#thank you for the opportunity and again sorry for the non-answer

[sexilene]

kinda need some 80s slasher jj pleaseee!! like maybe he tries to apologize but like reader avoids him and that gets him mad!! thank you angel!

oooh! absolutely!! i literally love anything 80s you have no idea, i love talking about it!! (ignore the spelling mistakes, i'm exhausted lol)

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - non con, cock warming, blood, death, violence, obsession, squirting, slight breeding kink, gun mentions, dark!jj - ��˚⊹

"it's almost 1 in the morning jj, go away!" you whisper yell at him, lightly pushing his shoulder to get him to leave and climb back down your balcony.

"i tried to talk to you all day. you kept walkin' away from me…what's up with that?" he whisper yells back, not budging, he walks closer to the balcony window as if he's going to enter your room.

"i was about to go to sleep jj."

"nah, your light was on." he shakes his head.

"go away please!" you plead with him, hoping it is enough to just leave you alone.

"hey, you're not scared a'me? are you? cause, you don't need ta'be. i'm still the same jj."

"you killed someone!" you back away from him, placing your hand on the handle of the balcony door.

"well okay, but i apologized that day in the car and i've been trying to talk to you and apologize again, you were the one who kept avoiding me." he reasons, holding the door open with his hand.

"i accept your apology, now please go!" you whisper yell again.

"nah nah nah…you don't mean it, i need you to know that i fucked up n'i'm sorry."

"that you killed danny?"

"no, that you saw that i killed danny…look your my frie- no your my girl and i had to do somethin' cuz that asshole was just-" you put your hand up to get him to stop rambling "jj stop." but he just takes the opportunity to push past you and walk into your room.

"never saw your room before…y'like janet jackson?" he laughs softly and points to the poster on your wall and then looks over at the cassette tapes on your dresser. "…and madonna huh?"

"jayjay my parents are gonna freak if they wake up and find a boy in my room!" you grab onto his arm, trying to drag him back out.

"ya' got any dirty movies?" he diverts his attention over to your little tv on the other side of your dresser.

"seriously! beat it!" he sighs dramatically and lets you walk him back over to the balcony. "fine. see ya tomorrow then?"

"yes. yeah…you will, goodnight," you assure him, watching as he nods, satisfied with your answer he climbs back down the side of your house.

you tried you best to smile at him when you happened to cross paths or make eye contact but you just couldn't help avoiding him, i mean he did still totally freak you out. you had just about survived the day without having to talk to him but then on your way back to your house you see him leaning against his truck, parked on the side walk. you decide to just pretend you don't see him and walk right past him.

"hold it." he grabs onto your arm tightly, stopping you from walking away. "…listen, i don't know if i was a total dip for apologizing cause the whole point was t'get you to stop ignoring me, and clearly the message was not received. " he squints, obviously not very happy with you.

"i was just super busy and i had a major test to study for so thats wh-"

"no no hey, don't worry about it babydoll, i know how you can make it up t'me," he loosens his grip on your arm and gives you a charming smile, dimples showing and everything.

"o-ohkay…what did you have in mind?" you begin to relax at how his demeanor has changed, hopefully, you think.

"rented this gnarly tape n'i wanted to watch it with you. your folks home?"

"no…they don't back tonight till 3 in the morning…big dinner benefit thing, they usually get drunk and stay really late into the night…" you ramble.

"right. great. i'll drive you home."

"ohkay jayjay…thank you," you respond shyly as if you two had just met and he was asking you on a date.

"so which movie did you rent?"

"its a surprise, think you'll reaaaally like it."

"i like most movies…want anything from the kitchen? water, beer…"

"m'good, i just put the tape in, cuhmon, i'll be gentle with you." he sits down on your bed and pats his lap for you to come over and sit on. you nod slowly and sit right next to him, so he grabs your waist and scooches you over onto his lap, your ass right up against his gradually hardening bulge.

"jj…what are you doin'?" you take your eyes off the tv and look down at his hand coming to flip your skirt up and feel that you're not wearing any panties, giving him full permission to rub on your pussy.

"shshsh, just focus on the TV, princess." you ignore his actions like an idiot and figure at least he's being gentle with you and focus back on the TV, the camera in a POV angle following a guy with his hands up defensively.

"what are we watching?…" you whisper, trying to push jj's hand away from your pussy, but obviously that doesn't do anything. he smacks your hand away and goes right back to touching you.

"it's a movie i made…see there that's your ex-boyfriend, talked him into the role," he whispers back, clearly very interested in what's on the screen…and playing with your pussy. the next thing you know you watch as your ex-boyfriend gets shot in the face and then shot more times in the chest, blood going everywhere.

"ohmygod jay-!" you scream, shutting your eyes and covering your mouth with one hand, while the other tries to get his hand away from you so you can get the hell off of him. he ignores your attempt and tightly wraps his other arm around you to keep you in place.

"holyfuck you're so wet." he laughs, dipping two fingers into your embarrassingly wet cunt, the intrusion making you mewl and turn your head away from the screen and the gory mess being shown.

"nah uh, keep watching." he tuts, moving his hand away from your princess parts and over to his jeans to pull his dick out to put inside you.

"i don't want to watch this anymore! i don't wanna-"

"don't care whatcha don't wanna do, worked hard to do this for you babe…so you're gonna sit here on my cock and watch the fucking movie i made for you." he grunts, lifting you onto his dick, the stretch and fullness you feel is unreal, you have no choice but to sit there and soak his fat cock.

"no!" you cry, tears starting to gather at your waterline.

"yeah…she's likes it, she's squeezing me reaaaaal good baby. jj presses a wet kiss to your cheek and wraps his arms around you again to keep you there.

"turn it off, please! please!…"

"y'gonna quit ignorin me, cupcake?"

"uh huh…i swear just please!"

"it's almost over, keep watchin." but you just can't, squeezing your eyes shut you try to block out all the noise and just focus on not cumming on him, not wanting to give into him. yet, there's no use, cause now he's got his three fingers pressing down on your little clit, rubbing it fast and hard.

"jayjay!" you squeal, digging your nails into his arm that is around your waist, as you cum hard around his dick. when you blink your eyes open the tape has finished and you notice all the liquid sprayed on your sheets.

"oh ho…there she is, squirting on my cock like a dumb slut.” he smiles and presses a little kiss to your neck.

"not on birth control are you?" you can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears as he continues to softly rub your clit.

"yo, i'm talkin to you." he spits, slapping your cheek a few times with this big warm hand to get you to respond. a few more tears spill down your face and respond with a weak whisper. "no, m'not…m'not…"

"maybe y'should be." he grunts softly before dumping his huge warm load in you just from cock warming.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request the Obey Me brothers reacting to their s/o sending them selfies of them in skimpy outfits or completely nude?

Obey me Brothers + spicy pics from MC

Lucifer

Another tedious meeting that should have been an email. But Lucifer remained professional and stalwart as ever, so as to not embarrass Lord Diavolo.

The only exception he made was for his cellphone. Keeping it on silent, but on the table, as Lucifer had learned in the past if he didn’t check it at least regularly during these meetings it might be too late from when his brothers’ hijinks might ensure. Vering into calamity past hijinks.

He noticed he had a text from [Y/N] and was surprised as they usually never texted him when he was in these meetings. Respecting his work. If they were texting him, Lucifer assumed it was important and opened the text in a reserved manner so as not to draw attention.

When he saw what the text was, however, he had to grip his phone tight to the point of cracking to maintain that composure.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to excuse me. It seems there is an important matter I must deal with at home. I’ll be back once the matter is taken care of. Thoroughly.”

Mammon

“Mammon-san! Over here!”

“Yes! That’s perfect! Hold that pose!”

“You look amazing Mammon-san!”

The Avatar of Greed grinned roguishly as he was showered with praise. He had to admit, he really was killing this photoshoot.

The photographer took a few more shots before they called for a break and the team moved in to touch him up. Offering him compliments still, along with water. Both of which Mammon drank up. One of the attendants handed him his phone from his dressing room. Giving him a few moments to check it before it was back to work.

He looked at a missed text from [Y/N] and nearly did a spit take of his water. Able to thankfully keep it down, but still coughed in a very un-model like manner at seeing their nearly naked form.

“I uh…I gotta go. We have enough for the magazine right?? Good. Great! Thanks for the opportunity and be sure to call me again!”

Mammon was then out the door fast than anyone could catch him. Including to get his wardrobe outfit off.

“Models….” The photographer muttered as he reset his camera to take shots of the background models in the meantime.

Levi

“On your right! On your right! NO! Your other right!!” Levi shouted into his headset as he tried to lead his team through the maze of undead swarm.

Zombie Zion XX9 had just come out this week and Levi had been grinding non-stop. He barely made time to sleep, much less do anything else, in pursuit of this final battle with the Mother Swarm of zombies (there by defeating the plague and saving the world from the undead at last).

“Guys, we have to get through the door together, otherwise we don’t get the ‘In This Together’ buff! You need to catch up to me! It’s…It’s…ugh! Hold on!” His phone had been buzzing beside him non-stop for the past minute with various texts.

Usually, he would ignore it. But something this persistent typically meant it was important, and what if it was his brothers telling him the house was on fire? He’d have to save his Ruri-chan figures if that was the case.

When he opened the text, Levi’s eyes bugged out and he felt his nose begin to well up with blood as he looked at the picture of [Y/N] in their cosplay panties.

“Levi! Where are you?! We’re getting hammered out here! Levi-!” The connection on his game went dead as the last of his team members died. The screen fading into a black screen of ‘game over’.

“Oh, come on!”

Satan

This anthology that Simeon had recommended to him was thrilling. Truly a masterpiece.

Satan had been absorbed into the new series almost since the first page. Devouring each of the nine books with vigor, much like his little brother did with food. He had forsaken all else, honestly, except reading the past few days. Anxious to find out who the final killer & mastermind behind the protagonist’s plight was, and finally get some answers.

He was nearly at the climax, the big reveal, when his phone started to buzz.

Grumbling that his concentration was broken, Satan picked it up to see who it was. His irksomeness quickly dissolving as he saw [Y/N]’s nearly naked chest in front of him.

He had a choice to make.

Continue reading and get the answers he needed, or put the book down and go to the person clearly in need of him. How was he to choose?

In the end, he put the book down and sprinted off to where [Y/N] was. If the main character could wait 10 years to find out who the killer was, surely Satan could wait a little longer to find out as well.

Asmo

Shopping was one of Asmo’s favorite past times. Going to stores and looking for the perfect item or accessory was like a little treasure hunt to him. Or just perusing the aisles and new merch like one would an art gallery, with the same enthusiasm for beauty. It was a wonderful afternoon. Especially if [Y/N] was with him.

[Y/N] had gone to try on some items that they found while Asmo continued to scan over the racks. His cellphone eventually buzzed, and he fumbled with his iced coffee to get it out of his bag. Seeing a picture of [Y/N] in the dressing room in a super cute bra and panty set with the question :should I get it?:

:OMG yes! 💓🥵🔥🔥: Asmo texted back immediately.

:It looks so good on you! Which dressing room are you in?? I want to see it in person! Should we get matching ones??:

He eventually found [Y/N] and showered them with praise. Insisting that he would buy it for them if they didn’t get it themselves, and offered to buy it in every color as well.

Beel

“98…99…100.”

Beel lifted the weights one final time and put the bar back on the rack. The weights clanking down with a heavy thud with the sheer mass of them. He loved getting a good workout in before he went home.

Heading over to his locker space to get some water and check his phone, Beel saw he had a text from [Y/N]. He opened it and saw the spicy picture they had just sent him. Usually only the 5x Hellfire Spicy noodles were the only spice that could make him drool this much. Clearly he was wrong.

Beel decided to, for once, cut his work out short. He quickly packed his bag and ran home to do some cardio on the way home. Planning to do some more ‘cardio’ when he got there.

He could make up for the missed sets in the morning before school. Since he’d be busy the rest of the night.

Belphie

Belphie yawned and rolled over as he woke up from his nap. His fifth of the day, so it was a pretty short one. Only about an hour this time.

He stretched and rubbed his eyes before reaching for his phone to see what time it was. He was immediately greeted with a text from [Y/N] on the screen. He felt a little bad for missing it while he was a sleep, but by now they had to know that he would get back to them eventually. Belphie opened it and was immediately greeted with something from his dreams.

:Are you still wearing that?: He texted them back.

:Come to my room: He then added. :In the attic. I’m still in bed. So half the work is done😉.:

He waited to hear back from [Y/N] and grinned when he saw them respond with they were on their way.

And his brothers made fun of him for being in bed all the time. With his soft mattress and [Y/N], why would he ever want to leave?

[yooglefics]

hii! its been a few days since i found u and i love ur writing and stories!! could i request a fic where yoongi and (possibly) female reader have a fight over jealousy (its either her or him or both even idk) and its a little angsty idk but then they make up and its all fluffy 🤓🤓 thank u in advance luv

Hellooo. Thank you so much for your kind words and for requesting this! I really enjoyed writing this pair and some angst, I did a hint of both being jealousy, but is mostly him haha. Sorry it took me a while to finally post it, but I wanted it to be good, and I hope you like it!

Jealous, jealousy

Pairing: Min Yoongi x fem!reader  Wordcount: 2,467 words Genre: AU. Established relationship. Angst and comfort / fluff.  Summary: Jealousy has never been a problem in your relationship, not until a comment can't leave Yoongi's mind and interactions at your office’s party just make it worse. Content warnings under read more.

Includes: Jealous Yoongi. People thinking there's something between Jin and Reader… even Yoongi. Miscommunication. They argue. And then they're cute.

It all starts with the perilla leave question between Yoongi's friends one night out and a few rounds of soju in. As a self-identified non-jealous person, his answer was that it didn't mean anything, and even told the story about how it happened a few days ago when your coworker joined you two for lunch.

Jungkook, the non-identified most jealous person of the group, had obviously called him stupid. Questioned him about that guy and told him to be careful. “If I were you, Yoongi, I'd keep my eye on him.”

Little rascal; didn't even bother to use honorifics with him anymore.

But the worst thing is that the idea is now on his head and not even Yoongi knows how bad it is about to get as he steps into your office party a few weeks later. Now having the opportunity to see his girlfriend and her favorite coworker interact more in a familiar environment.

Even the ones who don't know Yoongi a lot, know he can be pretty reserved around new people, that's why you continue to make your polite round of interactions after saying hi and leaving him at a table with a whiskey and snacks. Promising to come back as soon as possible.

He looks at you across the room, all professional and sweet, the queen of small talk and polite smiles, and one forms on his own lips without realizing. Only doing so when it's erased as someone greets him, sitting down beside him and he tries to follow your steps at looking, at least, a bit cordial. 

“I don't think I've seen you before. Are you here with ( y / n ) or Seokjin?”

“Yes, with ( y / n ).”

“Really?” She sounds genuinely surprised, “I didn't know she was inviting someone.” 

“Well, I like supporting her, don't really need the invitation” he chuckles a bit awkwardly, “I'm her boyfriend.”

“Oh, so she is dating someone?” Again, the surprise in her tone makes Yoongi believe is a true emotion, and that confuses him.

“For a few years now, yes.”

“And here I was thinking that those two were going to be the next office romance,” she says sounding disappointed before realizing, “oh my— not that it's bad they don't, just… they are both attractive and you know…”

«Is that supposed to make it better?», he wants to ask, but instead he laughs, trying to dismiss everything as her hand lays on his forearm that is resting on the table, trying to reassure him as she goes on about him being handsome too and whatnot.

He stopped listening now. Because after that interaction, one hour seems long enough when half of that you have spent besides that guy, and Jungkook's words keep growing in his head as if he were watering them with the sweet alcohol. The one he has to switch hands to sip from now, because your coworker keeps the other prisoner of her hand. 

Not even the excuse ( that is actually not really an excuse because he needs it ) to get a refill works and she only stops rambling his ear off when someone arrives at the place and she finally leaves the table to greet them.

“I saw you made a friend,” your sweet smile is almost enough to make him forget his thoughts when he is joined by you at the bar while ordering another whiskey.

“Well, figure I should while you had fun with yours.” he shrugs in an effort to dismiss negative feelings.

“Wait, did you actually make friends with her?” is your turn to sound surprised, corners of your mouth falling a little.

“Is a problem if I did?”

“I… I mean, I was joking but I don't like her very much. You can make friends with other people, though.”

“Ah, thanks for the clear up.” He walks back to the table to sit down, and even he can acknowledge it was a weird response, so, your next question doesn’t shock him.

“Are you okay?”

“What if I made friends with your best friend, what's his name?” he asks instead. Comments from others blurring his psyche, making him act without much thinking.

“Jin?”

“Is that his name? She called him Seokjin”

“Well, Seokjin, Jin for short. What's the big deal?”

“Nothing. Just… that's what she said when she asked who I was here with,” he explains before taking a sip.

“Of course she asked you that,” and eye roll accompanies your words. 

“Yeah, because apparently you didn't say you invited your boyfriend.” but he thinks there is more important matters than you not liking your coworker. “As a matter of fact she didn't know you had a boyfriend.”

“Because is none of her business. She doesn't need to know about my relationship.”

“She does when she is talking about you and Seokjin having a romance.”

“What?!”

“Sorry. You and Jin.”

“Shut up, you know that's not what I meant. Can't believe she said that.” You steal a sip from his whiskey before continuing, “No actually, I can.”

He buffs. “You can?”

“Yeah, I told you, she is… not likable.”

“Just that? Not because it would be believable for you two to be together?” He asks, his annoyance clearer as seconds go by.

“Jin and I? Please, that's ridiculous.”

“Okay.”

“Why? Are you jealous?” You inquire, playfully. As if it would be impossible to be true.

“Yes.”

“Wait. Really?! But you have never been jealous.”

“Maybe I am now.” 

“Because of Jin?” you’re confused at how serious he is being, but before you can question more about it, you’re interrupted by said guy.

“Oh, I was summoned. Hi.” he greets your partner, so casually since he doesn’t realize Yoongi is mad with him too. “Can you come back? I don't want to interact with those people alone.”

You look at your co-worker and friend for a few seconds, and then to your boyfriend, trying to understand what is happening and if he is actually jealous. Him, Min Yoongi, the less jealous person you’ve ever met.

“Go, have fun.” Your boyfriend encourages you, managing a smile that only confuses you more because is clear to you that it’s not genuine.

What the hell is happening?

You’re surrounded with interactions the rest of the night, from your co-workers to their partners, people seem interested in Jin and you, after all, it’s the first big party since the both of you joined the company. Even when you go back to sit with Yoongi people get close to make conversation, one person actually asks about wedding planing and tells you she can get you in contact with someone. You know she means well so, with your best smile, you thank her and change the subject.

You hate those conversations. 

Having spent your childhood between your parents’ fights because «staying together for their kids» was a priority, when in reality it only made it worse for everyone involved, you grew up hating the idea of getting married. You understand it is for love, but you don't need a paper or a big party to announce that you love Yoongi. You don't need a ring on your finger to promise you'll do it forever. You don't need him to propose, let alone ask your parents permission to do so. 

Is your life, your decisions. The only opinion that matters other than yours is Yoongi's and he has always understood, never pressured you. He is the love of your life, after all.

In the car on the way home, the silence is filled with music from the stereo and you try to take Yoongi’s hand on the gear lever as always, but only a couple of seconds pass before he pulls away, both hands on the wheel now. 

Trying to figure out if it was on purpose, you ask, “What are you thinking about?” 

“You spend a lot of time with him,” he says without a beat.

“You told me to go.”

“I mean in general.”

“We work together, can't really do much about that.”

“You weren't working tonight and still it was like you were joined at the hip.” he hasn’t looked at you and you can’t decide if it hurts or bothers you more.

“Again, you told me to go at the end,” you argue. “ If you wanted me to stay with you, you could have said so.”

“Now I have to ask you to spend time with me?”

“Well, I can’t read your mind, honey.” you poke his cheek, softly. An attempt to lighten the mood a little.

“That’s not the point.” His tone is just as serious. And then you know that, whatever this is, it’s deeper than you thought.

“What is it then?” you genuinely ask, annoyance starting to build up inside you, but trying to stay calm. Surely he can tell, you think. “You’re clearly upset, but why?”

“Shouldn't I be? When my girlfriend keeps hanging out with this good-looking dude and everyone thinks they could be a thing?” 

“Really?” How can he even entertain those thoughts? You with another man? Doesn’t he hear how ridiculous it sounds? “Shouldn't I be upset because you let her touch your arm for like five minutes straight?”

“She was trying to console me.”

“Yeah, that actually makes it worse, Yoongi.” 

“Yoongi?” 

“That's your name.” He finally looks your way, but you’re looking at the road ahead of you and he can’t tell it is just in order to calm down.

“Wait. Why are you turning things on me?”

“Because you're being irrational and I'm not having this conversation.”

Once again the music is the only sound filling the air, and you opt for folding your arms in front of your chest to stop you from reaching for his hand again.

Now both of you are mad. Great. 

Arriving home, he still gets out of the car first to open the door for you, and it helps soften the heartache a little. But still, the night repeats in your head, trying to understand what happened. 

Why suddenly spending time with Jin is a problem? Why is Yoongi so jealous about it? And why—

“You let her touch you after she said Jin and I had a thing?” you ask as both of you are finally in the bedroom, getting ready to end the night. 

“Thought we weren't having this conversation.”

“No. This one is different. This one is about you potentially doing things because you were upset with me.”

“That would be stupid.” He stops his movements, shirt unbuttoned just halfway through. “Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, you aren't exactly acting like yourself tonight.”

“Because I'm jealous?”

“Because we are fighting about you being jealous.” And trying to calm down once again, you continue taking your dress off, struggling with the zipper but too proud to ask him for help right now.

“Okay, let's not fight, then.” He sits down on his side of the bed. “Just answer this question: do you like him?” 

“Yoongi—” 

“Just answer. Please.” when you finally turn to him, the look on his face is different from what you expected. He doesn't seem angry, but hurt. Like your answer could break him.

“Of course not. Not like that.” You emphasize. Giving up on your clothes and kneeling in front of him, taking a breath before continuing. “You know we started at the same time and he is always nice and fun, I think he is my only friend at work because everyone else keeps asking me when I'm going to get married and leave. Like your friend.”

“What?”

“The lady you were talking to. Is always asking personal questions and I don't like it. Not because I don't like talking about you, I love you and I talk with Jin about you all the time, but is just…”

“Not her business. And you don't have to explain yourself to others.” he completes. Yoongi is the first to always remind you that after all.

“Exactly.” 

“Sorry.” he is quick to say, feeling like an asshole now, a hand running through his hair, messing it up, “I really don’t know what is up with me tonight, I’m sorry.”

“Were you actually jealous of Jin?” the disbelief in your voice is funny now, and he nods with a chuckle. “That’s surprising coming from you.”

“I know. Is dumb.”

“Hey, don’t say that,” you move closer to him, hands on his shoulders to make him look at you, “your feelings are not dumb, Yoongi.”

“Can you stop calling me by my name tonight?”

“Sorry,” both of you laugh softly, “but I mean it. Even if it’s irrational to be jealous of anyone because I love you so very much and wouldn’t even dream to be with someone else; your feelings are important, honey. Just… you know, we have to work on a better way of expressing them.”

He chuckles again, still feeling bad about it all but appreciating the reassurance. “I will, promise. I just never felt like this before, is… weird.”

Yoongi has always thought jealousy is stupid. He understands feeling insecure and all that, but acting like he did tonight has always been something he didn’t understand. Something he judged. He thought it was about bad communication, distrusting your partner, and things like that. And, if you don’t trust the person you love, does it make sense to be together? But maybe is not as simple as that.

He didn't care if you had your own friends and went out with them, like some of the people he knows do. He has his own opinion on marriage and engagement rings. But maybe he cares in other ways. Maybe he cares about people thinking you're with someone else because that's probably his biggest fear.

“I don’t like jealousy.” he speaks again, bringing his arms around your waist, hugging you close and resting his head against your torso.

“Good, that means you are not toxic.” A pause while your hand combs through his hair, putting black strains back in place, “and now you know how I feel when people hit on you.”

“People don’t do that.” 

“They do,” he looks up at you, but before he can argue anything, you cup his face and bend a little to peck his lips, softly. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone with her and without a warning.”

“I tried to get away but she wouldn't let go of my arm and I didn't want to be rude.” 

His bottom lip sticks out in a small pout and you kiss it away, “Yoonie, sometimes you’re too nice for your own good.”

“Maybe I should be just nice to you.”

“You're too nice for that,” he rolls his eyes, making you laugh even more, “that's why I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

Protect them 🥺  Let me know what you think. comment, reblog, send an ask, follow or whatnot. Thank you for reading <3 ♡ Tag list: @n33mesis , @sexytholland , @mggv97 , @wobblewobble822 , @bbou-doir , @m00njinnie , @itsmina29 , @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d , @nariee02 , @ktownshizzle , @kimtaehussy . 

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[highonmarvel]

girl- i'd do ANYTHING for a very dark!Thor x f!reader where reader is kidnapped and enslaved by him. Noncon, violence will be great.

Love ya! And ty, no pressure :))

-🪐

no it did not take me five months to answer this, who said that. i do apologise for the nearly half a year wait, i’m not sure what’s wrong with me, but i appreciate the ask, and your patience! love you to the moon and to saturn 🪐 alright, here we go:

No Words, Just Screams

Thor Odinson: A quiet and dignified rejection leads to consequences that are the exact opposite of it.

Thank you to the absolutely incredible @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me with this. You are seriously, seriously the best person ever, I love you so much.

additional content warnings here!

CONTENT WARNING, PLEASE READ: This piece includes graphic depictions of violence. Seriously, this is really dark; do not proceed if you are uncomfortable with explicit descriptions of physical abuse and rape. This is your warning. This is fucking dark. I am going to hell.

Non Con Warning

For only the second time in your life you reject a man. He seems nice enough—Thor, is his name—and you’ve seen him around a few times at a mutual friend’s parties, but you’ve hardly spoken to him; he’s gregarious and outgoing and he gets along well with everyone, including you. Though you hardly know him, he’s never given you a reason to dislike him; very short pleasantries have always been comfortable and even humorous, and everyone around you says he’s cool, you’ve just never had the opportunity to really learn anything about him, especially considering he never sticks with one group during a party, making his way through the crowd so everyone gets a piece of him, although it’s never been too much for you.

That’s why you’re so taken aback when he finds you outside and confesses his attraction to you. You had slipped out to the backyard to take a smoke break and try to relieve yourself of the pounding headache caused by the constant yelling and booming music inside.

“I really, really like you. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out with me sometime.”

“Oh!” you startle, really not having expected this. “I… I’m sorry but no… I just don’t know you too well.”

For a moment you wonder if that was the right call—you haven’t really been on too many dates but you know the general idea of them is to get to know someone, and who knows, maybe you’d actually find yourself attracted to him; he’s not bad looking at all—strong arms, blue eyes, blond hair, the works—but you can’t say anything on him as a person. Nearly as immediately as that thought crosses your mind, it’s swept away when his expression changes.

The usually lighthearted and easygoing demeanour he carries vanishes into thin air, and the somewhat bashful nature he had around you as he asked you the question turns into something a little darker, and more serious.

You really can’t tell what’s wrong with this guy. You try to tell yourself he’s just feeling embarrassed and maybe even a little sad right now, but for some reason you suddenly notice the extreme height difference and avert your eyes.

Deciding it’s best to head back inside, you try to push past him on the narrow veranda where he stands blocking your path to the door. He’s still as you move and for a second you don’t think he’ll do anything until suddenly a calloused hand clasps around your wrist and you yelp in fright jumping back at the touch.

“Sorry!” he apologises nearly immediately with a breathy half-laugh.

You look up from his hand restraining you to find his eyes have softened and his popular but not douchey energy is back, as if that earlier spell was just a trick of light.

“I’ve just… never been rejected before,” he laughs again and shakes his head. His words sound lightheartedly incredulous, innocently surprised, but his grip on you is so strong you’re starting to lose feeling in the tips of your fingers.

“Uh— yeah, alright,” he lets your hand fall free and you gasp as the blood comes rushing back, cradling your wrist in the palm of your other. “Just know that you’re incredible, and any guy would be lucky to have you.”

You want to thank him for the compliment and for his interest, but you’re sort of frozen in bewilderment at his weird juxtaposition; his words are soft and sweet, but he won’t meet your eyes, staring into the distance as if focused on something; his reaction to your rejection wasn’t extreme, but it was so unsettling you’d rather he have yelled at you.

You give him a quick, tight-lipped smile before rushing inside and shutting the door behind you, not really caring that you left him out there. For 15 minutes you half-dance lingering by the backdoor, but it never opens again and he never steps in. Oh, God, you really hope no one saw that, you’d rather not be bombarded with questions about why Thor ditched the party after seeing you, but you also don’t want to leave immediately and be interrogated on why you and Thor left at the same time. Eventually you stop hanging at the back of the house and dance your way to the main area where Nat is swaying happily.

“Nat!” you yell her name over the music, moving into her sight line to try to get her attention.

“Oh, hey!” she says in an excited and high pitched voice, “Where’d you go?”

“I just went out for a breather and spoke to Thor.”

“You did?” she replies, closing her eyes as she moves to the music, “That’s great, he’s great!” She’s clearly drunk and you doubt that even if you got her alone for a bit she’d be able to understand what you’re trying to tell her. And what even are you trying to tell her? He didn’t hurt you (intentionally), he didn’t do anything wrong at all, in fact, he was overwhelmingly nice, but the way he switched was spine chilling.

You just nod and continue dancing until your legs are tired. You pour yourself a glass of water at the drink table, looking out through the window it’s pushed against into the street where parked cars are lined up and down the road. But one car is in the middle with the engine running, and you swear it’s Thor’s, but it’s just sitting there, and it’s too dark to tell if it’s him inside. If it is him, what’s he doing? Is he waiting for someone? He came here alone, but he stayed sober tonight, maybe so he could drive a few friends home because he was just that thoughtful, but… maybe that’s not the reason he’s sober while everyone else—including you—is drunk as fuck or high as shit.

Your mind swirls in confusion—worsened by the alcohol—as you try to get your bearings, trying to decide if maybe you really are just being unnecessarily skeptical and harsh on him. Whatever his intentions, you still felt weirdly uncomfortable, and you’re not really able to enjoy the rest of the night feeling slightly unnerved by his earlier presence.

You give Nat a quick goodbye and she waves, but you’re not sure if she heard you say you’re leaving or if she was just swaying to the music. The cool night air calms you down as you step through the front door, but you’re not at peace for long before you stumble and nearly fall face first into the concrete with a shriek. But you don’t feel the impact, instead, you feel steady arms catch you, and hold you a little tighter than necessary.

“Are you okay?” a familiar voice asks: Thor. Maybe he just went to drop someone off at home and he’s back now, there’s no reason to think he’s watching you or following you or anything like that; for Christ’s sake, you barely even spoke to him a few hours ago, you can’t even classify the interactions you’ve had with him as a conversation, and he’s known around here to be the nicest guy you’ll ever meet, so why does this feel so odd?

You grab onto his biceps to steady yourself, mumbling a thanks as you straighten to full height. You can’t really focus on his features considering you’re much drunker than you initially thought, but his cadence just doesn’t seem right.

What the fuck is wrong with this guy? Or, alternatively, what’s wrong with you?

“That’s not an answer, baby.” Baby? “You can’t even walk, let me take you home.”

The last thing you want to do is spend any time alone with him, even though you have to admit his offer seems better than sitting on the couch of a hot living room while people grind on each other all around you. What can you do? You’re feeling a little too out of it to reject his offer, but you know he can tell you don’t want this, and you know he can come up with a dozen reasons as to why you should get home, and why he should be the one to take you; you only really know Nat here and she’s in no condition to drive or even just walk you home, and you don’t live close, so walking alone isn’t just unfeasible based on distance, but after midnight is way too dangerous, and you might even hit the ground on your way.

His hand is light on your bicep, gently catching your attention as he gestures to his car with his other, like he’s laid a treat down to lure an animal into his cage. When you don’t move for a few moments, he guides you forwards; initially you try to resist him, planting your feet in the ground as he walks just a little ahead of you, but even his lightest tug is stronger than you can fight in this state, and you soon find yourself slowly walking with him, carefully eyeing the car.

He opens the back door and you slide in, head pounding and vision slightly blurred, but at least relieved you don’t have to sit next to him. You don’t realise you hadn’t given him your address until the car slows after ten minutes, and you groggily turn your now-heavy head towards the windows and peer at the unfamiliar yard the car is parked in.

Before you have time to question it, Thor gets out and slams the door behind him, the car rocks on its wheels and you try to clasp onto the car door but it’s flung open before you can latch onto it. A shrill squeal leaves your throat before your arm is caught in a death grip between a rough palm with fingers digging so hard into your arm you worry he’ll snap right through your bone.

“Thor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” he yells in your face, causing you to cringe back into the car but he harshly tugs you out and you fall to your hands and knees on the rocky pavement with a grunt, the stones splitting the relatively thin skin of your knees leaving abrasions dirty with sand and small rocks.

Thor’s hand tangles itself into your hair and you yelp as you grip onto his wrist and hastily stumble to your feet lest you risk him ripping your scalp off. If he feels your nails digging into his skin so hard trickles of blood run down your fingers, he doesn’t show it.

You let one hand go and attempt to swipe at him but he’s just far enough out of reach, and you’re not really able to land any hits on target given on your disorientation.

The door to what you assume is his house slams open and you’re flung so far in your slide across the floor for a few metres before hitting your head against the hardwood. You groan as you lift a hand to your temple to feel for a warm trickle of blood racing down the side of your face, but before you can bring your fingertips to your line of vision, a heavy and muddy boot presses onto your head, pushing your cheek into floor and clotting leaves and twigs into your hair. You gasp and try to reach back to pry his ankle off of you but he swats the hand away with one of his own and you let it fall to the floor with a whimper. He leans forward on his leg and lets out a disappointed sigh, crushing your face so your lips purse and you can’t even ask for him to stop.

“This could have been a lot easier, you know,” he says casually, as if saying yes to him was the definition of a no-brainer, and in his mind, it might have been; he’s never been rejected before, and by the way he’s behaving, you can tell he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Saliva drips out of your mouth and forms a small pool on the floor as he presses down harder, before he finally releases you and you’re able to place your hands underneath your shoulders and push your head up, and the room spins so fast you nearly regret doing so. You don’t have time for relief before you’re kicked so you have to roll over onto your back and stare up at this beastly man who seems to be becoming less human and more animal-like by the second, breathing heavily as if he’s the one who was practically thrown across the room and crushed under the weight of a tall man. His pupils have definitely dilated, making the anger in his eyes that much more intense.

Again he presses his foot down, this time to your stomach, knocking the wind right out of you. You try to squirm upwards from under him but he leans down and effortlessly wraps a large hand around your throat, stopping you in your tracks as you pivot your attention to prying him off of you and trying to get some air into your lungs again, ignoring the black spots that dot the corners of your vision.

He does finally let go of your neck but not before slamming your head into the floor, making you gurgle and sending a near-deafening ringing sound bouncing through your skull. You try to prop yourself up on your forearms but you can’t lift your head a few inches off the ground before it slams back down.

“I try… to be nice,” he growls as he steps over you, putting one foot on either side of your body, “And you… just wanna be difficult.” He brings his boot up and slams it down hard against your wrist, and your scream is so loud you nearly miss the unmistakable bone-crunching sound the stomp makes as your left wrist breaks under the impact.

“Please—” you begin, but are forced to let out a cry of pain as he presses down harder.

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” he bellows, but he finally frees your mangled hand and you gasp as you push over to your left side, wanting to grasp your wrist in your right palm but stopping short when noticing the hypersensitivity even as you brush your fingers lightly over your jagged skin is enough to make you want to pass out. “No words,” he continues, clearly trying hard to keep his voice level, though you can still hear the twinge of sadistic enjoyment at the edges of his words, “Just screams.”

He nudges you over until you’re lying on your belly again and makes quick work of kicking your legs apart. In anticipation of what’s coming, you try to kick at his crotch but he catches your ankle and crashes your leg back down to the cold, hard floor. The sound of him unbuckling his belt makes your heart rate pick up, drumming against your ribs is such harsh hits you’re scared it’ll break through. You try to claw forward but choke on a sob as you’re reminded of your broken wrist when the slightest movement causes blood to start painfully pumping through the site of injury.

When he spits in his hand, you break down and let out a wail, and based on the grunt he lets out as he strokes himself, it seems to only spur him on further. You don’t even know when he’s pushed your underwear to the side but when he feel his tip rest for a moment on your entrance, it makes you cry out a plea, using your right hand to claw at his thigh while hopelessly trying to thrash your legs with your thighs trapped under his knees that are painfully digging into your flesh, “No, no, no, please, please—”

He interlocks his fingers through yours making sure his palm presses down on your injured hand and his other hand pulls roughly at your hair to bring your head up. He spits in your face then slams your head back down so hard your teeth chatter and you taste warm blood filling your mouth.

He pushes into you with a frustrated grunt at how painfully dry you are, but that doesn’t stop him for long. He spits on his hand and reaches down to add a few wet fingers to his length, causing you to cry out at the painful and unnatural stretch. With a low growl in the back of his throat, he slowly pulls himself nearly entirely out of you before slamming his hips so far into you that you jerk forward and feel your walls tear around him. The sight of blood has him nearly drooling and makes his task of rocking into you a little easier, and you’re sick with the thought. You can’t even cry out for help, all your oxygen being used to actually keep yourself breathing despite your tortured cries and the fear you might actually split apart because of how relentlessly his massive length is pounding into you, literally tearing your cunt apart.

You feel his thrusts start to get sloppy as he loses his rhythm and his muscles tense up. With one final slam he releases himself and lets his heavy body fall on top of you, nearly suffocating you as you heave for enough air to cry. When he pulls out, you hear the disgusting sound of your blood mixed with his come before it drips onto the floor, and you hear him hum in delight as he shoves two fingers inside you earning a yelp before popping them into his mouth and moaning at the taste.

When his breathing calms down, he finally crawls up to look at you, your face stained with tears and snot and spit pooling underneath your flushed cheeks.

“Better get used to it, babe.”

ϟ

💛 [taglist: @pr300877, @cowboysnbugs]

[fluentmoviequoter]

All That Matters

Requested by anonymous: "Alright, could you write Luca with a younger reader (25-28 yes old). She's super sweet and bubbly, basically just a sunny disposition. People think she's too young for him/he's too old for her, like especially her family. She grew up really seeking their approval, like she has a problem trying to make other people happy even if it leaves her exhausted, sad, or uncomfortable. but she won't compromise her happiness this time for anyone because she really loves Luca. Sorry if that's too much. I really love your writing" AND a request that I lost about Luca meeting his shy/innocent girlfriend on the beach and keeping their relationship private

Pairing: Dominique Luca x younger!fem!reader

Summary: You're sweet, bubbly, and perfect for Luca. When people begin judging your relationship because of the age gap, you decide that you, Luca, and the love between you are all that matters.

Warnings: age gap, fluff, brief angst, parental judgement

Word Count: 2.0k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the kind words, anon! And sorry to the other anon whose ask I lost; I hope I remembered the gist of it. :)

“What’d you think of that one, sweetheart?”

Luca looks up from his surfboard when he hears the question. It sounds wrong like the man in the wetsuit is calling someone sweetheart when he shouldn’t be. The word is dripping in condescension, and Luca is prepared to stand up for the woman being addressed with the sarcastic and likely uninvited pet name.

“It was really good!” you reply, smiling brightly.

Immediately, Luca regrets turning his attention away from his board. He’s quickly convinced he can never get it back from you. You playfully shove the surfer, who grips his arm like he’s in incredible pain. At least she’s okay, Luca thinks as he tries to focus on prepping his board for his morning surf.

“Peters was looking at you again,” the man with you complains.

“Why?” you inquire, using your heel to trace a shape in the sand.

With a sigh, he replies, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going back in. Pay attention long enough to give me some honest feedback?”

“You’re always good,” you assure him. “But I’ll try.”

Luca stands and lifts his board while your friend runs into the surf again.

“Good morning,” you greet as he nears you.

“Morning,” Luca replies with a smile. “How’s the surf look today?”

Nodding, you look at the water and say, “Good. Offshore breeze should help, water’s glassier than it was yesterday, and the wave shapes have been nice.”

“You know your stuff.”

You look down at the sand, and Luca decides then he’d love to get to know you.

“I’m Luca,” he says, dropping the end of his board to shake your hand.

“Luca!” your friend calls as he returns from a wave you didn’t witness. “I thought I recognized that board.”

“And I should have recognized the hair,” Luca replies, fist-bumping him.

“How do you two know each other?” you inquire.

They both look pointedly at their boards, and you roll your eyes.

“Better question is, how do you two know each other?” Luca questions.

“He’s my neighbor,” you explain. “He’s trying to ‘get me out of my shell.’ His words.”

“It’s working!” he defends. “You wouldn’t have talked to a stranger on the beach six months ago.”

You lower your voice to confide in Luca, “That’s true.”

“Excuse me,” your neighbor asks, marching toward a surfer you recognize: Peters.

“He doesn’t like Peters looking at you?” Luca deduces.

“I don’t know why,” you say with a shrug. “Good luck surfing. Or have fun, whatever the right phrase is for non-competitive wave riding.”

“Either works. And between you and me, it’s because you deserve better than Peters.”

You look down again, but you’re smiling, so Luca decides to use this opportunity like a perfect wave and ride it for as long as possible.

“Would you like to get dinner with me?” he proposes.

Looking up, you answer, “I’d love to.”

That evening, Luca glances at his watch while Street and Tan argue about which restaurant makes better cheesecake. He needs to leave now, or he’ll be late to your first date, and while you seem incredibly sweet and would probably understand, that isn’t how he wants to start a relationship with you.

“Guys, I’m gonna head out!” he calls, pointing over his shoulder.

“What? Why?” Street inquires. “We’re going to your favorite place!”

“You don’t know what my favorite place is, Streeter. And the waves are going to be perfect in the morning, so I need some rest. Have fun!”

After he leaves his team, he meets you at an oceanside restaurant and takes your hand as you’re led to a table on the deck. The more you talk and open up, Luca realizes that you’re not only sweet, you’re downright bubbly, and possess a sunny disposition about everything in the world. Yes, you’re innocent and can be shy, but you open up to Luca. He knows he was right this morning, and he needs to know everything about you.

Four Months Later

“Pretty dress,” your mother compliments at family dinner.

“Thank you! Luca got it for me,” you reply, holding the skirt as you look down at the dainty details lining the top.

“You’re still with him?” your father inquires. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re happy but you are too young for him.”

Your mom lays her hand on his arm as she amends, “He’s quite a bit older than you.”

You swallow harshly, fighting the urge to do something that will regain their approval. You’ve been trying to make them happy your entire life, and when they continuously bring up the age difference between you and Luca, it makes you sad.

“Why don’t you go out with that neighbor of yours?” your mother suggests. “The surfer with the pretty hair?”

Because then you’d complain there’s too much sand in my house. Rather than voicing that opinion, you remind her, “He has a fiancé. And she’s one of my best friends.”

“Maybe I can set you up with a son of one of my buddies,” your father says.

You nod, picking at the appetizer on your plate with no trace of your usual smile. Being aware that you’re a people pleaser doesn’t make dealing with the emotions of disappointing someone any easier.

“I’m happy,” you say softly.

“For now,” your father grumbles.

You decide to change the topic, and as the night goes on, the heaviness in your stomach seems to weigh you down. When you return home, you’re inexplicably exhausted, sad with yourself and your parents, and uncomfortable. You never feel like this with Luca because he accepts you for who you are and doesn’t take advantage of your tendencies to do all you can and more for others. It’s one of the many reasons you love him.

As you lie awake in bed, you make a decision. Your happiness is the only thing that matters. And starting now, you will not compromise your happiness or relationship for anyone. You’ll do it for yourself and for Luca.

“How’d your dinner go?” Luca inquires, brushing a stray hair from your face.

You shrug, and Luca brushes his lips against your temple.

“I don’t want to disappoint them,” you admit. “But I don’t want to put us at risk to do that.”

“Do you care about the age gap?”

“Of course not!”

“Then that’s what’s important. Everything is up to you. I know it’s not easy to hear and even harder to put it into practice but doing what makes you happy is the only way you’ll get what you deserve. You’re sacrificing yourself for others.”

“I just don’t understand why they can’t accept that you make me happy. They don’t care that I love you.”

Luca’s brows raise as he smiles. You realize what you admitted but can’t ask if he’s okay with you saying it before Luca pulls you into a hug that makes all your worries and discomfort disappear.

Luca’s phone buzzes during a sparring match. When he remembers that you are one of the few people who can reach him while he’s at the station, he calls timeout. Ignoring Street’s protests, he lifts his phone and reads the message.

“I gotta go,” he tells his team. “Family thing.”

“You’ve been having a lot of family things,” Deacon says.

“Just tell us what’s going on, man,” Hondo invites. “You know we’re here for you. Don’t have to keep sneakin’ off if you let us help.”

“I…” Luca hesitates, then says, “I don’t know if you can help me get my future in-laws to like me.”

Deacon and Hondo’s jaws drop, and Street snatches Luca’s truck keys out of his hand.

“We’re meeting her right now,” he declares. “Wasn’t a question either, and I can beat you if you try to take these keys back.”

“She’s not feeling great right now,” Luca argues. “Next time.”

Tan pulls Luca’s phone from his hand and taps the message. Luca tries to get his phone back, but Hondo reaches it first. Lifting it to his ear, he raises his hand toward Luca and says, “It’s ringing.”

Luca stops. He’s almost sure you will hang up when you realize it isn’t him calling, but Hondo has a way of disarming people, and you already see the best in everyone you meet.

“Hi,” Hondo greets. “My name is Daniel Harrelson; I work with Luca.” He smiles and holds Luca’s gaze as he says, “Yes, I am Hondo. And Luca is fine. My team and I just wanted to ask if we can finally meet you. Luca hasn’t said a word about you.”

Hondo ends the call a moment later and returns Luca’s phone without a word.

“She said she’ll have coffee and desserts ready when we get there.”

“Watch him,” Deacon warns Luca.

“Alright,” Luca says. He chuckles and shakes his head before inviting his team to follow him to your house. He doesn’t mention that you’re young, sunny, or nearly perfect, but he’s sure they’ll realize quickly. If they disapprove of the relationship, Luca may have to make the hardest decision of his life.

Hondo, Deacon, Street, and Tan watch as you greet Luca at the door. They realize imediately that Luca is in love. Not like the love he’s claimed to be in before, but really, truly, madly in love. What makes Deacon smile is that you are, too. Three of the four men on your walkway don’t notice that you’re younger than Luca, at least not right away. The fourth notices, but only to make well-meaning jokes and take jabs at Luca while they bicker.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say after introductions. “Luca’s told me a lot about you.”

Luca cuts in before Hondo can remind you that they haven’t heard about the relationship.

“We kept the relationship private,” he explains.

“He means he decided to keep me from any possible judgement,” you explain. “I’m getting enough grief from my parents about the age gap without inviting more people to comment on it.”

“I mean I wasn’t going to say anything,” Street begins.

“Then don’t,” Deacon interjects. “He’s kidding.”

Tilting your head, you look at Street, then say, “You’re funny.”

“If you ever get tired of Luca or he throws his back out surfing or something, I’m right here.”

“And you said I’d have to worry about Hondo,” Luca murmurs to Deacon.

“What is that wonderful smell?” Hondo inquires.

“Maybe it’s both of them,” Deacon replies.

“I made some scones, chocolate chip muffins, and brownie bites this morning,” you remember excitedly. “There’s also fresh-brewed coffee. Follow me.”

Luca watches as his team gets to know you. They support the relationship - which they ensure they voice to Luca upon returning to the station - and clearly appreciate your sweet and bright personality. It’s a welcome light in their sometimes dim day-to-day lives.

“So, what are you doing about the parents?” Street inquires as he reaches for another brownie. “If you decide to cut them loose, Deacon and Annie would probably adopt you.”

You look to Deacon, smiling as you expect a deadpanned response that will make you laugh.

“Annie’s going to love you,” he begins. “So, I actually don’t have a response to that because it probably would happen.”

“I think you should just introduce Luca to your parents,” Hondo says, breaking a muffin into smaller pieces. “If we can see how happy the two of you are together, anyone can.”

You look to Luca and decide to do just that. It won’t be an overnight change, but if they see that you love him, they’ll grow to accept him. You and Luca are the only people that matter in your relationship, and you’re happy with him and him alone.

“When’s your birthday?” Tan asks. “We’ll add it to the calendar.”

“What calendar?” you ask.

“The family calendar,” Luca tells you. “I wasn’t kidding when I said if they like you you’re stuck with them.”

Smiling, you ask, “What else is on the calendar?”

“Not your parents’ birthdays!” Street exclaims from the living room, looking at your pictures.

[deceitfuldevout]

Happy Purge

Purge AU: Soft!Dark!Mike Kiernan x Student!Reader

Word Count: +2,068

Warning(s): +18, Non con, Stalking, Kidnapping, Power Imbalance, Use of blood as lube, Mild gore, Purge day.

Author's Note(s): I was thinking about this and coincidentally it's kinktober haha!

It's been almost a decade since the first purge. A lot has changed since then. You remember a time when people didn’t have to worry about looking over their shoulder. Even the morning after was gruesome scene. There was an official purge cleanup crew for that reason alone. You couldn’t help but stare at the clock on the wall.

If you could squeeze in just one last assignment, you'll be free for the weekend. Suddenly, you hear your name being called. It breaks you out of your train of thought, turning to your instructor and apologizing, "Yes Professor! S-sorry..." now embarrassed that you've been caught by him. Professor Mike Kiernan

According to his students, Mike was more than an exceptional teacher. Every last one of them adores him. If not, well then he'd have to look out for tonight. You on the other hand, have always felt there was something off about him. As if he were harboring a dark secret. Maybe it was the building nerves. After all, tonight would be the start of the annual Purge Day.

Mike ends class an hour early, giving his students enough time to reach home safely. You on the other hand, take the opportunity to finish up remaining school work. Mr. Kiernan was also in charge of study hall. He notices you're the last student left and approaches your desk, "Forgetting something?"

You look up at him with your pen still in mouth, taking it out to speak. That's when the realization hits. "Oh sh—shoot!" Quickly correcting the slip up. You had completely forgotten. In about thirty minutes the sirens were going to ring, after that the Purge would commence. You lived a little more than half an hour away. How on earth would you make it to home on time?!

Mike notices your fidgeting, poor thing. You were so caught up in school work that you'd completely forgotten. Always so responsible, one of his best students. So kind and generous. You were always a good student, helping anyone that needed it. Was it bad that he wanted to keep it all for himself?

"Do you need a ride home?" he offers, "It's not safe out there, especially not for a young lady like yourself," kind, genuine words. Your phone is almost dead, and you had no point of contact. So you take his offer, "Thank you professor Kiernan, Seriously," You grateful to have someone like him. He walks you to his car parked on the edge of the lot. He takes his time walking to it. You on the other hand, were in a hurry.

You felt almost embarrassed by the way you held the door handle eagerly waiting for him. To unlock it. He chuckles, clicking the button of his keys to open it. You hurry inside, not wasting a second hopping onto the seat. As he began to drive off you could hear the first warning bell. There would only be two more before the final sirens. Your eyes are glued to the red sirens attached to each public building, the blaring makes you feel sick.

When the car makes a sudden turn off the main road, you begin to grow suspicious, "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"This isn't the way to my house..."

"I know, but it's too late for that now," he answers, "The third alarm is about to go off, we won't make it in time," his eyes are still glued to the road. You gather enough courage to speak up again, "Professor....professor where are we going?"

"I live nearby, you're more than welcome to spend the night," he answers, "The last thing I'd want is for those animals to harm a student of mine," he reassures. Mike lives in the more rural side of town. There's a growing feeling you have that something was wrong about all this. But what other choice do you have? It was better than being out there alone on the streets.

As soon as you arrive to Mike's home, he activates the security system. When he first bought the house, the first thing he did was install a Purge-proof security system. He walks into the kitchen, rummaging for something, "Would you like some tea?" he opens the pantry to fetch some herbs. While it boils he gets some jam and toast for it. As soon as he finishes up, he places both cups on the table.

You notice that Mike hadn't taken a sip from his drink. Your eyes widen with fear, "You haven't touched your cup..." there's a pause. Then he realizes his mistake, "Ah, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you nervous," he switches the drinks, "Here, have mine," he takes a sip from your cup to insure it hadn't been spiked. It calms your nerves knowing that there was nothing to worry about.

Mike had kept his promise that you would be safe here. It's been a while since he's had anyone over. He tries his best hosting skills, a round of charade, following by a board game. It was honestly one of the best purge experiences you've had yet. A great distraction from the events occurring outside. He insists on watching a movie to kill the time, you agree. Why not? Besides, Mike's company wasn't so bad.

It was during the middle of the movie when you needed to use the restroom. He points you to down the hall. On your way back, you notice a door had been left open. It was most likely the master bedroom. When you reach the knob to close it, you accidentally take a glimpse inside.

That's when you notice what was there. No....there's no way...You enter his room to get a closer look. Mike smiles to himself. To think that he'd been so worried about everything, and for what? You seem to be enjoying his company. He was right all along, there was something more to your relationship.

He hears you rushing down the hallway, there's an angry look on your face, "What the fuck are these?!" you toss the photos on the ground. Pictured in each and every last one of them is you. Some of them were taken while on campus, others were downloaded from social media posts. He smiles, "Now I know what you're thinking, but if you just hear me out--"

"Not a fucking chance!" you back away from him. He's confused, why now were you acting out? It was going so well between the two of you! Can't you see how much he cares?

"Don't you see the love and dedication I have for you?! And you know it too!" he nears, "I know you feel the same way..." his voice sounding more desperate, there's a deranged look in his eyes that doesn't meet his smile, "Tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, when you waited for me after class," he held a hand to his chest, expressing his love for you.

He's finally letting you know how he's felt for a very long time. You were at a loss for words, there's no way he actually thought--between the two of you? He's delusional. To think you and your classmates actually trusted him. You're pissed, "Get it through your fucking head! You're my professor! That's all you'll ever be!"

After hearing that Mike's smile fades. He could feel heart shattering into a million pieces. Maybe it was a mistake, bringing you here on your own terms. If he knew this was how you would react, then he would've just stuck to the original plan. He knows he could get away with it too. After all, it was Purge day.

Usually, he'd go against something like this. But what other choice does he have? It quickly turns into a fight or flight situation. You knew he was stronger than you, so there would be no point in fighting him. What other choice did you have other than running? Mike is much faster than you realize. He's quick to grab you before you've had a chance to alert the security system.

Mike drags you across his home. He stops by a door located on the side of the staircase. He almost rips the hinges off when he pulls you inside. You fought with all your might, scratching, pushing, hitting wherever you possibly could. To him, they felt like nothing. He's dealt with worse. In the struggle, you're sent tumbling down the stairs.

Mike uses his body to shield yours from the fall. He cradles your head against his chest. Yet still, you were fighting him, after everything he's done. You scurry towards the other side of the basement. As far away from him as you could possibly be.

Mike sighs with annoyance, "You have no idea what it's like..." he lifts himself off the floor, his hands now balled up into fists. He doesn't know how much longer he can hold himself back, "You have no idea what it's like seeing you every day, and not being able to do a damn thing!" he charges, slamming you against a wall, he leans his head closer to yours.

Still there was that look of admiration in his eyes, "We could've been so happy together," Mike grabs you by the throat, pulling you into a deep, searing kiss. In retaliation you bit his lip. He winces in pain, "Will you just...stop fighting me?!" his anger gets the best of him as he slams you against the wall. You're left stunned after getting the wind knocked out of your lungs.

Mike is quick to catch you. He panics, "Please! I don't want to hurt you!" He yells over and over again, "I love you! I love you! Please! I love you!" there are tears in his eyes, "Just please...let me love you..." he sighs against your neck, placing a kiss on the bare skin, "Look at what you do to me..." he grinds his bulge against your clothed mound.

You could practically feel how big it was, even through the many layers of clothing. It makes your skin crawl, how he's played the role of a caring professor and community member for so long. Could he even see himself right now?! "Look, whatever you want, a house, a baby, I'll give ya," Mike never knew he even wanted those things, not until he met you. Don't you see? You're all he's ever needed.

You fought him like a trapped animal. His feisty little wildcat. You use both fists to land a few good hits on his face, over and over again. Hitting his nose with a 'crunch' sound. But still, it doesn't stop him. Mike can't seem to understand why you were trying to escape. It was useless fighting him. This would be so much better if you just gave in. Because eventually, he's going to get what he wants. He pulls you into another forceful kiss.

For that, you headbutt in right in the face. Mike winches, pulling away from you with a now bloody nose. He throws you to the ground. Then pounces, caging his body on top of your own. He begins to unbuckle his belt, dragging his boxers down to free his cock. He spits a wad of blood in his palm, that'll do for now. He doesn't want to waste anymore time. Purge would be ending in a few hours, and he'll make sure to use every last minute of it.

He knows how the law works in this area. If a couple lived together for over a year, then it would legally bind them together as husband and wife. Mike doesn't mind that idea at all, 'My wife...you're going to be my wife," he sighs. Your stomach churns after hearing that, "No...no please, this isn't what I want!"

"You don't even know what you want" Mike starts lifting up your skirt, he's eager, almost giddy, "But I do," yanking down the waistband of your panties. He forces his member deep inside, groaning from the sensation of your walls pulsing. You scream from the intrusion. It resembles a cat's howl.

Tears begin to form, now blurring your vision. Your claws sink deep into his chest, as he began thrusting in and out of your channel. He doesn't stop, not until he finishes. He has only one goal on his mind, to plant his seed, leave a legacy behind, "Take it, take it..." he mumbles over and over again.

"Professor?" a student asks, causing Mike to break from his trance. His student asks the question again, "How was your purge?" genuinely curious. What did Professor Mike Kiernan, of all people, do to earn those nasty bruises? He's still wearing his sweater from yesterday, now caked in his own blood. The first thing he did the morning after, was drag himself out of bed and straight to lecture. He couldn't help but grin, "Well, ran into some trouble, but, no worries,"

His students and coworkers felt bad. They all said the same thing, how Mike was the last person who deserved something like this. If only they knew. After a long day of lectures, he finally drives home. He passes by the Purge's official memorial road. There are numerous photos of people who had either lost their lives or went missing.

When he sees your photo, he can't help but smirk. He parks his car on the side of the road, approaching the stand. He pockets the picture for keepsake, smiling to himself as he returns to his car. It's been a long time since Mike has looked forward to coming home.

Perhaps Purge wasn't so bad.

[carolinagirl80]

I honestly don’t understand the whole “it’s just a joke”, “that’s how guys talk” like no?

First of all that’s a lame fucking excuse for his behavior. Just because you’re a fan doesn’t mean you have to protect every fucked up thing he says.

Let’s be honest non of us know them personally, we see what’s online and hear what’s said. So pretending like you know them, saying “he’s a good guy” and defending him like you do is embarrassing.

I use to be a fan of Misha. Well, more like I use to respect him as an actor and I enjoyed him in SPN. This year I had the privilege to meet him at a con. I say privilege because I know that many can’t afford to or haven’t had the opportunity.

It was so awkward, he clearly didn’t want to be there. Everything he said during his q&a catered to the audience. It was over all very fake, I still can’t understand how people feed into the stuff he says.

It really put a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve never been his biggest fan, just thought that it would be fun to meet someone, from the tv show the show I’ve loved for years. That being said if I could go back, I’d save my money instead of wasting it.

I’m not saying he wasn’t nice to me, I did have a longer interaction than others that had been in line. But as someone who hasn’t ever been an obsessive fan, I think it might have been easier not feeding into all the crap he says.

People forget that he gets paid to do this stuff. The reason why he’s a fan favorite is because of destiel. So ofc he’s going to milk it, since that’s the only thing he has to talk about.

All the questions were destiel related, he has nothing else to say about the show. Honestly I don’t think he remembers anything that happened in the show, except from all of the scenes where he can confirm that destiel is canon.

Anyway after that con I watched a few videos of other panels online, because Jensen and Jared didn’t attend the one I went to. And I have to say I agree with a lot of the things you’ve posted.

It’s clear that he tries hard to push Jared out of the picture, he forces this idea of being besties with Jensen at cons. It’s always so awkward watching them together. Most of the time Jensen just goes along with stuff Misha says, so he doesn’t have to answer the same questions about destiel being canon or not.

Jensen obviously takes his acting seriously, he played Dean for 15 years. So I don’t get when he says over and over again, that destiel isn’t a thing. That people can’t accept it and move on. I love Dean, but I’m not going to pretend I know him better than Jensen. He WAS Dean. He knows him inside and out.

Then we have Misha that eggs the fans on during these panels. It’s like Jensen tries to answer the question seriously. Then Misha swoops in makes a small joke out of it, like Jensen has no idea what he’s talking about and proceeds to talk over him. Giving them the answer they want to hear.

It even feels like he’s making fun of the fans at times, knowing that they feed into this crap and thinking it’s funny that they do.

Gives me the same vibes of Regina George saying “I love that bracelet where did you get it”. Then going back to the green room and making fun of it.

I mean he’s made fun of the show and fans before, there are literally videos or posts online.

ALSO!!! The whole thing Jensen said about it not being subtext it was clear text, has been so fucking twisted.

This has turned into more of a rant, sorry. But what I mean to say is I agree with a lot of the things you’ve said. I just don’t understand how people can’t see it? It’s so frustrating.

I don’t hate Misha, it just really really fucking bugs me, that people don’t see what he’s doing. I just don’t get that you, like others who point it out get attacked.

People go on and on about how hateful others are, then proceed to bully people online for pointing shit out? Make that make sense.

Hi Anon! Saw your other message, and yeah, I don't blame you there, but you are good, so here we go. Thank you for the message btw. Very refreshing after my last few that's for sure.

I will start by saying that I have never seen a group of people so willing to turn a blind eye to the numerous inappropriate things their fave does/says as the hellers/Misha Stans. Their mantra in life is "oh, it was just a joke". I mean, they have to say it constantly because Misha can't stop being inappropriate. He kinda has to though doesn't he? Otherwise, he couldn't keep them entertained and he'd float on off into obscurity.

Unfortunately, that requires the use of Jared and Jensen's names.

I'll start with Jensen just because I happen to already have a link ready.

So, with Jensen, he's going to play that Destiel/Cockles card as much as he possibly can. Always has, always will. Jensen has always said that Destiel doesn't exist. (Thanks to @Sammyiscat on X for posting this today, just when I needed it!)

Once upon a time, Jensen did do a little fan service and lean into it slightly during JenMish panels. However, he always made it as clear as possible how he really feels. Then the hellers called him homophobic for it. So earlier this year, as you mentioned, he called it "clear text" not subtext. He tried to be as diplomatic as possible. The unfortunate part of being diplomatic is that it allowed the hellers to twist themselves into pretzels making it sound like Jensen said the opposite of what he actually was saying.

What I find the most interesting is that in the last few years, Misha is on his best behavior around Jensen. He only runs his mouth off when Jensen isn't around. Usually when he's at a European con alone. I'd LOVE to know how that transpired. Jensen is also usually in a pretty bad mood leading up to a JenMish panel these days as well. He was surprisingly ok in Charlotte (except for that one damn question). However, let's look back on San Francisco. Remember when he ran from Misha trying to hug him?

That is the definition of an unhappy Jensen....Yet hellers, CANNOT SEE IT! How can they not see that? Anyways...I could go on and on here....

So let's move on to Jared...

Sweet silly Jared. How anyone could be mean to him I'll never know. Something has changed there too. There was a lot more joking from Misha where Jared is concerned once up a time. Now, everything Misha says about his sounds bitter and or malicious.

He loves to point out that Jared was discovered just walking down the street, or that he has no training or that he didn't go to college.

Then there was the airplane story from last month in DC. It was partially true, but heavily embellished to make Jared sound bad, and what happens every time that happens? Tons of hate descends onto Jared online. People telling him to kill himself. Just pure bullying and hate. Misha HAS to know that is what would happen.

Just this past weekend he mocked him: (Ignore the person who tweeted this. You don't want to go down that route)

What an asshole. I mean really. I know, I know hellers, "oh, it's just a joke" right? Let's not start the "you and your friends have no sense of humor" crap again.

As far as con experiences go? I've heard people say many times that they have had negative experiences meeting Misha. Unless you are known to him already he couldn't care less. Been there, done that, can confirm. Like I said in another post, glad I already didn't like him because I sure wouldn't now!

Edited to add another link of Jensen denying Destiel.

[midnight-mourning]

Hiii! I saw your post and just couldn’t resist sending in a request XD

The part where Y/N tells Moon he could have been a good lawyer kinda stuck with me. I'd love to see a conversation between Y/N and Moon/Sun about what they would have liked to do if they weren't tied to Fazbear Entertainment. I feel like there's so much potential there!

Or also! It would be really cool to see Moon and Y/N building something together :)

Thanks so much for considering my request, and I hope you have fun with it if it sparks any ideas!

Another Path.

Requested By: @phantasmaghostic

Word Count: 499

Summary: Were things not like they were, you wonder what the Attendants may have done instead of their current line of work. So you ask.

Note: Kind of combined both ideas because i thought it would be interesting, also this was super fun! I love writing scenes like this :) Can be taken as canon or non-canon to CS

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

"Patent law?" You ask, "Surely you jest."

You'd been stuck working on map-bots for a few hours, and had invited Moon to join you. Mainly in the hopes of deterring him from doing ‘upgrades’ on himself. Though honestly you think you may just end up making the problem worse.

To pass the time you’d been chatting back and forth on a variety of topics, and landed on this one soon enough.

"Not this time," Moon chuckles. 

You shake your head. 

"I take it you're not a fan?"

You fake a gag, "Patent law is so gross. Just hours upon hours of reading. Pays good, yeah. Pays great, even. But god," You shiver, "So boring."

You realize yourself, "But that's just me! Sorry, that was harsh, I understand the appeal don't get me wrong. But um, why that of all things?"

Moon clips a couple of wires before removing them from the map bot’s chest, "Despite my, inclinations, to machinery and the likes, I find myself ever more curious about the ideas behind it," He reaches for a handful of new wires, beginning to install them, "The concepts, I feel, allow insight to how people think."

"Huh, guess that’s true."

He nods, "The additional aspect of assisting others in the protection of their craft also appeals to me."

"Wow," You say.

"Hm?"

You solder the replacement wires into place, "You just completely changed my perspective on patent law. Not enough to want to do it myself, but damn. That’s really sweet, Moon."

"It’s simply my honest thoughts, Pandora," He chuckles, handing you the back panel to the bot, "Were I given such an opportunity I may find myself to be more inclined to your way of thinking on the matter."

"Maybe, but still," You put the panel in place, then use your Faz wrench to reboot the machine.

It’s a few repairs later that you broach the subject again.

"What would Sun do?" You ask.

There’s a rift of binary before Moon answers, "Kindergarten teacher."

"Really? Huh."

The naptime attendant seems to know what you’re thinking, "He has a tendency to not think beyond his own limitations."

"What do you think he would do then?" You wrinkle your nose as you discard another paper towel covered in burnt hot sauce.

"Why would you ask me?"

You scoff, smirk on your lips, "Because you know him better than I do. Better than I ever want to, as well."

"Only to a point," Moon’s faceplate twists to the side, eyes crinkling into crescents.

You wait for your answer. It doesn’t take long.

"University librarian," He drawls, "Or a Classics professor."

You chuckle, "Aren’t you the one with the passion for myths?"

"Where do you think it originated from?" Moon counters, plucking Hot Sauce’s new amplifier from your fingers.

You stew on that for a few minutes, that response not being what you expected in the slightest.

Then, you ask your last burning question.

"And his thoughts on you?"

Moon chuckles, "Mechanical engineer."

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

And that's all, folks! Had a lot of fun with these requests, hope everyone enjoyed them as well. Again, if you'd like to see more of this kind of thing, you can vote here for such. Thanks for reading!!

[hongcherry]

Saw this and I could NOT pass this up🤌🏼, writing toooo good to not send in a request still haven't got over the Christmas gift fic you wrote me with YunGi🤪

So can I get this based around Woozi please😔🙏🏼, the lack of Woozi fics is CRIMINAL! With the dialogue being #2, emotion I, and the setting the alleyway being a dive bar.

I will take anythingggggg, angsty, happy, sad, truly ANYTHING. I’m thirsty for any Woozi crumbs I can get😔😔 please and thank you bestie😚😚xoxo

omg DDD: LOOK AT YOU BEING ACTIVE AGAIN 💖 hello hello bae! AND DON'T BE NICE TO ME. IDK HOW TO ACT *throws hearts aggressively* but tysm for supporting me huhuhuhuuh 😫 and ty for sending in a request! i hope u like it, my cheese lover 3000 🧀

Pairing: musician!Jihoon/Woozi x Reader G/AUs: Angst, friends to lovers, non-idol au TWs: None but ofc lmk <3 WC: 1.2k A/N: Barely proofread so no judgment plzzzzz ;c

Prompt: “what they said back there. is it true?” + confusion + an alleyway behind a dive bar

Build a fic! ✨

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty! (ageless/minors/blanks blogs will be blocked)

The winter air bites into you as soon as you push past the dive bar’s door. The chilliness makes you want to take a U-turn back into the building, but you know the heat from indoors won’t help. Not when your source of warmth still sits inside.

People mill about the sidewalks, some dressed casually and others dolled up. No one gives you a second glance as they walk by. It makes it easy to slip into the alleyway unnoticed—hoping for some privacy as you gather your thoughts.

He’s leaving.

In one week, Jihoon will be across the country, chasing his dreams that don’t include you.

There’s a gallon of guilt sloshing in your chest from not being over the moon for his opportunity. However, it doesn’t compare to the sea you’re treading in from knowing this is it for you both.

You won’t get the chance to love and be loved by him.

Not in the way you want.

You slump against the brick wall, arms wrapped around yourself to fight the cold.

You know there are still opportunities to keep in contact, but it won’t be the same. You won’t be able to feel his arms around you or his lips on yours. Maybe if traveling wasn’t so expensive, you could find the silver lining.

“Hey.”

The familiar voice makes your head snap up; your hold on your jacket tightens in surprise.

Jihoon stands at the entrance of the alleyway with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He looks hesitant.

Emotions try to clog your throat, but you force them down so you can speak.

“What they said back there. Is it true?” you ask, voice strained.

Jihoon glances to the side briefly while he answers, “Yes.”

He slowly makes his way closer. Each step brings forth an equal weight of pain and happiness. Being around Jihoon used to bring a smile to your face instantly, but now, your heart just aches.

“You didn’t tell me,” you state.

“I did,” he answers slowly. He stops a few feet away, hands still in his pockets.

“You said you’d be gone for two weeks, not two years,” you scoff.

He exhales a deep breath. You watch it swirl in the air from the cold weather instead of seeing the mix of excitement and guilt on his face.

“It was only going to be two weeks, but they really like my works and wanted me to sign a contract,” he explains.

You turn away when you see your vision blurring. Staring at him reminds you of what you’re about to lose.

“I was going to tell you in private tonight,” he adds.

“What else were you going to tell me?” You force the question out.

“What do you mean?”

You glance at him finally. He’s standing an arm’s length away now.

“Were you going to tell me I meant nothing to you? That you’re sorry for leaving me, but I should be happy about it?”

“Fuck, Yn, you have no idea how hard this decision was for me,” he sighs out, slight frustration laced in his words.

“Enlighten me, Jihoon, because right now, it feels like you knew there was never going to be an ‘us’.”

He winces at your words, hands digging deeper in his pockets like he’s trying to find the right words to make you feel better. You already know he’ll come up empty.

“That’s not true,” he says belatedly.

“No? How long did you know about this new contract of yours? How long were you waiting to tell me ‘privately’? A week? Two?” you ask, voice raising in anger.

The more you talk, the more conflicted he looks. You know you’re not making this easy on him, but the devil on your shoulder wants him to feel the heartache you’re feeling.

“Do you not remember how two weeks ago we were on your couch and I told you I love you? I love you, Jihoon, and you’re just going to lea—”

Jihoon kisses you hard.

He holds your face in his hands, grip tight enough to keep you steady but not enough to hurt. Your heart hammers in your chest.

He puts all the emotions and messages he can’t convey into the kiss. It’s so overwhelming that you want to pull away, but you persist because it means you can have him a little longer.

The second you feel him begin to pull away, your hands reach up to grip his wrists.

He stares down, so you can’t see his face.

“I’d ask for you to wait for me, but that’s not fair,” he says. You can hear the sorrow in his voice. Although you wanted him to feel it too, you also can’t help but hurt more knowing he’s not happy. “Maybe once I get a few paychecks I can fly you out. Maybe… Maybe if you still love me when I come back, we can make it work.”

“Why can’t we make it work now?” You nearly plead.

He sighs and shakes his head. His hair tickles your forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You will your knees not to give out in realization. There’s no changing his mind.

Your hands on his wrists ease.

Jihoon looks up, eyes filled with desperation for you not to go.

“Let’s head back inside. You’re cold,” he murmurs, hands slipping from your face to hold your hands.

Before you can try to protest, he’s leading you back inside toward your friends.

Your body instantly feels grateful for the warmer temperature, but what’s really heating your body is Jihoon’s hand in yours.

His comforting touch spreads from your joint hands and spreads throughout your body. It’s a feeling you want to shove away, but you force yourself to not. You only have a few days left of his presence, and you should enjoy it.

Jihoon’s not a fan of PDA, but tonight he pushes his own boundaries. He drapes an arm around your shoulders, hand lazily gliding up and down your arm as he interacts with your friends.

You can’t help but lean into his firm body, allowing yourself these few hours to pretend everything’s okay.

It’s self-torture to have his notifications on. It’s been almost four months since he’s left and all you can do is check his socials. He’s not too active so when he is, you cherish it.

Although you’ve tried to keep in contact, hectic schedules and time zones make it difficult. You wonder if he still thinks of you as much as you think of him.

Then as if to answer your question, your phone dings.

woozi_universefactory made a new post. Check it out!

His first official song, “Loved You First,” has been released.

While tears stain your cheeks as you listen, another ding emits from your phone.

Jihoon: 🖤

You chuckle at the simple message, wiping away your tears as your heart replaces forlorn with hope. 

He said he wouldn’t ask you to wait for him, but you should fight for what you want—for who you want. 

You push down the doubt and channel the hope you felt while listening to his song. Nothing will stop you from trying to make this work.

Not the distance, the time zones, or the schedules.

After all, who said love is easy?

Taglist: @musingsofananxiouspotato, @christinewithluv, @lockburn-castle, @iammisstora, @maknae00, @morklee02, @kittyhui, @aeerio, @cherrylovescheol

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[timetoletmyimaginationfly]

One Gift From You

Nanami Kento x Reader

Happy Valentine’s Day my readers! I hope you enjoy!

(Song Inspiration: Like No One Does by Jake Scott)

Nanami: I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m being held up at work again.

You sighed deeply. It’s been about a month since he’s been stuck at work lately. But you know you couldn’t say much. You knew that having a boyfriend who is a sorcerer is going to be a lot. Even when Nanami warned you and gave you a few opportunities to back out, you chose to stay six years later.

You: I understand! Come home safe, honey. I have dinner left on the table for you. I love you❤️

And you were the non-sorcerer. You worked as a nurse and worked overnight shifts. And if Nanami returns home on time, you at least have ten minutes with him before you leave for work. You routinely clock in early, learn about your patients, and roughly plan your night before you get report.

And despite the short interaction you get with Nanami in the evening, you at least get to have a few hours with him before he leaves for work. Or at least until you fall asleep. You make his coffee and breakfast before you wash up for bed, even though he tells you not to.

“Sweetheart, you worked your third night,” Nanami said. You smiled and gave him a soft kiss.

“I know. But I love making you coffee,” you said. “And you said that you love the coffee I make.” Nanami would pull you in close to his arms.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said.

“You’re silly. You do so much for me.”

“Because you do everything for me.”

“It’s because I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You sat by the computer. You drank your coffee and typed away, mentally ready to run to your patient’s room if something were to happen. After a few sentences of typing, you looked up and stared at the room. You looked at the monitors. Everything was okay.

“She okay?” the primary attending asked as he walked by. You nodded.

“After earlier, yeah she’s good,” you answered. You let out a small yawn. A cup of hot coffee was placed by your computer. You smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Doppelgänger.” He lightly laughed.

“I don’t see the similarities between me and your boyfriend.” You unlocked your phone and compared the picture between the attending and Nanami.

“Nah, you’re the doctor version of him.” He chuckled and shook his head at your silliness as he took a sip of his coffee.

“You two planned a fun date for tomorrow?”

“No, why?”

“Valentine’s Day. I’m surprising my wife. No matter how many times I tell her, she keeps forgetting,” he said.

“What?!” you questioned, your voice slightly louder and looked at your phone. You frowned. “I forgot.”

“Your birthday was a few days ago.”

“I forgot too.” He ruffles your hair playfully. His cell phone suddenly ringing, already walking away once he answered the call. You sighed. Usually, you and Nanami would plan something small for Valentine’s Day. But the two of you have been busy lately, especially Nanami. You heard your name get called from your coworker.

“You don’t mind keeping an eye on my patient?”

“I don’t mind, but maybe ask another nurse too? Just in case I’m busy with mine.”

“Thank you!”

It was past midnight. Your phone brightened and you smiled.

Nanami: Goodnight sweetheart❤️ I miss you and I love you❤️

You: Sweet dreams! I miss you too honey! I love you too❤️

The sounds of Nanami’s alarm woke him up at 6AM. He rubbed his tired eyes and looked at his phone. He cracked a smile from the missed text messages from you. All of them about how your night is going. And from the looks of it, it seemed to go pretty well so far. But after all the stories you tell him, there’s a good possibility that something was bound to happen before you left.

Quickly, he headed to the bathroom and shower. He wore his usual uniform without the jacket and decided to let his hair relax for now.

Two hours passed. He heard the door open and he heard your keys jingle as you closed the door. He heard you call his name. You sounded chirpy and awake. More than usual after a third night of work. Nanami headed to the door and smiled softly.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said. He cupped your face and kissed you deeply. You felt your heart race from his kiss. Six years together and he still gives you that effect. “How was work?”

“Way better than expected. My patient stayed stable. That’s all I needed for a good night,” you answered happily. “How was work? Did you get home too late?”

“Gojo-san kept pestering me to go out around 9. So we went out for drinks with Ieiri-san and I arrived home around 11:30,” he answered. “Work was good though.” You leaned up and kissed him again.

“Gonna keep your hair like this?” you asked curiously.

“Depends. How do you me to have it today?”

“Mmmm you can keep it like that for now.”

“I have something to show you.” Nanami held your hand and dragged you to the kitchen. Your eyes widened.

Nanami set up dinner. Two plates of pasta was placed on the table. A glass of red wine and a glass of water. A bouquet of red roses and sunflowers sat in between the meals and a small black velvet box sat in front of the flowers.

“Kento, what is this?” you asked with a large smile on your face. Nanami chuckled and lead you to the counter.

“Our Valentine’s Day dinner for breakfast,” he answered. “I knew you forgot. I took the opportunity to surprise you.”

“You got sunflowers?”

“They’re your favorite, sweetheart. I have another gift for you.” He left the kitchen and as quick as he left, he returned back. You gasped when a book bouquet appeared in his arms. You ran to him and looked at the books in the bouquet mixed with wildflowers. They were the ones you saved in your cart.

“How—When—Kento!” Nanami lightly laughed.

“I checked your cart list,” Nanami said with a playful smile. “You got a lot on the list. You should spoil yourself every now and then. Do you want me to pay for more?” You quickly shook your head.

“Thank you, though,” you said. You looked at Nanami. You gently brushed his hair away from his eyes. You felt yourself melt in his eyes and smile. “You truly are the best.”

“I want to be the man that you deserve.”

“And you are. I feel bad. I completely forgot about Valentine’s Day that I didn’t get anything for you.”

“I think I can change that.” You cocked your head slightly, looking at him with puzzled eyes. Nanami placed your book bouquet on the empty side of the counter and picked up the velvet box. Your eyes widened. You didn’t want to assume.

“Kento?” Softly, he called your name. Slowly, Nanami opened the box, revealing a diamond engagement ring that made you gasp. You felt tears from in your eyes.

“I bought this ring four years ago,” he confessed. He softly chuckled at your more surprised expression. “I waited for you to finish school. But then you were still busy so I waited and waited. And then I got busy. And…sweetheart. I love you. You’re so hardworking and do everything with no complaints. You still make sure I have food when I come home from work before you leave for work. You make me coffee when you come back. You make sure our home is tidy. It’s like I don’t deserve you because you go above and beyond for me.” You softly wiped your tears away before he got down on one knee. “And now that we finally have a romantic moment together, will you do me the honor and marry me?”

“Yes,” you said. Nanami slid the ring on your finger and picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You laughed and kissed him. “You’re not the only one who feels that way.” Nanami raised an eyebrow. “The way you massage my feet and legs after every shift, no matter how much sleep you got. The way you set up a hot bath when I text you how horrible my night was. When I’m too tired to cook, you order food from one of my favorite restaurants. Kento, you buy me something every week even when I don’t need it. You are a dream come true.”

“Am I?”

“Of course. You come home late from work, you hold me tightly because you know how worried I get. You let me cry in your arms without complaints. Nanami Kento, I can’t wait to become your wife and continue to do the things I love doing for you because I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He kissed you one last time before you pulled your phone and took a picture of your ring.

“Now I can show your doppelgänger my ring!” Nanami laughed.

“I don’t see the resemblance, sweetheart.” You playfully rolled your eyes. Nanami pulled your chair out and the two of you clinked glasses to celebrate.

Fun fact: Last week in my clinical, I kid you not I found my bf’s doppelgänger! I literally rubbed my eyes, thinking I was going crazy😂 I’m a nursing student and if you guys read some of my stories, I usually have the reader as a nursing student, nurse, or a tech. It’s the most relatable for me.

[deathbxnny]

Hi there! You asked some HSR angst, well here you go! can i request Jing Yuan and Blade x s/o who was the royal guard and prince/ss of Khaenri’ah.

More context on reader:

They were the second born child of Khaenri’ah’s Royal Family and part of the royal guards. So somehow during the Cataclysm the reader was transported to the HSR universe. They were VERY traumatized of just what happenend and had put up an upbeat and plucky personality as a coping mechanism for what happened. They traveled the universe for sometime before they met Jing Yuan/Blade and ofc learned of Aeons. They dont like the Aeons and any mention of them would get rid of their upbeat facade quickly. They associate the Aeons with the Archons that destroyed their nation, now they know they arent the gods that did it but they cant help it. Basically Dainsleif’s attitude to anthing archon related but much chiller? Bc again they’re not the same ones who destroyed their nation so their willing to give them a very small benefit of the doubt.

How would they react to their s/o revealing their past and immortality to them after they had snapped at someone for something (probably aeon related that hit a bit too to home?) and became distant towards everyone for while. They tearfully revealed their past and then later go on a rant about their hatred toward gods. Also how would their lover react hearing about the curse (The pureblood and the half blood/non blood khaeri’ahns) the people of Khaenri’ah received.

How would they react towards their s/o being suicidal because the erosion that the curse cause them to have is THAT bad they just wanted to die but cant bc they cant die from being murdered as they can self regenarate or from old age. (Think of the demons from kimetsu no yaiba, like when yushiro got his head decapitated, yeah im pretty sure their lover saw their head get regenerated like one time)

Hope you enjoy this angsty request and have a good day/night!

- Flower Anon 🌸

-----♡

A/N: I re-read this 5 times, but for some reason my brain refused to process any of it, so I hope this still turns out okay lmao... thank you for the request tho and sorry for the long wait.

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, established relationships, some rough description of the Khaenri'ah curse thing, small mentions of reader being suicidal

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

-----♡

》Jing Yuan

Jing Yuan always silently questioned your past and often wondered why you were so secretive about it. However, he also respected your boundaries and therefore never pushed you for any answers, as he knew how sensitive some topics were. But when you one day just snapped at someone for the simple mention of the Aeons and God's, he started slowly piecing together your story on his own. It definitely also helped, that you eventually just spilled everything to him.

He was understanding and supportive, horrified to hear about the curse and it's consequences. He had heard of and seen many evil things, but this still shocked him. Especially after learning what the curse did to you as well. He was deeply upset when he heard about your want to die and despite understanding it, he still made sure you knew how important you were to him.

He tried making you see the bright side of it at least, as the curse gave him the opportunity to spend an endless lifetime with you at his side, something he deeply wished for. And he was glad, that he could, even with it being a horrible curse that allowed him to be.

-----♡

》Blade

Blade didn't really care about your past at first, as you never seemed to care about his. It was a mutual understanding between you two to just not mention it and try moving past it together, despite Blade's need for revenge. And at first, he was content with that, until he noticed your strong disdain for God's/Aeons. This confused him, as he didn't understand what it was that bothered you so much, until you eventually broke down and told him about it in a long rant.

He listened to you quietly, as you spoke about your people and their curse. About how you were sick of living and just wanted to finally rest. About how you were just really done with everything. And he understood you perfectly. He really did. Especially as he himself was cursed to immortality and wanted to die more than anything. The fact that you felt the same as him brought him more solace than anything in this world ever could.

But that's exactly why he also was so adamant on you continuing on even through your curse. After meeting you, he realised that immortality may not be as bad as he originally thought, especially when it's just spent with you. He'll help you get your revenge, as long as you promise to stay with him forever too.

-----♡

A/N: I'm genuinely praying this is even slightly coherent. Sorry for the wait Flower Anon and thank you again for the request!

[gb-patch]

Beta Anon Ask

“ hi, i played the newest baxter beta and i wanted to leave my feedback, you of course dont have to answer this publicly as it contains spoilers, i just wanted to be able to be anonymous for my feedback so i sent it here. i really enjoyed the first three moments, i liked being able to learn more about baxter, but i found myself uncomfortable in the last two that were in the newest beta. i didnt like that my mc had to allow physical contact with baxter without the ability to say no.

[continued]” I’m sorry you felt uncomfortable. Though unfortunately, I don’t know why that happened to you. The choices to avoid it already exist. If you want to send your save to our support email to maybe see what might’ve led to that, you can. But for now, I can only tell you that none of that physical contact is automatic or unavoidable.

support@gbpatchgames.com

With Baxter touching MC without a prompt from the game in the scene you mentioned, that’s exclusive to High Initiative. It doesn’t happen on Low or even Medium. And High exists for the entire purpose of letting the lead interact with the MC without always having to prompt the game for it. I can’t say how, but for some reason you were on the wrong setting for what your boundaries are. I would suggest sticking to Low and not even Medium since you’re sure you always want to control when contact happens. That’s exactly what Low Initiative was designed for.

And for being required to dance with Baxter, you aren’t. I tried to see if it was a bug and couldn’t replicate it. If you don’t promise you’ll dance with Baxter when an opportunity comes early in the Moment or don’t offer to dance at the end when the chance arises, then you don’t dance with Baxter. Again, if we looked into the save maybe we could tell you what led to dancing with him when you didn’t want to, but it’s not the only result.

For the additional note about the amount of Cove content, I’m afraid that’s not something that can be changed. Some differences in preferences can’t be determined by the player.

Also, I understand wanting to be anonymous, but if you’d like to express something that matters to you about non-public content sending it as an anon ask on Tumblr is the least effective way to go about it. This was a misunderstanding and it can be cleared up, but now that reassurance can only happen in a difficult way that requires trying to avoid spoilers in front of other followers.

To anyone who has played the beta and wants to give feedback, please do it in a way that allows for direct or private answers, or in the spoiler area of the Patreon Discord.

And thank you for playing!

[gumnut-logic]

Five pickup and One drop off (Pick up 2)

Pick up 1 | Pick up 2

Total crack, non-canon and nonsensical :D

But a little fun at least, maybe :D

I hope you enjoy

-o-o-o-

Julia was not a fan of her job.

It did have its perks. Quiet moments to do that last minute assignment in an emergency was definitely one of them. Though having half a brain at three am was also a challenge.

This morning was one of those times.

She had spent the last half hour staring out the drive-thru window counting lights on the far side of the bay. It was a great view, when it wasn’t pitch black.

The owner of the fast food franchise was a nice guy. She did wonder at his business acumen in choosing to place his store high up on a hill outside of town. But then he had made much more of it with the space and she had to admit that the locals used what would have been purely a drive-thru centre as more of a destination during the day, both for the view and the surrounding gardens.

But once the teenagers, parking at the look out, left around midnight, there was very little traffic and she and the two other night staff really didn’t get that much custom in the hours before dawn.

It was quiet.

She idly stared at one of the lights dancing across the bay.

Frowned.

One moment it was just a light, the next, it was hovering with a roar above the building.

Her jaw dropped as she peered out the window up at a set of four flaming rockets high above. Warm air tickled her hair.

Were they about to be invaded by aliens?

Maybe this was her opportunity…take me with you!

As if in answer, a figure suddenly dropped down from above, swinging from a rope. “Hi, could I place an order please?”

The alien appeared to be dressed in an scuba suit? Though he was blond and good looking.

Oh, and he was definitely a ‘he’.

Hmm.

“Sorry about all the noise.”

“What?”

He rolled his eyes and poked something on his wrist. A hologram appeared listing approximately half their menu. “Sorry, we didn’t order ahead. Virg can’t work your app and I dropped my phone in the drink. You’d think he would let me use his, but noooo, he doesn’t trust me, and John still won’t order take out from space. Says we eat too much junk food. Virg agrees, but I can persuade him. John’s the rock, the hard place and the immovable object all in one.”

Julia just stared at him. He was definitely a talkative alien. “Did you want fries with that?”

His smile was electric. “I always want fries. Give me all the fries.”

Bob and Sophie, her two colleagues on late shift were standing behind her as stunned as she.

Hmm.

She cleared her throat. “Will that be cash or credit?”

He pulled a platinum something or other out of his suit and offered to wave it where it needed to go.

Julia nudged Sophia in the ribs. She startled, appeared to engage autopilot, and began prepping the order.

And it was a considerable order.

Card waved and transaction done, Julia started on the drinks. Bob tackled the fries.

All the fries.

Alien man just hung around on his rope while the UFO above hovered.

They were very lucky that the neighbours were several kilometres away.

Cooked, collected, bagged.

Blink.

Double bagged with strong handles. She handed the order to the alien and made sure it was secure in the one hand he had available.

Dare she ask him?

“Take me with you?”

“Sorry? I can’t hear you.”

“Gordon, quit yapping and get that food up here.”

“Okay, keep your pants on, Commander.” He turned back to Julia and smiled. “Thanks.”

With that he was pulled back up into his spaceship. The UFO roared and took off over the hills behind them.

And everything was quiet again.

Julia stared up at the stars as Bob and Sophie cracked up all over the kitchen.

Please…please come back and take me with you.

-o-o-o-

[magebunkshelf]

Hello!

I hope you're having a lovely evening, I have a few questions about Mitch I would like to ask but I completely understand if you'd rather not answer due to spoilers or any other reason!

One thing I have been wondering given the slow reveals about your universe, has Mitch grown up in the 20 years or so he was on the streets before being befriended by the listener? I know he used to break into homes when he was younger but has he physically grown, as in, was he a little boy back around the millennium? if so, did he have a family once? If not, has he appeared in his adult form without much knowledge or understanding of where he's come from?

Another one, mainly because I am a sucker for people being kind to each other, does Mitch trust his listener enough that on occasion he allows them to help him manage his hair if it gets too unruly? Basically, I have an image of them sat behind him on the sofa detangling his chaos whilst he games on his CRT!

Are the hybrids like Mitch becoming more common place? As in, has he met more people like him through his café work, enough that he's got an opportunity to make more friends like him?

Last question, is the facility still capturing, examining, documenting and mind-wiping hybrids in Mitch's present day? If so, are more hybrids starting to compare notes about how they've found themselves in odd places with zero memories of how exactly they've turned up there?

Thank you so much for taking the time to read these, again you have zero obligation to answer any of these, I just really love your stories!

These are amazing question! I'm sorry for the slow reply! x.x

Mitch was indeed a bit smaller when he was younger, 4 and a half foot is a good height for an adult raccoon demihuman! Unfortunately the only family he's ever known was his found-family in Hami (opossum demihuman, from RenInABox's audio series), and now his roommate. He's probably run into the occasional other raccoon demihumans but not a family.

Does Mitch trust the listener enough to help with his hair? It would have taken a while but as of the present, yes! I like to think the roommate is keen to help, Mitch's hair is a lot, they'd probably try to balance wanting to help with giving him his own space to thrive at his own pace. Mitch probably hated it to begin with, but he trusts his roommate more than just about anyone at this point - he's a lot more centred now, he can thrive and be himself rather than just survive.

Demihumans have become common enough in the last few years that they're less of a cryptid and are getting mentioned on the news. In the present in Mitch's World, it's becoming common knowledge that non-human sapients exist. They're still rare, but one may occasionally pop into Café Regale from time to time! All I'll say for now :3

Hmm... If demihumans were comparing notes on their missing memories- then the Facility wouldn't be doing a good job~

I'm not actually sure if we've seen the Facility activity in the past ten years...

[raat-jaaga-paakhi]

you mentioned harivansha and from what i know of scholarly stuffs it's much older than bhagavata purana so why do you think it isn't prominently considered for krishna's life? and what translations of harivansha do you use for your studies? i'm sorry if this seems too eager lololol

I'm answering this ask a year late, so I suppose that offsets your zeal (in a really horrible way)? This has been in my drafts, I just forgot about it entirely, thank you for coming to my inbox to remind me again. <3

Yes, Harivamsha was written much prior to Srimad Bhagavata Purana, and is considered some sort of appendix to the Mahabharata, which again is of greater antiquity. We can only speculate as to its relative lack of popularity, and I would like to mull over my own thoughts on this a bit more. I'll make a separate post, possibly. Let me just give a small introduction on the Harivamsha instead.

A Guide to Harivamsha

REFERENCES I USE IN MY STUDIES: (in no particular order)

1. Harivamsha Critical Edition (as edited by BORI, Bhandarkar Oriental Research Institute), EN-translated by Bibek Debroy.

Above-average translation quality. Compared to the others, the only benefit of this reference is that it lets one know what sections BORI cleaved—regarding which one must keep in mind that, as Debroy himself noted and as I observed in the course of reading as well, the editing of Harivamsha Critical Edition was in no way as well and expertly done as that of the Mahabharata Critical Edition (BORI).

2. Harivamsha Purana, Gita Press

The only complete and accessible translation (Hindi) of HV that there is. Great translation quality. You usually don't have to second-guess each line (like I have to, with No. 1).

3. Chitrashala Press edition of Harivamsa, Online EN translation by Desiraju Hanumanta Rao, A. Purushothaman & A. Harindranath. https://www.dvaipayana.net/harivamsa/harivamsa-cs-index.html

Very helpful, as you get the Sanskrit verses alongside the translated English ones, for comparison/tallying purposes.

4. Harivamsha Purana, EN-translated by M. N. Dutt (https://www.wisdomlib.org/hinduism/book/harivamsha-purana-dutt)

Most accessible translation; no big differences from No. 3 in interpretations. (I will take this opportunity to recommend Wisdomlib to practically everyone in this fandom.)

5. Krishna’s Lineage: The Harivamsha of Vyāsa’s Mahābhārata. EN translation by Simon P. Brodbeck.

Good translation, good language, immensely well-organised. Has family trees in a genealogical appendix.

GENERAL UNDERSTANDING OF HARIVAMSHA'S STRUCTURE:

The text is divided into 3 parvas, as follows -

Harivamsha Parva - This contains a lot of background information through the genealogies and stories interspersed in all the lineage talk. We get some important backstory for MBh, and we get some stories which you may find in most other Puranas. (Interestingly, this contains the Syamantaka incident. It was a really big deal, is all.)

Vishnu Parva - The main section of Krishna's non-MBh life-story, starting from his birth, the Mathura-era exploits (Kamsavadh, Jarāsandha's attacks), Rukmini-harana (my beloved), the Pārijāta story, and dealing with Pradyumna (his firstborn) and Aniruddha's (Pradyumna's son) lives as well.

Bhavishya Parva - The first chapters of this section are indeed about "bhavishya" (things that happen or "will happen" post-Swargārohana, prophecies about Kali Yuga, etc). Then there's a set of chapters that go into some of Vishnu's avatars (Varāha, Narasimha, Vāmana, in particular). These two sets of chapters are translated in almost all versions. Then comes the dicey part, the set of chapters translated only in Gita Press Harivamsha, and ironically, the most important part of Bhavishya Parva in my opinion (because it has major portions of Krishna's life-story. This section contains Paundraka's (and Ekalavya's) siege on Dwāraka, the killing of Hamsa-Dimbaka (Jarāsandha's closest allies that Krishna speaks of to Yudhisthira in MBh's Sabhā parva) etc. Invaluable for better understanding of Yādava politics, and kind of ties up some loose ends from MBh.

Lovers and collectors of obscure Krishna-katha (or even just Purana-katha in general), Harivamsha is the place for you! <3

[againstacecilia]

No More Wasted Time (Rewrite)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x female reader (modern!AU)

Word Count: 6.4k

Rating: E for sure. No minors.

Warnings: Childhood-friends-to-lovers, unprotected p-in-v, alcohol usage, break-up, hurt/comfort, heaps of emotion, overall smut warning.

A/N: We've come full circle here, folks! This is a rewrite of the first fic I ever wrote/posted, just wanted to try my hand at elevating my writing now that I've had some more practice. Please let me know what you think through reblogs and/or coming to yell at me in my asks! Here's the link to the NMWT universe masterlist if you wanted to peruse more of these two goofs. 🥰

Thank you for reading, and May the 4th Be With You. 💖

You had known Poe your whole life. For most of it, he’d just been the pesky older brother of your best friend. Your parents had been friends with his since long before you were born and the boys had just come built-in to the family they created.

Honestly, the dynamic had always worked; he teased and pestered his brother and it just sort of rippled over to you. It didn’t matter that you had snuck glances in high school at Poe as he pulled himself out of the pool, learning to admire the shift of muscles in his back or the strength of his arms. The hours you spent with him in their garage keeping him company and occasionally helping him fix his beat-up old car was just a way to pass the time when you had nothing better to do, and nothing to do with how just talking with him made you feel… Awake. Even in your darkest moments, the easy flow of conversation had been a light that opened your eyes and lifted a weight off your shoulders. Even the nights of teasing and poking fun at dive bars that never checked your fake IDs were just friendly. Never anything more.

And then you left. Went off to college and grad school and figured out who you were outside of the boxes of youth. Had experiences and grew and decided that coming home wasn’t such a bad idea. Especially when your boyfriend, Mark, had been so enthusiastic about joining you and starting your lives together.

It felt right to be back home. Six years and what seemed like a different life later, it felt right to be sitting on the back deck with your family, your parents and the Damerons sipping cider in the warm September afternoon.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” your mother starts, her hair blazing in the later afternoon sun, “Poe will be stopping by. Said he wanted to say hi.”

“I’m not surprised,” you roll your eyes with a smile, “he’d never miss an opportunity to be a pain in my ass.”

“He said he misses you.”

You hum a non-committal response, taking another sip of your drink. “You know what, I’m glad he’s coming by. It’ll be good to see him. I don’t think I’ve seen him since Christmas last year.”

The conversation continues around you and you take a moment to close your eyes and breathe in the late summer air. Two years in a colder, northern state made it clear that you never wanted to be without the sun again. Its strong, constant presence at home was a sign to you that being here was right. Being home was right.

As you begin to doze the creak of the screen door signals Poe’s arrival. You sleepily open your eyes and turn to shoot him a grin. “Well finally, Mom said you were coming by. I’ve been waiting for hours.”

He sketches a playful bow, “So sorry to have kept you waiting.” He swiftly makes his way to the parents, dolling out hugs and greetings before settling down in a chair next to his father.

The afternoon progresses, laughter and chit-chat filling the air. Poe pushes as many of your buttons as possible, as usual, but it feels like home. You playfully threaten to kick his ass out, laughing as you stand and make your way toward the door to get another drink from the kitchen.

Just as you open the refrigerator door, your phone buzzes in your pocket. A tipsy giggle falls from your lips as you pull it up and see your boyfriend’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hi baby,” you answer brightly, “everything go okay getting the UHaul?”

Mark is quiet for a moment, static crackling on the line. He finally begins to speak, the minutes blurring together as he feeds you excuse after excuse. Finally, he tells you he isn’t moving home with you. He isn’t coming. You hang up the phone in a daze.

The living room is silent as you stare at nothing for a minute, not fully remembering how you’d gotten to the couch. Shock has locked up your mind and the backlight on your phone fades to black in your still-hovering hand. He isn’t coming…

The feeling of being watched shakes you from your haze but you don’t turn to the form you feel hovering in the doorway to the kitchen. You aren’t sure how long he’d been standing there, but it’s easy to assume he’d heard enough of the conversation to know what’s going on.

“You can come out of there, Poe, you’re a terrible snoop,” you say quietly.

“Who says I was snooping?” You finally turn to shoot him a weak glare. He’s standing against the doorframe, arms clad in his favorite olive green hoodie crossed over his torso. “I heard a raised voice and thought I’d come see what all the commotion was about.”

“Save it, Poe,” you sigh, slumping against the couch, “I’m not in the mood.”

He looks at you with an all-too-knowing gaze. The one downside of knowing Poe as long as you had: he’d known you just as long. “Alright, alright. I know you aren’t mad at me specifically, so I’ll play nice. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Wanna drink about it?”

You look at the half-empty drink in your hand and give it a shake. “Sure. Go make me another one. I’ll be done with this one when you get back.” He leaves with a nod, disappearing back into the kitchen.

By the time Poe returns with two fresh drinks and, to your surprise, a bottle of whisky, your drink is indeed gone. “Figured I’d bring the whole bottle, assuming I heard that conversation correctly. What was this one’s excuse?” He sits down next to you on the couch.

“He said something along the lines of, 'You just have so much going for you and I’m only going to bring you down.’ I told him I wasn’t in the business of fixing broken men anymore and if he wanted to break up with me then he needed to just come out and say it. Then he got mad at me for quote, 'not giving a shit’, called me a bitch, and told me it was over.” You hold your hand out for the drink, only to have Poe put the open bottle in your palm instead.

“What a stupid kid.”

“Maybe I’m the stupid one,” you scoff as you take a swig, the amber liquid burning its way down your throat and honing your shock into something sharper. “How do I always attract these kinds of guys?”

Poe looks at you for a second, an unfamiliar emotion on his face. You blink and it’s gone, replaced by the cool, nonchalant mask he usually wore. “Like I said, stupid kid. Might be time to set your sights on a man.”

“Oh sure, bring on the men in their suits with a 401k and a car they didn’t haggle off a junk lot. Where could I find them? I’m sure they’d be interested in a girl fresh out of grad school who still doesn’t have a job. A real catch.”

“You’d be surprised at what people see as attractive. Me, for example. I don’t do too badly. But I’m incredibly attractive so that isn’t too surprising,” he says with his trademark smirk.

“Shut the fuck up,” you mutter, half-heartedly throwing a pillow at him. Surprisingly, he does, and you fall into an easy silence, the only sound coming from the quiet news story on the tv.

After a few minutes, your parents and the Damerons come in and begin gathering up their things to go out. “We decided to grab a cab to Mauri’s for dancing, you kids want to join?” Your mom asks, slipping her shoes on in the entryway.

The hometown bar was legendary for Friday night dancing, but the usual draw just doesn’t tug on you. “Nah, Mark just called and told me he isn’t coming. Not really in the mood for dancing.”

“Oh honey,” your mother sighs, “I’m so sorry.” She walks to your side and perches on the arm of the couch. “Do you want us to stay?”

A warm glow momentarily fills your chest at her concern. “No, please go have fun. I’m just gonna hang here and go to bed early.”

Your mom kisses the crown of your head and pulls your gaze to hers. “If you need anything, we’ll come home right away.”

“Don’t worry, I have to work early so I’ll keep her company,” Poe gallantly offers. You subtly send him a grateful glance. He winks back with a grin.

“Okay, if you’re sure…” Your mom begins before your dad gently pulls her away, reminding her that you’re an adult and that you’ll ask for help when you need it.

The taxi pulls up and your parents file out the door, already bubbling about what songs they hope the band plays and what friends are already there waiting for them. The house quiets down again and you sink back into your seat.

Damn, the couch is small, you think to yourself, realizing how slight the distance is between you and Poe. Was he that close the entire time?

Shaking your head, you turn your attention to the windows overlooking a tidy front yard. The sky outside is on its way to twilight and, in the companionable silence, your mind wanders back to the phone call with Mark. There goes a year of my life… What do I do now?

Poe abruptly speaks up, pulling you out of your moping. “Alright, time for a change of scenery. Want to go sit on the back porch? Get a fire in the fire pit going?” he asks, turning to face you. That man never could keep still long enough to even get through a commercial break.

"Sure. I don’t have a jacket, though. Packed all my cold clothes so they’re sitting in storage.” A small pang rings through you as you remember who you packed all your things with. Looks like I won’t be unpacking with Mark after all…

Whether he sees the hurt in your eyes or not, he doesn’t acknowledge it. “You can wear mine, ya baby,” he scoffs, taking off his hoodie in one swoop and handing it to you, “It isn’t that cold yet.”

You ignore the jab and head towards the back of the house.

The night is starting to cool off. Leaves are starting to turn but not fall, summer is starting to yield to autumn. You pick the oversized chair closest to the fire pit and climb into it, curling up and putting on his sweatshirt as you go. He doesn’t say anything as he grabs some wood from the shed and piles it into the fire pit. Sure, steady movements show just how many times he’s done this, strong arms and dexterous hands building up the logs around the smaller kindling. It doesn’t take long before he’s got a crackling fire going, the flames dancing in the twilight glow. He settles into the chair opposite you. Some time passes in silence before you finally say:

“I’m such an idiot.”

Poe holds space for you to figure out the emotions warring inside you. He doesn’t try and fix the problem, just stares into the flames and waits for you to continue. Usually the picture of calm, you can’t help but notice the muscle flicker in his arm as his fingers tense into a fist. Almost like he’s wanting to argue with the words falling from your lips. From the truths that flow as alcohol plies your tongue.

“I should have seen this coming… Who am I kidding? Of course the only guys who are interested in me end up having mommy issues or daddy issues or something and I, ever the rehabilitator, can’t seem to just let them see a fucking therapist. I have to fix them. So, apparently, I deserve this. Just doomed to a life of bouncing from guy to guy until I’ve given them all the second chances they don’t deserve. I’m a fucking mess.”

Your voice breaks on the last word and you at last let the tears come. The dam breaks and you bury your head in your hands as the last of the shock wears off and your mind comprehends what’s happened. Soft steps walk toward you and Poe slides into the oversized chair next to you.

Just as you pull your legs up to tuck into yourself, Poe slides his arms around you. Both strong and steady, he slides one under your knees and braces one behind your shoulders to pull you into his lap. As soon as you’re settled, you release the tight grip on your legs and slip your arms around his shoulders, leaning into his embrace and letting him hold you as you cry. You don’t worry about why you’re suddenly letting yourself be so vulnerable and exposed emotionally with him, you just let him comfort you with soothing strokes down your back. He lets you cry and, eventually, starts humming. It isn’t any song in particular, he just hums and works a beautiful melody that you can feel in your whole body. You’re familiar with the timbre of his voice, rich and warm, helping you through the sobs rather than trying to stop them. Weathering the storm with you. Finally, the tears stop, your breathing evens out, and you both just sit there for a little while.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, pulling your arms from around his shoulders and wiping your eyes, “I guess it all just kind of caught up with me.”

“You don’t have to apologize, we’ve all been there,” he squeezes you in a small hug but doesn’t let you go. “Although, I’ve never seen you like that.”

“We’ve known each other our whole lives and you’ve never seen me cry?”

"No, I’ve never seen you doubt yourself.”

You don’t respond for a moment before asking, “What do you mean?”

“In all the years we’ve known each other, I’ve never seen you stop believing in yourself. You’ve always been this confident, albeit stubborn, person who was actually known to give me a challenge every once in a while.” You look up to see a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Why do you think I never complained when you came over?”

“Uh, because we were kids and didn’t have a choice in the matter?”

“My brother was always having friends over. You’re one of very few I didn’t ask my parents to bar from the house.”

“Sweet talking me right now, Dameron?”

“Just thought you could use some perspective.”

Throughout the entire exchange, you didn’t move and he didn’t let you go. It’s dark now, mellow in the September evening. The crackling of the fire and the wind in the mature trees are the only sounds as you decide to sneak another look up at his face, your breath snatched away by what you see.

He’s staring into the fire; eyes and face unburdened by facade. The flames light up his dark brown eyes, brows slightly furrowed as if in some deep thought. Thick stubble, maybe a couple of days’ worth, peppers his strong jaw, his mouth set in a thin line. A scowl, so unlike the roguish smirk you’ve seen light his face for as long as you can remember. You can’t stop yourself as you reach up to lightly run a finger over those full lips, some emerging part of you demanding to be noticed in this intimate and uncharted territory.

His eyes snap from the fire to yours, just as surprised as you are to find your fingers brushing from his lips up his jaw and down his neck, savoring and memorizing the lines of his face; the flames in his eyes that aren’t entirely just reflections from the fire pit in front of you.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice as rough as the stubble under your fingers. His pulse hammers through the vein in his neck, tempo nearly matching yours as blood thunders through your body. You wonder if he can feel it in the lingering touch of your fingertips.

“I honestly don’t know.” You quickly take your hand away and start to push out of his warm embrace. “I’m so sorry.”

“Wait.” He doesn’t let you get up as he gently adjusts you so he can see you a little better. “I didn’t mean that to sound like stop. Just… please. Stay.”

So you do. Wrapped up in his sweatshirt, in him, the smell of him familiar and somehow entirely new now. After your heartbeat settles a bit you whisper, “Tell me what you’re thinking?”

He continues his silent vigil, staring at the flames and tracing circles along your leg. He’s quiet for long enough that you begin to think he didn’t hear your silent request. As you’re about to ask again, he speaks:

“I’m thinking… I’m thinking that I don’t want to ruin this.”

Your heart drops, waiting for the blow to land. The fear that you’d misread the situation and that the connection you’d felt flickering in the fading light wasn’t reciprocated surges up and you prepare for him to disappear when, suddenly, words are tumbling from him like he’s afraid he won’t be able to get them all out if he doesn’t do it all at once.

“I don’t want to ruin what we have, what we’ve always had. I know I’ve always been a bit of a bully, picking on you the way I’ve always picked on my brother, but underneath it all I’ve always known you had a hold on me. You worked your way into a fundamental part of who I am without even trying. I almost asked you not to leave a couple of years ago, but you were set on going to grad school and I knew I couldn’t get in the way of that dream. And when you brought that Mark guy home for Christmas…”

The memory flashes in your mind. His parents’ snow-covered house, lights flickering merrily in the deep winter night, glowing as you opened the door and greeted everyone. The night had gone well but… Poe had left early that night, muttering something about seeing friends from out of town before slipping out the door. The realization must’ve been clear on your face because he nods and says, “That’s why I bailed that night. Seeing you flushed from the cold walking through the front door, eyes sparkling from all the Christmas cheer, I felt lighter than air. Our eyes met and I could’ve sworn I saw something spark… But then I looked behind you and saw him, saw the way you looked at him throughout the night, and I couldn’t take it. I had to get out. I told myself that night that I would never be anything more to you than what I had always been and to move on.”

The glistening in his eyes breaks your heart, the urge to comfort him enough to bring your hand back up to his face. You cup your hand around his jaw and he sighs, closing his eyes and leaning into the contact. Without opening his eyes, he whispers, “I’m sorry. I promised myself I wasn’t ever going to tell you any of this.”

“I’m glad you did, Poe.” Your free hand rests on his chest, savoring the heart beating solidly beneath. “I really am.”

“Please tell me what you’re thinking.”

Now it’s your turn to be quiet for a moment. You pull your hands back to tuck into your chest and lay your head on him once again. After a couple of steadying breaths you say, “Do you remember the last night I was here before I left for school?”

Of course he did. You didn’t think either of you could forget that night. You and your families, along with some other friends, got together for karaoke at your favorite bar as a send-off. People steadily trickled out all night but you, Poe, and a couple of other friends straggled behind until it was suddenly one in the morning. You had spent the night singing with him, song after song, harmonizing and coming up with your own lyrics to songs you both knew by heart.

“I do. That’s when I almost asked you to stay.”

“There was a part of me that wanted you to. I went to the bathroom while Henry was singing some terrible rendition of "Runaway” and, as I was washing my hands, I heard you start “Wonderful Tonight”. The whole world stopped, Poe. I snuck out of the bathroom to watch you sing and I couldn’t breathe… I wrote it off as the night of drinking making me goofy but I swear to God, Poe, I’ve heard you sing that song a million times and never heard it that way before. And then you looked at me. You looked right into me and saw all of me and I couldn’t look away. The memory of it all pops into my head sometimes and I’m still left breathless by it. By you.“

As you stop speaking, you could swear the wind and fire stop making noise too. Nothing exists outside the shaking breaths and thundering heart you can hear, unsure if they’re coming from you or Poe. You can feel it; the freefall you were about to be in. Was it really only an hour ago you were upset about some boy breaking up with you over the phone? Some kid who wasn’t ready for everything you wanted for your future? And here, right now, was a man. An honest-to-God man, willing to keep his needs hidden so you could choose your own path…

You lift your head up and look at his face to gauge his reaction to what you just told him. He looks down at you with starlight and flames in his eyes as he meets yours and then, slowly, as if expecting you to disappear, Poe closes the small distance between you and kisses you.

It’s… Soft. Almost hesitant, a silent invitation without expectation. He’d never put you in a situation where you didn’t have a choice and, even now, even after both of you let down your walls and shared these tender secrets, he’s still giving you a choice. There’s no doubt in your mind as you deepen the kiss, putting all the words you’d been holding back for years into the contact. He lets loose his breath in a sigh and sends trembling hands to tentatively explore your body. The timid touches, feather-light and careful, make you smile as you pull away.

“I want this, Poe,” you promise him, your hands cradling his face, “I want you, and I have for a long time.”

His smile in return sends sparks through your veins and he wastes no time threading his fingers into your hair, sending you crashing back together. His free hand, strong and sure and steady now, freely roams every curve of your body. His mint and cedar smell wraps around you as your own hands grasp at his sweatshirt. Wanting- needing- more, you playfully nip at his bottom lip.

His sharp intake of breath makes you pause, worried you’ve done something wrong, but a laugh rumbles low in his chest. “So that’s how you want to play?” he mumbles into your lips.

A conspirator's grin lights your features, “I don’t have the faintest idea what you mean.” Before he can respond, you turn your attention to his neck, kissing a trail down the side. You nudge the collar of his t-shirt away enough to gently graze your teeth over the soft spot where his neck meets his shoulder, his entire body shivering at the sensation.

“Careful,” he breathes. “Careful, sweet girl, we’ve got ti- oh fuck.”

Interrupting whatever train of thought Poe had started, you shift your body over his and straddle his legs, pinning him to the chair and stopping his words with a searing kiss. After a moment, you pull back to look into his face. His eyes burn with emotion; those beautiful, dark eyes, almost black with desire in the glow of the dying fire. No one has tended to it in a while and it looks like no one will for a while longer…

“Tell me you want me,” you softly request.

“I want you.” His hands tremble with restraint against your hips.

“Again.”

“I want you,” he responds again, the quivering spreading to the rest of his body.

“Then have me, Poe,” you whisper, reaching for the hem of his shirt, “because I want you, too.”

A low growl escapes his lips as the internal leash snaps. His lips find yours again and you part for him easily, his tongue hungrily sweeping through. The lingering taste of whisky tickles your lips and adds to the fire burning in your body. Every touch, every noise and place your body meets his surges with wildfire, the driving demand for more, more, more pounding in time with your heartbeat. He tears away from your lips to find any piece of skin not buried in his hoodie, kisses nearing desperate as your hands explore the planes of his chest. The muscles flex and shift, your nails finding purchase as you grasp the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Poe, please…” You’re not entirely sure what you’re asking for, the pulsing need in every corner of your body taking control of your tongue and nearly begging for more. More of this, more of him. Taking the hem of his shirt in your hands, you begin to tug it up and off of him when he senses the shift and takes over.

In one swift motion, he has you in his arms and stands. His long legs eat up the distance from the deck to the door, then inside to the guest room you’re staying in. Once inside, he lays you reverently on the bed and kneels on the ground next to you.

“Wait,” he pants, forcing himself to take a breath and remove his hands from your body. You whine at the loss, sitting up and grabbing for him. He stops you and asks, “You’re sure? Earlier this afternoon you had a boyfriend and now… I just don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage of you.”

The sincerity of his words fills your heart to near bursting. Had you really been treated so poorly that this moment of true decency felt like a gift? Taking your own steadying breath, you rise to your knees and pull him up to face you, wrapping your hands around his. You’d told him you wanted him, you had no other words to give him. So, instead, you guide his hands to your lips to kiss them while your gaze stays locked with his and nod.

“Good,” is all Poe says with a heart-breaking smile before gripping your waist and tossing you back onto the bed. Your laugh tangles with his in the air, a shimmering melody and harmony you’ve been practicing your entire life.

The wildfire burning in your veins flares back to life at the gleam in his eyes. He climbs onto the bed over you and hovers there, eyes drinking in your body spread out underneath him. He hikes the hem of his hoodie over the waistband of your pants and traces a finger over the sliver of skin peeking through. Agonizingly slow, he ghosts his hand up, up, up your torso to graze over the fabric of your bra.

“So many layers,” he muses, hand never stopping its movement as he leans down to brush his lips over yours.

You’re beyond words. The promise of him touching you, really touching you, striking you dumb. You can only focus on where his hand is and, if you move just right…

“Come on, baby, tell me what you want,” he whispers, voice skittering over your bones, full of silken promise.

“Touch me,” you manage to whine, too entranced with the way his body feels over yours to be embarrassed at the begging mess you’ve been reduced to.

“Yes, honey, but where?” Stubble scrapes gently along your cheek as Poe dips his mouth to your neck.

You get ahold of yourself enough to grab his hand over your layers, pressing down and responding with a breathy, “Here.”

“That’s a good girl.” Heat flares in you again at the praise. He nips at your ear while pulling his hand out of your shirt and grabbing the hem, taking both the layers and pulling them over your head. His long fingers, lightly calloused from years of work and playing guitar, slip the straps of your bra off of your shoulders and he slides the garment away from your breasts, exposing the heated and tingling skin to the cool air. His eyes spark with awe and lust as he cups both of them with his hands.

Your legs press together seeking any release from the tension building in your core and a small whimper sneaks its way out of you. The movement isn’t lost on Poe and he takes momentary pity on you, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to your lips. “I’m going to enjoy,” he murmurs, “Coaxing every one of those noises out of you.”

“Promises, promises,” you chide, finding a little more of your voice.

“There she is.” Poe’s smile lights the dim room and brings a smile to your face as well.

If your heart didn’t already feel like it was full to bursting, the vulnerability on his face would’ve done it. Your friend was here, the boy you grew up with was now the man making you feel safer and happier than you had in years. The realization helps you bring down that final wall, any hesitation or fear falling away and clearing your mind.

This. This was why none of your relationships had worked in the past. Why there was always that little something that felt like it was missing. You had crawled through deserts of heartache and sorrow to find that the oasis was here, with him, all along.

Flinging every scrap of self-consciousness to the wind, you take his lower lip between your teeth and nip it gently. His appreciative groan urges you on, encouraging you to grab his shirt and yank, pulling it off his lightly muscled torso. His hands make quick work of the clasp to your bra and, within a few heartbeats, the garment falls to the floor. Fumbling hands open his belt and pants. Your body aches with the promises his hands make along your skin.

“Get your… Get your pants off,” you demand between kisses.

He laughs, pure and rich, before quickly acquiescing to your demands. You take his moment of distraction to maneuver out of your own shorts and underwear. When Poe looks back at you, he pauses, eyes taking in every inch of your skin laid bare before him.

The look in his eyes when his gaze finally meets yours is like coming home.

Beyond words, Poe dives back into you with a fervor. It’s an unleashing. He grips the back of your neck with one hand while the other skates down your body and lands on the outside of your thigh, pulling your leg up low around his hips.

The tension in your body has you about to break. Your hand seeks him out, winding between your bodies and wrapping around the proud length of him. His hips surge forward at the contact, silently begging you for more. There’s no hesitation as you languidly pump him up and down, his arms beginning to shake from holding himself above you.

“Sl- Slow down,” he shudders, “You’re driving me wild here.”

You don’t respond, only keeping that gentle, tantalizing pace going, savoring the way his body responds to your touch.

Pulling away from your lips, Poe’s hand surges down to grab your wrist, halting your teasing. “Someone isn’t very good at listening,” he growls.

“Someone is taking his sweet time,” you fire back, mischief lacing your words.

Poe settles onto his knees and your leg falls from where it’s been curled around his body. He brings your hand up above your head, taking its twin and crossing your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the pillow. “You’re going to regret that,” he promises, sending a wave of excitement through you.

His hand releases your wrists and he slowly eases down your body, eyes never leaving yours as he settles between your legs, shoulders settling under the backs of your thighs. His face, sun-kissed and as familiar as your own, framed by your legs, it all makes your breath hitch and heart pound with anticipation.

A wink is the only warning you get before his mouth is on you, kissing and licking and drinking you in like a glass of fine wine. Your hands jerk to the covers next to you, grasping for purchase to keep you from flying out of your skin. His tongue dances through every inch of you.

“Poe…” His name is the only word you can utter, the only prayer you can muster as he offers his own kind of worship. Sparks light your vision as you barrel towards release and your hands weave into his curls, begging him to stay right there…

You get one more breath before the orgasm is tearing through your body. He never breaks away from you, rather, his claiming grip on your thighs keeps you tight to him. He never falters through the waves rolling down your spine that send you shaking.

It could’ve been hours or it could’ve been seconds, but, as the tide recedes and your mind drifts back into the present, Poe rises to his knees and brushes a hand along the side of your face. “You still with me, baby?”

You summon a nod, glazed eyes finding his above you.

“That’s a good girl,” he croons, lifting each of your legs up and over his shoulders once again. He kisses the inside of each knee as he settles your legs.

Like a marble sculpture, chisled by the hands of artists and imagined by the minds of poets, he kneels before you, eyes burning in the soft lamplight of the room. “Tell me you want me,” he asks softly, echoing your demand from before.

“I want you.” You’ve never wanted anyone or anything more.

“Again,” he echoes again, slowly notching himself at your blazing entrance.

“I want you.” Your voice is bright and clear.

“Good,” he responds, and slips easily into you.

Like a puzzle piece gently settled into place, your soul feels just how right it is for you to be here. It isn’t just sharing your body with someone, it’s a homecoming. The way your bodies meld and match is secondary to the echo of contentedness at the realization that your paths have finally led you here.

He starts gently, allowing you time to adjust to the fullness of him. A gentle rise and fall as he rocks into and out of you. His hands grip your thighs while his lips kiss anywhere he can reach, unable to completely hold back. And you don’t want him to. You want to feel every inch of skin and muscle you can. The need burns through you as you reach for the sturdy legs beneath him, just out of your reach.

“Please,” you gasp as he begins to pick up the pace, “I need… I need to…”

“Anything,” he says, letting your legs fall so he can lean into your reach. “Anything, it’s yours.”

You pull him over top of you, not caring as his full weight crashes onto you, and wrap your arms over his shoulders. Scorching kisses brand your collarbone and neck as he wraps around you as well and flips over so your body lies on his. All the gentle touches and movements are lost as he picks up his pace, punishing and overcome with need.

“Yes,” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck and panting against his sweat-slicked skin.

From his lips pour praise, drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around him. Draping loving words around you like silk and lace, he punctuates each word with kisses and bites and doesn’t stop holding you through it all.

The edge of another orgasm looms before you, but you hold back as much as possible, wanting to tumble over the edge with him. You lift your head just enough to look into his eyes, the beginning of laugh lines etched into the skin around them. “Let go, Poe, I’m ready.”

Pressing a kiss to his lips, you rest your forehead against his and shift your hips in time with his. The angle threatens to overwhelm you but you hold on, freeing your hands to slip into his hair. Energy sparks around you and, with one final thrust, Poe tips over the edge and pulls you with him.

Shattering is the only way you can describe the feeling of the waves burning through you, Poe half a breath ahead of you. Panting and shivering from the exertion, you fully collapse on top of him, heartbeats pounding in call and response to each other. You’re fully content to lie like this forever, wrapped in his arms and the smell of him, skin to skin and souls laid bare to one another.

He kisses the top of your head, finally adjusting to roll you over next to him. He looks into your eyes, something unsaid burning just below the surface of his intense gaze.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” you say quietly, never looking away from him.

“I’m thinking,” he pauses for a moment, “that I wasted a lot of time not telling you how I felt. And that I don’t want to miss any more time.”

“Then we won’t.” You smile brightly up at him, taking in the excitement and joy on his face. “You’re stuck with me, Dameron.”

He kisses you again, sweet and gentle and unhurried. You kiss him back, trying to put all the words you held yourself back from saying into it. Making up for lost time. He pulls away, looking you up and down, wonder shaping every feature.

“No more wasted time. You and me against the world,” you say softly.

He pulls the covers over both of you and, as he pulls you in close to his chest, he repeats reverently, “No more wasted time.”

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