’s currently tending to in a pot. Careful not to disrupt the comfortable quiet, you give her a back hug, a silent thanks for fixing up everything you’ll be needing for the pizza you vowed to make, before getting to work. 

You’ve gone over the recipe and prep so many times that you could do this with eyes closed. The pesto sauce was freshly made a day prior, a delicious result of your raid in your aunt Molly’s garden and fridge. Before you knew it, the only thing left to do was place the pizza into the oven, to which Sirius was very happy to do so he could flex his expensive purchase. 

The chatter didn’t die off even when the dishes started rolling out of the kitchen, everyone now raving of how good Lily’s cooking have been, James not helping by proclaiming, “'m pretty sure my heart isn't the only thing she's stolen—she's got everyone's taste buds wrapped around her finger with her cooking too.” Making his wife flush pink and hit his arm playfully. 

When it was time for your dish, the stakes were quite high and you were feeling a bit nervous. At home, Remus practically inhales everything you make which provides you a good ego boost, knowing that you don’t need to be the best, as long as you don’t accidentally poison someone from your cooking. 

Soon enough, the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. You stand by the head of the table, hands deftly making slices enough for everyone, continuing to scan the crowd, ensuring that everyone is being taken care of.

"Here you go, aunt Effie,” you smile, handing her a generous slice. “Here’s a bunch for you, Fred, careful not to spill and please share with your brothers!" you try to say quickly, but only see a spur of red hair and small hands before they run back to the water slide. 

You soon get a groove going and start to move down the line of smiling guests and waiting plates. Too distracted that you jump a little when you feel a warm presence at your side. Without ever needing to look, you knew it was Remus, who’s now carrying a plate with a slice you don’t even remember handing him. 

Without a word, he picks up the steaming slice and brings it to your lips. You welcome the taste, finally understanding the praise everyone seems to be throwing at your wake. You make a mental note to thank your aunt for lending you her recipe. Remus has his free hand cupped near your chin, ready to catch any crumbs or drippings that might stain your pretty white dress. 

Butterflies in your stomach erupt and fight for space, your entire body vibrating with giddiness and affection for your lovely boyfriend. That distracted look in his eyes as he feeds you in between your efforts in feeding everyone makes the warm fuzzy feeling worse, because you know he’s doing this without much thought, like second nature. That it’s just common sense. That it just goes without saying that his love knows you, fills the needs you don’t even realize were there in the first place.

You wonder through the afternoon then early evening what you’ve done in your past life to receive this love. Maybe you saved a cat from a burning building, or watered a dying plant that had magical powers to heal serious illness, or stars aligning just right to have you exist in the same timeline as Remus. 

You find yourself buried in blankets and clad in a worn sweater, twenty something minutes in a romcom movie in the comforts of your tiny apartment. Remus slides in beside you with a bowl of steaming buttery popcorn and another can of your favorite sparkling water (which he hates with a passion). Your eyes drift to your opened one on the side table, now seeing that it’s almost empty, a few sips left. 

Remus snorts at an obscure joke one of the characters says in passing, and you snuggle up to him, maybe hugging his arm a little tighter than usual, afraid that a love this gentle can vanish between your fingers. He turns and recognizes the look on your face, returning the soft gaze. His free hand brushes a stray hair away, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you find yourself murmuring. “For taking care of me.”

You had this conversation long time ago when you first started dating. Having been in some relationships and situationships before Remus, you thought you’ve seen it all. Known the twists and turns, what to ask for and when to keep quiet, what you owe and don’t. But he comes and does things that drove your mind haywire, body screaming foreign! unknown! when he leaves sweet and short scribbles on post-its and sticks it to random places that you’re bound to see somehow, your favorite fruits magically appearing on the basket after finishing the last piece yesterday, being able to count on one hand times where you had to touch the wheel and drive. Its all natural, unprompted, again like second nature. as much as you hated to admit, you’re a control freak. but it's easier this way when you know what comes and goes, what happens and what doesn’t, what won’t happen if you don’t do anything to get it. being with Remus and knowing his love is a shock as it is a clean slate. to unlearn roughness and rigid and know to be soft and vulnerable. 

you’d thanked him. when he gave you a confuddled look, like he didn’t just make your heart grow two sizes bigger in one day. you then started enumerating things he did that made you feel appreciated and loved. you were expecting him to be happy that you see and celebrate his effort, any reaction honestly but a frown. “you don’t need to thank me for those things,” he had said, holding your hand and gently rubbing circles when he sensed that his reaction scared you. “That’s how I show my respect and care for you. ‘s nothing special, just what’s right.” You couldn’t stop the ugly sobs that came after that, when you realized that yes, this was the bare minimum of a healthy relationship, but you made space for less because that’s all you’ve ever gotten, even when you’d ask. 

This time however, maybe because its near midnight and you’re both worn out for the day, Remus lets you. “Always.”

[viking-raider]

Cake & Minis - Cotton Candy Fluff

Summary-> It's just you and Henry for his birthday. But that's all right, the two of you have cake and Warhammer Minis.

Pairing-> Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count-> 1.1k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Nerdy Banter

Inspiration-> It's Henry's 41st Birthday! Happy Birthday, Puppy!

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction!

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

“So, Birthday Boy, what do you want to do for your birthday?” You asked, as you sat at the kitchen table with Henry, sipping your cup of tea, while he sat across from you, browsing the Highlander Script.

“I don’t know, babe.” He frowned, brow creasing at the page he was on. “Most of my family won’t be able to come in for any sort of celebration until next week. So, it’s just you and me.” He said, setting the script aside. “We could go out somewhere, have dinner.”

You studied him, holding his gaze. “You don’t want to though, do you?” You asked, voicing the glint you saw in his blue eyes.

“Not really.” He confessed, chewing on his lip.

Something came to you. “I might have an idea.” You said, excusing yourself and went upstairs, retrieving the gift you’d gotten Henry for his forty-first trip around the sun. “Why don’t you go ahead and open that.” You suggested, handing over the wrapped box and taking up your seat again.

Henry carefully removed the wrapping paper and a grin instantly touched his lips. “The new Blood Angels Minis.” He chuckled, opening the box to examine the little gray pieces.

“I could start your birthday cake and we could assemble those bad boys.” You suggested, pressing your lips together, while cocking your head at him.

“You want to spend my birthday painting Warhammer Minis with me?” He asked, quite skeptical.

“Yeah, if you want to, that is?” You replied, wide eyed. “I could leave you to your own devices with them. It was just a suggestion, I’ll do anything you want for your day, Puppy.”

A soft smile touched his face. “I’d love to spend my birthday assembling and painting minis with you. Especially if there’s cake eating involved.” He laughed, touched that you would express an interest in one of his hobbies, even for a day or few hours.

“It’s a deal then!” You beamed, excited. “I’ll get everything for your cake going, why don’t you get everything for the Mini building set up, then I’ll join you!”

“Sounds like a plan.” Henry nodded, taking up the Minis and headed for his man cave, where he had a whole station for building and painting his Minis.

Henry hummed happily to himself, bustling about the room, pulling out plastic containers, zip-lock bags and cases of items that contained glue, tools, paints and brushes of all kinds to cut out the pieces, assemble and paint them. He meticulously laid everything out, ready for the two of you to start the long process of building the six Blood Angel figures. Once that was done, he joined you in the kitchen.

“All ready.” He smiled, finding you in the process of mixing the red velvet batter; his favorite cake. “Do you want any help?” He asked, moving around the island to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Nope.” You replied, shaking your head, slightly resting back against him. “You just mind yourself and I’ll bake this.” You told him, rocking side to side with him.

“Do I get to lick the spoon?” He smirked, nuzzling the side of your face.

“Mmm, I suppose so.” You answered, filling the cake pan with the batter, before holding the spoon up for him.

“Mmm.” Henry hummed, flicking his tongue out over the back of the utensil, collecting the rich-red batter. “Tasty, can’t wait to have a slice.”

“I’m sure.” You smiled, wiggling out of his arms to slide the dish into the pre-heated oven. “Mini building time!” You beamed, setting the timer and placing it on the island. “Let’s go, my God Emperor.”

“As you wish, my little Primarch.” Henry laughed, heading for his man cave with you. “I’m sure you’ll end up painting one of them to look like Chaplain Rafael.”

“Burn the Heretic! Kill the Mutant! Purge the Unclean!” You declared, quoting your beloved Chaplain from the Blood Angels Space Marines chapter. “I still mourn your death, Rafael! Baal will remember you forever!”

Henry snorted, shaking his head at you. “What a nerd.” He teased, sitting down at the table.

“And unashamed of it!” You replied proudly. “Right, where are we starting, Puppy?” You asked, looking over the laid out items.

“We need to free the little buggers.” He told you, picking up a pair of, what looked like, well used nail clippers. “These are sprue cutters.” He explained to you, picking up one of the templates of Blood Angels. “All you have to do is snip this little bit here and set the piece aside, once it’s free.” He smiled over at you, brows lifted to make sure you understood.

“Super easy.” You smiled back at him.

Henry laughed, shaking his head and held the cutters out to you with a template. “It’s the only easy part in building these things. Other than buying them.” He quipped, grabbing a second pair.

The two of you took your time freeing the Space Marines from their confines, enjoying being close to each other and the sunny day that trickled through the tall windows around the room. When the cake timer went off in the kitchen, you shuttled off to check on it, pulling it out and setting it up to cool, before returning.

“So, are we going for authentic original Blood Angel look for their paint or are we going freestyle?” You asked, the tip of your tongue pressed to the corner of your upper lip as you used the sharp edge of an exacto knife to smooth out the edges of where the piece had been attached to the template.

“Hmm.” Henry hummed, sitting back in his seat, doing the same task. “I do normally prefer the traditional look for them.” He said, studying the arm he had between his fingers. “How about this? You paint three of the six your way and I’ll paint the other six my way?” He suggested, a little smirk tugging up the corner of his mouth.

“Oooh.” You cooed, liking that idea. “You sure your perfectionism isn’t going to drive you nuts?”

“I’m sure.” He assured you. “I looked forward to it. Our little army.”

It was long and tedious work, but neither of you cared, especially not Henry. It filled him with a bubbly happiness to look across his Warhammer table to see you zoned in on gluing together a model, shifting its little body until you finally got it in the pose that satisfied you. You paused long enough at one point, to put the icing on his cake, slicing you both a piece and bringing it back to your work station, singing happy birthday to him.

“I hope your new trip around the sun is as memorable, healthy and successful as your previous.” You toasted him, placing a tender kiss to his curls as he blew out the candle you lit.

“As long as I have you and Kal on the journey with me,” Henry replied, pulling you into his lap. “I know it will be.” He smiled, kissing you on the lips.

[haytan]

SPRINKLES | G.A

𓍼 WORD COUNT: 1814

𓍼 SUMMARY: you and gracie making or trying to make cake together

𓍼 WARNINGS: fluff

the kitchen is an organized mess. bowls, measuring cups, and small containers are scattered across the counter, as if the process of making a cake were something extremely complex—when, in reality, it was just an excuse to spend time together.

gracie stretches to reach the bag of flour on the highest shelf, her fingers sliding along the surface until she find it. the movement causes her shirt to lift slightly, revealing the warm skin of her toned abdomen. you notice, and your eyes drift down to watch how her muscles subtly contract—a simple detail, yet utterly hypnotizing.

“what are you admiring?” her voice a playful tone as she lowers her arm and turns to you, holding the bag of flour.

you blink quickly, trying to look nonchalant. “just wondering why you put that so high up.”

“it makes things more exciting,” she says with a grin, and you hold each other’s gaze for a moment. gracie is wearing round glasses—even though she doesn’t need them—because, according to her, they make her look cuter.

“okay, ready?” you snap back to reality, already reaching for two eggs. gracie nods, still smiling. you crack one against the edge of the bowl, letting it smoothly drip in, then repeat the movement with the second.

“you’re very gentle with that,” gracie observes, arms crossed.

you raise an eyebrow. “were you expecting me to crush them with my hand?”

she scoffs and shakes her head. “no, no. i mean, you do everything so delicately. it’s cute.”

“i know, baby,” you chuckle, tossing the eggshells aside and meeting her gaze. “i’m just messing with you.”

abrams smiles back, ruffling your hair lightly with her free hand. “yeah, yeah. sure you are.” she gives you an amused look before grabbing the bag of flour and opening it with ease.

however, a careless movement sends a cloud of white dust into the air, hovering for a moment before settling on the counter—and inevitably, on your face. gracie blinks a few times in surprise while you bite your lip, barely holding back a laugh.

“no. don’t laugh.”

“i’m not laughing,” but your smile gives you away.

gracie huffs and wipes her face with the back of her hand, leaving a small white smudge on her cheek. she looks at you and smirks. “liar.”

you tilt your head slightly, studying the trace of flour on her skin. “you have a little something here,” you murmur, pointing to her cheek.

gracie wipes at her face again with her palm, but it doesn’t help. “better?”

“no,” and you’re biting your lip to suppress another laugh.

she sighs and steps closer, resting one hand on the counter beside you, the proximity natural and unhurried. “then fix it for me.”

“of course, your majesty.”

with that, you take off her glasses, the lenses now covered in white powder. “i think you should’ve started with this,” you murmur softly.

gracie just hums in agreement, keeping her eyes closed as if your touch were some kind of exclusive privilege only she gets to enjoy. and when you finish, she makes sure to steal a quick kiss as a thank-you.

“thanks, baby.”

“anytime.”

…

somehow, neither you nor gracie can explain how you ended up on such a ridiculous topic: bad boys.

now, gracie is finishing the frosting—eating more than actually preparing it—while you, having already put the cake in the oven, occupy yourself by gesturing random things. every now and then, she lets out a little laugh, shaking her head at your nonsense.

“like those guys, you know?” you say, climbing onto the stool nearby to add dramatic effect. “bad boys.”

gracie raises an eyebrow, licking the frosting off her own middle finger. “bad boys?”

“yeah,” you puff out your chest like a character from an early 2000s movie. then, leaning slightly forward, you deepen your voice, trying to sound as intimidating as possible.

"you're so beautiful… do you have trauma?"

gracie stares at you for two seconds before bursting into laughter.

"i'm traumatizing right now."

"are you broken?" your fingers slide through gracie’s hair, pushing her strands back playfully, but she leans away.

"yeah, i'm getting broken and traumatized right now."

you let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking your head. “tsk, tsk. i knew it. bad boys like me always find the broken ones.” still on the stool, you lean forward dramatically, raising your arms and flexing as if you had massive muscles, an expression of pure arrogance on your face.

“for the love of god.” gracie rolls her eyes and without warning smears her frosting-covered finger on your arm.

"was that an attack?" you feign indignation, looking at your own arm.

"that was a warning," she replies, licking her finger again with a victorious expression.

your eyes fix on her fingers—on the way she brings them to her mouth so leisurely, the tip of her middle finger slowly sliding between her lips. the almost absent-minded way she maintains eye contact the entire time makes something inside you falter. your breathing slows down before you even notice, and the warmth in your chest spreads to your neck.

you avert your gaze, but it's too late. gracie notices.

the corner of her mouth lifts, and she tilts her head slightly, as if savoring the discovery. "what are you staring at?" she asks, her voice lower now, almost teasing.

you force a little laugh, trying to bring back the lighthearted tone from before. "just analyzing your technique. purely for research purposes." you pause, then smirk. "‘ultimate frosting-tasting technique,’ maybe?”

gracie giggles but doesn’t pull away. instead, she dips her finger into the bowl again, twirling it in the air as if pondering. “maybe you should test it yourself.”

your gaze shifts from her face to the frosting-covered finger. the obvious, almost childish choice would be to smear her back, keeping the joke going. but something about the way she’s looking at you—like she knows exactly what you’re thinking—keeps you in place.

you lean forward on the stool, closing the distance between you. your hand rises, gently holding her wrist, and without breaking eye contact, you lower your head slowly, closing your lips around the tip of her finger.

gracie holds her breath.

the sweet taste mixes with the warmth of her skin. you keep the touch brief but significant, releasing her finger slowly before tilting your head slightly to the side.

“hmm.” you lick your own lips, thoughtful. “interesting technique, but i think i still prefer the traditional way.”

gracie's eyes gleam with a mix of surprise and something else. she hesitates for half a second before laughing softly, leaning in toward you, her face close to yours.

“you know what?”

you freeze.

“even with you on that stool and all that ridiculous attitude, i still affect you sooo much more.”

you narrow your eyes at her, pretending not to be fazed, but gracie keeps her gaze locked on yours, with that half-victorious, half-challenging smile, and it makes your mouth dry.

“i think you’re pretty convinced of that,” you murmur, trying to sound indifferent.

gracie shrugs, her fingers absentmindedly stirring the frosting in the bowl. “i’m just stating the facts.” she brings her finger to her lips again, this time on purpose, licking it slowly while watching your reaction with a sharp gaze.

and damn, you know you’ve lost this game.

“i could turn this around in a second, you know?” you cross your arms as if her proximity wasn’t making you feel a little lightheaded.

“hmm.” gracie pretends to consider it, but the amused glint in her eyes gives away that she doesn’t believe it for a second. “then prove it.”

the air shifts.

you don’t think twice before leaning over her, your hands sliding up to her face, pulling her into a kiss without hesitation. gracie startles for a brief second but quickly matches your intensity, her fingers digging lightly into your waist, holding you steady.

it’s something she does instinctively—holding you, adjusting you into the right position. and then, in one smooth, practiced motion, she slides a hand along the side of your thigh and grips it firmly, pulling you off the stool and onto her lap.

you let out a small surprised sound, but gracie is already holding you securely. without breaking the kiss, she turns with you in her arms, the world spinning for a brief moment before your skin meets the cool surface of the counter.

your hands find her shoulders for balance, but gracie doesn’t let go of your waist. on the contrary, she settles between your legs with a natural ease that makes your heart race, her chest rising and falling against yours. there’s something playful, almost teasing, in the way she smiles against your lips, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

“does this count as reversing the game?” you breathe, still wrapped up in her.

her eyes shine with amusement and something more. “hmm… i don’t know. i think it was more of a reaffirmation of my advantage.”

you laugh, but any witty response that could have come to mind dissolves when gracie squeezes your waist again, her lips grazing yours before capturing them in another kiss—this time slower, more deliberate. your hands move up her neck, your fingers tangling in her tousled hair, and you feel her breath hitch when you tug slightly.

suddenly, a sweet scent begins to spread through the air. at first, it’s just a faint presence, blending with the warmth of the kitchen. but soon, it grows stronger—dense enough to demand attention.

gracie takes a deep breath and pulls back just a few inches. “hmm.”

you feel the moment waver slightly, reality slipping in between you. your fingers are still resting at the nape of her neck, and hers are still holding onto your waist, but something in her expression shifts.

then, almost unconsciously, you inhale as well and catch the scent.

“our cake.”

gracie doesn’t answer right away. instead, she tilts her head slightly, as if debating whether she really needs to move just yet.

“think it’s done?” she asks but makes no effort to step away.

you smile, hands trailing slowly down her shoulders before gently pushing her back. “not sure, but it smells pretty good.”

she exhales a short laugh, one corner of her mouth still lifted as if she’s not entirely convinced to step away. but then, with a resigned sigh, she releases your waist, gives you one last lingering look, and finally moves back.

“alright, we can pick this up after we eat, yeah?”

“of course—then i’ll prove to you who’s in charge.”

gracie lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head like she doesn’t take your challenge seriously. but the glint in her eyes says otherwise.

“we’ll see,” she murmurs, spinning on her heels and heading toward the oven, leaving you with an involuntary smile on your lips.

I want to write yellowjackets fic

thanks for reading <3

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[hvlplvss]

| have yourself a merry little christmas

| colby brock x reader

summary: in which colby brock has never liked the idea of christmas. he’s never enjoyed it or wanted to celebrate by decorating. but his girlfriend loves the holiday. decorating the house in anyway she could. but a few words may cause colby’s hate for christmas to melt.

warnings: angst, reader cries, colby says a few means things lol, happy ending though !!

authors note: this is inspired by a steve harrington fic i saw last xmas, but the author has deactivated their account!!! but credits to them for this idea :)

colby brock has never really liked christmas. he always thought of it as a burden. having to decorate the house and be all cheery for an entire month, just to celebrate one day.

he didn’t understand why he hated it so much; but he just did. he couldn’t get behind the idea of christmas, or decorating, or christmas trees. you name it, colby brock probably didn’t like it.

however his girlfriend y/n, adored christmas. it was her favourite time of the year and it had been ever since she was young. she loved decorating and making the holiday special for the younger ones in her family. she loved the presents, she loved the food and the whole idea.

so when christmas was quickly approaching, y/n couldn’t help but speak about the holiday. she would sometimes speak to colby about it, despite knowing he didn’t love the day. but her and sam would talk about it as sam would listen to the girl yap about christmas.

seen as it was their first christmas together and y/n had come to realise that colby did in fact not like christmas, she made it her goal to make him enjoy it this year.

y/n had already begun preparing little things for christmas. it was only the middle of november and she had already planned the christmas tree, the lights which she’d put up outside, the gifts she was getting everyone. and by everyone, it meant everyone.

anyone who she would call a friend, or even a civil friendship, would receive a gift from the girl. wether it be bought or handmade, she’d make sure everyone got something this christmas.

but as the days slowly crept round to the first of december, y/n was ecstatic.

colby’s eyes slowly opened, squinting due to the lack of sleep the boy received last night after coming home from a meeting at silly o’clock in the morning.

he noticed the empty space in the bed beside him. y/n wasn’t there. which was strange and unusual as usually the girl was the last one to wake up between the two off them.

he reached for his phone checking the time, which read 6:37am.

what was y/n doing? there was no way she chose to be up at this time in the morning. it’s not like she had anything special going on today.

colby gave himself a minute to fully wake up, stretching his legs and arms and closing his eyes one last time before sliding out the side of the bed.

colby walked downstairs, rubbing his eyes tiredly. this is why she was awake so early. he thought.

the whole downstairs of the house was now silver with christmas decorations. tinsel, little trinkets of decoration, a christmas countdown which had rotating blocks so you could change it every morning.

“y/n?” colby called out. there were a few moments of rustling and a box being put down.

y/n came into view from the kitchen door, adorned in fluffy socks and a big christmas jumper that was many sizes too big for her.

“what’s going on?” colby asked, “why does the house look so ‘christmassy’” colby shuddered at the word as though it was bad for him to say it.

“it’s the first of december, colbs!” y/n beamed, “it’s finally christmas time!”

colby strolled into the kitchen, looking at what y/n was doing.

she was baking. baking christmas cookies. and she might as well be feeding the entire state with the amount she had made.

“what are all these for?” he asked.

“christmas cookies! i’m gonna take them to the nursing home,” she explained, “i’ve done it every year!” she pulled a rack out the oven and placed even more cookies on the side. “you don’t think i’ve gone overboard right?”

“what? no? i think it’s sweet, y/n,”

“okay, good. i mean if i’ve made to many they can always have two each, or maybe even three!”

colby placed a hand on his girlfriends cheek, “hey, calm down. it’ll be fine, i promise you,” he spoke softly, “but maybe just also calm down on all the decorations, yeah?”

y/n faltered at his words, “you don’t like them?” she asked disheartened.

“no, i-i do. just… just not use to it, yeah?” colby answered quickly, not wanting to upset her.

she nodded in response, looking back over her cookies once more. “right, i’m going to let these cool down, then get ready and go out to give them to the nursing home and then come home and decorate the tree!” she planned.

colby sighed, trying to hide his slight annoyance that he was coming to terms with. he loved the girl, but he hated this christmas spirit she had.

y/n had arrived home after successfully handing out her christmas cookies, 174 cookies to be exact, (she now realised she may have gone overboard).

y/n walked through the front door, taking her shoes off, leaving them next to colby’s.

as she strolled through the house, she arrived into the living room where colby was sat with his laptop.

she stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“hey colbs,” she smiled.

colby looked up to look at his girlfriend, he smiled back at her and kissed her lips. “how was it?” he asked.

“good! they were happy to see me again! said i should go see them more often,” she told colby.

“bless them. they probably don’t get many visitors so they’re probably pleased to see you!” he answered, to which y/n nodded.

colby turned back to his laptop as y/n had walked away into the corner of the living room.

she opened a box which held various christmas tree decorations. she’d used the box for as many christmases as she could remember, it even had some of the baubles that her parents had bought when she was a toddler.

y/n slowly began decorating the tree, adding the lights, the baubles, the tinsel and so on.

but it took her quite some time due to her being an extreme perfectionist and if things weren’t equal on the tree, she’d restart or take the last few things off and then redo them.

so to say it took y/n a long time to decorate the tree was an understatement. she was an hour and 45 minutes in and she still hadn’t finished.

colby was still sat in the same spot on the couch, growing slightly agitated with his girlfriend.

she was talking to herself, muttering and whispering ideas. and as harsh as it sounds, she was really getting on his nerves. he was just trying to edit a video for the channel, but y/n couldn’t be quiet.

her voice broke him out of his thoughts, “colbs? which do you think looks better? the silver bauble or the gold bauble?” he looked up, glaring, but y/n was too carried away to even notice the change in his demeanour.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged, “silver?” colby answered, looking back down at his laptop.

y/n turned back to the christmas tree, deciding wether to go with her boyfriends advice or not.

y/n had officially finished decorating the christmas tree, after nearly two and a half hours, she only had one job left to do which was the star on top.

but the tree seemed to have quite a big height advantage on the girl, so she turned back around to colby.

“colbs, can you help me put the star on?” he tried to pretend that he hadn’t heard y/n, hoping that she would leave it and work the problem out herself; but she didn’t. “colbs?”

colby’s head snapped up, “what?!”

“can you help me put the star on, please?” she asked sheepishly.

“look!” colby began, placing his laptop off of his lap, “i’m trying to work, okay? but you are just constantly talking or asking me something about christmas or the decorations! when i don’t even care! i’m sick of all this christmas shit, y/n!”

y/n’s eyes glossed over at his harsh voice and choice of words and her bottom lip quivered.

“oh,” she spoke quietly.

colby could see what he had done. why did he get angry? why did he yell at her? he made her upset and he could tell.

y/n turned around and placed the star down back in the box, then turning to walk out of the living room, “y/n! wait- i didn’t-” but y/n shook her head and walked out of the room, heading upstairs.

colby shook his head and sighed, “fuck,” well done colby, well done.

y/n had been significantly quieter that day. when colby came upstairs for bed, y/n didn’t speak unless colby spoke to her first. she hadn’t even left the room due to how embarrassed she felt.

but the following day, y/n was still asleep when colby woke up. so, he quietly got dressed, trying not to wake y/n up, knowing it’d be an awkward encounter for the couple. plus colby also wanted to go food shopping as they began running out of food in their fridge and should stock up before everything runs out in the stores.

so while colby was out, y/n had gone about the house and took down each decoration. she didn’t want colby to feel annoyed by all the christmas things.

she just wanted to warm him up to the idea of christmas, but from what he said last night, it clearly wasn’t working.

taking down the christmas tree was way quicker than putting it up, y/n came to realise.

once everything had been tucked back into their boxes, y/n had gone back upstairs to just lay down in bed. ever since colby said that, y/n had felt a lack of energy. she was hurting. she was so excited for her first christmas with colby, but it wasn’t going the way she hoped.

sam had stopped by the couples house, dropping off the other laptop they shared for editing videos. the boy let himself in as he’d been allowed a key to the house, due to his frequent visits.

“colby? y/n?” he called out.

y/n walked out of her room grudgingly, walking down the stairs. “hi,” she said.

“hey,” he answered, “are you okay?”

he could tell something was up. she wasn’t being cheery like she had been on the lead up to december, or when she spoke about how excited she was for it to be december soon enough. she nodded.

“where’s all the decorations?” sam asked, looking around the house, “i thought you said you were gonna decorate on the first, and it’s now the second?”

y/n looked down, trying to come up with an excuse, “oh, i just had a really busy day yesterday, i didn’t find the time to,” she lied.

sam nodded, not believing her in the slightest. “i was coming to give colby this, but i’ll just tell him to drop by before he comes home,” y/n nodded, “call me if you need anything, yeah?”

“yeah,” she muttered, “bye sam,”

“bye y/n,” he turned back around, closing the door behind him.

sam hopped into his car, pulling his phone out of his pocket and going to message sam.

stop by mine later, need to give you the other laptop and also need to speak to you

colby had just arrived outside of sam’s appartment. he stepped out the car and walked to the house, opening the door.

“sam!” colby yelled. the said boy walked out from the kitchen and to colby, “you alright?” colby asked.

“yeah, just need to ask a few things and also give you the laptop,” sam answered, walking back into the kitchen, colby following his trail.

“yeah, what’s up?”

sam sighed, “why is your house not decorated?” sam asked. colby furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “i mean, y/n wouldn’t stop talking about how excited she was to decorate and how she was gonna do it on the first, but when i stopped by earlier there was nothing,”

“wait- what do you mean, there was nothing?” colby asked, slightly puzzled.

“i stopped by, and there were no decorations. like at all. it looked like your everyday house. no signs of christmas, at all,” sam explained.

colby thought about it for a moment, taking a seat at the kitchen island. “shit,” he muttered, placing his head in his hands.

“what?”

colby sighed, “i got angry yesterday, when y/n was decorating. she kept asking me questions and i was really rude and i yelled at her. i saw her face, sam. she was nearly crying, i mean she probably did cry, but she kept it hidden from me,” colby explained, “fuck! i feel so awful, sam,”

sam shook his head, “you should have heard her before. she rarely spoke to you about it cause she knew you hated it, so she’d talk to me about christmas things. but she was so excited for it, colby. you’ve messed this up, bro,”

“i know…” he sighed, “i just- i’m not use to it, and i know that doesn’t excuse it, because it doesn’t, i shouldn’t have gotten angry,”

“glad you realised that!” sam answered.

tomorrow was christmas. the day y/n was once looking forward to, but now didn’t even want to hear anything about it. she’d gone to bed quite early on christmas eve due to working all day.

colby had said he’d be up to bed in a few hours as he had a few things left to catch up on, like meetings and editing things and so on.

but colby didn’t come to bed until 3:27 in the morning.

colby spent six hours decorating downstairs. decorating the house how y/n had once made it. making it christmassy. how a house should be.

he even went shopping to buy all the food he would need for the dinner the next day. especially as the boy had invited everyone and everybody round for christmas dinner.

he had been so busy that time went quicker than he thought it had. he didn’t even notice when the clock struck 3am how long he’d actually been busy for.

and as he reached to put the star on the tree, he remembered what he said that day where he ruined y/n’s christmas cheer. but he hoped this would bring it back.

sure, colby still didn’t understand the whole christmas idea, but if it made his girlfriend happy, then he would learn about the christmas spirit.

when y/n woke up that dreaded morning, she noticed that colby was missing. she assumed he’d left as maybe he felt awkward, or that he’d gone to visit sam early.

but when y/n actually came round and fully woke up, she noticed the smell coming from downstairs. y/n furrowed her brows in confusion, so she stood up out from her bed and walked out of her room.

as she looked down the stairs she realised what colby had done.

the entire house had become ‘christmassy’. colby had redone all of y/n’s decorations and exactly how she had done them. everything was the same.

“colbs?” y/n called out.

colby rounded the corner of the kitchen, a smile playing on his lips, “d’you like it?” he asked.

y/n rolled her eyes playfully, running to him and wrapping her arms around his neck.

“i love it, colbs. thank you,” she whispered.

“no, thank you,” he said, placing his hands on her face, making her look at him, “i was horrible to you that day. you were so excited about christmas and i ruined that, i’m so sorry,” he apologised.

y/n leaned in to kiss colby’s lips gently, planting a soft kiss to them. “i forgive you,” she replied, “but pleaseeeee can i give you your gifts now? i’ve been waiting for months to give you them!”

[hyuuukais]

-`♡´ - APARTMENT 143

pairing -> lee minho x fem reader

synopsis -> after a bad breakup, y/n needs to find a new place to live. although she's grateful for her best friend, up-and-coming model hwang hyunjin, for letting her stay at his, she can't keep living with him and his model roommates. so when an opening for somewhere nearby with cheap rent opens up, she jumps on it, despite knowing next to nothing about the 3 other tenants, only that one owns 3 cats. the three quickly learn of her breakup, determined to help get her back on her feet. but what happens when one of them begins to develop feelings?

warnings -> gen, energy is tenseee

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN -> PEOPLE DON'T CHANGE (partially written! wc: 1.4k)

You sigh, placing your phone next to you as you slide down further into your pillows. Time is running out to ask Minho, you know that, and Lily has been pressing too. The deadline for offering interviews lingers sooner than when they start. With a groan, you swing your feet over the edge of your bed and slip them into the bunny slippers previously kicked off at the end of your bedframe, trudging to your door.

Minho is already pouring a cup of coffee into a dark brown mug when you enter the kitchen, wearing his normal work attire; a tight black t-shirt tucked into black jeans and a belt. Sometimes you were jealous of the simplicity. He doesn't notice you lean on the island, back facing you. When he does turn around, he startles, the tiniest drop of hot coffee running down the side of his mug and seeping under his hand. He doesn't hiss at the burn, doesn't even flinch, just puts the mug down and wipes his hand on the cloth hanging off the oven door.

"Dont sneak up on people, it's not nice," he says, replacing the cloth.

You perk up at his voice. "We're talking again, good, that's good. Listen, I deeply apologize for what I said and I don't even believe that, you know? I'm sure your ex loved you a lot. There was definitely a really good reason for her to hide her husband from you. Maybe he sucked! In any case, you're a great guy, so why wouldn't she choose you?"

Taking a deep breath, you refocus yourself. Minho is staring at you from above his mug, blowing gently on the hot liquid. There's still tension between you two, the air thick and hot.

"Was there a point to all that?" He asks bluntly.

"Yes, um. This is bad timing, but have you decided if you're doing Lily's thing or not yet...?" He sets his mug down with a sigh. "Of course, it's okay if you don't want to! Deadlines are coming up though so she needs an answer whether you're doing it or not."

He takes his time answering, sipping his coffee, running a hand through his hair, stretching. Part of you is getting frustrated. How hard is it to say a simple yes or no? Either he's doing it or not, there's not exactly a grey area.

"I'll do it," Minho finally answers, and you barely contain a squeal of excitement.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You run around the island and hug him, nearly knocking over your stool in the process.

It's short-lived, pulling away to see Minho's face painted red, no doubt mimicking your own. Clearing his throat, he nods at you and grabs his coffee, turning away from you. You're about to leave when you remembered what prompted you to seek him out in the first place.

"We're having a game night tonight if you want to join? It's just gonna be the boys, Hyun, NingNing, and I invited Soobin too." You lean against the wall of the hallway leading to your rooms, waiting for a response.

"Ah, I might be working late again, but I'll see what Jeongin is up to. Is it okay if I..." He shakes his head. "Never mind, forget that. I'll either see you or I won't."

"Okaaay," you give him two thumbs up, but immediately put them back down when he gives you a weird look.

-

Game night is in full swing by ten with snacks and drinks taking up the island and bodies filling up the couch. A pile of UNO cards sit messily in the middle of the table, NingNing taking it upon herself to tidy it up every so often, even if it only stays like that for a couple of turns. You're so close to calling UNO, smirking as you place down another pick-up-4 card and watch as Soobin's head slowly turns to look at you with fake disdain. He keeps eye contact as his hand reaches for the deck, barely containing his own smile as he glares at you, and you can't help but giggle.

All night has been like this- teasing Soobin and getting him used to your friends now that you've become a bit more serious. His training under you has finally ended, so you feel less guilty about the whole thing. The only thing is that you still haven't shared it with your boss, but that's a problem for another day. Right now, all you can think of is the way Soobin has his free hand over yours, thumb caressing the back of your hand and only taking it away to place a card down. He fits in nicely with everyone, almost like he's always been there... which makes sense seeing as he was already friends with Beomgyu.

"UN-" you're attention turns to the two bodies walking through the front door, "-oh."

In comes Minho with a girl you don't recognize hanging off his arm, in their own world as they kick their shoes off and laugh at something she whispers in his ear. Neither seem to notice the big group around the table until the girl gives a little, and uncomfortable, wave. Minho has his arm wrapped around her waist tightly, and you follow his gaze to where Han and Beomgyu sit. On their faces are matching angry stares, Han with his mouth open slightly.

"You're kidding," Beomgyu scoffs. "Tell me you're kidding, Min."

"I forgot you were having a game night," Minho shifts.

"Don't ignore the question." You look at Beomgyu, anxiety crawling up your throat. "Why is she here? And why are you acting so... couple-y?"

Han stands, and you can see his hands are shaking. "You got back together?"

"Oh, come on," the girl speaks for the first time, a look of annoyance on her face. "We always get back together."

"I wasn't talking to you-" Han points a finger at her, then directs it to Minho. "You, explain."

"No," Minho sighs. "I don't think I need to. If you're unhappy with your own love lives, you don't need to project onto me. None of you can say shit about relationships here. You're sneaking around because you're ashamed, and Y/n is only with Soobin because she can't get over her ex. Just to name a few."

You avoid eye contact with Soobin, a pang of hurt in your chest, glaring at Minho.

"I'm not unhappy," you say, feeling Soobin squeeze your hand. "You have no right to comment on my relationships because you're jealous."

Hurt flashes over Minho's face for a millisecond, quickly covered by a stoic expression. "Why would I be jealous? People can change-"

"Like hell, they can." Beomgyu stands now, circling around the table and past the couch to get into his personal space. "You said it yourself you don't believe that! And what about your husband?" He looks the girl in the eye and you hear NingNing gasp; you forgot to tell her. "What does he think of all this?"

"We're divorcing," she answers quietly, looking down at the floor. "He wasn't good for me. Not like you'd understand, or even take the time to try and understand."

Her voice turns watery at the end of the sentence, orange hair shielding her face as she curls into Minho's chest. From the shudder of her body, you can tell she's starting to cry. You almost feel bad for her. Taking in her words, you feel there's more to the story than what you know and what the others are willing to listen to, but you're already to upset to care. Han joins Beomgyu, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Maybe we should leave it alone."

"And maybe he should leave, take his princess back to her tower," Beomgyu spits.

Minho's eyes turn dark, jaw clenching. He's holding back hurtful comments, just barely. After another moment of tense staring, Minho breaks eye contact and leads the girl- his ex- back to the front door. Slipping on his shoes, he helps her with her own when her hands prove to be too shaky to tie the laces. When he leaves the room is completely silent, Beomgyu taking a seat next to Hyunjin on the couch and Han walking away down the hall, the sound of a door slamming following his departure.

-

notes -> maybe we were quick to judge his ex...? maybe.......?

taglist -> @chaeryred @toplinelix @channie-143 @staysinbloom @puppyminnnie @tfshouldidohere @kangaracha @chlodavids @whitney190 @thisisnotjacinta @borahae-reads @brooklynie @gini143 @kayleigh-28 @skz-streamer @babyphotos0325 @scallywag1299 @venusmoonxnight @naomisosoup @fertiliezedtoesw @s00buwu @realrintaro @anothershorthuman @stayatinykatsy @ilovejeongin007 @btswestan @multifandomedsimp @ihrtlix @raehawthorne @euphoric-univers @hyperpixie @evermourning @satsuri3su @jazziwritesthings @minhwa @wyzminho @fic-for-readers @dreamerwasfound @imsiriuslyreal @lailac13 @palindrome969 @lixie-phoria @aalexyuuuhm @sunflowerbebe07 @st4rhwa @lukeys-giggle @jabmastersupriseee @judeduartewannabe @gaysontheprince @stepout-09-15

^^^ orange means i can't tag you

[anacamofficial]

First Non Rec Fic

Alone Again

cw: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie?, lmk if there's anything else idk about

background: you and rafe cameron had a fling last summer but it came to and end when you started school again. now its summer again and your having a sleepover with your best friend sarah cameron

you and sarah were in the kitchen baking cookies for your movie night when she realized you guys didn't have any more popcorn or your favorite drinks.

"hey i'm gonna go get some popcorn from the store real quick k y/n?" she asked, grabbing her keys.

"okay sarah, i'll take out the cookies when they're done." you answered back, knowing she didn't invite you because you would've said no anyway.

sarah left and you leaned forward against the kitchen counter, scrolling on your phone as rafe entered the kitchen. you guys didn't end on bad terms but it was definitely awkward on your side because of the feelings you still had for him.

"hey rafe" you said, not looking up from your phone but knowing it was him because he was the only other person at tannyhill tonight.

"hey princess" he replied, a smirk creeping up the corners of his lips. he knew that was your favorite nickname from him and that it would definitely catch your attention.

you looked up from your phone at him, a gentle blush heating up your cheeks when you saw him standing in front of you shirtless. he grinned as he watched you get all nervous, catching you not so subtly looking at his muscles.

"princess? been a while since i've heard that one." you stated, rolling your eyes and trying to hide the longing for him.

"well its been a while since you've been around y/n" he rebutted, grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

"been busy" you replied, shrugging and looking back down at your phone.

rafe walked closer to you, "busy with what? boys?" he questioned just low enough for you to hear as his lips brushed past your ear. you were now facing towards him and his hands were on the counter on either side of you, pinning you in.

"why? jealous rafey?" you asked teasingly, trying to hide the blush creeping onto your cheeks again.

"of anyone who gets to see THAT body," he said looking you up and down with lustful eyes, "always." he whispered into your ear, lowering his face to kiss your neck.

"rafe-" you breathed out barely holding back a moan.

"come on y/n, don't tell me you haven't missed me. i definitely missed you" he said moving one hand off the counter and onto your waist, pulling you into him. he kissed your neck again, moving up to that sweet spot just under your ear, your jaw and then finally capturing your lips in a longing kiss.

"of course i missed you rafe, i never even wanted to break up" you said, pulling away from the kiss just long enough to get it out before meeting your lips to his once again.

he pulled you up with ease so you were now sitting on the kitchen counter, legs wrapped around his waist and his arms around yours. your hands tangled in his hair as the kiss deepened, his tongue slipping its way into your mouth.

he gently broke off the kiss, lips moving to your neck to leave small marks you knew you'd have to explain to Sarah when she got back but you didn't care. one of his hands slipped from your waist down to grip your ass, pulling you in closer if even possible the other hand sliding up your thigh.

"r-rafe, wait," you stuttered out. he pulled back immediately, "what y/n is everything okay? did I do something?" he asked worriedly, looking at you. "no you're perfect just we can't do this right here" you said motioning to the kitchen counter. "yeah yeah right" he replied, shaking his head and backing up to let you get down. "one more thing" you muttered, walking over to get the cookies out of the oven and setting them down to cool on the counter. "okay now i'm ready" you grinned and he sweeper you up, carrying you up the stairs and into his room.

He laid you down on the bed climbing on top of you and peppering kisses all along your neck and jaw as one of his hands worked to get off his belt. You reached down to help him get off his own pants and yours and he released his lips from your neck just long enough to get both of your shirts off.

pulling you into a passionate kiss his tongue slid past your lips needing to taste you and his hand slid under you to unclassified your bra, he took it off and threw it to the floor with the rest of the clothes. You fidgeted clumsily with his boxers to get them off his hard on springing up to hit his toned abs and he slid off your lacy panties.

He reached down to grip his length in his hands and teased your slick folds with his tip that was already dripping precum. "this wet for me princess?" he smirked down at you "i knew you missed me" he groaned into your ear as he pushed some of his length into you with no warning.

"F-fuck rafe oh my-" you moaned out at the sudden feeling of his thick cock stretching you out. He continued to thrust into you slowly, bottoming out, and remaining still for a few seconds to let you adjust to him. "Damn baby, you're tighter than before. Really must not be getting any good dick" he mutters against your skin.

"Shit rafe," you gasped as he started to pull out and thrust into you slowly picking up speed "I've missed the way you fill me up". he groans and kisses you "keep talking like that and I might just give you a baby y/n" he manages in between moans and kisses. You moan his name loudly as he increases his speed even more, hitting that sweet spot inside of you.

"mm rafe please," you practically whisper barely able to speak from how much pleasure your in "I'm on the pill". He reaches a hand down to rub tight circles over your clit as he pounds into you. "Fuck y/n I'm so close" he groans, thrust growing slipped as he plants messy kisses along your jaw. you moan loudly "r-rafe me too" you push out as your hips buck up to meet his thrusts, deepening both of the two of yous pleasure.

Hes now thrusting into you full force, hitting your cervix with each thrust and you both are moaning messes. You both reach your high in sync and continue to ride out your highs neither of you wanting the feeling to end but knowing there isn't time for a second round today. "Damn princess, I missed you so much" he mumbles, pulling out of you and planting a kiss on your forehead. "I missed you too rafey" you whisper back.

He gets up and throws back on his boxers handing you your shorts to put back on but his shirt instead. "Not gonna be able to resist if you put that tight little top back on". You laugh and pull his shirt over your head, the two of you walking back into the kitchen just as Sarah opened the front door. She looked you up and down noticing the little marks on your neck and her brothers shirt on your body. "really y/n? gross." She rolled her eyes, teasing you but smiling.

Rafe kissed your cheek and went back upstairs. "Sorry?" You offered up blushing slightly and giggling at sarah. "Don't be," she laughed along with you "if you're happy I'm happy"

A/N: finally finished this hope y'all enjoy @rafeysbangs

[gamblersdoll]

PUT MY NAME ON IT, NOW IT DESIGNER 4

cw: pure smut, maybe heavy for some, fluff at the end.

“hak–!” you yelped, feeling the sting on your ass.

currently, you laid across his lap, naked and your ass bare. it was pretty red, almost bruised and practically hot. and it was in the same spot you were in. even though hakari was sitting back, practically manspreading, he had a wide lap.

“count the number or ill restart.” he threatened, rubbing your poor abused ass cheeks. you were given 25 slaps… and only on ten. that fucker knows he has thick and heavy hands.

“ten…” you said, how pitiful.

another slap, had you biting your lip and whimpering. “eleven!” you yelped again, feeling him rubbing his hand on your cheeks, giving you some form of relief. “baby please!”

“baby please.” he mocked back, slapping your ass again. “cmon babydoll, keep up.” he said, mockingly.

“twelve!!” you whined, squirming and kicking your feet slightly. only causing hakari to grow annoyed and yank you back, dragging his thick fingers up and down your puffy and soaked slit, exhaling as he felt his cock finally get a little thicker, too.

“fuck , mama…” he whispered in your ear, adding another digit to rub your slit. “pussy is practically droolin for me, huh?” he said tauntingly.

“is too much.. spanking too much..” you said, feeling and knowing that you have to wear loose clothes now, because your ass would be raw.

hakari flipped you on his lap, holding you while he kissed your cheeks stained with sweat and tears while rubbing circles on your puffy clit. it made your hips buck against his fingers.

“poor baby needing her pussy finger fucked, huh? how do you ask?” he said, making you look at him. he plunged a finger into your precious pussy, feeling how warm and juicy you were, you really hadnt had any action in a year? fuck he could tell why you always acted out, that bitch boy boyfriend couldnt put it on you.

“please..” you said, only able to muster that. how pathetic, because you were just talking big girl shit a couple minutes ago, what happened to that? you never knew. all you did know was that your was was raw and tingling , and hakari is like a personal oven at four hundred degrees right now.

“ill let it slide.” and he curled his fingers, only moving the tips of his fingers like he beckons your g spot to come to him. “so what are we gunna stop doin now..?” he whispered in your ear, feeling his body heat get even hotter.

“fuckfuckfuckfu-“ you said repeatedly, eyes threatening to roll back but only snapping back to hakari when he speaks. “not to- oh shit..– not to talk back– ha fuck!” you moaned out, legs trying to close back together until hakari separates them. he was always so big and strong, he just made you feel weak with him.

“yeah, baby. was talking all big and bad, and now look at you.” he said, with a hint of sass and rolling his eyes. he kisses on your neck, sucking so slightly and his fingers were vicious, faster than they were before. he felt something familiar , like he knew it was his fever coming hard, those fevers as if he was going to land a huge loan and win even bigger.

“i cumin! i cumin—!” you chanted, holding onto his beefy arm, hiding your face in it, trying to close your legs but for no avail, just to have hakari slam them open—

JACKPOT!

you came with a cry, body convulsing and the arch of your back could make him feral, feeling your walls spasm on his fingers as he rubbed your clit in circles and sucked on your neglected tits. you finally caught your breath after some cooing and praises from him, along the lines of “good fuckin girls” or “thats my girl, thats it.”

you tried to close your legs, until he slotted himself between you as you lay on your back.

“uh uh, i ain done with this pussy yet.” he said, freeing his cock and him hissing at the cool air. he rubbed your hips, to at least ease your body before he fucked you. your body was so fuckin pretty, he just doesn’t understand how you havent been touched in a year.

he kisses your plump lips, biting so softly and low growls coming from him. he kisses your neck, down to your collarbone, to your chest and your mounds.. your stomach, and your little tummy where your poor uterus was. he puts his forehead against yours, as he slides the fat of his cock in.

holy fuck did you not forget that.

you both had a small moan, remembering when you both were younger and fucked on the daily, at most three to four times a day. he wasnt even in all the way.

“pussy remembers who fucks it the best, already clamping down on my cock and im barely all the way in.” he snickered , looking down at you. “you wan me to show you where it is, mama?” you nodded.

“okay babydoll, this right here…” he slightly pulls his hips back, and slams it back into you, watching you throw your head back and moan so loud. “is your cervix.” he says, thrusting slower and moans a bit, trying to not get too crazy with it since he basically had to take your virginity back. “fuck you feel too good..” he whines.

“fuckohmygoddaddy–“ you whimper, gripping his shoulder with your nails and biting your lip, barely able to keep your thighs apart. you feel hakari kiss on your neck, groaning whenever he thrusts faster and hits that gummy spot. “oh shit..!”

“there you go.. take all that dick im givin you..” he said, moving your attention back to him. he looks you in your eyes as he thrusts, trying to maintain eye contact. only for him to fail and roll his eyes back. “huuuuuhhh fuck!” he groans out, pressing his forehead against yours and have some combination of thrusting and grinding together, drawing a whine from you.

“kin!—“ you moan out, coming on his cock, rolling your eyes back as your toes curl. the convulsions of your pretty pussy pushes hakari more to his climax, his hips thrusting into you faster with vigorous motion and him growing desperate was apparent.

“fucken fuck!” he shouts, pulling out and jerking himself until he feels his seed spurt out on your tummy, a little on your breasts, and just barely your chin.

you were barely conscious at this point, only just regaining consciousness and feeling a warm rag on your soft tummy, causing you to flinch.

“relax.. its just me ma.” he says, cleaning your body and wiping your pussy down ever so gently. youre so glad you taught him how to wipe you. “imma get you some clothes and im gunna take you to get some food.” he says, already half dressed.

you nod, getting a sip of your now room temperature water and sipping it. “ can we also go to wally world?” and both of you start grinning.

“oh shit!” you whisper, running into aisle h after you were just in l. walmart was your wally world, and you both always act a damn fool.

“y/n!” hakari laughs, trying his best to hold it in and holding you. “oh youre a fuckin moron.” he laughs, kissing your forehead several times. both of you being in the toy slash athletic department, looking at whatever to play when you made it back to your apartment.

you pick up a random toy, looks electronic and it somehow turns on, startling you and you throw it back and it makes a loud “CLANK!” hakari bursts into a laughing fit, as you walk away, pretending you dont know what just happened. hakari comes up behind you, hugging you from behind as he towers over you and kisses you.

“get off!” you say, because hes a giant and youre little, and hes heavy. you giggle, holding him back.

“not in a million years, babydoll.” he says, using his finger to tilt your head up and kiss you. “lets get some banquet and call it a night?” he says, raising an eyebrow. you know exactly what hes talkng about, causing you to swat at him.

“fuckin up my day!” you say, mocking that one tiktok sound and you both made it home by at least eleven fourteen at night, crashing on the couch.

hope you guys enjoyed this one… i opened up a can of worms.

[chronically-ghosted]

my home is you

rating: general

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: you warm frankie up after he stays out in the cold.

warnings: snuggling, neck kisses, absurdly large sweaters, family disagreements, mentions of financial hardships, the weakness of southerners when it comes to the cold, mentions of PTSD and treatment, discussions of a dead relative, but honestly just lots of fluff

a/n: @maggiemayhemnj it's here, thank you for your patience! and thank you to everyone who sent in prompts for my mini-challenge, Merry Thanksgiving Nonsense 2023 -- I had so much fun! this can be take place in the same universe as "in another life", but it doesn't have to!

also shout out to the boy irl who inspires all of this 🤍

There are certain things you pick up about a person after two years of marriage. 

In certain cases, you might learn how they prefer their socks to be folded up, or what brand of detergent they think smells the best. Maybe their eating habits after a bad day, or how quickly they go through shampoo. 

After marrying Frankie and listening to his endless business out and around the house, you can pinpoint his moods with startling accuracy based on what exactly he is working on. If it’s your car or his, he’s worried about something, more precise than any mechanic you could ever afford. If he’s working on rebuilding the engine Benny asked him to check out, then he’s focused, in a good but distant mood (you always get nervous when he hoists five hundred pounds above him with a crank) and you know he needs that time in his head. However - for some reason you may ask him about one day or you might just accept it as one of those things as he is the way that he is - when Frankie’s pissed, he works on the roof. 

Maybe because he gets to beat the shit out of something, but when you come home and he’s up there pounding off some rotten shingles, you know he’s had a very bad day.

Which is what you find after you pull up in the driveway from the grocery store one afternoon. Somehow in the hour and half it took you to get eggnog, butter, and melting chocolate (Santi’s annual Christmas bash only a week away), something had really set your husband off. You’d never seen someone so angrily staple down Plastic Santa and his reindeer before. 

So, you’d gone inside without calling out to him, knowing it was better to simply let him be.

That was over an hour ago. 

That was also when the temperature was in the sixties. The sun long gone, the air rapidly cooling down and with an oncoming and sudden wind, you wonder if it will be you who knocks some sense into him, or the weather. 

As you take your freshly-made eggnog bread out of the oven, you hear the clatter of his metal ladder sliding close. You rush to wash off your heads and clean down the counter as the garage door cranks up, his tool box jingling when it’s returned to the shelf. You hear the back door open and you sprint into the laundry room. He might head directly for a shower, in which case, what you’re doing will be rather irrelevant, but you desperately want that first smile, that thing that’ll make him grin and let the tension loose from his shoulders. On your toes, you move back a few towels and ugly Christmas sweaters you bring out only once a year in search of what you’re looking for that you bring out once in a blue moon. You find it and grin. 

You didn’t miss your chance. Frankie, with his head tipped back on the couch, eyes closed, arms locked over each other, is pink. Pink in the cheeks from exertion. Pink on his nose, ears, and hands from the cold. A true Floridan at heart, his body apparently shut down when exposed to temperatures below what you’d experience in the Caribbean. Couldn’t even make it to the shower to warm up, poor thing.

As quietly as you can, you sneak over to him, unfurling what you have in your hands. The instant before you sit in his lap, you see the tiniest quirk of a smile pluck up his mouth.

You open the triple XL sweater in your hands over his head. It practically falls over his shoulders so, without much difficulty, you curl up under the sweater and join him in the darkness. 

The enclosed space brings his cold nose close to yours and you kiss him gently, right on that pink flush. You rub your hands over his forearms, his skin icy to the touch. You can feel the chill under that ridiculously thin red t-shirt and you shuffle closer, hoping your body heat trapped so close to his will warm him up. In the half-dark, the scent of sticky, masculine sweat permeates the little air you have, dampening the pine smell of the sweater that you never can manage to wash out. 

You wrinkle your nose. “You smell.” 

Silence. And then –

He chuckles. “I know. But you smell like cinnamon.” 

Since you first pulled you both under, he moves. He unlocks his arms and you curl even closer. God, he smells much worse when you tuck your head into his neck, the curls pressed against his skin damp, the pulse in his throat strong, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. With a silent, long inhale, Frankie puts his big palms on your thighs, then your hips, and on an exhale, he pulls you into his chest, the bristles of his graying beard warm and scratching against your forehead. His fingers sit like external ribs – heavy, strong, protecting your heart. 

“Is there a reason you put your granddad’s sweater over us?” He asks after a moment, his voice rich and sweet like caramel. The sweater had been enormous on your granddad when he was alive, but he could never find a reason to get rid of it. You spent many Christmases making cookies or putting up the ornaments on the tree while he wore it and when he died, it was one of the only things you took from his house. 

“You looked cold,” you murmur into his neck. He hums his agreement and you get your wish: beneath your chest, you feel the anger and tension and shitty day he’s had flush out of him with every breath. 

 Your fingers, squeezed between his chest and yours, dig into that damp t-shirt. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

Talking – never was Frankie’s strong suit, before and especially after he joined the military and learned to take everything on the chin. 

But, over the years and by carefully coming together over the landmines of the past, he started talking to you. And then he started talking to a therapist who specializes in PTSD. And then he started talking more and better and quite often with you. 

But it’s not easy. It doesn’t come naturally. He knows he’s safe, he knows you're safe, but there is an active choice made every time he opens his mouth. 

“My mom.” He says quietly. “She doesn’t understand why we aren’t flying up there for Christmas. And she doesn’t understand why I won’t let her pay for our plane tickets.” 

You squeeze your fingers, kiss his neck distractedly. Ever since you bought the house together, money’s been extraordinarily tight. You had suggested neither of you get gifts for each other this year, but Frankie wouldn’t hear of it. 

Frankie also loathes accepting money from anyone.

You inhale and Frankie does too, your minds silently on the same thing, the same anxious weight pulling you together in ways you couldn’t quite put into words. 

In your vows you talked about for better or worse. This is worse. 

Two years later, you redefine what partner means every single day with him. 

“I hope next year it’ll be different,” you say to his chin. You actually really like his mom, his family, and your stomach knots at the thought of them being disappointed in you. 

You’re starting to sweat beneath the sweater, up against the damp heat of your husband.

“It will.” Anger gone, he’s your sweet, committed Frankie again. The man that you put your faith and trust in time and time again, and would do it without question for the rest of your life. His palm rubs warm stripes up and down your back. “I know it will.” 

You sit in the darkness and the silence and the warmth of having a giant sweater tucked up around you and you listen to the beating of his heart. A sound you’ve found you can’t sleep without. 

“Thank you for checking on me.” 

He sounds so genuinely grateful your eyes flush hot for a moment. 

“Of course, baby.” You kiss his cheek, the wiry brush of his beard. “Always.”

He squeezes you extra tight when you make that promise. 

Always. 

Your heart beats, your eyes flutter shut. He breathes like he is at peace, with you wrapped up in his arms. 

Always. 

“I made an extra loaf,” you say after a long, content stretch of silence. You grin, even though he can’t see. 

“Yeah? The eggnog bread?”

“Mhm hmm. But you have to shower first.”

You giggle as Frankie pins your thighs to his hips as he swings onto his feet. The loose sweater finally falls over his head but you can barely fit through the head hole. 

“A shower it is, then.”

He walks on memory as you fight through the rolls of material. Finally and by some miracle, you get the sweater off you both as Frankie makes it into the bedroom. 

His hair is sticking up, sweat dried and statick-y, when he drops you onto the bed.

You didn’t know it is possible to carry the weight of the love you feel for Frankie and not burst into a million pieces.

You giggle as he pats down your own floating strands of hair and then tucks it behind your ears, his eyes finding yours. 

Beneath his gaze, you feel gigantic and small, shy and confident, terrified and pleased – all at once. You can’t possibly be the thing that fills his eyes with so much love.

“I love you,” he says, simply, obviously, so much and so little. 

“I love you too.” 

He tugs you to your feet and kisses you, a welcoming, familiar glide of his lips against yours. He keeps you close when he pulls back.

“I’ve had a very shitty day and you’re the only thing that makes it better. So, you’re going to take a shower with me and then we're going to watch any Christmas movie you want, okay, baby?” 

You swallow the tightness in your throat, the wetness in your eyes. His hands feel so big around your cheeks. 

There is quite literally nowhere else you’d rather be.

“Okay.”  

[its-time-to-write]

hi my lovely !!

i’m such a big fan of your jamie work and was wondering if you would consider writing about jamie using bantr ??

like she works at richmond and jamie had like a massive light bulb moment when he realised who he’s chatting to but also that he may be are falling in love

totally get if not on your radar !! x

Here you go!! I haven’t written a fic with Bantr yet, so this was fun!!

not saying you’re in love with me 

Dating apps aren’t really your thing. But to be honest, are they anyone’s thing? Or are they like resumes, where everyone just pretends they’re easy and lies about their qualifications?

It doesn’t matter, because you’re on one anyway. 

Keeley Jones (damn her) had hunted you down and practically begged you to sign up for Bantr. 

“Look, you’re young, sweet, and mad fit. Can’t have a bunch of hot footballers in the app and no ladies!”

You had groaned as you put the chicken for today’s lunch in the oven. It’s not easy being Nelson Road’s on-campus chef. There are diet plans to follow, and a million hungry boys all the time. 

It also means you can’t escape Keeley when you’re in the middle of prepping lunch. As soon as it’s served and cleaned up, you can go home. But for now, you’re at her mercy. 

“Keeley, just because I’m the only twenty-something girl on staff here doesn’t mean that I want to date a footballer. Go bother Samantha. She’s what, thirty and goes on dates every weekend? She’s a perfect candidate.”

Keeley pouts. “I’ll set up your whole profile for you. You don’t even have to tell me if you’re talking to someone, just if you like it, yeah? I’ll help you with meals for a week.”

You point your tongs at her. “You will not even think about touching my food for the rest of eternity,” you warn. 

“So you’ll do it, then?” Keeley asks, giving you the full puppy dog expression. 

You consider for a moment. You’re single at the moment, and have been for a good long while. It wouldn’t hurt to be on Bantr and anyway, it’s not like anyone will know who you are. 

“You’re sure it’s anonymous, then?” you ask. 

Keeley jumps up and claps her hands with a squeal. “Totally! Oh my god, I’m so excited for you. I’ll set it up right now. Give me your phone.”

You point to your bag. “It’s in there. Passcode is-”

“Already know it,” Keeley interrupts. You’re not going to question how or why, you just nod and throw your gloves in the trash. 

“Hairnet looks great on you, Keels,” you say conversationally. 

“Fuck you,” she replies, not looking up from your phone. “And- done! You’re ready to start bantering. Ooh, there are a LOT of men nearby! Wonder how many of them are part of AFC Richmond?”

You shoot her a glare, but she just grins. “Put my phone away,” you tell her. 

She slides it back into your bag. “Just promise me you’ll tell me if you like it. I’ll never ask for anything ever again,” she promises. 

You roll your eyes with a laugh. “Sure thing.”

—

STRIKE09 has sent you a message

You grab your phone as soon as it lights up. Keeley’s going to be fucking thrilled that you’re enjoying Bantr this much, and that you’ve been chatting with someone for a week. 

You open your phone to your chat. 

STRIKE09: finally off work

STRIKE09: how’s ur day

STRIKE09: burn anything?

BAKERGURL22: that was a one time thing!!

BAKERGURL22: work was fine. got off early so I could try a new recipe at home

BAKERGURL22: hbu?

STRIKE09: not bad. lads stole all my lynx so im going to boots to get more

BAKERGURL22: u really know how to romance a girl

STRIKE09: ah shit yea should probably try harder to impress u

You chuckle. Whoever STRIKE09 is, he’s been impressing you from the first day. Always asking questions about you, but never too invasive. Flirty, but not over the top. You’d set your age range in 20s-30s, so you were relatively confident this wasn’t some old creep. 

Your phone buzzes so you look down again.

STRIKE09: what did u make today?

BAKERGURL22: lemon cupcakes. not very healthy but super delicious

BAKERGURL22: I have to cook all this healthy stuff at work and sometimes I want to unwind and bake something with too much sugar ya know?

STRIKE09: bet theyre mint

BAKERGURL22: no they’re lemon

STRIKE09: oi, we got a comedian

BAKERGURL22: look, I had to make plain chicken and a salad with fucking olive oil as a dressing today

BAKERGURL22: it was so gross. I apologized 2 the staff but like, it’s what they all requested

BAKERGURL22: worried im gonna be banned from cooking ever again

Across Richmond, Jamie Tartt nearly drops his phone in Boots. He knows exactly who the girl on the other end of this conversation is. The question is, do you know who he is?

He’d assume no, based on the way you’ve been cagey about work. Not private enough though, because he remembers you making a face earlier that afternoon as you said, “Sorry this lunch is such shit, but I guess you all probably don’t care. I swear I’m a better cook than this.”

Jamie had smiled and kept moving, but he’d been thinking about your scrunched nose all day and the sweet way you said sorry.

What are the odds that he matched with someone who worked in the same building as him?

Apparently pretty high.

Jamie’s not really present the entire time it takes him to check out. He’s grateful that the combination of his hoodie plus the tired teen checking him out means he doesn’t have to talk to anyone.��

He kicks off his shoes and flops onto the couch as soon as he gets home, trying to figure out what to say. Should he say anything? What if he does and you decide you don’t like him?

He shrugs it off and puts his phone away for the night.

—

You frown at your phone for the hundredth time this morning.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Keeley asks from her position at the coffee pot.

“Haven’t heard back from my Bantr match. It’s really strange. We were talking last night and then he just stopped responding. He at least sends me a good morning message, but I haven’t even gotten that.”

Keeley gives you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, babes. Ghosting is an epidemic. Have you looked at any of your other matches?”

You shake your head and say, “Nah, I wasn’t really interested in them. I really fucking liked this guy. He was sweet, funny, and so good at flirting. I dunno, maybe it’s easier to be like that because it’s all through a screen, but it felt like we had an actual connection.”

“Well, you don’t have to message anyone else if you don’t want to. You can delete the app altogether.”

You say, “Thanks, Keels,” then go back to chopping vegetables. One bright spot of the day is that lunch will be less shitty than yesterday.

You slide the vegetables in the salad just in time. You hear the familiar rumble of AFC Richmond coming in from the field so you plaster a smile on your face and get ready to pass them their lunch.

—

The rest of the afternoon slides by in a haze. You put an earbud in as you wash the dishes, say goodbye to the office staff, then head out the front door to your car. Someone calls your name and you jump. “Jesus, Jamie.” You turn around to see him push himself off the wall by the door. It looks like he’s been waiting there.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “You headin’ home?”

You say, “Yeah, I only work for part of the day. What are you doing out here?”

Jamie wraps his hands in the front of his shirt and considers what he’s going to say. He’s been thinking about it all morning, and he’s still not sure what the right approach is.

“Look,” he begins hesitantly, “y’know how Keeley’s promoting Bantr?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“I been chatting up this girl, like, and she- I dunno, I really like her. I was thinking we could meet in person but I don’t know if she’ll… fucking… want to.”

Christ, he’s stumbling over his words like a goddamn fool.

You raise an eyebrow and say, “Okay..? Are you looking for advice?”

You’re beyond confused right now. This is the longest Jamie has ever talked to you, and certainly the most awkward he’s ever been. Usually he takes his food with a wink and a “Thank, love.” Sometimes he’ll even through in a compliment.

Jamie untucks his hands just to shove them in his pockets. Fuck it.

“I know it’s you,” he says bluntly. You open your mouth to say something, but he keeps talking. “Figured it out last night when we were talking. You made lemon cupcakes yesterday, yeah? You hated lunch yesterday and said sorry for it like a million fucking times. My username is fucking stupid, just my position and number.”

He stops, unsure where to go from here. Meanwhile, your brain is whirring a mile a minute. 

“You’re Strike09,” you say slowly. Jamie nods and you slap your forehead. “Oh god, I was flirting with you! Shit, this is so fucking awkward. I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have done it if I knew who you were.”

“No, that’s the thing.” Jamie takes a few steps, closing the distance between you. “Don’t think we would’ve done it if we fuckin’ knew each other. But we did. And we like each other.”

Your head is still in your hand. This is too much. You’re conscious of the fact that you’re still in your hairnet.

You look at him just long enough to ask, “So what’s your point?”

“We should give it a go.”

You snort. “Yeah, right. What’s your actual point?”

Jamie looks at you incredulously as he says, “That is my actual fucking point! I like talking to you! I think you’re fit! I know I’m fit and you like talking to me. I sneaked out of training to talk to you. Told Roy I weren’t feeling well, and he’s gonna send someone to check on me soon so if you have a real reason why we can’t try dating, I want to hear it.”

“I don’t,” you admit. “It’s just a lot to process.”

Jamie nods. “Yeah, alright, yeah, sure. Let me know. Um, I have to get back before someone finds me. I’ll see you around.”

“See ya,” you halfheartedly reply. 

You think about Jamie the entire way home. You head straight to the kitchen and mechanically begin pulling out baking supplies. Cooking is fun, but it’s also your job. Baking is how you unwind. You’re halfway through an orange tart when you realize what you’re making. 

“Damn it!” you cry. Fucking Jamie. You smack down your spatula and grab your phone to text Keeley with a request. She responds almost instantly with Jamie’s phone number. 

He picks up on the second ring. 

“You rejecting me over the phone now?” he quips. 

“How’d you know it was me?” you ask. 

“Keeley,” he replies, and you can’t stop a smile from spreading across your face. 

“Same,” you say. “I wanted to tell you that I thought about it, and I want to go out with you. I don’t know when you’re free, but I’m around after 3pm pretty much every night. God, that sounds super lame.”

Jamie laughs. “So if you sent me your address, I could be at yours in…”

“Fifteen minutes,” you supply. 

“Set a timer, babe,” Jamie says. “Bet I can make it in ten.” 

[sethsclearwater]

poly seth and paul with a pregnant reader who has cravings bad and just cries when she cant get it like its 2am and she just wants something specific crying and paul and seth dont know what to do and have to go out at midnight to get her her snacks so she wont cry anymore

PLEASE💀💀 send in more requests y’all!!

...

"seth," you sniffled, whimpering as you gently squeezed his bicep in an attempt to wake him up. the aforementioned male was quick to roll over and knuckle blearily at his eyes as he woke himself up.

"hey pretty girl," he murmured sleepily, yawning, "why the tears?" he asked softly, sitting up so he could gently cup your face in his hands and brush away the stray tears with his thumb.

you sniffled again, which apparently woke up your other imprinter who let out a loud groan as he rolled over, drawing both yours and seth's attention, "'s going on?" paul questioned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand as you sniffled again, another wave of tears running down your cheeks.

"i really want those hot pickles but we don't have any in the fridge," you whimpered, anxiously looking between seth and paul who both let out soft sighs at your explanation.

"oh pretty girl," seth murmured, sliding one hand down to your protruding belly, "let's go look again, yea? i know we just got a bunch a few days ago," he cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before getting up.

you nodded as paul got up as well, taking your hands and helping you up so the three of you could walk into the kitchen. according to the oven, it was 2:13 in the morning and you could not have been less happy to be up at such an early hour.

paul helped you sit down at one of the barstools, gently brushing your tears away as seth looked in the fridge for some of your hot pickles.

he hummed, drawing yours and paul's attention, "i don't see anymore," he sighed softly, his explanation sending another wave of tears down your cheeks.

you anxiously looked over to your other imprinter who just sighed and leaned down to press his lips to your forehead, "i'll go see if the gas station down the street has some, yea?" paul suggested, knowing you well enough by now to know that you wouldn't be able to fall back asleep until you satisfied your craving.

you nodded, "please," you whimpered and he let out a breathy laugh.

"i'll be quick." he reassured, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before straightening up and grabbing his keys and wallet before heading out.

seth came over to you, offering you your hydroflask, "drink some water, yea?" he suggested, offering you a small smile when you nodded and sipped on the straw.

"you wanna put your show on in bed while we wait for paul?" he asked softly and you nodded, sniffling again as you grabbed your hydroflask and allowed seth to take your free hand and help you back into the bedroom where he got you back into bed.

he quickly crawled in next to you, allowing you to curl into his side while he got your favorite show on. it didn't take long for paul to get back and you lit up as soon as you saw him step into the bedroom with a bag of hot pickles, "hey princess," he smiled softly at you as he stepped over and handed you two of them, "i got like 10 of them so we'll have some extras in the fridge, yea?" he asked softly, his tone laced with a hint of teasing that had you giggling as you sniffled.

"thank you," you whispered, cheeks a bright pink as you quickly got one of the pickles out of the wrapper and ate it.

both boys let out breathy laughs, happy to know that you were happy. paul got the rest of the pickles into the fridge before he was getting back in bed with you, both boys chuckling as you ate 2 pickles in record time.

[t0ast-ghost]

Watching Star Trek TOS for the first time, and here are my thoughts on episode three (Charlie “X”)! (I didn’t do episode two cause I just wanted to watch it but I love Bones)

- so far I really like the kid

- Kirk shut up, let Charlie talk

- oh no he’s frightened by the door :(((

- girls do not look THAT different, getting some bad vibes from you Charlie

- BONES!!! (Why does he stand like that, it’s so curved)

- “I want people to like me” oh god they gave this boy anxiety

- He’s learning about the patriarchy, like Ken

- Kirk making Bones tell Charlie about puberty, he looked so defeated

- SPOCKS EYESHADOW!!!

- Charlie gets a Kirk assigned father, it’s not Kirk himself but he did assign Bones to do it, can’t you see the man is tired Jim?!?

- why is she being mean to Spock in verses? Nvm this is fun and he’s enjoying her singing

- HE SLAPPED KIRKS BUTT WHAT

- “there’s no right way to hit a woman.. you know man to man.. uhh… you understand, Charlie?” That was the worst way to try and explain anything, Kirk

- “I put meatloaf in the ovens, now there’s turkeys, real turkeys” then Charlie’s little laugh

- aww they’re playing chess together, normal husband activities

- “you smell like a girl” “I feel hungry… all over” back the fuck up Charlie

- stop trying to get Bones to explain stuff to him, Kirk

- this episode is just so icky, one issue is that they can’t just have an adult conversation and they can’t explain anything properly to him, they’re just telling him no and that he’s wrong. It’s a good example of how concealing information doesn’t allow people to find their own morals but instead creates a bunch of rules which can be easily broken if the person doesn’t believe in them because they don’t understand the logic behind them. (Not saying that the boundaries they’re setting for him are wrong, he just can’t understand them because they’re not explaining shit)

- SHUT UP SAM HE’S TRYING- oops Sam’s gone

- damn that German expressionist lighting tho, like something out of metropolis

- I FUCKIN DARE YOU KIRK, PICK HIM UP SEE WHAT HAPPENS

- okay Kirk saying it’s his choice is good cause at least he’s teaching him that these things he does are his own actions

- “short tempered, because he doesn’t understand” cause you won’t explain shit without mind games and metaphors

- Spock and Bones DO NOT want to get involved

- when Charlie’s explaining what he did to the Antares Bones looks absolutely terrified (Bones sitting like that on the table is… I have many thoughts)

- OH NO UHURA!

- Don’t you dare call Spock Mr. Ears

- “Teenager with supernatural abilities realizes his full potential and decides to use it for evil NOT CLICKBAIT”

- Why would you do that, why would you turn her into an iguana

- GET HIM!!! Wait no! Janice!

- “I love you” “you don’t know what that means” good for her, fuck you Charlie

- He gave Kirk period pain

- “cause you need me to run the ship, and I need him” Spirk? It’s more likely than you think

- this slide from Bones

- “I don’t think you can handle anymore, you’ve reached your limit” Spock and Bones start fucking shit up immediately for Kirk

- Kirk was so ready to punch a bitch

- nice fucking try Charlie- oh Kirk is defending him- nvm he still gets yoinked

- imagine if Charlie becomes Q lol (is that a thing? Are they related?)

- well that’s done now… where’s Scotty, Sulu, and Checkov? (Sulu appeared shirtless in the credits as I wrote that)

Thanks for sticking around again :)

Here’s a link to the first ramble

And all the other rambles

Below the cut is some thoughts I had on the second episode

Some thoughts on episode 2 (The Man Trap):

- it was kinda funny seeing Jim be like “she’s old as fuck, just like Bones”

- I didn’t realize that was where “he’s dead, Jim” came from and my dad quotes it all the time

- it was interesting that even the creature referred to themselves as an animal

- McCoy in the ending where he really didn’t want to kill somebody he loved even if they were just the image

- would not want to be the person to explain what happened to her to Bones