#that I need to ease up on the text effects

[bronzieinthedas]

Thank you so much @seaglassmelody for the tag!

Ok soooo first of all hello everyone I am new to the DA:TV fandom (used to be on the Mass Effect side until a couple years ago), but thanks to Veilguard I am currently finding my creative writing spark again!

So... I haven't really found my place yet, but so far I am trying to ease back into it and stretch those not-so-supple-anymore writing muscles again (also damn writing long texts in English after a couple years is hard).

Currently working on a ficlet/vignette collection about the past of my Rook, Qatesh and her history as a Tevinter textile workshop slave.

I started posting them to AO3 last week:

All That Came Before

A swallow’s cry always sounded a bit melancholy to Qatesh, a haunted, long-drawn, almost forlorn sound that echoed her own confined world. How many times she wished she could spread wings out wide and soar on the breeze towards the ocean, and on to the homeland she had never visited? She’d been told of mages who could transform into birds, and ever since, she’d been unsure if she wanted to be a mage or not. On one hand, being a mage would have made it possible for her to escape Tevinter and go home, which sounded good. But on the other hand… Qunari hated mages, so she couldn’t do that. Was it any better to stay here? Probably not?

I am currently also working on three loosely connected oneshots with Qatesh and Taash that haven't been posted yet. They were supposed to be just short character studies but somehow turned out smutty so... *gestures vaguely* I'mma go with that. Just an excerpt from the beginning of the first, as to keep this minor-friendly:

Spinning, Qatesh mused, was similar to channeling magic. Only if body and mind aligned, if she got the correct tension on the bobbin, the right rhythm to her treadling, and the perfect amount of take-up, she was able to spin a fine, balanced, even thread worthy of being woven into fine cloth. And similarly, magic needed her to focus herself, open up inside, channel the power, and release just the right amount of focused energy for what she wanted to achieve.

Long time ago, when her magic manifested, all she’d been taught were the basics of healing, so she'd pose no danger to the workshop. She'd only ever been allowed to be useful. And useful, she had been. Most of her formative years had been spent learning how to spin. Sometimes for the Mistress’ family, but mostly to feed the world’s seemingly unending hunger for luxurious fabrics. Tevinter was renowned for its textile industry, exporting the plushest and softest woollen yarn and woven goods into other lands. It was an open secret that Tevinter’s reputation was built on the backs of generations of slaves.

I do spin wool as a hobby (yes I know, very niche, and I like giving my hobbies to my OCs). And I am thinking about doing a little carding series because I really really crave to see how the DA:TV companions could be interpreted as art batts/wool blends... could be an idea for the coming companion weeks..? Input always welcome :)

For Lace Harding Week I have planned to post a step-by-step recipe with pics for Älplermagronen (Swiss cheesy noodles with applesauce), because I'm sure she would love it!

Now, I don't know anyone in the fandom yet so I won't tag, but if anyone wants to join in, please feel free to do so :)

Shameless Self Promotion Saturday

Thank you for the tag @rookamell!! I'm so happy you posted your doodles again they are amazing and I love them so much

The idea: We make a post and show off, what cool stuff we created over the past week. Art, Screenshots, writing (anything from a questionnaire about your OC to the 100K epos...) anything we do is worth to be seen and to be promoted. And by tagging people, commenting, and reblogging, we share the love and boost ourselves, and other's confidence. No matter what form you choose, whether you reblog your initial post, or create a new one with teasers, you decide!

Got some stuff bubbling in the background right now, but I had a big week this week by posting my (finally finished) oneshot, A Pie for Lace Harding! Thank you to everyone who has read so far <3 And especially thank you for all the sweet comments you guys are amazing ;A;

(and if you're interested you could also check out my other fic, I'd Give Everything (And More), a oneshot focused on Neve and Rook's tough feelings on friendship!)

I also threw a couple little snippets into the mix with A Word With Friends (featuring love of my life Johanna Hezenkoss) and my last Bellara week post (which honestly I might slowly be converting to shipping Bellara and Davrin haha oops)

And finally! I posted this already but you will see it again! It's Sabi's moodboard (and a bonus Sabi from me experimenting with photo mode)!

Bellara Week was full of such great ideas and cool works! Can't wait for Davrin Week coming up soon :D

Tagging @thedissonantverses, @hedwigoprah, @lgvalenzuela, @davrinsleftpectoral, @antivan-sprig, @mythals-whore, @himluv, @woundedsoul12, aaand @bronzeagelove if you guys wanna share!! And anyone else who wants to, I want to see!!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Slicked Back & Smitten

Rating: Mature Audiences

Warning: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, spicy, wlw smut, mirror sex, Paige's biceps, paige fucking you while having you in a headlock, !top paige, !bottom reader, light oral (fem reseving), !purple strap Paige, !slick back ponytail P (yes this deserves a warning), fluff

Paring: Paige Bueckers x fem reader

Fandom: Uconn's Women's basketbal

Summary: Slicked Back ponytail P... and she's swollen in the right places too... oh you're down bad baby

Tag: @elliesglock , @elalfywhore , @paxaz535

The morning of the UConn vs. Butler game was absolute chaos. With a 1 p.m. tip-off, I had been up at the ass crack of dawn, running errands before heading to the arena. Meanwhile, Paige was at home, usually getting her game day braids done by Kayla—her routine, her thing.

Except today, Kayla couldn’t do them she was getting over being sick, didn't wanna risk Paige getting sick.

And I? I was too busy being the responsible, errand-running girlfriend to even offer to do them myself.

So, Paige had to figure something out.

By the time I arrived at the arena, the team was already warming up. I greeted a few of the staff members before spotting Kayla on the sidelines, watching the girls get their final shots up before tip-off.

"Did you see what she did?" Kayla asked as I approached.

I was confused. "Who?"

Kayla gave me a look. "Your girlfriend."

I turned my head, scanning the court until my eyes landed on Paige in her love, Abby warm up. And, oh, did my jaw practically drop.

Instead of her signature game day braids, she had done a sleek middle-part ponytail. The gel, the clean parting, the way the ponytail laid so perfectly down her back—it was… different. It was… distracting.

I bit the inside of my cheek, shifting on my feet. "Yeah… I see her."

Kayla snickered, nudging me. "She look good, huh?"

I exhaled sharply, eyes still glued to Paige as she moved across the court, completely unaware of the effect she was having on me. The slick back? The way it emphasized her face, her jawline, her everything? Yeah, it was bad for me.

"Kayla," I started, voice low. "I don’t think you should do her braids next game either."

Kayla howled. "Oh, nah, you down bad!"

I rolled my eyes, pretending like I wasn’t already making plans to personally ensure Paige never wore braids again.

———

The first half of the game was a problem.

Paige was playing out of her mind. She was dropping dimes, hitting threes, getting to the basket with ease—and she looked damn good doing it.

I was trying to focus on the actual game, trying not to be the most obvious girlfriend ever, but every time she drove to the rim, her ponytail swung just right, her edges still perfectly laid despite how much she was sweating.

It was a crisis.

By halftime, I had reached my breaking point.

Sitting in the stands, I pulled my phone out, thumbs flying across the screen as I sent a text Paige wouldn’t see until later.

Me: You need to put me in a headlock when we get back home.

Me: And I need you to consider this slick back ponytail as your new game day hair. Like… permanently.

I hit send, exhaling as I locked my phone. Out of sight, out of mind. I just needed to get through the rest of the game without combusting.

———

Paige didn’t see the message until hours later.

After the game, she had her usual post-game press conference, with Kk and Azzii answering questions about UConn’s dominant win, her own performance, and how it felt playing without her signature braids.

Then came the locker room celebrations, the team hyping each other up, the post-game shower, and finally—finally—Paige was back at our shared off-campus apartment.

Freshly showered, she walked into the bedroom with a towel around her neck, only in her black Nike sports bra and grey boxers sitting perfectly on her waist line, scrolling through her phone finally checking all her notifications.

I was sitting on the bed, scrolling mindlessly myself, until I saw her pause.

Her head tilted. "What the hell?"

I tried to act innocent. "What?"

Paige turned her phone towards me, revealing my very suggestive text from earlier. "This," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Headlock? Really?"

I shrugged, unbothered. "You read it. You know what I said."

She huffed out a laugh, tossing her phone onto the nightstand before crawling onto the bed. She hovered over me, arms on either side of my head, that damn ponytail still sleek even after her shower.

"So," Paige mused, voice dropping slightly. "You liked the ponytail, huh?"

I reached up, running my fingers over the base of it where she had secured it with a black hair tie. "Liked? Understatement."

Paige smirked, dipping down to press a lingering kiss to my jaw. "Liked it enough to text me during halftime about puttin yo ass in a headlock?"

I exhaled sharply. "I was having a moment."

She kissed the corner of my mouth, teasing me. "Mhm. And what kind of headlock we talking about?"

I rolled my eyes, pushing her lightly. "Don’t play with me, Bueckers."

Paige chuckled, finally kissing me for real, slow and deep, before pulling back just enough to rest her forehead against mine. "So… ponytail again next game?"

I nodded immediately. "Absolutely, baby it’s your secret weapon."

She smirked, leaned closer, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispered, "Anything for you, baby. Especially when I get to have my way with you afterward."

I shivered at her words, my heart racing with anticipation. There was something intoxicating about the way she claimed me, the way she took charge. I loved every moment of it, even if it made me feel vulnerable.

Paige stood up suddenly, her playful demeanor shifting into something more commanding. “Come here,” she instructed, her voice firm yet sultry. I followed her, curiosity piqued, as she led me to the full-length mirror on the wall, right next to the bed.

“Look at yourself,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against my neck as she turned me to face the glass. I could see the reflection of us, a flush creeping across my cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” she said, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “But I want you to see what I see.”

Before I could respond, she slowly pulling my satan mini sleep dress, off revealing my body to herself as if she was claming a prize. My heart raced as I realized her intentions. “Paige…” I started, but her smirk silenced me.

“Shh,” she said, a playful glint in her eye. “Trust me, watch me the whole time, ma. ” She walked to the other bed side table to pull out the purple stap, taking the boxers off and expertly securing it around her waist.

I watched her through the Mirror not taking my eyes of her once.

“Now,” she said, walking back to me and now her breath warm against my neck, “I want you to look at yourself in the mirror and think about how good you can be for me.”

She wrapped her strong arms around me, pulling me back against her chest, and I found my breath catching in my throat as I felt her biceps flex around my head.

“Paige, I—”

“Good girls do what they’re told,” she interrupted playfully, flexing her biceps around my chin so I could look up see my own reflection. “Look at you. So pretty, so willing. You’re perfect just like this.”

I gazed into the mirror, my heart pounding as I saw the way she held me—her strength juxtaposed against my vulnerability. I felt a rush of heat surge through me.

“Tell me what you see,” Paige urged, her voice steady yet sultry. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I see…” I hesitated, caught between the thrill of her hold and the desire to please her. “I see… me. I see us.”

“Good girl,” she praised, her voice dripping with satisfaction. I could feel the tension in her body, the way she leaned into me, the heat radiating off her. “Now, tell me how much you want me.”

“I want you, Paige,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The honesty of my desire sent a thrill through me, igniting a fire that burned deep within. “I want you to fuck me.”

“See? Was that so hard?” she teased, her lips brushing against my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You’re learning.”

Paige turned me slightly, enough that I could see her in the mirror too. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she gazed down at me, and I felt a rush of exhilaration at being at her mercy. “Now, I want you to remember this moment. How it feels to be my good girl.”

With that, she pressed her lips against mine, capturing me in a kiss that was both sweet and demanding. I melted against her, surrendering fully to the sensation of her body against mine. Each kiss deepened my desire, igniting a passion that coursed through my veins.

“Look at us,” she murmured between kisses, her voice low and seductive. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Together, we create magic.”

Once back on the bed she had me face down ass up, still facibg the mirror.

I gasped as she took her tongue and gave my much needy pussy attention, ���You’re so beautiful like this,” she whispered, her breath warm against my thigh just before kissing and biting at it. “I want to make you feel everything.”

After a few mins of practically making out with my pussy, Paige, pulling me up by my hair before locking my head in her biceps again, her lips brushing against my ear as she trailed kisses along my jawline and neck. I could feel her warmth, her desire, and it sent waves of pleasure coursing through me. “Tell me how it feels, and don't be quiet about it either, baby” she instructed, her voice a tantalizing whisper.

“Good,” I breathed, my heart racing. “It feels so good.”

“Good girls deserve to be rewarded,” she replied, her lips curling into a smirk. “And you’ve been so very good, so keep watching in the mirror for me, yeah mamas”

She guided my gaze back to the mirror, forcing me to watch as she explored my body, her hands roaming, her kisses igniting every nerve. “Look at how much you crave this,” she teased, her voice a sultry melody. “You want to be my good girl, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I gasped, the thrill of her words sending me spiraling deeper into desire.

“Then let’s make this a night to remember,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief and passion.

Before I could fully process her movements, she had me pinned, face down ass up into the satan sheets, every inch of my body electrified by her touch. The strap slid deeper, an intoxicating sensation that made my heart race and my mind spin.

I could feel every pulse, every inch of her as she filled me, her confidence radiating through the air. Letting out a groan as if she could actually feel me clenching around her. “Fuck, baby you takin my dick so good. Pussy just swallowin me whole, shit.”

“Paige…” I managed to whisper, but the words were swallowed by the thick tension that hung between us. My body was responding, every nerve ending alive with the thrill of the moment. She held me captive, and I was more than willing to surrender.

Her fingers tangled in my hair, guiding me as she thrust deeper, the rhythm slow at first but building in intensity. I could hear her breathing, a mix of pleasure and desire, and it sent a shiver down my spine. “You’re so perfect for me,” she murmured, a sultry smile playing on her lips. “I could do this forever.”

With every thrust, she drew me closer to a precipice I had only ever dreamed of. The world outside faded away; there was nothing but the two of us, lost in our own universe. I could feel the heat pooling within me, a delicious tension building that threatened to consume us both.

“God, you feel so good,” she breathed, her voice thick with desire. “I want you to look in the mirror when you cum f'me. Watch yourself fall apart on my shit, ma.”

I surrendered completely, allowing myself to be swept up in the waves of pleasure she was creating. The way she moved, the way she filled me—it was intoxicating. I could feel every inch of her, the connection between us palpable, electric. It was as if we were two bodies entwined in a dance as old as time, a rhythm that only we could hear.

“Paige, I…” My words faltered as she hit a spot that made my entire body quiver. I could feel the tension building, spiraling higher and higher until it felt like I might burst.

“Shh, just look in the mirror and feel,” she whispered, her breath hot against my ear. “I’ve got you.”

Her words were like a spell, wrapping around me and pulling me deeper into the moment. I lost myself completely, every thought dissolving into a haze of pure ecstasy. Looking into the mirror watching with way she had my arms pinned behind my back, the determination on her face to make me feel so full. Watching the way my juices leaked on the bed, the way the base of the strap milky white from the way she was pounding me into the bed. The world outside ceased to exist; all that mattered was the connection between us, the way she moved, the way she touched me.

As she pushed deeper, I could feel the heat rising more and more, the pressure building within me. I was teetering on the edge, and I could sense that she was too. And as a last minute act she put me in a headlock again, hips still hitting all the right spot. “Yes, just like that, watch yourself f'me” she urged, her voice a low, sultry whisper. “Let go for me. Yeah ma, cum on my dick.”

With a final thrust, everything exploded, watching myself fall apart on the purple strap. I felt the world around me shatter into a million pieces, the sensation overwhelming and all-consuming. Waves of pleasure crashed over me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

“Just like that, baby. That’s it,” Paige encouraged, her voice a sultry murmur that was so encouraging that I could cum again. “You’re so beautiful when you cum, f'me baby.”

I could hardly respond, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure that coursed through me. I felt her slow down, her movements becoming gentle as she brought me back down from the high. My head resting back on her shoulder for a few seconds before I look at our sweat, cum dripping bodies, in awe

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern flickering in her eyes as they met mine through the mirror.

I nodded, still catching my breath. “More than okay,” I whispered, a smile breaking across my face. “That was incredible.”

Her lips curled into a playful grin, and I could see the satisfaction shining in her eyes. “I’m glad to hear that. But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before I could fully comprehend her words, she shifted her body, and mine her movements fluid and graceful. The strap was still there, a reminder of the connection we shared, and as she positioned herself above me, as I am now on my back, I felt the excitement build once more.

“Just relax and enjoy the ride,” she said, her voice low and enticing.

With that, she began to move again, her body rocking against mine in a way that sent shivers coursing through me. Every thrust was deliberate, every movement intentional, and I could feel myself responding, eager to meet her rhythm.

“God, you’re amazing,” she breathed, her eyes locked onto mine. The intensity of her gaze sent another wave of heat through me, igniting the fire that had only just begun to simmer.

“Paige, you have no idea…” I gasped, my hands finding their way to her hips, guiding her as I tried to keep up with her pace.

We were lost in each other, the world outside fading away once more. The tension built again, a delicious spiral that threatened to consume us both. I could feel the heat rising, the pressure coiling within me, and I knew we were nearing the edge once more.

“Just a little more,” she urged, her breath coming in quick gasps as she pushed herself closer, her voice laced with urgency. “I want to feel you again.”

With her words, I was gone, the tension breaking like a dam as the pleasure rushed over me once more. I could feel her reach her peak too, our bodies connected in a way that felt transcendent.

As we collapsed together, breathless and spent, I couldn’t help but smile. In that moment, everything felt right. We were two souls intertwined, lost in the heat of desire and the sweetness of connection.

“Wow,” I managed to say, a laugh escaping my lips. “What just happened?”

Paige chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Just a little magic,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I think we should do it again.”

I grinned, my heart racing at the thought. “I’m all in.”

---

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-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[tbaluver]

When You're On Your Period- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff, comfort a/n: posting my drafts atm bc i just have writers block sorrys /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He's not particularly educated in the realm of menstruation. So when he saw you clutching your sides in agony, he was so worried about you and ran to your side. He thought you were sick or injured. You try to explain to him that you're just on your period and he eagerly listens to you as you explain it to him.

It's his mission to try and make everything easy for you and makes a special effort to bring you things that might make you feel a little better.

"Can you buy me pads with/out wings?" And he would be really confused at first. He would think you want pads and wings. He would stand in the aisle for a while figuring out which ones you needed. So he'll come back home with a BUNCH of menstrual products with wings from your favorite restaurant.

But also the type to buy you your favorite snacks and drinks before you even ask. Sometimes he'll come home with a small plushie for some support.

Lowkey worried if you're going to be alright but he knows you're strong and will remind himself that you know how to handle yourself.

He would gently massage any areas that were aching. Lots of your time is spent in his arms or resting your head on his chest and he explains that the health website says its "beneficial" to do so and you're not complaining. He's so comfy.

Zayne:

In the beginning of your relationship, he was kind of inexperienced in this department. He knew some knowledge about the menstrual cycle but not too much so he made sure to educate himself so he knows how to take better care of you.

He runs down to the pharmacy to get you some pain medication and any menstrual products you need without any ounce of embarrassment. He doesn't find a reason to feel ashamed or embarrassed about getting you things for your period. Makes sure you have enough supplies to last you the whole week.

Prepares you some yummy warm foods that are nutritious for you and all cooked to your liking. He would also make sure to run down to your favorite bakery to pick you up some baked goods.

If you suffer from cramps, then he would find the best pill for you or make you effective tea. He'll also offer any massages you want on your body and let's just say this man is good with his hands that you don't want his hands off of you.

The type to not tell you that you stained the bed. He'll prepare you a soothing bath while he washes the sheets. When you come back the bed is nice and warm.

He'll start marking it down on his calendar so he can be prepared more in the future

Rafayel:

He would kind of forget periods are a thing but once you remind him, he'll try his best to take care of you. He has good intentions looking out for you and getting whatever you need. You would text him if he can get something for you and he's already on his way to you with whatever you requested.

He'll pay attention to your specific needs and preferences. He'll make sure you're getting your rest, staying hydrated, and eating well.

Would joke around and call this "Shark week." Would pray to any gods to bring mercy on him if he were to ever to be sassy to you on your period.

He'll be worried about you but he knows that you're strong. That doesn't mean he'll leave you alone during this time, unless you want him too. He'll be there to try and ease everything as much as he could.

If you were to have any bad cramps, he would give your lower abdomen a small massage while talking too it. "Hey don't be so mean to my cutie....." or sometimes he'll tell you some stories about Lemuria or maybe hum you a song in Lemurian to get your mind off it. Your head would be resting on his chest, his hands massaging gently into your aching sides.

It's easy to fall asleep in his arms because he can be so warm from his evol

He'll offer to make you a bath and gather your favorite bath bombs and your oils that might ease your discomfort. He would have the perfect temperature for you and would help undress you and help you into the bathtub. Would also feed you some yummy fruits like a princess while you were in the bath

Sylus:

Sylus treats you like royalty the entire time you're on your period. He's extra patient and understanding. You don't have to feel embarrassed at all with him and he will never be disgusted by you being on your period.

If you ever stained the bed, he would clean it up for you. He would reassure you that everything is okay and that bleeding is normal. He'll help run a bath for you while he cleans the sheets. He would never use these situations against you or even embarrass you about it.

He's always there to give you a massage knowing how bad cramps can be. Tell him where it hurts and he'll immediately massage the area with his hands. If massages weren't helping, then he'll warm up a heating pad for you and would find the best painkillers to make it go away.

The first time you were on your period, he bought way to many products for you so you were stocked up. Eventually in the future he knows the exact brand and everything you could possibly need.

When you wake up, he already has a meal prepared for you. Sometimes it'll be made from a private chef or he made it on his own. He'll gladly carry you to the kitchen so he can feed it to you or if you want, you can eat in bed.

Would give you random and frequent kisses. He knows that during this time you can go through a lot of emotions so he'll make sure to give you kisses to remind you that he loves and cares about you.

[moonstruckme]

mae my lovely, can i possibly request emt!marauders and reader who hasn’t replied to any texts in a few days/a week? pre-established relationship but not quite living together, and reader struggles with her mental health and has holed herself up in her apartment which worries the boys greatly? please don’t write if you feel uncomfortable (and if you’ve already written it but i’ve devoured emt!marauders today and i don’t think you have) obviously!! love you

Thank you for requesting my love! And thanks to @ellecdc for helping me figure out the emt stuff <3

cw: mental health struggles, self isolation

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Sirius’ knuckles rap loudly on your door. 

“Fuck, ease up.” James winces. “She’s gonna think we’re the cops.” 

“Good. Maybe she’ll answer for them.” 

“You need to calm down.” Remus’ voice is patience with a firm edge. “We don’t know what’s going on. If we go in angry with her, it’s not going to help anything.” 

“I think I have the right to be somewhat miffed,” Sirius argues. “You ghost someone after a first date, not once you’re in a relationship. It’s fucked.” 

“She’s not ghosting us,” James says certainly. Sirius’ mouth pinches in response.

James knows that, truly, his boyfriend is as worried as any of them. You’re well past the point in your relationship where you feel the need to establish the next time you’re going to meet before parting, but after your date last week it took the boys a few days to put it together that none of them had heard from you. 

At first, James presumed you’d simply gotten busy. Remus was convinced he’d done something to upset you. Sirius, secretly the most prone to worry, would rather believe he’s been slighted than consider the possibility that something might be keeping you from responding to their calls. Now that it’s been nearly a week, James is convinced something’s happened. You’ve had to take an emergency trip out of town or something’s spooked you and made you avoid them or—worst case scenario—you’re ill and have been holed up here with no one to check in on you for almost a week. 

Once he brought up that idea, it wasn’t difficult to convince his boyfriends to do a wellness check during their shift. 

“Just don’t be harsh with her,” Remus says gently. 

Sirius huffs. He knocks again, albeit somewhat softer. 

“NHS,” he calls. 

James holds his breath when he hears some shuffling from inside. Gradually, it gets closer and louder, until the door is creaking open and you’re peering through the crack. 

Your voice is scratchy, like you haven’t used it in a while. “What’re you doing here?”

James expects Sirius to snipe at you, is already prepared to smooth it over himself with kinder words and a gentler tone, but something seems to shift in the other boy at the sight of you. He pushes through the crack in your door, hugging you fiercely. 

“We…” Remus seems as thrown by this deviation as James is. “We thought we ought to check up on you.” 

Your hand migrates up, touching Sirius’ back tentatively. “Why?”

“It’s a wellness check.” Sirius’ voice is bitter, but the effect is somewhat muddled by how he’s speaking into your neck. “We had reason to believe you could be harmed or deceased.” 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

James takes a moment to look you over. You’re in pajamas, visibly rumpled, and yet you look as tired as if you’ve not slept in some time. There’s something off about your expression, something missing that he can’t put his finger on. It’s unsettling in a way that makes him want to wrap you up in a tight cuddle and not let go. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, perhaps more brash than he means to be. Normally he’d expect more tact from himself, but he’s shocked Sirius hasn’t asked yet, and someone has to.

“Can we come in?” Remus asks at the same time. 

You look between them like you’re not sure what to do with them. Like you’re questioning whether you’re still in some sort of dream. 

“Yeah,” you say after a moment. James gets the sense you mean it to answer both of them. You step back from the door to make room for them, and Sirius moves with you. “Um, forewarning, it’s really bad in here.” 

Really bad by your standards isn’t the same as James’. If he hadn’t seen the way you normally keep things, he’d never notice anything was amiss. Your place smells a bit stale, like when you leave for a weekend and then come home. There’s a laundry basket on the floor with a few balled socks like you’d started to fold them and given up, and if he peers into your bedroom he can see a small trash pile on your floor and the covers of your bed all twisted up. It’s no worse than his side of the dorm he’d shared with Remus and Sirius in school. 

“What happened?” Sirius asks you. His voice sounds clearer now, and James focuses back in to find that he’s let you go enough to press his forehead to yours. His brow and lips are pinched. “Why have you been avoiding us?” 

James is nearly overcome by the desire to kiss him and rub his back, but he decides to let you have the honor, if you want it. 

You look unsure whether you do. 

“I’m sorry.” The words seem scraped out from some aching part of you. “I wasn’t trying to.” 

“Then why didn’t you answer our calls?” Sirius’ tone matches yours for desperation. Remus’ expression twinges compassionately. 

“I couldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“Sirius,” Remus chides softly. 

Your shoulders are slumped, but when Sirius moves away you seem to droop further. He’s only giving you space, his expression far from unkind. 

“Why couldn’t you pick up, dove?” Remus asks gently. 

“I…” Your eyes meander the floor. “I didn’t know what to talk about. And then my phone died, and it was just easier. I’m really sorry.” 

“Is talking to us really that bad?” Sirius is clearly making an attempt at joking, but the heartache underlying his words is unmissable. 

“No,” you sigh. “I’m just not really fit for the world right now. I didn’t want you to worry.” 

James’ ribs hurt at your admission, but he feels himself nodding. Even if he doesn’t know exactly what it is you’re dealing with, he’s familiar with people who think they’re somehow so damaged they don’t deserve to engage with anyone or anything. Sirius was like that once. Remus even more often. He sees the recognition on both of their faces now, pity and love and regret all tangled up into one messy thing. 

“Well, it was a noble effort,” says James, giving you a small smile, “but you can’t stop us worrying. Can I hug you?”

You nod, making an effort towards returning his smile. It’s a half-hearted, flickering thing, but he appreciates it nonetheless. 

He kisses your forehead as he folds you into his arms, starting gentle and tightening when you hug him back. Your grip feels a bit weak, if ardent. James pushes his palm up your spine. 

“Have you eaten today, sweetheart?” 

Your hum in the negative vibrates against his skin. 

“I’ll make us something.” Remus starts toward the kitchen, passing a hand over James’ curls as he goes by. “A sandwich alright, dovey?” 

“Yeah,” you murmur. “Thanks.” 

“Don’t mention it.” His voice raises as he enters the kitchen, and James knows he wants you to hear. To understand that this is something he would happily do for you. 

“Let’s sit down,” James suggests. “Pads, would you mind opening the curtains some?” 

Sirius complies with vigor, whipping open your drapes while James gets you situated on the couch. In the light, the shadows under your eyes are more evident, as is the redness in them. 

James squishes you up against his side. Rubs up and down your arm. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. 

You make a tiny, stymied sound, and turn your head down. 

“Hey.” Sirius sits on your other side. He kisses your shoulder, worry hewn into the lines of his face. “What’s wrong?” 

Your shoulders give a little shake. It’s small, defeated. You curl further in on yourself. 

“Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.” 

“You don’t have to explain,” James tells you, continuing to drag his hand up your arm. “It’s okay. You’re alright.” 

“I wanted—” You take in a wet inhale. He feels close to tears himself. “I wanted to be better when I saw you. I’m sorry.” 

“We don’t need you to be any sort of way, sweetheart.” Sirius’ voice is soft but fervent. “We just want to be with you.”

“As much as you’ll let us,” James agrees. His own voice is thick, and Sirius slides his arm around you to rub between his shoulders. 

You don’t say much after that. James holds you tight until your trembling stops, and even then he only loosens his grip to let you eat the grilled cheese Remus has made for you. From the wrappers he saw in your room, it’s likely the closest thing to a prepared meal you’ve had in some time. 

When you’re done eating, Sirius insists on kissing the saltiness from your cheeks even though your tears have dried. Remus coaxes you into a bath while James and Sirius tidy your room and change your sheets, and then Remus enlists Sirius to shampoo your hair while he tucks your sheets in more effectively. They put your phone on the charger. James makes dinner and puts it in the fridge for you to have later. None of it fixes anything, but he hopes it makes you feel less alone. 

When they have to go out for another call, Remus gives you a long hug, James makes you agree to go on a walk with him the next day, and Sirius threatens to pester you with calls until you block his number if you ignore them ever again. 

Your eye roll at his antics makes James’ heart sing.

[thragedys]

Midnight Visitor

Sol x Reader

Synopsis: Thanks to the takeout you ate last night, the effects of food poisoning from poor catering have finally kicked in, hitting you when you least expected it. To ensure you’re properly cared for, Sol takes the duty of watching over you.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: Gender neutral reader, sick reader, Sol being soft, affection, trespassing, jealous Sol (+ more!)

After undergoing a series of nausea and intense dizziness, Sol insisted on walking you home despite being out in the city with him and Hyugo. It was as though all life was drained from your face, the only support you had while walking was Sol’s arms holding you upright. 

Food poisoning… Should’ve never eaten from that takeout place with less than three stars in their reviews.

Grabbing the key from your bag, he unlocks the door and escorts you inside, directing you to your bedroom while you whine and hold your face in your hands. Even the slightest tilt of your head would send you spiralling sideways, a recipe for disaster as your stomach decides to conjure its own storm.

Inside the kitchen, Sol spots a paper bag. The logo of the company which made you unwell is there, presented in a large font. Retrieving his phone, he snaps a picture of the logo, alongside the contact details printed on the back. He’ll deal with that later. Currently, he has more important things to tend to. You.

Rummaging through your cupboards, he successfully finds some medication that will ease the aches in your stomach. As for your dizzy head, the best thing he can do for you is close your curtains and encourage you to get rest. Fluid intake is also vital, it’ll aid dehydration. Returning to your side with a glass of water and some pills, Sol places them on your bedside table and sits on the edge of your bed.

“Are you okay? Let me feel your head.” Sol sighs, placing his palm flat on your forehead.

“Sol…” You whine, one hand remaining on your stomach and the other clutching his free hand.

“You’re not that hot, yet. Leave your window open—”

“No! No, I can’t! You’ve seen the news…”

“You will be fine, I promise. Fresh air will make you feel a lot better.” 

“I’m sorry for burdening you with this…”

“Don’t be. I’d rather it be me taking care of you than anyone else.”

“I’ll buy you a—”

“No. Sit down.”

“Ugh, Sol—”

“Rest.”

“I’ll buy you a thank-you gift when I’m better…” You mumble, pouting at him as he leans against the doorframe.

“Send me a text or call me if you need me. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”

“Text… Call… Yeah.” You repeat, rubbing your eyes while burying your head into the pillow.

“Don’t forget, take your medicine.”

“I’m gonna take it… Now.” You reach over and drop the pills into your mouth, then take a small sip of the drink to wash them down.

“Goodnight. I hope you feel better soon.”

Before leaving, he waited until he heard your breathing pattern change, signifying that you were asleep. Alongside the medication, he slipped in a sleeping pill, its dosage strong enough to keep you out for the correct amount of time. 

As if he would leave you alone so easily while you’re sick.

Right now, however, his main concern is dealing with the business that made his soulmate ill, after all, what good is a company in operation if its only achievement is casting a vast majority of its customers extremely unwell upon eating their cheaply sourced food?

Upon arriving back at his apartment, he stripped from his usual attire and threw on a set of his darkest clothes, a matching surgical mask to cover what remained exposed on his face. A complaint wouldn’t be enough, they clearly racked up enough of them online but did not change a singular thing about their selfish ways.

It was just after midnight when the streets were soundless and the civilians were tucked away inside of the safety of their homes. Strolling down the deserted sidewalk, Sol stops outside of a building, comparing the logo to the one saved in his photo album. A perfect match. 

Subtly, Sol explored the perimeter, tracing the outline of the building before returning to the front. It’s no wonder why all of their customers become unwell, the amount of trash that remains behind the building is piled up, much taller than him. 

There is no point in teaching those who do not wish to learn. An ignorant mind reflects an ignorant heart. Only the careless would profit from neglect like this.

Flicking his lighter on, he tosses it to the ground before walking away, the flicker of flames igniting in the distance as he glances back. It won’t be long before a passerby calls the fire department, but that’s no concern to him. When the authorities see the state the building was in previously, they could rule it out as the impact of an unkempt business.

His feet led him back to your apartment, the open window a much easier entrance for him as he climbed up. After all those locks you’ve bought in the past, he’s surprised you never gave up your safety protocols. Securing his footing, he creeps back into your bedroom, kneeling beside you as you rest peacefully in your slumber.

You are so beautiful. Every feature of your face was crafted with tender hands. He traces over your lips with his index finger, slowly drawing his hand back.

“Hi, Pumpkin.” He whispers, leaning in to press his lips against your cheek. “I’m going to check your temperature again.”

This time, Sol uses the back of his hand. Thankfully, he would say you are around average, partially a slight bit higher than usual.

“Good… You’re going to be okay. You might be sick tomorrow but I’ll come over to make sure you aren’t alone.”

“You like having me here, don’t you? You feel so safe, so loved.” He strokes your hair similar to how you would pet a fragile animal. As his hand ventures under the blanket, he comes in contact with something.

“You still sleep with the plushie I bought for you? You…” Sol’s smile expands, his cheeks lighting a subtle shade of pink. “You must love it. Or me. I hope it’s me.”

In your sleep, you moan, your body beginning to shift. He strokes the side of your arm, calming you down as you endure whatever dream is unfolding. After a while, your body stops with its relentless motions and goes still again.

“This is our special time together. It’s my favourite part of the day.” Sol’s lips curve up, his eyes filled with adoration as he clutches your plushie close to his chest. “I’ll make it smell like me again, don’t worry.”

“Mph…” Your lips moved, but he couldn’t decipher the sound that left them.

“Hm?” Sol pinches your cheek, a procedure to test if you’re awake or not. 

You must be mumbling to yourself since you didn’t respond to his touch.

“I’m guessing you missed smelling me then. That’s cute.” When he finished rubbing the plushie against his flesh and clothing, he tucked it under your chin. “You’re cute.”

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know?” Sol mumbles, sinking onto the bed beside you, fingers toying with your hair.

“He would never do the things I have done for you.”

“I know you prefer me. It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it right now. I can wait.” He rolls onto his side, your face now in view. 

“You make it hard for me to leave every single time…” His pitch was low, an almost pouty tone as he nuzzled his head against your chest. Lifting your limbs, he wraps them around himself, drawing the blanket over both of your bodies this time.

“I’ll just stay like this for a few more minutes… Then I have to go.” Sol closes his eyes, the therapeutic beats of your heart are a soothing melody to his ears.

…

Sunlight filters in through the curtains, a bitter breeze hitting your clammy skin. Compared to yesterday, you’re feeling a lot better, the only thing remaining is the dull ache in your stomach. Rubbing your eyes, you squeeze your plushie, only to hear a strange noise. 

Last time you checked, this plushie shouldn’t be able to communicate. Shooting your eyes open, you find a mess of green hair sprawled out on top of you. 

“Sol?” You rub your eyes again, unsure if what is in front of you is reality or a fever dream.

“Yeah…?” Sol mumbles in response, his body shifting. Then he goes still, springing up from his previous position. Shit.

“I thought you left last night.” 

“After you took your medicine, you asked me to stay. You went out like a light but I made sure that you were okay.”

“Did you have this on yesterday?” You tug at his hoodie. “I’ve never seen you wear clothes like this before.”

“These are my comfy clothes, that’s why. I keep the hoodie in my backpack.”

“Oh…” That food poisoning must have hit you hard to leave you so delirious. “Thank you for staying with me.”

“…?” Sol flutters his eyelashes while your hands cup his cheeks, drawing him near. Your lips plant a peck on his forehead, a suiting reward since he went out of his way for you.

“Ah… You shouldn’t have to thank me… It’s what anyone would do.” Sol rubs the back of his neck, a flush spreading over his face.

“I feel sick. Like I’m going to throw up.”

“I’m not surprised. Let’s get you to the bathroom. Get all of that food out of your system for good.” Sol stands first, offering his hand to assist you to your feet.

“I don’t like vomiting.” You mope, refusing to move despite your stomach cramping further.

“But it has to come out. You’ll be okay, I’m right here.” He grabs your hand, squeezing it gently.

The only option is to get up if you don’t want to clean your bedsheets. Swiftly shuffling between rooms, you kneel before the toilet and allow your body to regulate itself, removing the foreign pathogens that invaded your meal. Sol rubbed your back, making the process easier. There wasn’t a lot of retching, but you still felt that familiar burn in your throat when you were finished.

“Any more?” Sol pats your upper back and you shake your head.

“I’ll cook for you this time. No more buying from trashy food places.”

“But they’re cheap…” You puff air into your cheeks, taking your toothbrush which he handed you to remove the bitter taste from your mouth.

“My meals are free. Don’t be ashamed to ask.” Sol takes a final glance at you before heading back to your kitchen, scouring the cupboards in search of something to work with.

For you, he would do anything. Make anything. Even if it’s from scratch. No matter the simplicity or complication of a request you have, he will ensure that you get what you ask for. You don’t deserve anything less. If only you were aware of the lengths he has gone and is still willing to go for you.

[paxtito]

needy girl

pairings: tara x reader (g!p)

wc: 2867

warnings: smut 18+, daddy kink, size kink, p in v, small amount of orgasm denial

a/n: requested by anon. i’ve never written a daddy kink before so this is my first time lol. (no kink shaming here.) not proofread

MASTERLIST

Tara hated being away from you for too long. It wasn’t something she’d ever admit out loud—she had a reputation to uphold, after all—but the moment you were out of sight, a restless itch settled under her skin. And today? Today was worse. You had been in class for over an hour, and she was already craving your presence.

She could’ve texted you, but she knew better. Your phone would be on silent, and the last thing she wanted was to be left on read, forced to wait. So instead, she took matters into her own hands.

Using the key you had given her weeks ago (something she had fought hard not to gloat about), Tara let herself into your dorm. The space was familiar, comforting in a way that made her shoulders relax the moment she stepped inside. The lingering traces of your cologne, the messiness that was so uniquely you—it was enough to ease the ache in her chest, but not entirely.

Her eyes flickered to your bed, then to your desk chair where she spotted it—her prize. Your favorite hoodie, the one she had stolen more times than she could count, was draped over the back like an open invitation. She snatched it up without hesitation, pulling it over her head in one fluid motion before crawling onto your bed.

The scent of you surrounded her immediately, warm and familiar, sending a shiver down her spine. She nuzzled her face into the fabric, breathing deeply, letting it wrap around her like you would if you were here. The bed smelled like you too, and soon, she was tangled in the sheets, sighing as she settled in.

You had no idea how hard it was for her to wait for you. No idea how many times she had debated ditching her own plans just to be with you instead. But this? This was the next best thing.

Still, when she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket, she pulled it out, biting back a smug smile as she saw your name.

You: Why do I have a feeling you’re in my room right now?

She didn’t bother denying it.

Tara: I missed you.

It was simple. Honest. And she knew you’d understand.

—

Tara was startled out of her reverie by the sound of your footsteps approaching the dorm room door. Her heart began to race as she heard the key turn in the lock, and she quickly tossed your hoodie onto the floor beside the bed. She wanted to be lounging casually when you walked in, not caught red-handed.

The door swung open, and there you stood, your eyes widening slightly as you took in the sight of Tara sprawled out on your bed, her dark hair fanned out against your pillow. Tara flashed you a wicked grin, her brown eyes gleaming with mischief and something far more heated.

"Hey, Daddy," she purred, her voice low and sultry. "I was starting to think you'd never get back."

She sat up slowly, making sure to put an extra sway in her hips. The way her shirt rode up her toned midriff didn't go unnoticed by you, and she could see your gaze dip downwards before snapping back up to meet her own.

Tara licked her lips, her eyes roaming over your body hungrily. Being apart from you had left her feeling restless and achy, and now that you were here, she was determined to make up for lost time. She spread her legs slightly, just enough to give you a peek at what lay beneath her skirt.

"I missed you," she whispered, holding out her hand to you. "Come here, Daddy. I need you."

Her words were laced with desire, and the way she looked at you, with such open want and longing, sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. She could see the effect she was having on you, the way your eyes darkened and your jaw clenched, and it only spurred her on.

Tara crawled towards the edge of the bed, her movements slow and deliberate. She stopped just short of falling off the side, her face now level with your chest. She could feel the heat radiating off your body, could smell the scent of your cologne mingling with the slight sheen of sweat on your skin.

"Daddy," she breathed, her hand coming up to rest on your chest. "I thought about you all day. About this." She pressed her palm flat against your chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of your heart. "About us."

Her other hand slid down your stomach, her fingers tracing your stomach through your shirt.

Tara shivered as she felt your large hand wrap around her delicate wrist, halting the downward trajectory of her fingers. She looked up at you with hooded eyes, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the intense, almost feral look on your face. A thrill ran through her as you mumbled those two simple words.

"Oh, really?" you asked, your grip tightening slightly on her wrist. Your other hand came up to cup her chin, tilting her face up towards yours. Your thumb brushed over her lower lip, tracing the soft, plump swell of it before pressing down, parting it from its twin.

Tara's tongue darted out, flicking against the pad of your thumb before drawing it into her mouth. She sucked lightly, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin as she held your gaze. She could feel the heat of your body, the power emanating from you, and it made her feel small and helpless in the best possible way.

"Yes, Daddy," she breathed, her words slightly muffled around your thumb. "I thought about you all day. About this. About you touching me, tasting me, fucking me until I can't think of anything else but your name."

She nipped at your thumb before releasing it, a wicked glint in her eye. "I'm so fucking wet for you, Daddy. I've been touching myself, imagining it was your hands on me, your fingers inside me. But it's not the same. It's not enough."

She pressed herself closer to you, until her breasts were flush against your chest, until she could feel every inch of your body against her own. "I need you, Daddy," she whimpered, her nails digging into your chest. "Please. I need you to fuck me. I need you to claim me, to make me yours."

She captured your mouth in a searing kiss, pouring all of her pent-up desire and desperation into it. She licked into your mouth, her tongue tangling with yours, tasting you, consuming you. She arched her body against you, soft curves meeting hard planes, until she was practically climbing up your body, trying to get as close to you as physically possible.

Tara moaned into the kiss, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. She could feel the evidence of your arousal pressing against her stomach, hard and insistent, and it made her ache with a hunger she couldn't quite satisfy on her own.

She broke the kiss with a gasp, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her lips were kiss-swollen and damp, her eyes glazed with lust as she stared up at you with a mix of desperation and devotion.

Tara shuddered as your hands began to roam her body, your fingers deftly unbuttoning her shirt. She arched into your touch, craving more, always wanting to be closer to you. As each button popped open, more of her smooth, sun-kissed skin was revealed, and your breath caught in your throat at the sight.

"Fuck, Tara," you growled, pushing the fabric off her shoulders to expose the delicate lace of her bra. "You're so fucking beautiful. Such a perfect little thing, all curves and softness, just begging to be touched, to be claimed."

You hooked your fingers under the straps of her bra, easing them down her arms until it fell away, baring her breasts to your hungry gaze. You drank in the sight of her, the rosy peaks of her nipples already hardened with arousal, just waiting for your touch.

"Look at these perfect tits," you murmured, cupping the soft mounds in your large hands. "They fit in my palms like they were made for me. Made to be squeezed, to be sucked, to be marked by my fingers and my mouth and my cock."

Tara whimpered as you rolled her nipples between your fingers, tugging gently before pinching and twisting them. Jolts of pleasure shot through her, making her writhe beneath you.

"Please, Daddy," she begged, her back arching off the bed as she pressed her breasts more fully into your palms. "Touch me more. I need to feel you everywhere."

Your hands slid down her sides, over the dip of her waist and the flare of her hips, before gripping the waistband of her skirt. With a sharp tug, you yanked it down her legs, leaving her in nothing but a pair of tiny panties that did little to hide her arousal.

"Fuck, you're soaked," you groaned, running a finger over the damp fabric. "Such a needy little thing, so desperate for my cock. Don't worry, baby girl, Daddy's going to give you exactly what you need."

You peeled the scrap of lace down her legs, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Then, with a hand on her stomach, you pushed her back against the bed, settling yourself between her spread thighs.

"I'm going to taste this pretty pussy," you promised, your breath hot against her core.

Tara gasped as you settled between her thighs, her fingers tangling in your hair as you leaned in close. She could feel your breath, hot and heavy, washing over her most intimate places, making her ache with a hunger she couldn't quite satisfy.

"Yes, Daddy," she whimpered, her hips rocking slightly, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Please, taste me. I'm so fucking wet for you, I need your mouth on me."

She spread her legs wider, opening herself up to you completely. The scent of her arousal filled the air, musky and sweet, a silent invitation for you to take what you wanted.

You didn't hesitate. You dove in, your tongue parting her folds in one long, slow lick. Tara cried out, her back arching off the bed as pleasure exploded through her. Your tongue was hot and wet and perfect, and it sent shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through her body.

"Oh, fuck yes," she moaned, her fingers tightening in your hair as she held you against her. "Just like that, Daddy. Lick my pussy just like that."

You groaned against her, the vibrations only adding to her pleasure. Your tongue delved deep, fucking into her entrance, tasting her essence, devouring her whole.

Tara thrased and writhed beneath you, her thighs trembling, her stomach muscles clenching as you worked her over. She was so close already, teetering on the edge of oblivion, and you could feel her walls fluttering around your tongue, greedy and hungry.

Tara's eyes flew open as she felt you shift between her thighs, and her gaze dropped to your crotch just as you freed your hard, thick cock from the confines of your jeans. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as she drank in the sight of you, her eyes dark with lust and desire.

"Oh my god, Daddy," she panted, her voice husky and low. "You're so fucking big. I love your cock, I love how it makes me feel so small and dainty."

She reached down, wrapping her small hand around your thick shaft, feeling it throb against her palm. She stroked you slowly, marveling at the way you fit in her grip, the way she could barely close her fingers all the way around you.

Tara whimpered as you pushed her hand away, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face before you tutted at her. She bit her lip, a mischievous glint in her eye as she looked up at you with a mix of defiance and submission.

Tara gasped as she felt your hard cock slap against her dripping folds, a shock of pleasure-pain shooting through her. Before she could process it, you were pushing forward, your thick shaft parting her lips and sinking deep into her tight, wet heat.

"Oh fuck!" Tara cried out, her back arching off the bed as you filled her in one swift, hard thrust. Her walls stretched deliciously around you, fitting you like a glove as you buried yourself to the hilt inside her.

You groaned at the feeling of her, so hot and tight and perfect around your aching cock. You could feel every inch of her, could feel her fluttering and clenching around you, trying to draw you deeper still.

"Yes, fuck, you're so deep," Tara panted, her nails digging into your shoulders as she clung to you. "You're stretching me so good."

Tara's eyes rolled back, fluttering closed in bliss as you began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back in. She cried out with each powerful thrust, her voice echoing off the dorm room walls as you pounded into her relentlessly.

"Yes, Daddy, fuck me harder!" Tara begged, wrapping her legs around your waist to pull you in deeper. "I want to feel you in my fucking womb."

The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as you fucked her harder, faster, spurred on by her desperate cries.

After a while, Tara could feel you getting close, your thrusts becoming more erratic, more urgent. She could feel your cock throbbing inside her, growing harder, hotter, as you chased your release.

Tara gasped as you suddenly pulled out of her, leaving her feeling empty and aching for your touch. Before she could protest, you were gripping her hips and flipping her over onto her knees, her face pressed against the mattress.

"Yes, Daddy," she panted, quickly shifting to comply. She got onto her hands and knees, looking back at you over her shoulder with hooded, lust-filled eyes. "What do you need, baby? Tell me what you want."

She wiggled her ass invitingly, the globes of her cheeks jiggling with the motion. She could feel her pussy throbbing, dripping with arousal, as she presented herself to you.

Tara let out a yelp of surprise as your hand connected with her ass, the sharp sting quickly morphing into pleasure that raced through her veins. Before she could dwell on it, you were pushing back inside her, hilting yourself in her tight, wet heat once more.

"Yes, fuck yes!" she cried out, pushing her hips back to meet your thrusts. Her pussy clenched around you, gripping your shaft like a velvet vice as you rubbed her clit in tight, fast circles. Tara could feel herself hurtling towards the edge embarrassingly fast, your fingers on her clit and your cock pounding into her sending her spiraling out of control.

Just as she was about to come undone, you pulled out abruptly, leaving Tara whimpering and empty. But before she could voice her protest, you were painting her ass white with your hot, thick seed, marking her as yours. Tara shuddered, a moan escaping her lips as she felt your release coating her skin, claiming her.

Once you had recovered, you lowered yourself down, your face now level with her dripping core. She could feel your breath, hot and heavy, washing over her sensitive flesh, making her throb with anticipation.

"Yes, Daddy, please," she whimpered, reaching down to tangle her fingers in your hair. "Please, I need your mouth on me. I need to come so fucking bad."

Her plea turned into a high-pitched keen as you leaned in and ran your tongue along her slit, parting her folds and delving deep. Tara's head fell back, her eyes squeezing shut as pleasure exploded through her, radiating out from where your mouth was working magic on her aching cunt.

You licked and sucked, your tongue flicking over her clit before delving deep, fucking into her entrance with a fervor that left her breathless. At the same time, your fingers found her clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight, fast circles that had her seeing stars.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Tara chanted, her hips rocking against your face as she chased her release. She could feel it building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in her core until it finally snapped and she was coming undone with a scream of your name.

Her pussy clenched and spasmed around nothing, gushing her release as you worked her through it, extending her pleasure until she was collapsing against the bed, boneless and sated.

Tara collapsed onto the bed, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Her skin was flushed and damp, her hair a wild mess around her face as she stared up at the ceiling, a fucked-stupid grin on her lips.

"Holy shit, baby," she panted, turning her head to look at you with hazy, satisfied eyes. "That was...fuck, that was incredible. You always know just what I need."

[lily-jaxk]

MC Twin AU - CALEB'S Spitfire [2]

Caleb was weird.

Not weird as in 'I wanna lock you away from the world.' you actually found that very normal and very, very hot. What the said about you meant nothing, there was a reason you picked him out of all the other options.

No, Caleb was acting weird because he was focusing on you. He had apparently asked for your number from MC, which she had gladly given him, and you had woken up to the sight of an unknown number sending you a good morning text.

"Rise and shine spitfire! You gotta get to work soon 🫵"

You had blinked, then pinched your cheek just to make sure you weren't hallucinating. Seeing that it hurt a lot, you were clearly awake.

"Um, Caleb?"

"😉 One and only"

"Well technically there are many other Caleb's in the world ya know"

" :( well the only Caleb who's food you enjoy a lot"

". . . . damm"

"lol why did you do the ...?"

"dramatic effect. anywho how did you get my number?"

"MC gave me. Now! I'll talk to you later 🫵Get ready for work!"

Caleb was weird because on a sunny Friday afternoon, right after your dentist appointment, you found him leaning against your car scrolling on his phone. You had paused, stared at him, then let out a long sigh. It was best to not dwell on how he knew where you were. Normally you would have said MC told him, but you hadn't told her that your appointment was today.

So yeah. Caleb was weird.

As you approached him, he finally looked up and gave you a wide smile that made your heart flutter. "Hey there spitfire!" He greeted, placing his phone in his pocket and straightening up.

You raise a brow and cross your arms over your chest. "Are you here to steal my car?"

"Precisely." He bobbed your nose making you let out a squawk of bafflement. "MC needs to be picked up and I unfortunately have my car in the shop, soo I was wondering if I could use yours?"

You tap your foot on the pavement. "And how did you know where I was?"

Caleb blinks and brings out his phone, turning it around to show you the screen. "You posted it on your Moments."

. . . . Ah. You did. A long sigh leaves your lips and you turn to walk to the driver's seat. "Get in. And in return, you're getting me mochi."

"Roger that!"

Caleb was weird, because he invited you out once to play Kitty Cards together. No MC, no other friends, just you and him.

You narrow your eyes at him over the rim of your cards, and he smiles innocently at you. "You knowww, I can give you some of my cards-"

"I'll bite you!"

"Ohhh kink-"

"Caleb!"

He laughs, purple eyes sparkling with mirth, and your heart flutters, making you duck your head to hide your blush. No, no you couldn't feel anything for him. This was wrong!

You weren't MC. You weren't the girl that helped him in the labs, and you weren't the girl he dedicated his entire existence for.

You were simply. . . . You.

Caleb was weird, because even when you started to try and distance yourself from him, he kept bothering you. Even when you ignored his calls, ran away with an excuse whenever he was with MC, pretended he didn't exist and hid when you saw him in the wild, he still didn't let you go.

Everywhere you went, he knew.

At MC? He knew.

At work? He knew.

Watching movies at home? He sent you reminders to go to bed early.

At work? Somehow food delivery is being sent to your office.

Caleb was weird.

"I'm not her you know." You tell him after months of ignoring him, months of him chasing you, lurking behind you like a shadow. "We might look identical, but I'm not, and will never be her."

Why couldn't he get it through his thick skull! You weren't MC, you were You!

Caleb was weird, because he simply smiled and dragged you into a hug, placing his chin on the top of your head. "Of course you're not MC." He said with ease. "You're my little spitfire, and I couldn't have it any other way."

Your face grew beet red, and your heart pounded loudly in your ears. Caleb was so fucking weird, because he called you his.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Caleb | 18+

[wonbriiize]

bestfriend!Anton who puts you on his lap to give you affection, touches your hair, kisses you on the neck...being super clingy and fluffy :(

pairing; anton x reader

genre; fluff, best friends to lovers

note; i thought this was such a cute idea so i wrote something based on it.. hope u like it anon ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

listen to your heart

while working in retail isn’t all that horrible most of the time, you despise it over the holidays. everyone goes crazy as they search for last-minute christmas presents for their loved ones, friends or anyone else.

today was one of those days when everything was so annoying that you really thought about quitting your job right then and there.

luckily, your shift has ended and you are now on your way back home. you seem to be forgetting what a terrible day it has been so far as you imagine yourself curled up in your warm bed while drinking hot choco and watching your comfort movie.

“*y/n*, someone is waiting for you in your room,” your mom says after giving you a big hug when you arrive at home.

you‘re confused as to who it could be, until you recall that your best friend anton texted you saying he‘d drop by later as you were spamming him with messages about that one costumer who was extremely rude to you.

you run up the stairs to your room. you’re not so sure why you’re so eager to see anton, but you can’t help yourself. being with anton after a tiring day makes you feel at ease. he just has that effect on you.

“ohhh, slow down,” anton sits up on your bed. you can tell he made himself feel at home because just a second ago he was laying in your bed as if it was his own. “why are you running? is the rude customer after you?”

since you can’t tell anton that you hurried up to your room because of him, you just throw yourself on your bed. “no, i just really missed my bed. it has been an exhausting day.”

“and here i was hoping that you were running because you couldn’t wait to see me,” anton pouts, leaning back on your bed.

you’re right, you think. but i can’t let you know..

“well, apparently you were missing me because how are you at my house when i’m not even there?”

anton shrugs. “so what if i missed you, is it so wrong to miss your best friend?”

you’re shocked at how casually anton can say things like this. does he truly not realise how much of an impact his words have on you? it irritates you that he's saying these things and acting so dreamy when you're already trying to shake the thought that you like him — much more than you could ever imagine liking someone.

you sigh, laying down on your back. “i just really need to rest.”

“hey, come here,” anton pats next to him. “we can rest together.”

for a second, you’re not sure if you should really go and sit down next to him, because your feelings are all over the place today and you don’t know what could happen, but you push those thoughts aside and just go for it.

“you can lay your head on my lap. i will give you a head massage. i‘m a pro,” anton softly smiles at you.

god, he really isn’t making it easy to not fall in love with him, you sigh. your head is telling you not to do it, but for once in your life, you decide to listen to your heart instead.

you place your head gently on anton‘s lap. you’re afraid you won't be able to resist kissing anton if you open your eyes and see him staring down at you, hence why your eyes are closed.

anton starts massaging your head softly and you’re surprised at how good it actually feels.

“i didn’t expect you to be actually good at this,” you say.

“i told you i‘m a pro,” anton chuckles. hearing him giggle put a smile on your face and usually you would try to hide that, but right now, you’re just letting it happen.

“there it is,” anton whispers softly as he touches your cheek, causing you to open your eyes immediately.

“what?”

“your beautiful smile.”

you start laughing nervously. what’s his deal? why is he being extra sweet today?

“don’t say such things, anton.”

“why not?" his hand returns to your head, but instead of giving it a massage, he plays with your hair, twisting it around with his index finger.

“best friends don’t say that..” what you just said has a sad undertone, but you don’t care. maybe if anton knows that he’s kind of playing with your feelings, he will stop being like that.

anton shakes his head. “no, they don’t.. but here’s the thing, *y/n*..”

the sudden change in the atmosphere makes you nervous so you sit up. still close to anton, but there’s a little distance between the two of you now.

“i‘ve been trying to tell you for the longest time that i don’t want to be just best friends with you,” anton blurts out. “i thought it was obvious that i like you.”

world stop. anton likes me?

“but everytime i try to make a move you put me back in the friendzone, saying things like ‘best friends don’t do that..”

with a sincere expression of sadness that makes your heart hurt, anton glances down at his hands.

“i guess you really don’t like me in that way and i was just stupid to to think that-”

refusing to let anton continue, you take hold of his hand and place it directly over your heart.

“do you feel this?” you whisper.

anton nods unsure.

“my heart beats this fast everytime i‘m with you.”

“is that a good or a bad sign?” anton pulls his hand away and looks questionably at you.

his question makes you laugh. “of course it’s a good sign.. it means that you’re the reason why my heart feels so alive.”

“oh,” anton nods, a little smile forming on his face. “so you do like me.”

now it’s you who’s nodding.

just a while ago you didn’t want anton to know how you really feel about him because you were so afraid that the feeling was one-sided, but now that you know it’s mutual, you’re ready to take the initiative.

you slip closer to anton and sit down on his lap. first he’s surprised at your sudden move, but then you feel his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

seconds later, your lips meet his. not only was your heart racing faster than before, but because your bodies were so close, you could literally feel anton‘s heart racing as well.

you weren't expecting it, but as anton plastered kisses all over your face and neck, things heated up quickly. you didn't want him to stop, but knowing that your parents could walk into your room at any point made you want to go slowly.

“maybe we should continue this when we are alone, like completely,” you whisper as anton was kissing your neck.

“hmmm,” kiss. “maybe..” kiss. “you‘re..” kiss. “right.”

he stops, looking at you with the biggest smile on his face.

“this big smile looks good on you,” you put your arms around antons neck.

“and you know why i’m smiling like this? it’s because of you,” anton softly whispers before he plants another kiss on your lips.

[honeyslibrary]

Hotel Room | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Masturbation, allusion to innocence kink(?), established relationship, cursing(once) edited only once.

Summary; Quinn's hotel room is lonely without you

Word Count; 2k

Author’s note; not my best work, but I figured I'd share it anyways. Hope you enjoy, and as per usual, any thoughts or reblogs are greatly appreciated (: -Honey

Tonight's loss against the Vegas Golden Knights stung. It stung in that raw, deep way that gnawed at Quinn's insides, leaving him feeling heavy and frustrated. Losing two games back-to-back was never easy, but tonight it felt worse—like every mistake was magnified, every missed opportunity tormenting him with a vengeance. The locker room had been quiet, the air thick with the tension that only comes with a close game lost in the final period.

As he stepped into his hotel room, the door clicking shut behind him, he felt the familiar wave of frustration surge through his veins. He was angry—angry at himself, angry at his team for not finishing strong, angry at the other team for playing just a little bit better. But more than anything, he was angry at the fact that he wasn’t home, that this was another away game, another night spent alone in a city that didn’t matter to him.

God, I wish I were with her right now.

That thought had been biting at him all day, growing stronger with every passing hour. Being away from you was always hard, but after back-to-back losses, the ache was sharper. He craved the comfort of being with you, the warmth of your presence, the way you always seemed to make everything better with just a smile or the soft touch of your hand. But instead, he was here—alone, in a sterile hotel room, trying to shove down the emotions that were threatening to consume him.

After tossing his bag to the side, Quinn sighed heavily and ran a hand through his damp hair, the tension in his shoulders refusing to release. He peeled off his clothes, leaving a trail of them on the floor as he made his way to the bathroom. The hot water from the shower was a welcome reprieve, steam swirling around him as he stood under the shower head, letting the pressure ease the tightness in his muscles. But even the warmth of the shower couldn’t wash away the frustration clinging to his skin.

Eventually, after scrubbing off the remnants of the game—he stepped out of the shower, his body wrapped in a towel, and padded back into the main room. The cool air hit his skin, and he exhaled sharply, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from his bag and slipping them on. As he flopped down onto the surprisingly comfortable hotel bed, he stared at the ceiling for a moment, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound filling the silence.

He knew he should sleep—knew he needed to rest and recharge for tomorrow. But his mind wouldn’t stop replaying the game, the missed chances, the near-misses that could have turned the tide in their favor. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, hoping for a distraction, and as the screen lit up, his eyes were drawn to a single unread text message from you.

His heartbeat quickened just at the sight of your name on his screen. It was a small comfort in the middle of his frustrations, a reminder that there was something good waiting for him, even if it wasn’t in the same city tonight. He opened the message, and his breath caught in his throat.

There you were, lying in bed, wearing nothing but his jersey, the soft fabric draped over your body in the dim light of the room. His eyes traced every detail of the picture—the way the hem of the jersey barely skimmed the tops of your thighs, the delicate lace of your panties peeking out just enough to drive him wild. You were lying on his side of the bed, looking effortlessly sexy, your legs slightly bent, your hair tousled just the way he liked it.

And the text beneath the picture—simple, teasing, but powerful in its effect: "Good luck (;”

Quinn felt the rush of desire hit him immediately. His body tensed in response, a sharp contrast to the heaviness of earlier. His frustration with the game was momentarily forgotten as his thoughts shifted entirely to you. Just the sight of you—wrapped up in his jersey, lying in the place where he should be—made him tighten in his sweatpants.

Fuck, she knows exactly what she’s doing.

He adjusted his position, his heart thudding a little harder in his chest as his mind started to wander. He could picture it so clearly—you, lying there, waiting for him, your lips curled in that playful smile you always wore when you knew exactly how much you were driving him crazy. He imagined crawling into bed next to you, his hands sliding under the soft fabric of his jersey, finding the bare skin of your waist, warm and inviting.

Quinn swallowed hard, his breath shallow as he ran a hand through his damp hair, trying to focus but failing miserably. His body ached with the need to be with you, to touch you, to feel the warmth of your skin against his. The image of you lying there in his jersey, teasing him, taunting him from hundreds of miles away, only made that need grow stronger.

He texted you back, his fingers moving quickly over the screen: “You’re killing me over here.” He hit send and then added, “Wish I was home with you right now.”

A moment later, his phone buzzed with your response: “You will be soon. And I’ll be waiting for you.”

That was all it took. His mind was spinning now, thoughts of the game completely gone, replaced by the overwhelming desire to be back home with you, to have you in his arms, to lose himself in the feel of your body pressed against his. The tension that had once been frustration over the game had now transformed into something else—something much harder to ignore.

Quinn pressed down on the photo, watching as it saved to his phone. The image was now safely tucked away in his gallery, and without hesitation, he added it to his hidden folder—a private category reserved for photos of you, a collection built over years of dating.

A low hum, almost a whine, escaped his throat as he scrolled through the folder, his eyes gazing on each one, a particular heat building in his chest as his eyes roamed over your body. His thumb hovered over a photo you had sent a few months ago—an up-close shot of you in bed, your lips slightly parted, your bare shoulder visible as the sheet draped over your chest. It was sensual, but in a way that made his heart swell with affection more than anything else.

But it was the most recent photo (other than tonights), that made his body stir with an urgency. The one you’d sent him from the dressing room at some store, just a few weeks ago. He clicked on it again, enlarging the image so he could take in every detail. You were standing in front of a tall mirror, wearing nothing but a deep red lingerie set that clung to your curves in all the right places. The harsh lighting of the dressing room accentuated the deep, rich color of the lace against your skin, and the delicate straps hugged your shoulders just right. You had your phone raised, snapping the picture from above, your head slightly tilted as if you were waiting for his reaction—knowing exactly what it would be.

What do you think? you’d texted him after sending it, and Quinn had responded without hesitation, his reply simple but certain. He’d sent you $100 through Apple Pay with the text: Buy it. Now.

He let out a soft moan, and his body responded almost instinctively, the ache in his core intensifying as his free hand slid down, pushing his sweatpants down over his hips and kicking them off once they reached his ankles. His boxers followed immediately, and the cool air of the hotel room did little to ease the passion building inside him. He let out a quiet groan as he grasped his length, his grip firm but slow, allowing himself a moment to savor the anticipation.

His thumb hovered for just a second before opening another photo. It was of you lying in bed, the soft sheets barely visible beneath your bare skin. This time, there was nothing on—not even the jersey or lingerie. Your right hand rested across your chest, delicately pushing your breasts together, creating a subtle curve that drew his eyes immediately. What made his breath hitch, though, wasn’t just the sight of your body, but the way you were looking into the camera—right at him.

That pure look on your face, your lips slightly parted as if you had just whispered his name. It was enough to drive him insane. The juxtaposition of your wide, innocent eyes with the way you displayed yourself so confidently for him always hit him harder than he expected. You looked soft, vulnerable, but there was something else, something teasing in the way you posed, knowing exactly what it would do to him.

His free hand drifted down, his fingers brushing over his cock, already aching from the buildup of desire. He let out a low groan as his thumb spread the bead of pre-cum from his tip, the slickness easing his touch as his hand moved over his shaft. Slowly, deliberately, he stroked once, twice, drawing out the sensation, savoring it. His eyes never left the photo.

His grip tightened, his strokes becoming more concentrated as he pictured what it would feel like to be with you right now. He imagined the warmth of your body pressed against his, the softness of your skin under his fingertips, the way your breath would hitch when he touched you in just the right way. He could almost feel your lips brushing against his, teasing, making him want more, making him beg for you.

His thumb swiped over his tip again, spreading the slickness as his hand moved faster, his breathing growing heavier with each stroke. Every thought was consumed by you—your body, your voice, the way you would look at him with a smile, pretending like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. But you did. You always did.

A soft grunt escaped him, his body responding to the rhythm, the tension building with every stroke. He imagined you beneath him, your skin hot, body pliant and willing, your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, deeper, begging him to go harder. His mind raced with the thought of hearing you moan his name, the strained sound of your voice breaking the silence, urging him on.

He bit down on his lower lip, trying to keep himself steady, but it was getting harder. The image of you, so perfectly displayed for him in that picture, combined with the sensation of his hand working over his cock, was pushing him closer to the edge. His hips bucked slightly, his body reacting on instinct as his mind raced through every memory of being with you—every touch, every kiss, every moment of pure intimacy that left him wanting more.

He could feel the pressure coming to a head, that familiar coil of heat in his abdomen tightening with every stroke, every thought of you, and with one final stroke, the tension snapped. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as he came, his body shaking with the force of it, pleasure washing over him in waves that left him breathless. His hand continued to move, slower now, working through the aftershocks as his body slowly came down from the high.

For a long moment, he just lay there, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths, his mind still spinning. The photo of you remained open on his phone, and he couldn’t help but let out a small, breathless chuckle as he looked at it again, the intensity of his desire for you still lingering in the back of his mind.

God, look what you do to me.

[leighsartworks216]

Stolen Kisses

Zayne x gn!Reader

Inspired by two gifs, right here and right here

I think Zayne kissing me like he's drowning and I'm his only source of air would change me. Make me worse. God I want it

Warnings: fluff, kissing, touch starved Zayne, light banter, light angst (if you squint?)

Word Count: 1,010

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Third Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Before you can lose your resolve, you grab Zayne by his collar and kiss him. It doesn't last long, but in the second or two that it does, you pour as much of your love for him into the kiss as you can.

You pull away quickly. Your anxieties have caught up to you. God, that was such a stupid move. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

You cover your mouth and squeak out an apology, avoiding looking at his face, completely missing the awed, dazed expression he held. Maybe if you can get outside fast enough you can escape this moment. Maybe you'll both ignore each other for a few days and then text each other promising never to talk about it ever again. You turn to make your escape.

A hand on your shoulder stops you before you can, however, turning you back around to face him. Another hand uncovers your mouth, and his lips are on yours again.

Your back hits the door, your head quickly cushioned by his hand, the other holding desperately to your waist. His breaths fill your senses as they fan against your cheek from his nose, as though he's trying so hard not to need to pull away. There's a slight tremor to them, too. A shaky sigh of relief.

You hold the back of his neck, tangling your fingers into his short black hair. Grab onto his open collar, keeping him close, never wanting him to part.

It takes so long before the kiss begins to soften. His breaths shuddering with overwhelming emotion as he slows to give you chaste pecks. Every single time his mouth is on yours, your heart aches, tortured from all the times you imagined what kissing him would be like. And now you know. And now you don't want to ever forget.

His nose brushes alongside yours as he pulls away. Breaths mingling together. He lets go of your waist in favor of cupping your cheek, his thumb stroking just under your eyes. "Open your eyes," he whispers, almost pleadingly.

Your brow furrows in worry. "I'm scared."

"Why?"

"Because... I don't want this to be a dream. I'm scared I'll open my eyes, and you won't be here... and none of this will have happened."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. You can feel his eyes flickering over your face, studying you up close in a way you've longed to do with him. His hand shifts from your cheek. You immediately miss the cool touch, the softness of his palm, the precision of his fingers.

He pinches your earlobe. You wince, leaning toward it instinctively. He chuckles softly as he soothes it between his thumb and finger. "Are you still dreaming?" he asks.

Your heart seems to lodge itself in your throat as you slowly open your eyes. He's still there, so close. Hazel green eyes shine with delight behind his glasses.

"There you are." He smiles at the heat he feels in your cheeks as he holds your face again. It's incredible to him how at ease he feels like this; your kiss, the catalyst to it all.

You experimentally play with the hair at the back of his neck. His eyes flutter briefly, a quiet gasp choked in his throat. It's as if your touch is the first he's felt in a millennium. Warm and gentle. It's dizzying, knowing you have this effect on him. With your hand on his collar, you brush your knuckles against his throat. You feel his Adam's apple bob against them.

You nudge your nose against his. "Can I kiss you again?"

With half-lidded eyes, he nods slightly, granting you permission. You tilt your chin up, kissing him in a slow, ghosting touch of lips. Your eyes linger open a crack just to see his expression. The way his eyes close, savoring anything you deign to give him.

He pulls away, letting go of you to pull off his glasses and set them carelessly in the key-bowl beside the door, before diving back in. His kiss is more insistent, more intent on tasting and indulging in you. He takes his time in the same breath that he seeks for more.

His tongue brushes curiously along your lip. You make such a sweet sound as you open your mouth to him, welcome him in. He licks into you with a groan, pressing you further against the door with his body right up to yours. Even still, he's not seeking for anything more than your kiss. He does not reach for your clothes, or slot his hips right up against yours. He just wants this - wants to kiss you for hours, to relieve himself of so many years pining after you and being too respectful not to do anything about it.

You sigh his name and you swear he whimpers at the sound of it like that, so breathy and wanton. It takes so much of his resolve to be able to draw away again, before he fully loses control. Before he gets so lost in you that his Evol starts acting up. Even still, when he pulls away, he stays close, forehead pressed to yours as he tries to get his breathing back under control.

His eyes flutter open at last. He looks at you with so much warmth, so much love. His lips curl into a soft smile, and he leans up to press a kiss to your forehead. "Sit with me a while longer," he whispers against your skin. You nod. Of course. You'd be hard pressed to leave now, when he's finally in your arms in ways you'd only dreamt of.

He steps away slowly, hands slipping from your face and the back of your head, to take hold of your own hands and lead you from the door.

The night carries on outside his house. Cars drive in the city lights, stars blink down from above. The world spins on, as two new lovers speak in hushed whispers about the wonderful start of their relationship between stolen kisses.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @hawtlineblingz @that-lost-one

[featseungmin]

12:04 am

bang chan x reader fluff, established relationship; approx. 500 words; warnings: foot massage

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

It’s late. The hotel room is mostly quiet, save for the soft sounds of the television that plays in the background. You’re not really sure what’s on, some nature documentary, maybe. Neither of you are really watching it, anyway. 

You sit at one end of the couch, both of Chris’s feet in your lap. His skin is still soft from his shower. The adrenaline from the night’s concert has finally worn off, and things have calmed down as you wait for a text about the food you’d ordered earlier. 

He hisses as you press into a tight spot on the bottom of his foot. He’d gone into the concert knowing full well that he’d end up here by the end of the night—in so much pain he can barely stand, let alone walk—so you’d been prepared. His chronic pain is nothing new. But that doesn’t mean you don’t hate seeing him like this. 

“Sorry,” you apologize softly, easing up on the pressure just a bit. 

“Nah, it’s helping. Just-“ He inhales sharply through his teeth as you massage the inside of his foot. “Just fuckin’ sucks.”

“I know, baby.”

You reach into the box beside you and pull out one of the plastic-wrapped lidocaine patches you’d stolen from the group’s physical therapist. The patches aren’t very big, and you’ll need a few if you want to put them where they’ll be most effective. There’s three on his other foot already, and you know that this one is always worse. Thankfully, the box was full when you’d nabbed it. 

Gently, you use the pad of your thumb to smooth the patch onto his skin, right along the arch of his foot. Then, another just under his toes. Two on top across the bridge. One following the curve of his heel. When you’re satisfied, you pull a sock carefully over it all in hopes of keeping your hard work in place. 

Your hands come to rest on his socked feet and you watch him in the dim light of the bedside table and the tv, scrolling through his phone in a rare moment of relaxation. He’s got one arm folded behind his head, propping him up off the armrest of the small couch. His other hand rests against his chest, gripping his phone a little awkwardly. He really is beautiful, even with half of his face cast in shadows. It’s rare you get to study him like this, and you take the time to commit the moment to memory. 

“What?” he asks, eyes shifting from his phone screen to meet your own. He giggles nervously. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, squeezing his feet gently. “You’re pretty. That’s all.”

A shy smile blossoms on his lips, and he tilts his phone closer to his face to hide it. You squeeze his feet again, thumbs ghosting over the fabric of his socks. It’s nice to know you can still make him smile through the pain, even after years of knowing him. 

Your phone buzzes, signaling the arrival of your food. Chris moves to stand and you swat at his legs until he raises his hands in defeat. You’re taking care of him tonight. You’ll happily take care of him every night if he’d let you. 

[hanibalistic]

HIT DOG HOLLER, HIT DOG'S COLLAR | JAKE SIM.

genre | fluff, angst / hurt comfort au

synopsis | when a dog was surrendered to the shelter you worked it, you had no other choice but to call your ex-boyfriend for help.  

word count | 4.2k+

warning | mention of abandoned pets, pet urine / dog is referred to as 'it' in narration / mention of insecurities

note | i kept telling myself i am allowed to finish this even though i can't find any point in the story.

Jake bolted out of his dorm room when you texted him for the first time after six months.

The annoyed complaints of his half-asleep roommate were fleeting. Strings of curses bounced off his hurried figure as he scrambled to put on a pair of sweatpants. When he snatched the keys off his desk, he knocked over the water bottle on the edge and earned another earful before he slammed the door shut.

The roads were empty and dark so late at night, allowing him to speed without potential repercussions. He checked his phone repeatedly during the drive for new messages, but the only text you sent after finally unblocking him was ‘help. shelter.’ It was radio silence after, like it had been the past six months.

It had been a mistake.

Jake knew he wasn't the type of man to take a bet. During his university years, nonetheless! But the effect of alcohol, his aversion to confrontation, and his friends' rowdiness pushed him to keep at the lie.

One year ago, he drunkenly confessed to you at a party, and you gave him a chance. Twelve months into dating each other, his friends drunkenly told you the truth, and you cut him out of your life without so much as a tear.

Tonight was the first time you've voluntarily spoken to him. He didn't care that you only did it because you needed his help. He would have learned every skill under the sun if it meant you'd talk to him again—plumbing, repairing, installing, modifying, you name it.

Tires screeched over the white line and stopped. He turned off the engine and got out of the car, unfazed as the cold air hit him until he reached the door of the animal shelter you worked at.

The lights were on inside.

He breathed through his mouth because that was the only way to accommodate how much air he needed.

You were inside, waiting for him.

A moment passed after he knocked. You opened the door carefully, peeking over the door frame not because you were cautious of the visitor but because you weren’t ready to face Jake yet.

His hair was disheveled, and his small eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick-rimmed glasses. He did not wear enough for the cold weather, but the shelter was warm enough, so you tried to stop worrying about him.

Veins ran softly along his hands and arms, parts you’ve let touch you all over, inside and out. His limbs used to be confident and bashful, playfully reaching for your waist and shyly searching for your face.

Jake wouldn't dare to touch you now, not even to shake hands, not without your permission. He pulled at his fingers and watched you intently. His gaze traced your face, and his downturned eyes mimicked a dog on its death bed—timid, wishful, pleading.

"Hey," he greeted. "Is everything okay?"

You stared at him, subconsciously reminded of the first time you invited him to accompany you during a day shift at the shelter. Biting back a sob at the question, you shook your head and opened the door wider for him to enter.

“He’s back," you said. "Pluto is back."

Pluto was the golden retriever you and Jake fostered over the summer last year. He was adopted, returned, and adopted again after almost making it to his euthanasia day. It has been months since you last saw him so you thought he had found his forever home.

But, this afternoon, he surrendered again because the parents couldn’t handle having him and more than three children in the home.

You kept him company for most of your shift to ease his anxiety, but when it came time for you to close up and leave, he refused to enter the cage.

You attempted to lure him with toys and treats to no avail. It was as if he knew it would be over once he was locked up behind the metal bars.

“That’s...” Jake swallowed the frustration. He stopped hearing news about Pluto after you broke up. He had no idea it was given up once already. “That’s horrible.”

“I know. My coworker said she tried to convince the mother to bring Pluto home, but...” You trailed off in exhaustion. You rubbed your eyes and sunk your shoulders. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have asked you for help if I hadn’t run into a dead end. I don’t know what to do.”

"No, don't even–" he waved his hand dismissively with a soft chuckle– "don't even apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

You smiled. He always told you that. You couldn't remember a time when he was mad at you and demanded an apology, even when some of your decisions had been questionable.

If he was ever upset, you remembered all it ever took were hugs and kisses to make him feel better, the things you give your pet dog to brighten your day and theirs.

Sometimes, you wondered if he was easy or if it only worked for you because he was in love with you.

He told you otherwise, though. After dumping him, he spent two months pestering you however possible with a variety of apologies and only ever one confession: I love you. I love you more than anything.

He stopped after you snapped at him in public, practically humiliating him for your subconscious fulfillment.

You had given him everything—all of your firsts, all of your mind, and all of your body. He had deserved it. He stopped bothering you afterward, which was understandable.

A dog beaten and bruised enough would never return.

“Let's see what I can do," Jake said.

You pursed your lips and gestured for him to follow you.

The shelter remained the way it had been since the last time he visited. White ceiling lights, disorganized papers on the reception table, stacked metal cages, dirty food trays, narrow spaces, a dirty whiff of air, and abandoned pets everywhere.

He didn’t expect otherwise. There were never enough donations or government funds to make it a better place. People wouldn’t even do that for other people, let alone animals.

Jake spoke to the animals along the way, ignoring the ones asleep and cooing at the ones who jumped to greet him. As you led him to the back of the shelter, a sullen mass of fur curled up in the corner came into view.

"Pluto!" he exclaimed with considerate joy as he crouched with open arms. "Do you remember me, sweet boy?"

Pluto remembered. It got up from the corner and pounced on Jake, scraping its paws on his shoulders for a hug and licking his face. He laughed and rubbed its back, letting the affection attacks continue as Pluto pleased.

It got distracted when you also neared. Barking once for good measure, it bounced between your feet and Jake’s embrace, reliving how it used to be when he was still living with you both.

“He looks healthy," Jake said.

“He wasn't abused, just abandoned," you clarified.

"Same difference."

You peered at him like a hit dog about to holler.

In the depths of your conscience, you admitted that you were the one who gave up. Maybe you were well within your right to, or maybe you didn't believe in clarification and second chances.

You tried not to think about it too much. It made you feel bad.

"Where is his cage?" Jake asked offhandedly.

You motioned your chin toward the corner without thinking. You’ve already placed a cartoon blanket inside as a makeshift bed, and the dog bowl was filled half way with dry food.

“Alright, buddy,” Jake said, hopping onto his feet. “Let’s get you inside so we can go home.”

Pluto jumped up to meet Jake’s knees. He played with the dog, swinging his hands around its peripheral vision and playing bitey. You discreetly reached for the cage to open it. When he noticed, he stopped to hold Pluto’s face in his hands before lifting it up by its paws.

Jake was always the good cop. You made Pluto wait for dinner, didn't let it jump on your bed, and never fed it food under the table. Jake was easier. He took it on morning jogs, ran with it when it had zoomies, and sometimes cooked it a small plate of steak.

A little affection and a wide-eyed gaze could go a long way for Jake, but not so much for you.

You always knew the dog liked him better than you. You didn’t realize it would be easy for Jake to pick it up. However, just as you thought your ex-boyfriend would succeed, Pluto dropped its whole weight onto the floor and refused to budge.

Jake yelped at the sudden pull. His feet stuttered to balance himself, forcing him to release Pluto onto the floor. Not giving up, he shook his hands and reached down to try and pull it up again. The dog still wouldn’t budge.

Deciding to try another approach, instead of pulling Pluto up by its torso, Jake thought he could begin with its front legs. Once he gets them through, the rest should follow.

"Come on, buddy," he encouraged. “I know it's scary, but you gotta sleep somewhere warmer than the shelter hallway."

Pluto began to whimper when its front legs reached inside the cage. It used them to support itself, weighing itself down onto them to avoid being pushed inside wholly.

You furrowed your brows as you listened to Jake’s fading encouragement. He was a mirror of who you were a few hours ago when your shift began. He wasn’t growing impatient, only frustrated that this was how it had to be for a beloved pet.

Your shoulders sunk in defeat when you noticed droplets on the floor. Jake paused when you curled a hand around his arm and gently pulled him away.

“Let’s stop. He’s scared,” you said. “He peed on the floor. I’ll go get the mop.”

He glanced at the floor, but he was trying to see if you touched him again. And then he looked up at you, nodding in grim agreement. When you released his arm to clean the floor, he rubbed the spot with invisible desperation, trying his best to somehow keep your hold

"What do we do?" he asked, pressing a firm hold over where you touched him. "Shit, I feel horrible."

"You and me both." you sighed as you watched Pluto shrink into a corner. “I'll stay over with him."

"At the shelter?"

“It's not any worse than my apartment," you said. “Actually, I might be safer here with all the animals around. They’ll look out for me."

He wanted to protest. This was less about safety and more about comfort.

You looked exhausted, and he knew why. Midterms were happening left and right before the winter break, so you must be burning the midnight oil already. You’ve also got a difficult job to juggle with your classes.

He used to have to pull you away from your desk and trap you in his arms to get you to sleep.

Regardless, you needed to sleep somewhere soft and warm, and the animal shelter didn't have anything remotely similar to that besides the furry babies.

The furry babies and him, he supposed.

“I'll stay with you," Jake said.

You shook your head. This would ruin your plan to get over him, which has been going on for over half a year yet has garnered no real progress.

You still thought about him day and night, seeing him in the shadows of your once-shared apartment and whispering his name into your pillow. You blocked and avoided him because you knew he could lure you back so quickly because you had unfortunately been in love with him the entire time.

“It’s fine. You should go home,” you said. “I’m sorry I called you up so late.”

"No, I don't mind," he protested. “It’s not like I was sleeping anyway."

He visibly gulped, swallowing any sentiment because you’ve rescinded his right to love you. And you bit your tongue to keep the fight and the cries in because it wasn’t easy to look at him and not do something.

You couldn't kiss him, you couldn't fight him, and you didn't want to hurt him.

"Do whatever you want," you muttered.

Jake watched you leave the room. He heard cabinet doors opening, and he moved against the wall to sit down. He reached a hand out, his palm facing skyward, and he gently lured Pluto onto his lap. When you returned, it was with two thin blankets, one for yourself and one for them.

You reached for the cage to take the food bowl out and closed the door, locking it. You sat next to Jake, across from his side, and wrapped the blanket around you.

"What are we going to do now?” You eyed the dog.

"What are the protocols?" he asked.

"We hold and look for housing," you said. "But–" you reached out to rub Pluto’s head–"he's getting old. It took long enough to find a family who's willing to adopt him, so there's no guarantee we will be able to find anything before he's put on the euthanasia list."

As Jake ran over what you said in his head, you took a small handful of dry food to feed Pluto, who released itself from pressing on Jake’s chest to eat. You smiled at its eagerness, but your brows were furrowed with unspoken sorrow.

It seemed you could already predict Pluto’s fate, but you needed to device a course of action for good measure. Anything to make sure you didn't give up immediately, even when there was nothing you could do.

There was nothing worse than being at the bottom. Knowing that after taking so many turns, you ended up at the dead end you were meant to reach anyway. Looking at you was almost like looking at himself—both of you have exhausted all your resources.

But Jake was known for going above and beyond. At least for you, he would.

“I can adopt him."

You perked up slowly in bewilderment. The reason why you two decided to foster Pluto back then was because of a dual income. If it was so affordable to own an old dog, you would have done it already.

"You live on campus. The dorms don't allow pets," you said. "You also don't have money. What are you gonna do if he gets sick?"

“I’ll move out. I’ll get a second job and pick up more shifts at the current one,” he said with a shrug. “There are cheap places to live, and I’m sure Jay will be willing to help me if it comes down to it.”

"Jake–"

“If push comes to shove, I’ll move back home,” he said, his voice slightly louder to drown out your worries with his optimism. “Let this be the last disappointing thing I do to my mom!”

You wanted to hold his face and talk him out of it. His optimism was both a friend and a foe. Sometimes, it pushes him to do amazing things, but mostly, he ends up embarrassing himself.

No, your coworker wouldn’t want to talk to you after being denied their vacation time over yours. No, your mother already thinks you buy enough unnecessary things; she won’t appreciate this. No, that won’t help anyone like you think it would.

You’ve often had to be his voice of reason for the most trivial things. It usually worked. His brain fries and he turns all putty when he’s being held, but he’s extra impressionable in your hands. He’d agree to anything just to keep you talking.

“You’re going to struggle," you warned.

“I'd rather that than have you feel guilty that you couldn't do more for our dog."

“You don’t know that I will,” you scoffed with a brief glare.

His eyes were on you. It has been on your since the moment you saw each other.

“I know you will. I know you," he retorted.

He was right. No matter how much you played up the role of a bad cop, or the nonchalant pet owner, ultimately, you cared. Maybe not as much as he did, maybe not as much as he could, and definitely not as openly as he could. But you loved the dog. 

It was your dog. It was you and Jake’s dog.

Pluto stayed with you for a few of the happiest months of your life. The months when you woke up seeing Jake and went to sleep talking to him. Losing the dog is a significant progression to an end.

"This isn't about me." You shook your head. “Don't do this for me.”

“I can’t not,” he said. “I want to."

“Why?" It came out before you knew it. It was a trap.

The room went quiet, accompanied only by the sound of chewing and the impossible thoughts of escaping such silence. You focused on the food disappearing from the metal bowl, doing your best to keep away the tremors from knowing his eyes were on you, from already knowing his answer to your question. 

Something has to happen when the food is gone. 

A distraction, an apology, a reconciliation, a blackout.

"Because I love you."

A confession.

You dropped the bowl and rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. Heat released from all corners of your body, traveling to the base of your neck where it pulled at your nerves, souring all the way up to your tear ducts. He kept saying that; it was the last thing you wanted to hear from him. 

His breathing quickened at your dismay, and the corners of his lips arched down in shame. He looked away from you at Pluto’s head, wondering what about his affection was so genuinely sickening that you had to reject it with so much force.

If it was about his bet with his friends, he had already attempted to explain that multiple times.

“I'm sorry I kept the bet from you. I really am. I will never deny that it was a terrible decision, that I was drunk when I first confessed to you," he said defensively, a whimper catching in his voice. 

“Won’t you just–“ you rolled your eyes– “just stop. Stop explaining it to me.”

“No! I need you to understand that I never lied about how I felt after!” he exclaimed.

It never changed. His story wouldn’t have a contradiction even if he tried to rip it apart on purpose. He lied to you because he was drunk, he pretended to be your boyfriend, and then he ended up becoming it. His friends told the same story, and he repeated it multiple times. You’ve heard it all.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and he wiped it with intention. When he realized his eyes had begun to cry, his voice and movement followed. Looking down at the floor helplessly, his shoulders hunched up as if to shrink small. 

You blew air into your cheeks and bit the inside of your lip. Seeing him cry made you cry. You never wanted to hurt him again. You didn't think that you could, and oh, how you were proven wrong. 

“How come you don’t believe me?” he asked, his voice timid as a child wronged by his parents. “I fell in love with you. You have no right to take that from me.”

Feeling a sob come up, you dropped your head and stared at the floor. Goosebumps lined around your heart, suppressing its beating with unease. That was the problem. He told the truth, which was the problem because you couldn’t handle it.

"Do you know how I felt when I found out?" you asked. "I wasn't angry, or frustrated, or even sad. I was just disappointed that it made sense."

Jake wasn’t a man of your caliber. Even when he first confessed to you, you mistook it as an act of aggression. Hence, you double-checked with him the next day through text; surprisingly, he didn’t deny it.

He was a great boyfriend. He was kind and supportive, handsome and strong, charming and considerate. The whole nine yards. He stumbled once in a while, but he never did anything wrong.

It was both agony and relief when you discovered that he initially stayed for a bet. While it was hurtful to know you and him would have never happened otherwise, it fulfilled your growing itch that needed a reason to feel bad. While you lost the love of your life, the loss helped you make sense of a greatness you didn’t think you deserved, all by forcing you to let go of it.

Jake didn’t do anything wrong. He couldn’t if he tried. It was just easier when he didn’t love you back. Because then you wouldn’t feel like you were taking up too much space, and your inferiority has a reason to exist. 

“It was hell to hate myself,” you said. “If I made it seem like you never loved me at all, then all the pain wouldn’t be for nothing.”

“I don’t understand.” His voice was tearful, and he played with Pluto’s fur so his hands wouldn’t claw at his skin to peel himself to death, knowing that you felt like hell when you were with him. “Did you always feel like that?”

You went around the answer but remained truthful. Yes, you felt like that all the time. No, it had nothing to do with him. 

You told him how great he was, how you appreciated everything about him. The fact that he remembers every little thing, how his voice is soft, and his willingness to always be the bigger person. 

Self-hate was an accumulated skill that can never be unlearned and only worsens. He was in the wrong position when it decided to show itself. 

You simply didn't love yourself enough to have him. That was it. 

Irregular drops of tears rolled down his face. He began to hiccup away the knots of air stuck in his throat that were supposed to be violent sobs. He looked everywhere but at you, and his hands curled and uncurled to catch pressure in the air.

He suffocated with every word you said. It didn’t matter that you admitted he wasn’t the reason; he was horrified that you thought his love would be better stored anywhere else than with you, his keeper.

For six months, he stayed cooped up inside himself, uncomfortable but unwilling to burst just in case you would come back to drain his soul out of him. He would return to where he belonged, through your mouth into your skin.

The dog on his lap had become a nuisance, but he kept it there. 

Jake pushes nothing away. He stretches and pulls until someone snaps him in half to stop him.

"Please don't be upset," you whispered after cutting yourself short. “I'm sorry for everything. It wasn't your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either,” he said. “The mind is–is a weird thing. It’s a weird thing. Sometimes you can’t help it. I understand. It’s not your fault, either. I don’t want–“ he pursed his lips, his hair shaking with his head– “I don’t want you to blame yourself. It hurts knowing you did something–something bad. I don’t want you to–uh,” his voice became smaller, “I don’t want you to hurt anymore.”

Scooting to sit next to him, you took off his glasses and set them on the floor next to you. You pulled at the hem of your sweater to wipe the tears around his tired eyes. You cleaned him and yourself, wetting your sleeve with mutual suffering.

“What do I do?” he asked, leaning his head against the wall with a faint shake. “I miss you.”

“I'm sorry," you said, disarming your mind. 

“I won’t say anything. You don’t have to believe I love you. We can just be friends,” he bargained. “I just want to be around. Please let me.”

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you pressed closer against his side and smiled bitterly at the notion that you’ll never find someone like him again. That was why you gave him a chance a year ago, but instead of his dashing looks and fit physique, it was his extraordinary affection this time. 

Who else would love you enough to pretend he doesn’t love you at all? It’s just him.

“I should probably go see a doctor, huh?” you joked, wiping under his eye with your thumb. “They can help me come around.”

Jake raised his hand. It shakily hovered around your wrist, waiting for permission.

You pushed the back of your palm toward it, allowing him to engulf your hand with his, and then you brought it to his face, holding him gently. He smiled a little; he couldn’t help it upon the familiar, long-awaited touch.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

You glanced at his lips. Stained with tears, like it was rained on. You nudged his nose with yours, and you kissed him. He shuddered. His mouth was metallic and sour; you realized there was a canker sore in his mouth. It must be painful. He kissed you anyway, resting his whole life on your lips. 

Pulling away, he bumped his forehead against yours, his features softening in relief. 

It was always the same confession. He never deviated from it.

I love you. I love you more than anything. I love you more than me.

“Do you want to take care of Pluto together?”

And that was your version of it.

[callsign-mayhem]

loving is easy (b.b)

Part three of the 'Heartbreak Feels So Good' sequel series!

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female!Reader Word count: 2.5k CW: Use of Y/N

The rest of the Dagger Squad find out about your relationship with Bradley—some in the most inconvenient way possible.

FIND THE ORIGINAL SERIES HERE!

The morning sun hung high over the base, casting long shadows across the tarmac as the squad went about their daily routines. Reuben Fitch stretched his legs out on the tarmac, basking in the warmth of the sunlight. He’d already done his laps and his push ups, and he was taking five with a cup of crappy coffee from the cafeteria. 

He closed his eyes and turned to face the sun—he could feel the positive effects it was having on him. 

Well, up until Javy stood directly in the sun, dousing him in shadow.

‘What the hell, man?’ Reuben snapped.

Javy stepped aside and sat down next to him. ‘You seein’ this?’ He asked.

‘Seeing what?’

He pointed to you and Bradley. The two of you stood out like a beacon of light—though you weren’t intentionally drawing attention to yourselves, it was difficult not to notice. Bradley was giving you a piggyback ride, your laughter floating in the air like a sweet melody. His strides were carefree, and his back was straight and proud as he carried you. Your arms were wrapped loosely around his neck, and the way you moved together—so comfortable and at ease—made it clear that you were something more than friends. ‘When did that happen?’ Reuben exclaimed. Javy shrugged, pulling out his phone to take a video. ‘I have no idea. I gotta send this to Jake.’

Jake, who was still on deployment, would definitely want to know about this interesting turn of events. ‘Honestly,’ Reuben said, sipping his coffee and wincing. ‘I’m glad. For a minute, I was scared she’d never get over Viper.’ Javy’s lips twitched in a half-smile. ‘I wasn’t worried. They were always gonna get together. Shouldn’t come as a surprise.’ He watched you and Bradley with an air of mild amusement. ‘More surprising that it’s taken this long.’ 

Reuben’s eyes flicked between you, watching you laugh, utterly oblivious to the attention you were attracting. ‘Did we miss the announcement? Or do they just suck at hiding things?’ ‘They’ve always been like this. Always lookin’ at each other like—’ He paused, mimicking how Bradley looked at you in a way that made Reuben laugh. They watched as Bradley set you down, both of you still laughing. Bradley wrapped an arm around your waist as you walked, heads together as if you shared some secret nobody else knew. 

‘They’ll tell us when they're ready.’ Javy reasoned. ‘We just have to do our best to act surprised.’ 

Bob wanted it on the record that he thought this was a bad idea. Being a backseater meant he’d perfected the art of listening to his intuition; right now, it was screaming at him.

‘Will you stop being such a pussy?’ Natasha hissed, lifting the welcome mat in front of your door. Underneath, your house key glistened in the late morning light. 

‘If she’s not answering our texts, she probably has a good reason.’ Bob rationalised. 

Nat glared at him as she put the key into the lock and twisted it. The door swung open to your tidy apartment, and she stepped in. ‘Look, you can wait outside if you want, but after everything she’s been through with Viper, I don’t trust this situation. She used to freeze us out, even when she needed us the most.’ Nat reminded him. ‘Maybe she hasn’t broken that habit yet.’ 

As much as Bob didn’t like this plan, he knew that Natasha had the right idea and that she meant well. Besides, he was worried about you too. He followed her in, gently closing the door behind him. 

The apartment was eerily quiet.

‘She must be sleeping.’ Bob whispered. ‘We should go.’ 

‘We had breakfast plans, though. She wouldn’t forget; we arranged it yesterday before leaving base.’ Nat started heading down the hall that led to your bedroom, the bathroom, and the guest room.

‘You can’t go in there, Phoenix!’

‘I can and I will.’ 

God, Nat could be stubborn as hell. She couldn’t back down even if she wanted to, not when it came to her friends. 

Your bedroom door was already slightly open. Nat pushed it, and Bob reluctantly followed her in. The curtains were open and hazy, golden light pooled on the floor below your window. Bob’s eyes landed on the group photo you had stuck to your vanity mirror, and he smiled thoughtfully. 

‘Well, shit.’ Nat murmured bemusedly. 

You were nestled into Bradley’s side, tangled under the covers, asleep in each other’s arms. Bradley’s face was relaxed and soft in sleep, with your head resting on his chest and your hand lying gently against his stomach. The faint sound of your synchronised breathing filled the air.

Bob and Nat shared a look, trying to contain their smiles. 

‘I guess this answers some of our questions.’ He said. 

‘I guess so.’

You started to stir, eyes squinting as they adjusted to the light. When you noticed two of your best friends standing at the foot of your bed, you sat bolt upright. The sight of your bedhead was Nat’s final straw, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

She crossed her arms casually. ‘Wondered where you’d gotten to. Did you forget about our plans?’

You groaned in embarrassment, covering your face with your hands. Bradley started to stir next to you. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. Looks like you had more pressing matters to attend to.’ She smirked.

‘Phoenix!’ Bob hisssed.

Bradley blinked his eyes open slowly. He shifted, trying to pull you back down as he groggily mumbled something under his breath. When he heard Natasha’s voice, he stiffened slightly. His brows furrowed when he saw her and Bob, clearly trying to process the bizarre situation.

‘What the fuck are you two doing here?’ He grumbled, voice thick with sleep. 

‘Checking on Y/N since she didn’t make it to breakfast. Seems to be a regular occurrence these days.’

Bradley squinted at her. ‘Couldn’t you have knocked? Like a normal person?’

‘I told her to knock.’ Bob said. ‘I’m sorry. She’s sorry.’

‘No, I’m not.’ She smirked. ‘Cause if we hadn’t let ourselves in, we would never’ve known.’

Bradley launched a pillow at her, which she dodged. Instead, it hit Bob, knocking his glasses slightly. 

‘Okay!’ You exclaimed. ‘This is officially the weirdest wake-up call I’ve ever had! Both of you, wait in the kitchen while we get dressed.’

‘No funny business, you two. I’m starving.’ Nat winked. 

Bob practically dragged her out of the room, leaving you and Bradley to get ready and salvage what was left of your dignity.

‘Guess the cat’s out of the bag.’ You grumbled. 

The morning air was warm with a slight breeze as the four of you stepped out of your apartment building. The drive to the beachside diner was quick, and as the sun climbed higher, the ocean glistened against the horizon. Bradley walked beside you, the two of you comfortable in each other's company. Bob and Natasha were ahead of you, still talking, but Natasha’s eyes were sparkling with that familiar mischief. The diner was quiet, a perfect little spot overlooking the beach. You settled into a booth beside Bradley, and Natasha wasted no time. ‘So, you guys finally stopped dancing around each other.’ Bradley stirred his coffee, his eyes soft as he glanced at you. He let Natasha have her moment, though you could see the amused smile tugging at his lips. ‘Stop with the teasing.’ He warned, although his heart wasn’t in it. ‘I’m just curious. All the years of ‘nothing’s going on’, and now you two are all cosy in bed together?’ Bob, who’d been quietly sipping his coffee, shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was not as eager to probe into your personal life. ‘I mean, come on,’ she continued, her eyes dancing between you and Bradley. ‘You two are practically inseparable. What was it that finally did it?’ You looked over at Bradley, your heart swelling with affection. The teasing might have been playful, but a part of you was still not used to having a public conversation about your relationship. With Elijah, you pretty much kept it all bottled up—partly because you didn’t know how to talk about it and partly because you knew it was fucked up, and if you told anyone, they would convince you to end things. Bradley leaned in slightly, his voice gentle. ‘I’ve always liked her, but I didn’t want to push things too hard while she had a boyfriend.’ Your heart clenched at the mention of your ex, but you were starting to realise that the only way you’d ever get over it was if you stopped bottling things up. ‘Bradley helped me through it, made me realise that I deserve better.’ You smiled at him, momentarily forgetting that your friends were there. ‘And he’s the very definition of better.’ Nat watched the two of you, shaking her head with a smile. She already knew all of this. She just wanted to hear the two of you say it. ‘Well, thank God. Honestly, I was waiting for someone to finally admit it. It was like watching a slow-motion car crash.’ Bob chuckled under his breath, which he quickly tried to hide with a sip of his coffee. ‘It was getting a little painful watching Rooster pine for you, Y/CS.’ This made all of you laugh, probably because Bob rarely spoke his mind so frankly. Despite the playful digs, the warmth of the moment was comforting. ‘We had to get there in our own time,’ you said, squeezing Bradley’s hand under the table. ‘And we’re there now.’ Natasha’s expression softened momentarily, her teasing smile giving way to something more sincere. ‘I’m happy for you two. It’s about time you stopped being idiots.’ Bradley smirked but didn’t argue with her, his hand resting comfortably beside yours. ‘It feels good not to be an idiot anymore.’ He said, his voice low but full of affection. Nat tapped her fingers on the table, grinning. ‘So... when’s the wedding?’ You choked on your coffee, but Bradley just laughed, squeezing your hand a little tighter. ‘Slow down, Nix.’ You glanced at Bradley; how he looked at you made your heart flutter. ‘Yeah, slow down.’ You repeated softly, but it was clear to everyone at the table that you’d already taken the biggest step. The rest would fall into place in time. Bob shook his head, not interested in delving deeper into the teasing. ‘Can we just have a peaceful breakfast for once?’ Everyone laughed again, the tension easing. You felt a deep sense of contentment as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. With Bradley by your side and your friends around you, you knew you’d found your place—together.

Drenched with warm summer rain, you entered The Hard Deck on Bradley’s arm—your favourite place to be. With Elijah, it had never felt this way. With him, entering a bar spiked your anxiety levels beyond control, as there was never any telling how he would act after one too many beers. And if he decided to go for top shelf spirits that night, it would undoubtedly end in tears. With Bradley, you never had to worry about any of that. When you went out together, you only had to worry about trying to pay for a round of drinks without him catching on and snatching your debit card out of your hand. Tonight, the bar was quiet. It was a Wednesday and you knew that a lot of the pilots who frequented Penny’s place had been deployed on an emergency humanitarian aid air drop mission. It was pure chance that none of your squad had been sent away. Aside from Jake, who was still away on a classified mission. It had proven difficult to stay in contact, but you all did your best. Besides, you knew how quickly time flew—he would be back where he belonged in no time. Mickey, Reuben, Javy were already in the group’s usual spot by the dart board. When they saw you and Bradley approaching, their conversation trailed off and they looked up. ‘Hey.’ Bradley greeted, pulling a stool out for you. Mickey glanced at the others. He seemed to be silently asking permission to say something. Reuben nodded once, granting him permission. ‘So, Coyote and Payback have something they wanna ask you two.’ Mickey said. Javy glared at him, and Bradley���s eyes darted to you. Had Mickey slipped up and let on about what he’d seen in the hangar the other week? Bracing himself, Bradley said: ‘What’s going on?’ Reuben smiled sheepishly. ‘Coyote and I saw you giving Y/N a piggyback ride across the runway on Friday morning, and we thought you looked kind of like a couple.’ The last thing Bradley expected you to do was laugh, but that’s just what you did. ‘That’s ‘cause we are.’ You said nonchalantly. Even though Reuben and Javy already seemed to be in the know, both of their mouths dropped open at your admission. Maybe they’d expected you to lie, or be embarrassed, but what was the point? You and Bradley had already had your fun, sneaking around for a month or so. After Mickey had found out, and then Nat and Bob, you realised it was time to tell your closest friends—your family. Mickey beamed, and Bradley eyed him suspiciously. ‘Did you tell them?’ He asked, pointing to the others. Mickey’s happy smile faltered. ‘What, no! I promised I wouldn’t.’ You put your hand on Bradley’s thigh. ‘He wouldn’t do that, babe. Besides, we haven’t been all that secretive lately.’ ‘No,’ Bradley smiled. ‘I guess we haven’t.’ A soft, electronic trill filled the air. Javy leaned his phone against a pint glass, and after a few seconds, Jake picked up. It was rare for him to pick up his phone. ‘Jakey-boy!’ Javy exclaimed. ‘How are you, man?’ ‘All good. They reckon I’m gonna be home sooner than they thought.’ ‘That’s great. I told you that would happen.’ ‘What’s up, anyway? How is everyone?’ Jake inquired. With a knowing smirk, Javy turned his phone around. ‘These two have something they need to tell you.’ You rolled your eyes playfully and grabbed the phone. ‘What’s goin’ on, darlin’?’ He asked. Before you could speak, Bradley snatched the phone. ‘There isn’t gonna be a wedding invitation waiting for you when you get back, but maybe someday.’ Jake’s face split into the brightest grin you’d ever seen. You nudged Bradley, confused. ‘What are you talking about?’ Jake chuckled. ‘Before I left, I told him there better be a wedding invitation waiting on my doorstep when I get home.’ Your breath hitched in your throat at the thought of marrying Bradley. What a dream that would be.

‘So you really were crushing on me the whole time?’ You teased. ‘Oh, he has it bad.’ Jake replied. Even though you already knew this, hearing it from someone else made it hit home.

‘Well, that’s just fine, because I do, too.’ Jake pretended to gag, and you handed the phone back to Javy with a laugh. Suddenly, you couldn’t remember why you and Bradley had wanted to keep your relationship secret, even for a little while. It was so much more fun, and so much more real now it was out in the open. The jukebox switched songs, the squad’s laughter filled the bar, and Bradley pulled you a little closer—because after all, this was just the beginning.

A/N: It's finally here! Sorry for the wait. I thought it would be interesting to see how the rest of the Daggers would find out, so here it is. I've got something really exciting planned for the next part... I'm thinking the Daggers take a long weekend trip somewhere. :)

Taglist: @crowdedimagines @sadgirlgiselle @sleepy-writersblock @lovelyygirl8 @my-therapist-hates-me @primroseluna @eloquentdreamer @sgt-barnesveins @daybleedsintonightfa11 @constructivejudger @honey-and-bi @caitsymichelle13 @alwayshave-faith @rosedurin @impossibleblizzardstudentposts

[whimsiwitchy]

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part seven)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader 

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men. 

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes, pedro (srry he's a big part of this chapter)

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: hi everyone! I literally just posted saying idk when I would update again but I decided to look through what I had written for this part and give it to y'all. she's a short one but it's cute. somewhat proof read lol. enjoy <3

part seven: closing chapters

You’ve been back in Los Angeles for less than a day and you already missed the simplicity of being with Hugh. Los Angeles was reality and it was an ugly one. All of the responsibilities came tumbling down on you and you felt like you were stuck in an inescapable maze. As much as you wanted to stay hidden, tucked under Hugh’s protective arm forever, you had to be an adult about this. You needed to stop ignoring Ashley and talk things out with her. You also needed to talk to Pedro and close that chapter that had been left wide open. Your personal life couldn’t have picked a worse time to get interesting. Tour started in two weeks, leaving very little time to tie all loose ends before traveling the world.

When you landed this morning, you ate a quick breakfast from a small cafe and went straight to rehearsals. They ran longer today to make up for the few days you were gone but you didn’t mind. Being on stage and performing the music you worked so hard on always upped your mood, even if you were unbelievably tired at the end of the day. At the moment, you were laying in bed, trying your best to stay awake while you waited for Hugh to call. He texted you a few hours earlier saying he spent the day with his kids and talked to them about the relationship you two had built over the questionable short period of time. He didn’t go into any further detail but promised to call as soon as he got home and settled. It was a little past 10pm, making it 1am in New York. Just as you were beginning to lose hope in Hugh’s late night call, your phone lit up with Hugh’s contact. 

“Hi Hugh.” You say sweetly into the speaker, sleepiness evident in your voice. “Hi, baby. Were you sleeping?” The deep accent you adored so much rumbled through the phone. “No, I was just laying down. How are you? How was your day?” As you speak, you move to sit up, your back resting against the headboard. “My day was good. It was nice to spend some time with the kids and catch up. We did a puzzle and talked, it was a nice day. How was your day, baby?” 

“It was good, busy. Basically hopped off the plan straight into rehearsals.” You let out an airy laugh. “I’m sorry sweet girl, I should let you get some sleep.” His voice trails off at the end and you know he genuinely feels bad for calling so late. “No, no…it’s fine. I want to talk to you. I don’t start as early tomorrow so I have some time to sleep in.” You assure him. “Are you sure baby? We can always talk tomorrow.” “I’m sure.” You let out a small yawn and Hugh chuckles.  “Hm, if you say so.” 

“Whatever..” You say playfully. The line goes quiet for a moment, neither of you speaking. “So uh…you told your kids about us?” 

You wanted to ease into asking but you were dying to know. Thay had been the number one reason you’d been so hesitant to take on a relationship with Hugh and you know their opinion means something to him too. If they didn’t approve or had any distaste towards your pairing, you weren’t sure if you could be with Hugh without having a heavy layer of guilt strapped to your heart. 

“Oh yea, I told them.” 

His response makes your heart skip a beat. Hugh was never one to beat around the bush but he was dragging this out and it scared you. 

“And what did they say?” 

Hugh takes a sharp breath in and your heart falls into your stomach. They don’t approve, you can sense the words about to tumble out of his mouth. 

“They’re fine with it.” 

His short answers are beginning to irritate you a little bit. You needed to know every detail of their conversation, you wouldn’t be able to sleep without it. 

“Hugh, can you please just tell me everything? Your lack of words is driving me insane.” You draw out the end of the last word, showing him just how frustrated you are. 

“I’m sorry baby, there's not much to tell. My daughter is a fan and begged me to introduce you two and um…well my son…he uh..this is so fucking awkward…” He huffs. “What did he say? I’m sure it can’t be that bad if they’re fine with everything right? Just spit it out, I can take it.” He sighs. “My son has a crush on you.” 

“Oh!” You can feel your body heat up underneath your duvet. “That uh…that is kinda awkward. What did he say about us being together then?” 

“He said something about how he doesn't understand how I was able to ‘bag a baddie’ like you, whatever that means.” You laugh at that. “He’s not mad, just jealous I guess. I’m really gonna have to keep an eye out for him when you meet them. I trust him, he’s my son, but I’m not gonna stand for his eyes wandering on my girl.”

You laugh again, partially because of his words and partially because of how wild this entire conversation is. 

“Well I’d love to meet your daughter and she’s free to come to any show she wants, I'll get her in. Same goes for your son as well, if that’s okay with you. I don’t want you to get too jealous and cause a fight between you two.” You giggle through the last few words. 

“Yea yea, we’ll see.” 

The line goes quiet again, a comfortable silence. 

“Hugh, I have a question.” “Shoot baby.” You can hear the sleepiness starting to appear in his voice. “I was wondering if you’d be okay with me going to talk to Pedro soon?” You hear rustling on his end before he speaks again. “Why do you want to do that?” There’s a slight hint of anger in his tone but you know it’s not towards you but towards how Pedro treated you. “I really need to talk things out with him. As much as I'm over him, there’s still a little part of me that needs closure, that needs to ask questions. I want this part of my life to be done but I need to have it properly sealed off.” “Could you wait until I’m back in town? I trust you but I don’t trust him one bit.” You smile at his protectiveness. “I really want to fix everything before the tour starts. I need to talk to Ashley too and the sooner I can get over this, the sooner I can put all my focus on the tour and you. So unless you’re planning on being back in town in a week, I need to do this alone. Is that okay?” He sighs and takes a moment. “Of course that’s fine baby. Just keep me updated on everything that happens.” “I will.” The two of you talk for 20 more minutes before you both call it a night, ending the call with “I love you”. 

The next morning, you immediately texted Hugh before rolling out of bed and starting your day. You showered, brushed your teeth, got dressed, and made your way to the kitchen. You opted for a lazy breakfast, too tired to do anything else. You popped a bagel into the toaster and fried an egg, laying a slice of cheese on top to melt. You made your little bagel breakfast sandwich and washed a few berries to go with it. 

While you ate, you scrolled through your phone. Hugh hasn't texted you back yet but it didn't surprise you. He was up late and with his age, he needed his sleep. You smiled to yourself as you thought about how peaceful he looks while he’s deep in sleep. While scrolling through instagram, you get an ad for Gladiator II. Your ex’s stupid hot face was plastered on your phone. You sighed and pulled up his contact. You were grateful you deleted the text thread you once had, you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing all of the previous sweet words he used to send you. 

You: hey p, it’s y/n. I was wondering if we could meet up soon and talk? no pressure :) 

Once you hit send, you locked your phone and slid it across your kitchen table. Your phone buzzed a few seconds later and your heart started beating faster…there’s no way he could have already responded. You reached for your phone, having to lift out of your chair slightly. When your phone unlocks, your heart slows down, it’s just Hugh. 

You texted back and forth with Hugh all morning until you pulled up to the Kia Forum. Tour was officially a week away from starting which meant you got to rehearse in the venue that would be starting the tour off. You’d been in the Forum a few times for various concerts but being here for your own performance was a different animal. Knowing that this place was sold out for you was wild. You caught up with all of your dancers, them sharing the same excitement. The energy in the building was electric. The crew was excited to get their creations in full and everyone was just happy to finally be starting. 

With being in a new space, the start of rehearsal was a bit slow. Lights, sounds, and various other things had to be adjusted now that everything was in full. You didn’t mind though. It gives you a chance to slow down and appreciate how far you’ve come. It was lunchtime and you decided to hide away in your dressing room to eat. A few people offered you to come with them but you really needed a moment to yourself. You were overwhelmed but in a good way. You grabbed some food from the catering someone had ordered, you made a note to yourself to find out who it was and thank them. 

Once you got to your dressing room, you pulled your phone out of your purse and scrolled through your notification log. Hugh’s messages were the first thing you saw. You were responding to everything he had sent when another message popped up at the top of your phone. 

pedro: hey y/n. I’m free today if you wanna swing by sometime? 

You pulled up to the familiar gates and typed in the code that was still etched in your brain. Once you parked your car in the semi circle driveway, you texted Pedro that you were here before taking a deep breath and stepping out of your car. It always looked out of place next to the large home, even more now that you didn’t belong here the way you once had. One of the brown French style doors open just as you're walking up the three concrete steps that lead to the entrance. You look up from your shoes. Locking eyes with Pedro, you feel your heart tense up. The pain of losing the man you had felt so deeply for re-entered your body involuntarily. He was wearing his typical casual attire: a pair of black cotton shorts, his beloved yellow lakers tee, and a pair of long black socks. The slight gray in his hair had begun to spread, the sides of his beard almost losing all color. He looked as handsome as ever. He held the door open with one arm, leaning slightly. A small smile rested on his face and his brown puppy dog eyes gave you the same feeling they had when you had first met him. 

“Hi y/n.” His voice sounded almost hesitant. “Hi P…Thanks for having me.” He backs up to let you inside. You slip your shoes off, like you had many times before. “No problem. I’m kinda surprised you wanted to talk to me, thought you would’ve been done with me after…well you know.” You don’t answer, instead you walk towards his living room and plop yourself down in the spot you had claimed many months ago, Pedro taking his own claimed spot not too far from yours. “It’s weird seeing you there again…missed seeing you here.” You sigh. “Pedro…don’t say that.” “Why not?” “You don’t get to miss me when you’re the one that left me. You hurt me P. Not the other way around.” He scoffs. “Sure didn’t seem too hurt to me. You moved on just fine.” “Can you stop being an asshole for two fucking seconds?” 

You wanted to come into this with patience and maturity but Pedro was making that impossible. He was being completely insufferable and had been since the moment he broke up with you, like it was somehow your fault. You missed the kind Pedro, the one you had fallen for. 

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? It took a month before you fell into someone else's arms, no let me clarify, my friend’s arms.” You could tell he was trying to get under your skin and you didn’t know where he gained this hatred for you. His voice was sour, a scowl present on his face. 

“God Pedro…” You sigh in anger. “Yes I invited him to the album party but he was there for me when you sat there and yelled- no embarrassed me at my own event. You don’t get to play victim in this situation. We weren’t together and hadn’t been together for weeks by the time I met him.” You could tell you were beginning to lose control over your emotions. The anger and pain both battled reaching for your throat begging to take control over your next words. 

His eyes go soft as he starts to speak again. “Y/n…I’m sorry about that, I was drunk and I-” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You know what? Fuck you Pedro. Truly. You are the most selfish person I’ve ever met. You broke up with me because the pressure was too hard on you. You come to my event and try to grab me, then you yell at me because Hugh came to check on me. Now you’re mad that I found someone that actually gives two shits about me, that isn’t afraid to deal with whatever comes with dating a younger girl? I’m over it.” You laugh again. “And now you want to apologize for that night when you’ve been nothing but rude since I sat on this couch? I came here for closure, nothing more. I liked you Pedro. I really really like you and you crushed my heart that night and every time I’ve seen you after. I don’t understand what I did to deserve this hatred that you’ve been throwing at me but it’s not fair.” 

Your anger had won the battle but your sadness would win the war. Your voice broke on your last words, hot tears pouring down your cheeks. 

“It’s not fucking fair P…” 

You tuck your face into your sweatshirt, allowing yourself to cry in peace. Pedro doesn’t speak and the silence lasts for what feels like forever. You could feel a slight movement on the couch, then two warm arms wrap around your shoulder, a chin resting atop your head. The two of you stay like that for a while. You let your tears flood your cheeks until there aren’t any left. 

“I’m so sorry babygirl. I didn’t mean to hurt you like this.” 

You slowly pull your face out of the sweater. One of Pedro’s arms drops to rest on his leg, the other lay across your shoulders still. His water line was filled with his own tears, eyes red. 

“Then why did you?” He takes a moment to think and pulls you into his chest. Your head resting right above his heart, the beat a little faster than the one you had memorized. 

“Shit y/n…I know no matter how I say this, it’s gonna sound fucked up.” He squeezes his arms gently. “I was so scared, baby. When everyone started to form their opinions on us and kept pinning me to be some weirdo, I freaked out. I’m at the height of my career and I couldn’t imagine losing that…and you were right, I'm selfish. When I let you go, I immediately regretted it. I showed up to your party wanting to apologize. I had a few drinks, some liquid courage if you will, but damn baby, those fruity little drinks were a lot stronger than I thought they’d be.” You chuckle at the comment. “I was waisted by the time I saw you and when…Hu-...when he came to defend you, I lost my shit. I was so pissed off. Even in the state I was in, the look in his eyes was loud. He looked at you with so much adoration and I knew I’d already lost you.” 

He pauses. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for myself, I just..I just want you to- no, I need you to know what happened. I’m sorry for being an ass today too. I guess I’m not over you and it hurts that you’re over me.” 

You look up at him. 

“I’m not trying to be mean when I say this P but it’s your fault. I could’ve loved you….I was falling in love with you. My time with you was special, so different than anything I’d ever felt before. I think we would’ve been good together. If you would have talked to me, maybe things would be different. You should have talked to me.” 

“We could’ve been the greatest?” He gives a lazy smile down to you and you look down in shame, wincing slightly. “You watched it?” You ask quietly. “Yea I did.” He pauses. “You sounded beautiful up there, you’re so talented y/n…even if it was so clearly targeted towards me.” The arm that's wrapped around your shoulder moves, his hand resting on your head now, moving in slow circles. 

“Would you ever give us another chance?” He asks, looking down at you. The hope in his eyes pains you. 

“I love him P…” You see the small glimmer of happiness drain from his face. You were feeling just as hurt, knowing that if Hugh hadn’t entered your life when he did or if you had talked to Pedro sooner, you’d give him another chance without a second thought. 

“Does he treat you good?” You almost scoff at the question, given who’s asking, but you don’t have the heart to be mean to him anymore. “Yea he does…” You smile at the thought of just how well Hugh does treat you. “Well, then I’m happy for you.” 

“Are you really or are you just trying to be nice?” You joke and he shrugs. “The latter but truthfully if you were going to be with anyone other than myself, I’m glad it’s him. He’s good.” He smiles down at you and it almost reaches his eyes. “Speaking of Hugh…you kinda owe him an apology, mister.” You poke at the side of his chest that you’re not leaning on. “For what? Stealing my girl?” His words make your tummy stir. “I wasn’t your girl anymore. You called him old and yelled at him. He’s your friend, so apologize.” 

“He is old.” You punch his arm and give him a look. “Ow..fuck. Fine, I’ll apologize but I’m not sure how buddy buddy I can be with him anymore.” “I don’t really care about that, as long as you’re nice to him.” 

He doesn’t respond. You spend a few minutes feeling the warmth of his embrace, it was something you were going to miss. As much as you loved Hugh, Pedro had been someone special to you and it hurt to let him go, even with what he put you through. 

“How much longer do my pictures have on your instagram before I’m replaced by Hugh?” He jokes and your eyes go wide. “Oh fuck me…” You had completely forgotten about the pictures that littered your page. “I will.” He smirks. “Shut the fuck up. I’m deleting them in front of your face just for saying that.” You whip out your phone. There are a few texts from Hugh on the homescreen asking how it’s going. “I’m surprised your guard dog let you come alone.” “Oh believe me, he didn’t want me to but he’s in New York and couldn’t stop me.” You open instagram. “And for that comment, I'm making you press delete on these. You can feel the finalization of us being over. Consider it punishment for being such a dick.”  He laughed and pressed delete on the first one. 

In the third picture, you started to regret this ‘punishment’. “We were a cute couple. You remember that one? That’s when you came over and we fucked like rabbits all week-” “Okay your done. Give me my phone.” You shove him away after and he lets out a deep belly laugh. The sound made you pause for a moment. This was the Pedro you had enjoyed being around. It was always so easy to joke around with him and be yourself. You would miss him. 

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

[losergames]

Chop Shop is strictly 18+ for language, themes, and potential explicit content. 

🔗 - Game Intro | Bug Report | Ko-Fi

Episode Three is now available! (+ 86,000) - PLAY HERE

Get your first taste of the underground car scene.

Meet some other players in the game.

Be made an offer.

5 achievements up for grabs!

And more!

AN: thank you so much for the patience - i've been dying to put this update out. lots of new characters and lots of variation!! there are 3 major paths to choose between in this ep, i recommend trying them all out! and thank you to my betas for keeping me sane lmao

This update comes with a patch and UI refresh (Version 1.1.2) Notes are under the cut. If preferred, you can access them in game in the start menu.

STORY

EPISODE 01:

MC should now be able to smoke! Buying cigarettes at the shop was not triggering correctly. If playing with an old save, you DO NOT have to restart as code at the beginning of EP 03 has resolved the error. Player will need to restart if they wish to read smoking related scenes in previous episodes.

Updated MC Name selection. Player can now choose from a list of names instead of having to input one to proceed.

Player can now give Taha their chocolate bar if it's in their inventory.

When asking Maz about their scars, the second choice 'You want to ask about it but you're going to keep your mouth shut.' should now take you to the correct response.

Extended and updated 'End Game' scenes.

EPISODE 02:

If MC is faint after exiting the car, but also drunk, they should now get the fainting scene, followed by Dilani helping the MC in the bathroom.

UI + TECHNICAL

SETTINGS:

Autoname Save is now defaulted to ON. This is to add ease and flow to gameplay, especially for mobile, tablet, and app users, instead of calling for an inputted saved name. If player wants to input save names, toggle Autoname Saves to OFF.

Autoname Save previously only used the forename of the MC but now includes the surname as well.

Removed the Fullscreen toggle as it is only intended for desktop use. Player can still toggle fullscreen function via the UI bar on the desktop interface.

Added a choice indicator toggle. (This probably won't come into effect until EP 04 or 05)

Changed serif font from Vollkron to EB Garamond.

OTHER:

Changing the MC's pronouns via the Dashboard has been updated. Additionally, after confirmation will take player back to the Dashboard and not close the dialog boxes entirely.

Hovering over 'Personality', 'Motives', and 'Skills' titles in the Dashboard will now display an information box with a definition. Mobile and tablet users will need to tap on the title.

'Resume Game' now only appears on the main menu when there is an autosave in the saves log.

Choices styling changes.

General UI and button style changes.

Fixed errors with the text message styling.

Added styling for reading text off of a page in game.

Darkened blue in light theme 'Skyline' to reduce eye strain.

CREATE A SAVE

Introducing Create a Save! This feature allows players to quickly manufacture a save file and start at a later point in the game.

Set your identity, appearance, history, and statistics; including personality, motives, and skills. Continue to set key decisions made in previous episodes.

Randomise options available for creating a PC and key decisions.

OTHER

Fixed gaps and spacing issues.

Minor phrasing and sentence structure changes.

Grammar and typo fixes.

whew -- that's a lot of patch notes! apologies for so much that needed to be fixed.

this update shouldn't break/ mess with saves but as a disclaimer i will say, if you spot anything funky, broken, or you don't think things are triggering correctly, try starting a new save. the new create a save feature is incredibly code heavy, and it's been tested relentlessly, but i wouldn't be surprised if something crops up.

if starting a new save doesn't resolve your issue - please submit to bug report or just send me an ask/message.

some things have been meaning to get fixed for Some Time - thank you to everyone that is using the bug report form!

apologies if there are typos and/or bugs - this was a long one to edit and my lovely betas did an OUTSTANDING job reading so much for ep 3 - thank you so much again!!! this time i am going to give it a bit more time before i put together a patch so i can grab more error responses haha.

create a save has also added a wee chunk to the word count, somewhere around 6k, but i'm not including it in the episode 03 word count as it's purely code. so, if you think the total wc is off, that's why!

if you've read this far, happy reading and thank you so much for the continued support!! :) - becky <3

[kazzattack]

make-up sex with Dick has been rotting in my mind lately :P

make up sex w/ ex bf!dick grayson… bc if i’ve noticed anything about him? he’s besties with all of his exes. like. every single one of them. he’d try to be particularly close with you because he’s not over you at all. still thinking about you 24/7, still wants to see you, definitely still wants to fuck you, all that good stuff. what’s pissing him off is that you’re sick of him. and because i’m you’re petty, you decide against blocking him just to let him know you’re choosing to see him and ignore him. you read all his stupid ass messages, he can still see your posts, and he knows you’re doing shit to piss him off. because nothing irks his soul more than being ignored, much less ignored by you. luckily enough, nothing’s stopping him from knocking on your door after texting you that he’s “coming back for his hoodie.” because duh, you kept all of those too.

you open the door against your better judgement and it’s obvious he has a few intentions once you get a good look at the flimsy tank top and sweats. “hi,” he smiles to hide the impatience in his voice.

“hi,” you respond with condescension and move to close the door in his face.

“you’re being a dick,” the smile easily fades as he catches the door with a quick hand, “just let me in.”

and against your better judgement, you do.

now he’s snooping around, and quite effectively, finding a way to dig through drawers and piles of clothes even though he’s spotted a hoodie or two out the corner of his eye. come to think of it, he’s interrogating you. asking you about that party from friday, that one guy he saw on your story, anything he can get. hell, he’ll go as far as to flash you a new pair of panties while he’s looking, asking who’re you getting all pretty for? now you’re irritated too, not giving him any of the invasive answers he’s looking for. you two go back and forth for god knows how long, all the way until he’s got you against a wall and muttering fuck you under your breath, followed by a clever remark of I thought you’d never ask.

finally, his hands are back on you. he can finally grab a hold of your face and get his tongue back down your throat after a long ass month of nothing. nothing like you, at least. “you’re such a little shit,” he groans and you laugh at him, letting him wrestle your legs around his torso and carry you to the bed. as if you could have fought against it anyway. he’s depraved of you, already groping your tits and ass after grinding his thigh into your clothed cunt. it’s almost as if he hasn’t fucked since the last time he had you. still feeling a little cruel, you tease, “those other girls just didn’t do it for you, huh?”

“there weren’t any other girls.”

“yeah right,” you force out a giggle to ignore the guilt.

“I’m serious. been waiting on you to cut the bullshit so I could fuck this cunt again.” his hand’s already eased under the waistband of your shorts to circle your clit and you moan right into his ear. “don’t need any other girl when i’ve got a whore right here, just for me, right?”

he sucks a hickey into the underside of your breast before flipping you over, seemingly back to his regular self. you’re easily repositioned face down and ass up, helping him pull your shorts all the way down. fuck, you missed him. the way he palms your ass and forces you against his cock, debating on whether he should really fuck you or just hump you til you’re begging for his cock and he’s coming in his boxers.

“already fucking me back,” he moans from behind you and it’s brought to your attention that you’re the one grinding on his dick through fabric. you can’t bring yourself to be ashamed of it though, keening when the next time you feel him there’s no barrier between you and the tip of his cock is slipping into your pussy. normally he’d be all sensual, rub at your cunt til it’s all messy and leaking before fucking you, but this time around it’s like he has no time for it. he’d rather force the arch in your back further into the mattress and fuck you full, have you whine into the pillows and beg for more of his cum like he knows you want to.

“still want me to get out?” he’s muttering into your ear after pulling your hair, knowing by now you’re too fucked out to give him some smart-ass remark. all you can give him are those whorish moans he hasn’t heard for so long as you cum on his cock for the third time. he’s skipped the theatrics he loves to fuck you deep and give you a good reminder that this is what you broke up with.